Page 3 of Baring it All (Men in Charge)

STORMY

Baby girl.I’m not dreaming, right? Those two words currently have a chokehold on me, and I’m dissecting them internally. Maybe he uses that for every woman he’s around, or maybe he doesn’t. The doesn’t part of this scenario has me thinking it’s for me only, especially when Griff stepped closer to me, and I felt something. Okay, fine, it wasn’t something; it waseverything. Everything Zach was not—long, thick, and unbelievably hard. Maybe throwing myself at him when I was drunk didn’t backfire on me after all.

Griff’s bar, High Tide Tavern, is on the beach, a small boardwalk. I’m kicking off my sandals, allowing the hot sand to sink between my toes, the hot sun beating against my shoulders. The salty breeze causes a few tendrils of hair to come loose from of my ponytail and blow across my face.

“So,” I say to break the silence, turning to face Griff instead of watching the waves crash against the shore. He waits until I’m ready to keep going. I’m noticing more and more he’s the strong silent type. He’s also a man who takes care of you when you can’t take care of yourself. Water, Tylenol, and a scrawled note saying, ‘Drink this, take the meds, Griff.’ That was all, but it was substantial in a way that his note is tucked away in the bottom of my nightstand drawer. “I didn’t,” I start to say when Griff’s hand comes up, fingers brushing against my cheek, moving the tendrils of hair that are currently stuck to my lips away. I lose my train of thought. I lose every piece of me when Griff is near, the way his scent surrounds me the closer we get. It clung to his suit jacket, and it took everything I had not to bring it to my nose while wearing it and inhaling the scent deeply.

“What were you saying?” His honey-gold eyes hold mine captive. His sunglasses make it easy for me to stare at him without him realizing, hopefully. It’s probably wishful thinking, though. And what does this man do? The unexpected. His hand stays where it is, thumb holding my hair back, while the rest of his fingers are holding my hair back, gently massaging my scalp. Maybe it’s a good idea for his borrowed sunglasses. Griff can’t see my eyes closing, but I’m sure he can hear the sigh that leaves my mouth. This week has been hard. I’ve done everything I can to make sure things were taken care of. The only bad part that’s not in this whole scenario is where I’m supposed to live. I was that girl. My lease was almost up, so I let my landlord know I’d be moving out. Zach’s place was bigger than mine, and it made sense to move in with him. Boy, was I wrong. Now, I’ve got a week to vacate my place, and it’s filled with more boxes than I care to admit. My obsession with poetry books is crazy, even I can admit that, the older the better. I refuse to part with them or downsize my collection. The warning signs were there, red flag after red flag, not a beige one in sight. Yet I still didn’t see him and Mel together.

“Well, I… uh, never got to say thank you for taking care of me. I know that wouldn’t be anyone’s idea of a great way to spend a Saturday night. I’m just, well, really thankful.” My eyes are finally open, watching to see what he’ll do with the words I gave him. I made a complete ass out of myself, talking about the lack of orgasms Zach was able to manage to give me, and I’m pretty sure I threw my arms around his body, nuzzled his neck, not to mention my tongue snuck a taste of the column of his throat. Yeah, tequila definitely lowers my inhibitions. What it doesn’t do is allow me to lose my memory. Another traitorous bitch I need to quit. Tequila, a best friend named Melissa, and an ex-fiancé. Though sadly, I’m still tied to the dickface until I get everything figured out, but that will have to wait. He’s on what would be our honeymoon, and me, well, maybe I’m not much better. Because Griffin is right here in front of me, and the only thing I can think about is how it would feel to be beneath him.

“Stormy, I give you any reason that I wasn’t where I wanted to be?” His question brokers no room for argument. It’s gruff but not in a stern way. In a way that leaves no discussion necessary, which is hard for me to swallow because I’ve yet to show him how appreciative I am.

“No. That still doesn’t mean a person can’t say thank you.” I start to take a step back, but he clearly doesn’t like that idea. The hand cupping my cheek, so to speak, pulls me into his body. We’re close, too close and if we want to keep the gossip out of the tongue wagers mouths we should back away from one another, except we don’t.

“You said it. It’s over and done.” He leaves it at that, making me think this is a bad idea. It couldn’t be all in my head. The man is basically marking his territory right now and earlier at the bar.

“Well, okay. I guess that’s all.” There’s no need to stick around once I’ve said thank you. I mean, sure, I could have baked him cookies or offered to take him out to dinner, but life is a bitch. My kitchen is packed and, well, any extra spending is not happening while I figure out where I’m moving in a week. Does anyone know how hard it is to find a place to live in seven days? I do. It’s near impossible, and the longer I procrastinate, the worse it gets. My mom said I could move in with her. Sure, it wouldn’t be for long, just until an apartment became available in my current complex or another that would be in my budget. It’s all a pain in the ass to deal with since I’m a hair stylist. We get paid differently, and it’s a nightmare to get that ready to submit to a bank or rental company. If I were to take my mom up on her offer, well, that would also mean living with my fun, crazy, never-stops-moving aunt. I love her, I do, but I also like the quiet, and there won’t be a lot of that should I move in with them.

“That’s not all,” Griff says after a few moments of silence. Silence that has me on edge with worry. I tilt my head to the side, waiting him out. Unsure of what he’s going to say next, worried really because if that’s not all, is he going to bring up my craziness when I was drowning myself in tequila?

“It’s not?”

“Nope. How much do you remember of that night?” Fuck me sideways. Of course he’d bring that up.

“All of it,” I admit afterwishin’ and hoping, and thinkin’ and prayin’he wouldn’t ask that. Yes, I’m singing that song in my head while reciting the lyrics. I mentioned my aunt was crazy, right? Well, it seems some of her crazy was passed down to me. Responding in song lyrics is not part of our thing.

“Good, then this won’t come as a surprise. That ride you were willing to go after, you’ll get it from me and no one else.” My mouth opens and closes as I gulp for air like a fish out of water. No one has ever been so blatant to me about sex, though I wasn’t really quiet either. Zach was my first and last, which obviously was lackluster at best. Stupid me, marrying a man at the age of twenty-four who would get his rocks off and leave me in another form of denial. Thankfully, I was a pro at self-satisfaction. And Griff now knows all there is about that subject as well.

“Umm…” I’m still at a loss for words. God, I’m an idiot.

“You got any plans for this evening?” I shake my head no, wondering what he is after. “Good, I’m at the bar tonight. I’ll be closing it down, or I’d take you to dinner like a man should. That being said, we’ll have dinner there tonight.”

“Um, Griff, you don’t have to do that. You’re working and, well, shouldn’t it be me paying or offering dinner to you?” I reply with trepidation in my voice.

“Baby girl, we’re having dinner tonight. You want to cook dinner for me, I’ll take it, but you are not paying.” Well, okay, then, growly alpha man has entered the chat.

“I mean I can’t cook for you, not that I can’t cook, but, well, you saw my apartment. Everything is packed up.” Griff looks at me like I’ve got two heads. The verbal vomit is a real thing when I’m confused and worried and, well, all the things really.

“Dinner at the bar it is, then.” His hand slides down my neck, squeezing the tight muscles once. I hold back a moan, barely. His hand continues its downward path. My body lights up beneath, and a tremble runs through me.

“Okay.” There’s a slight tilt to his lips as his hand wraps around mine, holding my hand firmly in his, and then he’s leading us back up the dock. I’m left in a Griff-induced stupor, not completely sure what just happened, yet I like it all the same.

4

GRIFFIN

“Ihope you know what you’re doing.” Barbie doesn’t mince words. Her voice is quiet yet speaks volumes. She’s been with me from the very beginning of opening the bar. It’s why I’d ever allow her to question what I’m doing. If it were anyone else speaking to me like that, well, they’d have fewer fucking teeth. That being said, this is Barbie. She’s got a past of her own in this small town, except the rumors swirling around her were no fault of her own. Her parents were the talk of the entire town at one point. The epitome of toxic, one a drunk, the other an addict. It’s a wonder Barbie came out unscathed. That doesn’t mean a part of her isn’t hardened. She has a few times a year where she’ll allow herself a moment to grieve when she lets those walls down. Both her parents are gone due to a car crash a few years back. One or both were intoxicated and had a fight that the whole town square could hear. When the news was delivered that they were killed after going double the speed limit on the highway, lost control, and did a lot of flips, Barbie was on shift. A small hint of emotion took over but also a look of relief. So, her bringing it up, completely valid. Shit, I’ve been doing exactly that since the night I was with Stormy. So many worries, issues, and hurdles we’ll have to jump through in order to get to where we’re going. I take my baseball cap off my head, run my fingers through my hair, and leave it off since I’m inside the bar and the sun isn’t blaring in my eyes. I contemplate what Barbie said again, choosing my words carefully before I respond. My head is in the damn clouds, consumed with the way Stormy felt against me, how she gave in to my touch so freely. The soft sigh she tried to hide still replays in my mind. The only thing that could have made it better is if she was moaning my damn name.

“You and me both.” Staying vague while I’ve got my head in the fucking clouds might be the best plan of action. The less Barbie sees, the less shit she’ll give. The last thing I need to do before work is hashing this out with her. It’s Saturday night, which means it’ll be a full fucking house. As it is now, I’m going to need Nav, my barback, to help even more. My nighttime bartender, Jeremy, can handle everything else in order for me to get inventory done for the liquor and beer distributor.

“Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.” Fucking Barbie. I take a deep breath, give her my back, and grab the clipboard off the side of the shelf that holds the liquor. I’m not sure what she thinks talking about this will do. I’ve made my decision. It seems Stormy has as well, or she wouldn’t have agreed to come back up after thanking me. Christ, all the thanks I needed was the glimpse of her tits when she was drunk, and we could have called it even. Now it seems like I’m going to get way more than a view.

“Listen, you’ve said your piece. I’ve got a lot of love for you, but this, it’s not up for discussion, Barbie. You wanna be my eyes and ears, I’ll take that. This damn town won’t be nice, no matter what.” Not to Stormy at least. She’s in a vulnerable place right now, and everyone has noticed that she’s not been coming and going like she did before shit went down.

“Message received, loud and clear, but all bets are off if your brother comes in.” I chuckle. Barbie and my older brother, Jack, are like fire and ice. It’s been a long time since Jack and I have seen eye to eye. I’m the blue-collar brother, working as a rescue medic. Where he’s white collar, who wears a suit and tie to the office daily. I started out as soon as I graduated high school, worked for the local department here in Jasmine, South Carolina. As time went on, I knew staying where I was wouldn’t mean making the kind of money I am now. So, I worked my ass off, picked up extra shifts working the boat races up and down the east coast as a rescue medic. Then I came back home, and set up High Tide Tavern. I still work at the boat races, and that’s where Barbie comes in. She’s a magician behind the bar and keeps shit running smoothly while I’m out of town. Now, when Jack comes in, the same can’t be said. He likes to piss her off, she likes to give him hell, and I fucking hear the stories when I’m back home.

“I’ll deal with Jack. I should probably stop by his house tomorrow,” I grunt, tossing the clipboard and pen down on the bar. “Get out of here. You’ve got better things to do than to hang out here all weekend.” She takes off her apron, starts shutting down her register, and going through the tip jar.

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