Chapter 21 – Cain #2
I used to think shit like that didn't matter, that it was all just over-hyped noise and sugar. But now, watching these kids with sticky hands and wide grins, witch hats and bunny ears, something cold twists in my chest.
For all the money I’ve made, all the things I’ve bought, the truth is I’ve missed out on living.
And that didn't end after my childhood. It's extended into adulthood where I can afford to take vacations, breaks and relax but have chosen not to. And now I don’t want to keep missing out.
By the time I pull into a street parking spot in front of Brookhaven Brews, the place looks like it’s hosting half the town. The parking lot’s overflowing, lights are glowing from the deck that stretches over the lake, and there’s laughter spilling out through the front doors.
Normally, the thought of leaving my car on the street would make me twitch, but tonight, all I can think about is getting to her as quickly as possible and feeling grounded again.
I shove my keys in my pocket and head up the wooden steps.
The building looks like a shipwreck someone turned into a bar—aged wood, lanterns strung across the front, the faint smell of beer wafting out to guests.
Inside, it’s chaos. Purple and orange lights shimmer across the walls, pumpkin lanterns hang from the rafters, and music thunders from hidden speakers.
Everyone’s talking, laughing and moving.
I feel like a ghost who forgot how to belong in a room full of the living.
Because I might be around people all day, but those people all want something from me.
In here, I'm just another guy, not dressed right and looking to have some fun with a girl who isn’t his… yet.
“Hi, how can I help you?” the hostess asks, voice a little breathless as she looks me up and down. She’s young, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger, and way too curious.
“I’m meeting some friends.”
She beams. “Well, if you need help finding them, just let me know. You can head inside and look around.”
I nod and step past her, scanning the crowd. Costumes everywhere. Laughter that feels easy. My shirt’s sticking to my back, and there’s a bead of sweat sliding down my spine as I tug at my collar.
I didn’t think about what would happen when she saw me tonight. I didn’t let myself imagine her expression when she realized I'd sought her out. Part of me hoped she’d be glad I came. The other part—the more realistic one—was preparing to get told to stop stalking her.
Now that I’m here, I’m actually nervous. Another thing I never am. And then I spot her.
It’s like someone just stole the air out of the room. She’s sitting in a booth near the back with Leo in the middle, his boyfriend beside him. She’s laughing, head tipped back, eyes bright.
And she’s wearing a maid costume. Er, cleaning personnel.
It’s not her actual uniform, the one that somehow manages to look modest and still drive me insane, but a full out costume.
The kind meant to ruin a man. There’s white lace straining against her full chest, a short black skirt that barely exists showing me her thighs and the side of one ass cheek, and a light blue feather duster tossed carelessly on the table.
Her hair’s down in soft waves, framing her flushed cheeks.
Wars have been fought over women like her. Sculptures carved, people fired, songs written, legends born. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. A rare kind of beauty you can only find when you’re not looking for it.
And the strangest thought lands in my head with a weight I can’t ignore. She’s going to be my wife someday. I don’t know where it comes from, because marriage has never been something I pictured for myself. But it feels inevitable.
My chest tightens like all the air has been stolen from the room. I can’t breathe.
“Oh my god,” she gasps when her gaze lands on me standing struck in front of their table. Her eyes go wide.
She turns to Leo. “You didn’t.”
He laughs, and she swats his arm, shaking her head. Then she looks back at me, her mouth curving into a smile that’s equal parts disbelief and excitement. “To be honest, I thought you only owned suits.”
And then she stands and hugs me.
Warm and completely unexpected. Her body presses against mine, curves fitting into me like they were always meant to. Her chest brushes my torso, her hips align with mine, and all I can do is hug her back. I loop my arms around her and pull her tight to my chest.
She smells faintly of tequila and vanilla. And it hits me, standing there with her in my arms, that maybe the only reason she’s letting me this close is because she’s had a drink or two. But that doesn’t stop the quiet, selfish relief that unfurls through me.
She’s not mad to see I’ve followed her.
She pulls back, her eyes glossy and bright, laughter caught somewhere in her throat.
“You didn’t get enough of me earlier today?”
I don’t answer. Because the truth is that I'll ever get enough of her.
"I like your outfit," I say.
She smirks and does a curtsy.
“Come on,” she says, looping her arm through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world and I didn't make her come a few hours earlier while she was bent over my toilet. “Join us.”
Her touch is light but grounding as she tugs me into their booth.
Her scent engulfs me. It’s distracting in the best way.
This whole night feels strange and out of character for me.
I can’t remember the last time I was in a crowded, small-town bar like this.
Probably college. And yet… I don’t hate it. Not even a little.
“Cain, you remember Leo,” she says, sliding into the spot beside me.
Leo gives me a slow nod, his blue eyes sharp but kind. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
“And this,” Rhiannon adds, gesturing across the table, “is Leo’s boyfriend, Chris.”
Chris reaches out to shake my hand, grinning. “Nice to see you’ve found your clothes tonight.”
“Glad we’ve all moved past that.”
Rhiannon grins devilishly. “I still wear his boxers to sleep every night.”
Leo groans. “You would. I just hope you washed them.”
And yeah, I shouldn’t care, but something about her saying that out loud to them makes something primal in me unfurl. I sling an arm behind her and pull her closer to my side.
Leo flags down the bartender. “What are you drinking?”
Rhiannon doesn’t miss a beat. “Tequila.”
He lifts a brow at her. “Both of you are?”
“Both of us,” she says, eyes glinting like she already knows I won’t object.
Thirty minutes later, I’m three shots in with her, and she’s tipsy enough that everything she says sounds like laughter. Every time she leans into me, her body presses tighter against my side, her hand finding my thigh under the table like it’s her anchor.
And I fucking love it.
Normally all I’d be thinking about is how fast I can get her alone and naked but watching her here in her element feels the same way it did when I saw her in the kitchen with her siblings.
It hits that part of me that I don’t show anyone.
The part that recognizes real, meaningful connection when it’s staring me in the face.
The relationships in Rhiannon’s life are her whole world, the way straight to her heart.
So, if I want her heart, I have to know the people she loves and actually care about them too.
And I do. Her siblings, Leo, Chris… they’re some of the easiest people I’ve ever talked to.
Which is rare for me. I usually prefer my solitude once I’m off the clock.
And somehow, seeing how much they love her back is even sexier to me. Maybe because I know exactly how easy it is to care for Rhiannon.
Her hazel eyes find mine across the room like I’m the only person here. She leans in, about to say something, then stops short, lips parting like her thought caught on something she doesn’t want to say out loud yet.
“Oh! Tasha!” she suddenly gasps, jumping up to wave someone over.
A woman who looks about Rhiannon's age but with dark blonde hair and tired brown eyes wearing a shirt that says Brookhaven Brews across the chest heads toward us, eyebrows raised.
“Tasha, this is Cain,” Rhiannon announces proudly, like she’s introducing me to royalty.
Natasha sticks out her hand, grip firm. “Hi.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“This is my cousin,” Rhiannon adds. “She’s also the manager here.”
“Nice gig,” I say, nodding toward the packed bar. “Looks like you’re doing well.”
Natasha wipes her brow, exhaling. “Yeah. The owner’s a total asshole, though. He said he was going to be in to help today but got drunk with his friends on the lake instead.”
My brows lift, and Rhiannon bursts into laughter.
"She's trying to buy the place from him."
Natasha eyes me curiously again. “Where’d you find this guy? He doesn’t look like he belongs in Brookhaven.”
Rhiannon smiles and squeezes my shoulder. “He's the guy who sued me,” she says, as if that’s an adorable meet cute when I'd rather she say, ‘He's the guy who can't stop making me come every time we’re together.’
“Leo and I beat him in court,” she continues, punching both fists in the air, grinning so wide I can’t even pretend to be offended.
Natasha shakes her head. “Oh… he sucks.”
I laugh.
“What do you want to eat?” she asks us.
Rhiannon leans across me, all warm curves and chaos, calling toward the kitchen. “Wings! Loads of wings! And more tequila!”
Ten minutes later, we’ve somehow migrated to the dance floor. Or what’s left of it.
She’s too tipsy to dance at this point, her movements are slow, loose, more sway than rhythm. But she’s pressed up against me, hips grinding lazily against my half erection, head tilted back as she laughs into my chest.
And I’m doing everything I can to hold on and not make a fool of myself. Her fingers clutch at my shirt. Her perfume mixes with sweat and tequila, and the heat between us builds until I swear the room fades out and all I can do is think about kissing her.