Chapter Twenty-Three
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Samantha is cute. Samantha is not getting a book. Do not ask me about it.
Poem
“You and Fox are… dating?” Almond asks, pausing with her clippers three inches away from Emerson’s eyes, which widen—from the news or from the sharp object near his extremities, the world may never know.
“I don’t think so?” I answer, spinning in the rolling saddle chair my pink-haired friend uses when her work doesn’t require her to stand.
Also known as the chair I commandeered when I got here after a frantic phone call begging me not to make her be alone with Emerson for fear she’d do something embarrassing.
Like, say, slice his eyeball in half. For example.
“I think it’s more along the lines of… wooing?
” I continue, letting Almond slice or not slice as she likes.
“Maybe. There was something about kissing, though, and I definitely enjoyed that bit. Also, apparently at the end of this I’m supposed to have either made him a better person or confirmed his belief that he isn’t worthy of love.
” Which is a totally no-pressure thing for me to decide, obviously.
It’s not, like, the fate of both of us on my shoulders or anything. “Isn’t that so fun?”
Almond’s clippers dip.
Emerson curses, grabbing her hand and turning the buzzing weapon off before she can use it to draw blood.
She blushes soft pink and stutters an apology. “I forgot you were there,” she whispers, mortified.
He waves her worry off. “I forgot I was here for a second, too,” he assures her before addressing me.
“You’re saying that Fox Blackwood fell on his knees before you and begged you to let him shower you in affection, kisses, and love, all without demanding anything back beyond you choosing whether or not you’d accept those things?
This happening after you yelled at him about how wonderful he is? ”
“I wouldn’t say ‘begged,’ exactly. It was more like… he kind of just told me it was going to happen.” And then I agreed. Because apparently when a man has depth, even if that depth is centered around self-loathing, I find that appealing.
Emerson’s jaw drops. “Fox?”
Almond nibbles at her lips nervously. “Is he okay?” she asks. “When I talked to Wolfe, he said that he was by the end, but apparently when he found him he was trying to crack his skull open with his desk.”
I frown. “He was doing that to the desk? The desk that has done nothing but good things for him?” Self-loathing or not, that’s just plain rude.
“Yes,” Almond replies. “And, also, his head.”
Well, we didn’t make out on his head, so excuse me if I’m not so offended by what he does to that thing. A bonk or two might be good for him.
“Maybe he knocked loose some of his stupidity,” I suggest. “He was pretty quick to listen to me for probably the first time in his life. We could consider that evidence.”
“The man you believe to be an idiot and a moron confessed his love to you,” she reminds me. “Maybe we can accept that he does have some intelligence.”
I sniff. “You make a fair point.”
“All my points are fair,” she replies automatically. “You didn’t answer me, though. Is he okay? You saw him today and he was fine?”
“I saw him for about four seconds today,” I reply.
“And during those four seconds he kissed me, licked my collarbone, shoved a piece of avocado toast in my mouth, said he’d see me at work, then walked out the door whistling.
” Leaving me with wet skin, avocado in between my front teeth, and a fluttering stomach.
Almond’s face brightens. “That sounds much better than breaking down his desk with his noggin.”
“I’ll say,” Emerson mutters, eyeing the slip of skin where Almond’s collarbone peeks out of her bubblegum-pink gingham dress. “Sounds like he’s more than fine to me.”
I snort.
Almond starts, clearly having forgotten about Emerson again. Somehow. Despite him being a veritable giant and her being head over heels in crush with him. She must be really worried about Fox.
My face softens. “He’s okay,” I assure her.
“Your brother won’t be tearing apart furniture or self again anytime soon.
” True, if only because I won’t be making any life-altering decisions one way or the other anytime soon.
If I do eventually reject his offer of lifelong devotion, it might be handy to hide his desk away somewhere, though.
“That brother, anyway,” she replies. “Wolfe was being pretty down on himself.”
I keep my opinions on that subject to myself. For all of five seconds.
After what one might consider a tirade on my part, Almond and Emerson share a look, which sends Almond’s skin careening past pink and straight into red territory.
“Fox is going to be just fine,” he tells her, eyes alight on her blush. “Wolfe, maybe not.”
Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth in a vain attempt to hold back a giggle.
“Wolfe will be fine, if only because of Amia,” I grumble. “But he better apologize to Fox. Today.”
Almond’s lips press together, doing a much better job of hiding her mirth this time.
“My haircuts have never come with a show before,” Emerson mutters. “This is way better than when I go to Josh’s.” His attention, barely having left her, shifts back to Almond. “For a lot of reasons.”
She blinks, blushes, and squeaks, the adorable little lover girl. “Oh my gosh,” she whispers. “I haven’t even cut your hair yet!”
My phone blares from my pocket, announcing the time for me to go to work—an hour after Emerson’s appointment started. Going the way of Almond, I bite my cheeks to suppress a laugh.
“I don’t mind,” he says as I stand and grab my purse off a hook by the door. “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”
She whimpers, first at his words, then at my approach for a goodbye hug.
“Don’t leave,” she hisses in my ear. “If you leave, I’m giving you an uneven, choppy, swamp-green bob the next time you sit in my chair.”
I pull away beaming. “I love green.”
She grips the ragged hem of my shirt desperately, and I wink at Emerson as I forcibly pull it from her grasp. “Enjoy the haircut!” I bid, rushing to the door. “Come by the bar later to show it off, and I’ll buy you a drink!”
“Poem,” Almond whines.
“I’ll see you there,” Emerson promises.
I blow them each a kiss, wiggle my fingers, then slam the door behind me, leaving my bestie in the dastardly clutches of the man of her dreams as I head toward the man of my… something.
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Something, it turns out, is quite a few things. Fantasies, nightmares, daydreams, and wonders, to start, hitting me one by one all evening.
“I like the way your hair shimmers in the light from the liquor shelves,” Fox mutters into my ear as he passes behind me on his way to the ice well.
“Do all of your skirts have these slits in them?” he asks later, caressing the fingertip bruises on my thigh when I lift my leg to retie my boot during a lull in orders. “Will I always get to see the marks you let me leave on you?” Gruffer, he continues, “Will everyone else?”
And even later, after he follows me off the bar floor when I leave to restock an item I’d forgotten to stock in the first place.
“I love it when you flutter your pretty princess lashes over your pretty princess eyes, faking like you’re nothing but an innocent dove,” he growls, backing me into a shelf of inventory when I pretend I do not, in fact, know a single thing about why we ran out of little napkins to set people’s drinks on out front.
“My brain empties of all but you—your cuteness and your brattiness—and I wonder why I’d ever waste my time thinking about anything else. ”
My skin tingles at his nearness, and my pretty princess eyes drop to his mouth, so close to mine.
“You expect me to believe there are actual thoughts floating around up there?” I ask.
“Complete ones? Intelligent ones? Ones you made up all by yourself? I saw how hard it was for you to form one before. And now you claim to have so many?”
He sighs, tucking his face into my neck to kiss the delicate skin where my jaw starts.
I shiver, and the butterflies that reside in my stomach rejoice. “You weren’t kidding about following your whims, huh?” I ask. “There’s still a level of professionalism you’re supposed to follow as my boss, you know.”
“Then stop me,” he suggests, inhaling as his nose runs down my throat. “Untangle your hand from my hair, take your nails out of my back, and push me away.”
Unfortunately for the both of us, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Professional who? Professional where? Fox isn’t the only one whose head empties in the face of utter attraction.
“I think,” I mumble as his lips coast my shoulder. “That Samantha is going to bankrupt the bar if we stay back here much longer. Last time she was in charge, she gave away three bottles of whiskey and every single garnish we had.”
“Garnish…” he murmurs, far less concerned than the man who owns the business should be. “Who needs garnish anyway?”
Well, I tried, right? I did my duty, and now I can reap his glorious kisses without guilt? Kisses that not only make me feel good, but that heal a little bit of the thing inside him that tells him he doesn’t deserve good things each time I welcome the touch of his lips on mine.
A knock at the storeroom door tells me that, no, I cannot enjoy such kisses at this time.
I glare at it until Fox straightens, blocking my view as he steps between me and the offending wood.
“Yeah?” he asks, shoulders widening as he crosses his feathered arms.
“Are you guys coming back?” Samantha asks.
“’Cause it’s scary out there all by myself.
Emerson is here, and he’s like… huge? Massive?
Giant? Scary? And he’s saying that he gets a free drink, and I’m too scared to tell him no, ’cause one time I saw him throw a whole wall into a dumpster like it was nothing.
He just picked it up and toss, goodbye wall.
I can’t serve that guy. And he has Warren with him, too, and he’s not as scary because I’ve never seen him throw a wall, but he’s still scary because he’s huge, too?
Like, boss, you’re tall and strong and whatever, but these guys are tall and strong and whatever, you know what I mean?
And, okay, yeah, it’s sort of my job, I guess, to serve them, but normally–”
I dig a nail into Fox’s side as she rambles on, reminding him that she will not stop unless forced, and since he’s decided I’m to be hidden, he’s going to have to be the one to force her.
“Samantha,” he grunts, cutting off her ramble. “Go back out. Serve everyone else. We’ll take care of Emerson and Warren.”
She huffs in relief. “Thank you,” she says. “I’ll send up a prayer that they don’t eat you or anything.”
I snort as the door shuts behind her, then shove my way around Fox to serve my charitable contractors. “Time for work, boss,” I throw over my shoulder, reminding us both to behave.
He presses his lips together. “If you want to go out there with your hair looking like I’ve just spent the last five minutes with my hands in it, go right ahead.
I thought you’d rather nobody see you like this, but if you want everyone to…
well, I’m certainly not going to complain about it.
Make it easy on me, Poem. Let them all know that you’re mine.
Let them all know that you, at least, think I’m worthy of putting my hands and my lips and my teeth on you. ”
I pause, hand halfway between the doorknob and my hair, unsure what choice I’m going to make. To care or not to care.
Fox holds his breath, waiting with me to see what I’ll do, and that makes the decision for me.
My hand drops to the handle.
His shoulders drop as he exhales sharply.
“You deserve affection, Fox,” I tell him. “And you deserve to believe that you deserve it. It’s not shameful to be loved by you. Even if I never love you back in the way that you’re wanting, it will never be shameful to be loved by you, and I won’t allow you to think that it is.”
I leave him in the stockroom with a sheen covering his eyes as I take my Fox-tousled self to the front to serve our friends some drinks.
Emerson and Warren eye my hair—and my lips, and my cheeks, and my perhaps not-quite-where-it’s-meant-to-be clothing—then exchange looks.
“Fox and I just got done making out in the backroom,” I tell them loudly, smiling at the various heads that turn my way at the announcement. “I went in there for napkins.” I present my empty hands. “Hope no one minds a little condensation.”
Giggles, chuckles, and a couple of “You go girl!”s answer me. I grin, giving the bar at large jazz hands.
Samantha gapes at me.
I wink.
“This is not quite what I had in mind,” Fox mutters, the smell of him mixed with citrus surrounding me as his arms go around my waist.
I twist, putting my mouth to his ear to reply, “I may not be in love with you, and I may not want to fall, but I’m not letting you doubt yourself when I’m around, Fox.
I like to pester you, but it’s only fun if it’s fun.
Kicking a wounded puppy isn’t fun. Playing with a confident fox, though?
” I smile and press a kiss on his throat.
“I’ll do the work to get back to that, because that was fun. ”
Calloused hands drag across my stomach, pulling me with him as he walks backward. “We’re going to be in the back,” Fox declares to the room. “If anyone needs us…” he trails off, scowling. “Don’t.”
I grin as he drags me away to the tune of laughter, cheers, and more than one lewd comment.
“Five minutes!” I yell to Samantha. “Don’t worry!”
Wide, horrified eyes shift from Emerson’s and Warren’s massive frames to me.
“Five,” I promise, lying through my teeth. “We’ll be back in five.”