21. Anthony
Chapter 21
Anthony
I KNOW THAT pretty much everyone sees me as a total grump. And that’s fair. But I smile like a loon when I open up the package of specially designed shirts that I had made for Darcy’s bowling team.
“Hey, boss.”
Harrison’s voice has me shoving the shirts back into the box like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. Which is stupid. I own the damn bar. Hell, I own the whole damn place .
Ignoring my pathetic attempt to hide the shirts, Harrison continues, “Darcy told me you’re not allowed up in the loft today. Also said you can’t come to the front for a while, either.”
I frown. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I think she’s moving all the stuff in and doesn’t want you to see it. Which is weird, right? Like, you approved everything—why wouldn’t you be able to watch it all be moved in?”
I turn back to inventorying the bar with a grunt. The fact is, I approved exactly nothing. She asked me what colors I liked way back at the beginning, and after that, didn’t ask anything else. Just barreled forward without a care in the world. I’ve liked the colors she’s painted the walls, but hell if I know what kind of furniture and shit she’s picked out.
I didn’t give her any input on the furniture, either. She just…did it. Which is fine. She and I both know that I’ll let her do just about anything, even though we might pretend otherwise.
“Too bad this is her last day. I’ve enjoyed seeing her, if you know what I mean.” Harrison waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
My blood boils. “No, Harrison, I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “Why don’t you explain it just a little more?”
His eyes widen. “Dude, chill out.”
“No.” I can’t stop the rage simmering beneath the surface. She’s mine.
And fuck. Fuck. I want her. I want her for so much more than whatever this is. That’s…problematic.
In front of me, Harrison’s expression shifts. “Holy shit, man—you’re into her.”
I don’t bother denying it.
His answering grin at my silence is infuriating. “That’s awesome.”
With a squint, I ask, “Awesome?”
He nods, then steps around me, putting some needed space between us. “Yeah. In all my years of working here, I’ve never seen you interested in anyone. This is great.”
“Well. Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
“So many things make sense now,” he says, nodding to himself. “Including why you don’t get to see what she’s doing up there.”
I rub at my chest absentmindedly. “What’s she doing, exactly?”
He grins. “Oh, you’ll see.”
“I thought you said you didn’t understand why I couldn’t see it.”
“I didn’t. But now I do.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I growl.
He laughs. “I’m making so much sense it’s not even funny. But you can’t know that yet.”
“Tell me or you’re fired.”
Now it’s a straight-up guffaw. “You’re funny. Who knew you could be such a jokester?”
I turn my back on him, done with him and his shenanigans.
The day flies by. The place is hopping, a line of dads grabbing beers at the bar while their kids wreak mayhem on the machines and Skee-ball. I’ve already sent our high school employees to clean up spills in the party rooms and next to the claw machine, and I’ve been told by more than one of them that the bathrooms are under constant attack by screeching babies and toddlers.
In other words: It’s a normal Thursday afternoon in late summer, during that in-between time when you’ve spent too much time at the beach but it’s too early for dinner. And sure, it’s chaotic and nearly impossible to keep things clean and up to the standards I want, but that’s okay. That’s kind of the fun of it, if I’m being honest. This is precisely the kind of place I’d have killed for as a kid, even if I was too poor to enjoy it more than once or twice, and I’m beyond happy to have it for the ones around now. It stings that the rest of my family doesn’t see this for what it is, but it’s something I have to get over.
My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Darcy.
DARCY
Ready when you are, handsome.
Biting back a smile, I send a thumbs-up. A moment later, another text comes in.
DARCY
Seriously? That’s all you’re giving me after two months of renovation? A thumbs-up?
Swamped down here. Another hour or so. But don’t worry. When I get up there, I’m going to thank you…or punish you.
DARCY
Mr. Hall, did you just send me a winking emoji? Have you been kidnapped? Send another thumbs-up if you have.
I’m tempted, but I simply click the phone off and turn back to work.
A little more than an hour later, I send an “on my way” message to Darcy and head upstairs. I find her waiting on the threshold, one of her bandanas in hand.
“Put this on,” she says.
“You’re cute,” I answer, but I turn around and let her tie it around my eyes, anyway. It smells of her, watermelon and cherries. And out of nowhere, my heart begins to beat faster.
Sliding her hands down my arms and resting her palms on my hips, she guides me in, a tremor in her voice as she asks, “Are you excited?”
“Um, maybe?” I can’t get a full breath, but I don’t think it’s because I’m worried about what my home will look like.
She hums. “That’s fair.”
A few stumbling steps later, she says I can stop. If I’m not mistaken, her hands tremble a little, too.
“Okay. You can take it off.”
“You sure? You sound a little nervous,” I tease.
She whacks my stomach with her hand. “Take it off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckle.
I pull the bandana down, and in front of me is the most gorgeous pool table I’ve ever seen. Sleek and yet masculine, the felt is dyed in what I can only describe as an ombre sunset. The pockets are a sumptuous woven leather the color of sand. Carved into the top edge of the table is a swirling pattern reminiscent of ocean waves, accented with bits of pearl inlay. Swallowing, I take in the woman next to me. “Darcy.”
“Mm?” She looks terrified, her eyes wide, her hands fidgeting.
“Did you—did you make this?” My voice cracks as I speak.
She nods and clenches her hands against her sternum.
I swing my gaze back to the table. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have asked for, if I’d known something as beautiful as this could be made. My eyes sting as I turn to face her. “Darcy. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.” I can’t fathom what it took her to do this. The creativity. The time. The cost.
She relaxes a little, giving me a soft, nervous smile. “Do you like it?”
I take her hands in mine, feeling the callouses on them. “Darcy, I love it.” I love you. The thought lands in my head like a sledgehammer, nearly taking me out with its intensity. I keep the words inside, pulling her into my arms and slanting my mouth over hers. Words won’t do my thanks justice, so I let my mouth do the talking.
She whimpers, the sound making me go rock hard as always. Our grips tighten on each other, and I’m moving her to lean against the pool table without a second thought. I undo the overalls, palming her soft skin as they give way, then shove them down past her knees and kneel to take her boots off. When they’re off, I pull the overalls off, leaving her in cotton panties and a sports bra, and she has never looked sexier.
“Does this mean you love it?” she confirms, smiling down at me.
I yank the black underwear off, then stand to sit her ass on the pool table. She yelps.
“Anthony!”
“Yes?” I answer as I kneel on the plush rug she’s put beneath the table. “Nice carpet down here, by the way. Good on my knees.”
“We shouldn’t?—”
I grin suggestively at her. “Surely you built this to be very sturdy,” I admonish.
“Well, yes, but?—”
“Then shut up and let me eat your pussy.”
“But you haven’t seen the rest?—”
With one hand, I push her knees apart and lick up her seam, listening to her answering groan in return. This is, without a doubt, my favorite: hearing her pants of pleasure above me, feeling her fingers tighten in my hair and using the grip to swirl my face against her pussy as I bring her to orgasm. The fact that I have her on the custom pool table she made just for me makes it infinitely better.
She comes hard and fast, just like I want her to, and as I stand, using the back of my arm to wipe my mouth as I grin at her, she yanks me close, pulling me in for a kiss while she undoes my jeans.
“Darcy,” I start.
She shoves my jeans and underwear down, then leans back on her elbows and spreads her legs. “Shut up and fuck me, Anthony.”
Well. When she puts it like that.
I pull her off the table and flip her around, pressing her chest down to the felt before dropping to my knees to lick her center once again. It’s only when her legs are quivering and she’s begging for me that I stand and slam my cock into her, both of us shouting as I immediately start to move. She’s absolutely flawless, flushed and keening, bent over a pool table I’ll never use without thinking of her, and as she moans and tells me to go harder, faster, all I can think is I love you, I love you, I love you.