19. Tim
19
TIM
I DON’T TELL. YOU DON’T TELL.
T he fact I own and run a bar that operates until the early hours of every morning is a problem for a man who wants to create a life with a woman who works a standard-ish nine to five. When Aubree wakes around six, I’m barely nodding off for the night, and when she’s off in the evening, I’m working and unable to dedicate more than a few minutes of my time to her.
Or at least, that’s how things used to be. But I’m a forward thinker, too, and knowing who I wanted to spend my life with meant delegating the bar and hiring someone else to manage the place for me.
Daisy.
She’s sweet as pie, but fierce with the customers. She pours fast, counts change to the cent, and takes no shit on the off chance someone wants to give her trouble.
It means I can be absent for a night. Or days. Or weeks, even, and know the place is being managed, the till won’t be skimmed, and the doors will be locked at night to keep the vagrants and thieves away.
It’s all a good deal, really. Especially as we pull up outside the bar around lunchtime to find the door swinging and business chugging.
Passive income is my favorite kind.
“I’ll follow your lead.” And yet, I twine my fingers in Aubree’s and press her palm to my lips. “Tell them whatever makes you comfortable. They know we’ve spent the night together before, so if that’s the story you want to work with this time, then that’s fine.”
“Yeah?” She glances across, sweet seduction and untapped purity. I don’t know how she works with the dead, day in and day out, and hangs around with the people she does, and still maintain her innocence. “And you’re okay if I go in and tell them we’re still friends? Just friends?”
“I support whatever brings you comfort.” Another kiss, which leads to her narrowed eyes. “I’ll tell them we’re getting married,” I chuckle. “But I’ll nod and say yes dear to anything you tell them. There’s no rule that says we have to have the same story.”
Rolling her eyes, she yanks her hand from mine and shoves out of her side of the car. And though I’d like to let her stomp off and do her thing, I’m wildly aware we still have enemies in this city. Men looking to collect a debt and settle a score. So I jump out too, quick as a flash with my eyes scouring the surrounding street. Then I lope up on her left and throw my arm over her shoulders.
“Wanna check the real estate websites and shop for a house? We’ll need space for the cat, and probably extra guest rooms since we both have a fuck ton of siblings. But no pool necessary. I never liked them, and we’ll make the guest beds uncomfortable so no one stays too long.”
“We’re not buying a house.” She pushes through the bar door just a half step ahead of me, the familiar sound of cops drinking and the comforting scent of spilled beer filling our senses. This is home. Chaos and noise and the constant chatter that revolves around dead bodies and broken laws.
“They’ve returned!” Cato stands on my bar, his arms in the air and his eyes wild with torment. And though I shoot a look at a sheepish Daisy, he’s a Malone, which is where she draws the line when kicking ass and dealing with customers. “Aubree Emeri! You look…” He giggles. “Adequately sullied.”
“Kill him.” She turns to me and looks up with eyes that could convince me to torch an entire city. “You’re for hire, right? And you have a certain skill set and loyalty to me. That means I can ask for anything I want.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder and speaks seriously. Deadly serious. “Dispose of him. Make it painful and bury him somewhere no one will ever find him. Then I’ll marry you.”
I look at my baby brother, wild hope clawing at my throat, and consider a world where there are only four Malone sons. Five is a lot. Unnecessary, even. His carbon footprint alone is wasteful and dangerous…
“You’re looking at me like you wanna hug me.” Cato stomps Archer’s hand away when he attempts to grab our youngest. But his stare is all for me. His taunting, my payment for a night of bliss. “I shall call you Algernon the Conqueror. It’s a bit like Voldemort drinking the blood of the llama’s, no? You’ll live just half a life now, but it’s still totally worth it.”
“He drank blood of the unicorn, dummy.” Spinning, Aubree steamrolls to the bar and grabs his ankle. Just one tug, and she could slam him to the ground and end his pro basketball career before it even begins. “Don’t talk about me ever again.”
“You should be more cheerful.” He crouches, his legs splayed wide and his back arched so he can get on her level. Almost . Then he blows her a kiss. “If anyone was gonna conquer you, I’m glad it was him. He deserves good things, because he’s got the smallest dick in the family.”
She shoves, knocking him off the bar so his arms flail wide and his hands grab on to anything . The fucking taps. Bottles of expensive liquor. Wine glasses and his own shoe, like that’ll help. Glass shatters against the floor, drawing the eyes of cops who should probably investigate. Press charges, even. But she turns from my brother, crumpled on the floor in the small pocket between the bar and the back wall, and looks at her boss with a wicked smile. “He had it coming.”
“So I guess you told him then.” Minka ignores the groaning Malone and picks up her soda instead. Sipping through the straw and leaning back against Archer’s chest. “I’m glad you did. Honesty is best, and you needed—You…”
Aubree waves a frantic finger over her lips. Which somehow turns into a I’ll slit your throat if you don’t stop talking motion that has Mayet’s mouth snapping shut.
“What didn’t you tell him?” Archer leans around his wife and looks from me to Aubree. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, shut up!” Aubree steals his soda and tips it back so she can angry-chew the ice. “You know. She told you, so stop with the crap.”
“What?” He laughs. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Aubs. But if you’re gonna be a brat about it?—”
“What didn’t you tell me?” I grab the back of her neck and spin her until she has no choice but to focus on me. Eyes up, drink down, no distractions. “What secrets are you keeping?”
“A big one,” Cato giggles, re-emerging on the other side of the bar and pressing his elbows to the top. “A juicy, once in a lifetime—the chick’s lifetime, not the dude’s?—”
Minka reaches across and slaps the side of his head .
“Why is everyone hurting me?!” He shoves her hand away and swings his gaze back to me. “Seems you and the not-so-innocent Doctor Emeri have some talkin’ to do.”
“We’re getting married!” Aubree practically shouts the words, turning her back to me and putting on a show for the others. “He asked. I said no, but we know he doesn’t listen. You’re all invited.” But then she looks at Cato. “Except you. I’m tying you to the lamppost outside like the stray dog you are.”
He brushes glass shards off his shirt and smirks. “Didn’t you know you’re supposed to still be a virgin when you marry?” His eyes slide to mine. “You should’ve married her yesterday, King. Because today?—”
Something in my mind snaps. Something visceral and real and terrifying and painful. I remember our morning together and the ways I pushed her. No care for her body. No respect for her boundaries. No consideration for the pain she might feel. I’m a fucking monster, stealing virtues and not even realizing. Because I was so caught up in me, I didn’t stop to think about her.
“What the fuck?”
“Ope,” Cato squeaks. “There it is. His brain is on again.”
I sweep Aubree into my arms, her legs swinging through the air and her feet almost connecting with Cato’s smashable chin. Then I throw her over my shoulder and make a beeline for the end of the bar.
“Tim!” She pounds her fists against my back. “Put me down!”
I smack her ass and turn at the doorway so we can start up. “You were a fucking virgin?” I lower my voice, at least. Preserve what little dignity my baby brother didn’t shred. “A virgin!”
“So?” She smacks my ass too, since I guess she’s all about giving what she gets. “That’s my business.”
“It’s my business too!” I trudge up the stairs and shove my door open. Then I kick it shut as soon as I cross the threshold, stalking across the room to the couch. “It’s my business if we’re in bed together and you’ve got me thinking you’ve done it before!”
“I never told you I had. I never said I hadn’t. It’s no one’s business but mine.”
“It’s mine too!” I heave her onto the cushions and follow her down, my knee pressed between her legs and the ends of my beard touching her chin when I lean over her supple body. “You said Chester… He…” Fuck! I hate even thinking about it. “You said he was gentle, even though he was large. He took your virginity!”
“He was gentle, as in, he didn’t throw me over his shoulder every damn time he was in a bad mood, and he is large! You saw him at the wedding. Dude is like six and a half feet tall.”
“Aubree! You led me to believe you’d had sex before!”
“You assumed I’d had sex before.” She calms her tone, her lips curling into a seductive smile. “Remind me again the first three letters of assume?”
“You let me hurt you.” My heart aches as I lower and rest my forehead against hers. “Aubree Grace. You let me be rough.”
“First times are notoriously awkward and weird.” She wraps her arms over my shoulders and tangles her fingers in my hair. “They’re weird and chatty and ‘ am I hurting you ?’ uncomfortable. I skipped over the embarrassing stuff and jumped to the good bits.”
“You took the choice out of my hands.” Exhaling, I press a kiss to her lips and sigh when she kisses me back. “You didn’t give me the chance to do it differently.”
“You mean like how you take ninety-eight percent of all choices out of my hands?” Another kiss. “This was my thing to share, or not. It was my body, and my virginity. I like how things went.”
“I called you a slut and entered your ass without asking.”
She warms under me. Her cheeks. Her thighs. Her core, almost saddling my thigh. “I liked it.”
“I put you on your hands and knees and fucked you like a dog. That would have hurt, Aubree!”
“It was going to hurt whether I told you or not. The fact I didn’t, means you did the things you did with my pleasure in mind. Not my pain. I stand firm: I like how things turned out.”
“You’re a pain in my ass.” I push my face to her pounding chest and groan. “How the fuck did my brothers know?”
“Because Cato overheard me and Minka talking about it. And Minka doesn’t keep secrets from Archer. Omertà , my ass. She tells him everything.”
“Jesus Christ.” I want to tear my fucking hair out. And hell, I want to have her again. Claim her. Own her, knowing I’m the only man who ever will. “Aubree. It wasn’t fair to you that I did what I did without knowing to be careful.”
“I don’t feel slighted.”
“And it wasn’t fair to me that you didn’t give me all the information.”
“Because you wanted to know you were the first?” She drags my head back and smirks when our eyes meet. “There comes a point you have to admit only part of your concern is about my comfort. The rest is about being the only man who has ever had me. You wanted to know, because you’re a controlling, obsessive man, and you’re sad you didn’t get to know in the moment you were the first.”
“What are you?” I slide my lips over hers and sigh. “A mind reader?”
She laughs, shaking her head gently from side to side. “I’m a lot of things. Are you done freaking out yet?”
“I’m not freaking out!” I mean… I am. A little. “I’m expressing my disappointment that you were less than truthful with me.”
“Good lord.” She shoves me one way, and slips off the couch the other way. “Don’t talk to me about honesty unless you want a full and frank discussion about all the things you’re keeping from me.” She turns at the television and folds her arms. “Wanna tell me what was in that envelope Cordoza gave you yet?”
“Uh…” Shit. Fuck no.
“Exactly.” She charges toward the kitchen. “Now I need to figure out how to un-tell those fools about the wedding. Since I’m clearly not planning one with a Neanderthal whose most prominent personality quirk is owning a woman.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” I drop to my back and crush the heels of my palms against my eyes. Because I do want to own her. I want to be the only man she ever thinks about. “You’ll like it when we’re married. I promise.”
“I like not being married, too.” She snags a can of soda from my fridge and cracks the seal so the sound reverberates throughout the apartment. Then she shakes cat biscuits, emptying a pile into Capone’s bowl when the fat cat thunders along the hall. “He left you here all alone. Fending for yourself while he was out getting lucky.”
“He’s a cat.” I count the stars on the backs of my eyelids. “He used to be a stray. Spending a night alone in a warm apartment is hardly something he should complain about.”
“He’s a meanie,” she baby-talks as he starts eating. “All because he can’t control his sexual urges.”
“I was the one who stopped us last night.” Grunting, I drop my hands and sit up on the couch, planting my feet on the rug and leaning forward to glance into the kitchen. “You were acting all brave and shit, ‘ Let’s have sex, Tim. Get the condom. ’ I didn’t have to know you were a fuckin’ virgin to know you were nervous and not ready. You were the one who woke me up with your tongue on my fuckin’ chest.”
“Crass,” she continues to the cat. “Insensitive. And mean.”
“Mature,” I counter. “Secret keeping virgin. ”
“Cordoza’s letter?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I lean back again and stare up at the ceiling. “It was nothing! The dude is from my old life. We had business to attend to. Not everything is for you to know.”
“Hence…” She stands again, smiling over the lip of her soda. “My virginity. Not everything is for you to know.”
“You’re the single most stressful person in my life.”
“Can’t be true.” She saunters out of the kitchen and across the living room, only to plop onto the couch and rest her legs on my lap. Already, her body half perched on mine slows my heart and soothes the ache bubbling in my belly. Because I hurt her this morning, and she didn’t give me a chance to be more careful. “You know Felix. And Cato. Their existences are more stressful.” Then she looks at the television and lifts her chin. “The remote being stuck to the screen was genius. But now I want to surf channels. So you’re gonna have to be a good boy, get up, and take care of that for me.”
“A good boy?” I search her eyes. Her fuckin’ sass. “Really?”
“Would you prefer good little slut instead?”