15. Lennon
Chapter 15
Lennon
You Want Me To Score Him?
B eing carless sucked.
I hitched a ride into the orchard with Annette, since we both had to ready the taproom for the St. Paddy’s Day shindig. It was a two-day affair on both Friday and Saturday nights. One being more family friendly and the Saturday crowd leaning into the adult party crowd.
I managed to avoid talking about Griffin, but it only lasted until Annette got coffee in her. She was a grumpy morning girl, and I wasn’t much better, so I appreciated the silence.
She’d gone out to do a few last-minute errands for the first real opening of the taproom, leaving me to obsess over the drink menu that I had been tweaking for weeks.
An hour later, Annette flew around the corner, dancing along to the soundtrack piping through the speakers of the taproom. I’d picked an 80s playlist to get us all moving through our to-do lists. She held two cups of coffee and a white bag. “I need help getting the laundry order out of my backseat, but first…coffee!”
I made gimme hands . “Yes.” The familiar Brewed Awakening logo was perking me right up.
She held back the cup. “First, you need to pay the toll.”
“I already made your peach tea and lemonade.”
“Okay, that gets you this.” She handed me the white bag.
“Hey.”
“You walk off with one of the only eligible bachelors in this place, and you think you won’t have to talk about it?”
I sighed.
“Hey, Griffin isn’t the only bachelor,” Dean called out from the secondary bar. He was prepping it for that night—if we needed it. We weren’t really sure how the night would shake out.
Especially since the skies were steel gray with wicked winds battering the windows. The scent of rain was heavy, but we were all hoping for some luck of the Irish and that the high winds would push the storm right out of here.
“You don’t count,” she said over her shoulder. “Sleeping with you requires a hazmat suit.”
“Rude. I’ll have you know I’m very safe.”
“Sure, sure.”
Dean lifted the hem of his black T-shirt to show off his eight-pack abs. “I’ll take you for a spin, Annette.”
“Gross.”
“Your loss.” His grin was playful as he dropped his shirt back in place.
She gave me an oh-my-God look. “Save me. Tell me something delicious.” She hopped up on the stool in front of me, and she slid the coffee cup forward. “This better butter you up. Details, Miss Ma’am.”
I reached for the cup and pulled out the little plug that kept the coffee hot. It reminded me of the little sword Griffin had used in place of his usual toothpick. Annoyed with myself, I tossed it in the little garbage I kept under the bar. “Nothing to be buttered for.”
“ Lies . Your Jeep was still in his driveway the next morning. Actually, I heard it was still there this morning.”
“Flat tires.”
I was hoping the excuse would work, but she just gave me a steady stare.
I sighed. “I slept on the couch.”
“Girl, there is a beard burn on your neck. That is a lame lie.”
I took a sip of my coffee, stalling. Annette was one of my best friends at the orchard. Especially since Kira has been wrapped up in the twins. I glanced around, since it was still quiet. It was only us and Dean in the main part of the taproom.
Kain was coming in tonight to cook. His crew was here prepping in the kitchen, but the music was loud enough that no one would overhear us.
I wasn’t a sharing kind of woman, but I was definitely twisted up about hooking up with Griffin. I didn’t want it to be awkward at the taproom when this thing flamed out.
Because there was no way that it could keep going at this level.
Griffin would be busy enough with the summer concerts, but summer was still months away.
I tipped back my head. “It was...”
“Go on...”
I came around the bar and sat next to her, pitching my voice low. “Look, I’m not going to give you a play by play here.”
“Rude.”
As I laughed, some of the tension in my shoulders eased. “It was transformative.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I haven’t been with someone like him. We’ll just say he’s generous.”
She flopped against the bar, burying her head in her arms. “God, that’s so unfair.”
“You asked.”
“I know,” she mumbled. She sat back up. “How generous? Like a number.”
“You want me to score him?”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of a score, but now that you mention it...”
“Absolutely not.”
She snickered. “Okay, then give me a number.”
“What number?”
“He seems a multiples guy. And you did say generous.” Her eyebrows pitched higher as she lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Oh.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush.”
“I do not blush.”
She pulled out her phone and held it up, and I heard the click.
I made a grab for it, but she just laughed and hopped off her stool. She checked her screen, then she turned it around. “Definitely a healthy pink going on.”
“Delete that.”
“No way. I just have proof that a man can shake you up. You’re human!”
“For that, you’re not getting any more details.”
Crestfallen, she pouted. “Oh, come on!”
“Nope.” I took my coffee and the wrapped bagel from the bag and slid off my stool. “You can go wrap silverware like a good girl.”
“You suck.”
“We didn’t get to that part.”
“Dammit.” She grinned. “You are the actual worst. Get Dean to help you with the laundry.”
“Fine. I’m getting more details.” She pointed at the collar of my T-shirt. “Especially how you got that little bruise.”
I slapped the skin there. I definitely needed to wear jewelry tonight to hide that.
“Yeah. Is that beard burn or a hickey?”
“I’ll kill him,” I mumbled.
She snickered. “Wear it with pride.”
“I’m not some teenager.” Hell, I hadn’t let a man mark me even when I was a teenager. I’d been too worried about getting out of Arizona, not accidentally ending up with a baby like my mother.
“C’mon, Dean. Help me with all those muscles you like to show off.”
He jogged over. “Can do.”
Annette rolled her eyes, drained her cup, and set it on the bar. “I’m gonna get those details.”
I threw out her cup before I headed back to the office to eat in peace. I had to make an order for the bar now that I’d settled back into my normal routine. I’d gotten in a special order yesterday—which I hadn’t been here to doublecheck—so I needed to do that, as well.
My morning flew by as I did that then I organized the main bar to my liking. I practiced with Dean for our routine for the beginning of the night. He was becoming a good flair bartender. He just had to get over the showing off part.
Being cocky ended in making too many mistakes.
He needed to do it for himself instead of to look good first.
That was one thing that the male flair artists never seemed to get when I did my workshops. Cocky bastards would never be as good as those who practiced until there were damn bruises on your arms and shoulders.
Hell, I’d even ended up with a black eye when I was practicing some of my more intricate moves.
A glass bottle had no mercy.
By mid afternoon, we had the dining room ready for opening. The storm hovered over the orchard, to add to the fun—except not.
Once Kevon showed up, I went over the last routine that would include him, Dean, and myself for the end of the night.
My staff was all accounted for by the time we finished up practicing, which was a relief. People were still in the “excited to be back” mode.
Kira showed up an hour before we opened, looking harried and exhausted. The twins were definitely a lot of work, and they were in something called sleep regression , which sounded absolutely heinous to me.
The entire staff had on our black and green shirts, and the dining room looked like something out of a Hallmark movie with a St. Paddy’s Day theme. It was too windy to open the big back windows, but people in this part of New York were a hardy bunch and plenty of people showed up right when we opened the doors.
Early into the night, Laverne and Fred Ronson stopped at the bar to say hello before mingling with staff and family. Helena and Bells took a seat at the bar before it got too crowded.
“Hey.” Bells flipped her hood back and shook out her deep red hair. “It’s brutal out there.”
“I was hoping the rain would pass us by.”
“Good luck there.” Helena fluffed her bangs. “Looks like the rain isn’t keeping people away so far, and dear God, is the kitchen doing real Irish food tonight?”
I wrinkled my nose. “All I can smell is the cabbage.”
Bells laughed. “Worth it for the rest. I convinced Kain to add a shepherd’s pie to the menu.” She rubbed her hands together. “Perfect for tonight.”
“You are a goddess,” I said, and started making a drink for her. “Loaded or unloaded?”
“Loaded for me.”
“Virgin for me,” Helena said, with a flush. “We’re actively trying.”
My eyebrows raised. “Just how active?”
She nibbled on her lip. “Let’s just say I’m hoping the next week gives us some good news.”
“You guys are too cute.” I swapped out for a different glass and made an iced tea with one of the shamrock stirrers, then added a few cherries and a wedge of orange. “Virgin for you.”
She took the glass. “I don’t know how you always make everything so pretty.”
Bells peered over the bar at the array of goodies I had for drinks. “Be creative for me.”
“You got it.” I knew she liked a Negroni, and we had a special Irish whiskey for an extra kick. “We’ll start with this.”
“Oh, you know me so well.” Her dark eyes danced with excitement as she took a sip then let out a whoop. “Kain’s getting lucky tonight.”
“When doesn’t he?” Helena asked with a smirk.
“Okay, you got me there. That beast is potent.”
“The drink or Kain?” I asked.
She snickered and wiggled her fingers to show off the flash on her left ring finger. “Both.”
“Go on, get out of here. People are waiting.”
“Okay, okay.” Bells picked up her drink and slid off her stool. “Don’t work too hard.”
Helena took her drink. “Make sure you take a break.” She glanced over her shoulder at the wall of people, then back to me with wide eyes. “At least try.”
“Thanks for coming to say hi.” I smiled over her shoulder at the guy sliding forward. “What can I get you?”
“Your number?”
“Doesn’t come with a pint, I’m afraid.”
“Damn.” He smiled, flashing a pair of charming dimples. “Cider Irish Car Bomb.”
“You got it.” I pulled a Firefly cider and poured him a shot. “You want to drop it or me?”
He held a hand to his chest. “You, baby.”
I rolled my eyes, but I kept the smile on my face as I dropped the shot glass into the cider, exchanging the drink for cash. “Enjoy the night.”
“Thanks, heartbreaker.”
I winked at him and moved onto the next person. Sweetness netted more tips than sarcasm.
The first part of the evening was a crush of people. We piped in fun Irish music, heavy on the more kid-friendly tunes. Saturday night would be a bit wilder with the down and dirty songs like the Pogues and The Dubliners.
Food was plentiful, and I even managed to get a quick bowl of shepherd’s pie while CJ and Kevon covered the bar for me. On my way out of the kitchen, I stopped at the storage room for a keg I knew had to be low when an arm slipped around me from behind.
I stiffened, elbow at the ready, when the familiar scent of leather and warm spice rolled over me.
“Hello, Lenny,” he purred against my ear.
I elbowed him, anyway. “Have my Jeep yet?”
He laughed against my neck and ushered us both through the door and shut it behind us. “Working on it.” He swung me around and caged me against the door. “Wonder how many people made out in the room?”
“And what makes you think you’ll be included in that club?”
He braced his arm over my head and the added scent of rain enveloped me. His dark hair was damp, and so was his leather bomber jacket. He wore a green henley that hugged his chest and made me want to stick my face right into the warm center of him.
Instead, I narrowed my eyes at him and tried to push him back. “You’re crowding me.”
“I like crowding you.”
But he did back up a half step, not that it made much of a difference. He was much bigger than I was, but it didn’t instill fear. No, it was far worse because I wanted to wind around him. Which was why I was stuck to the door as if it was a lifeline.
“You going to make me work for a kiss, or do you want me gone, Lenny?” His familiar toothpick was back in the corner of his mouth, and it made me want to snatch it away and kiss him stupid.
Which also annoyed the hell out of me.
I didn’t want to want him, but damn, if he didn’t tempt me.
“It’s busy out there.”
“They won’t miss you for five minutes.” He took out his toothpick and tucked it behind his ear before lowering his mouth an inch from mine.
“Why do you do the toothpick thing?”
“I have an oral fixation.” Instead of going for my mouth, he detoured to my neck. The warmth of his breath and the hum of his gravelly voice against my skin made me slam my eyes shut, then he dragged his nose along the chain of small shamrocks that ringed my neck tightly. When he got to the bigger one at the center of my neck, he flicked his tongue below the stem. “You kept my mouth very busy yesterday.”
I tipped my head back a little as a shiver arrowed down my spine and re-routed to my clit.
How the hell did he do that?
He straightened enough so he could drag his knuckle over the line of my neck, up to my chin, then along my lower lip. “Kissing your mouth—or that delicious pussy—was the perfect distraction.” He nudged my legs apart with his knee. “If I knew we’d stay alone back here, I’d strip these jeans off you and see if you’re wearing a green thong.”
The memory of him between my thighs made them quiver.
“But I’ll do with a kiss until I can get you under me later.”
My eyes snapped open. “Who says you’re getting me naked later?”
He made a return trip down my throat with his knuckle to trace the shamrock that was on our special T-shirts for the holiday. However, my stupid nipple didn’t know the difference and hardened until I couldn’t stop a tiny whimper from escaping.
He lifted his knee until it met the seam of my jeans. “I could get you off without getting you naked, Lennon, and you know it.” His circled my tight nipple and I dragged in a ragged breath when he pinched it lightly.
I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes, but that didn’t help. It just amplified his rain-soaked scent and the friction of his fingers over cotton and lace.
He released my nipple, then he wandered down to lift my shirt. He made little circles along my midriff before tunneling under the cotton to cup my breast. Then he flipped up the lace demi-cup of my bra to tug at one nipple while his mouth hovered over mine.
“Like hot silk.” He rolled the insanely tight tip, and I swallowed a moan. He lifted his knee another inch, and I couldn’t swallow that gasp as he shoved my shirt up to my neck and covered the same nipple with his hot mouth and sucked—hard.
“Fuck.”
“I would.” He looked up at me, his breath hot on my skin. “I would fuck you against this door until everyone knew what we were doing in here.”
I shook my head. “This is crazy.”
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He lowered his hand to the snap of my jeans and ripped it open, shoving his hand into denim and my lacy thong. “Fuck, so wet for me. Let me taste you. I miss your taste.”
I rolled my head against the door. “Griffin.”
“Just a taste.” He crouched low and jerked my jeans enough to get his lips on me.
I reached up for purchase. I wasn’t ready for him or his infinitely clever mouth. His tongue lashed at my clit, and I was embarrassed at how close I was.
This wasn’t me.
Sex didn’t cloud my judgment.
Or maybe it was just me with him. And that was far more dangerous.
I jammed my fist into my mouth against the swift and brutal orgasm that punched into me.
Suddenly, he stood and replaced his mouth with his fingers and drove into me with a ruthlessness that tripped me into panting out his name again.
“Another.” He kissed me hard, and I moaned at my taste on his tongue.
Along with something cinnamony. The sharpness of it clashed with the salty taste of me.
I bit his lower lip as anger hitched a ride on the second sneaky orgasm. My legs shook as the pleasure eroded my annoyance and left me sagging against the door.
“Making you come is my new favorite pastime.”
“You need better hobbies,” I said on a gasp. My heartbeat was thundering in my head as I recovered from him.
He buried his head in my neck with a rich laugh. “Only you would say that.” He eased back a little and drew his disconcertingly wet fingers from me. My breath caught as he licked them clean. “Better than moonshine.”
I couldn’t help the laugh. “Based on the other night, I would hope so.”
“Oh, it goes down easy. Just like that rich taste of you.” He drew up my zipper and redid my button.
Feeling guilty, I cupped the hard ridge in his jeans.
He eased back. “Luck would not be on my side if we go there.”
I sighed and rested my forehead on his chest. “You’re probably right. I’m still mad at you, anyway.”
He chuckled. “Because I made you come twice?”
“Yes, dammit.” I straightened. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t get used to you.”
His eyebrows rose. “Used to me?”
Annoyed even more that I’d blurted that out, I slipped away from him and adjusted my bra and shirt, then I stepped around to where the kegs were kept.
“I’ll get that,” he said from behind me.
“I can do my damn job.”
“I know you can. And I’m not sure why you’re pissed at me, but you’re not carrying that with me right here. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” He hoisted the keg onto his shoulder. “You gonna stay mad at me?”
“Maybe.”
“We’ll talk about this later.”
I swung the door open to find Dean on the other side.
“Uh, we need a Firefly and a Hot Honey.”
“I’ve got the Firefly.”
Dean looked over my shoulder and his lips twitched. “I see that.”
“Move.”
Dean held his hands up and shuffled to the side. “You got it, boss.”
I stalked down the hall with Griffin right behind me. He slid by me and behind the bar. CJ shot me a surprised look, then she focused on the patron in front of her.
“You’re scary, Lenny. Chill out.” He lowered the keg to the floor and expertly swapped the taps and tucked the fresh keg underneath and lifted the empty onto his shoulder. He stepped in front of me when I tried to pass him.
“What?”
He shifted the keg and held it with one hand, with the other, he tipped my chin up and I had a terrifying moment where I thought he was going to kiss me right in the middle of the busiest nights of the year. Instead, he just tapped my chin and sauntered off.
Seething, I pasted a smile on my face to find Bells sitting right in front of me.
“I came for a refill.”
Annoyed, I automatically wiped the bar down and started building her drink.
“They have that effect on people. He might not have the N’ai name, but he’s got the cocky bastard quotient.”
“What cocky bastard quotient?” Kain came up behind Bells and dropped a kiss on her upturned mouth.
Bells laughed. “As if you didn’t go all caveman on me when we were first dancing around one another.”
Kain frowned down at his fiancée, then he met my gaze. “What the hell did I miss?”
Bells leaned back against Kain. “Lennon is sleeping with your brother.”
I closed my eyes. “Jesus, Bells.”
“C’mon.” She folded her hands on the bar. “The whole orchard is talking about your Jeep being in his driveway.”
“I had two flat tires,” I said, between my teeth.
Kain frowned at me. “How did you get two flat tires?”
“I don’t know.” I started building pints as I heard orders coming through. I slid two of them down to CJ, who gave me a wary smile of thanks. With those out of the way, I finished the Irish Negroni and pushed it in front of Bells.
Kain lightly massaged Bells’ shoulders as he continued to frown. “Griffin?”
“You have another brother?”
“I damn well better not,” he snarled.
Bells reached up and patted his cheek. “Relax, Cujo. I, for one, love the idea of them together.”
“We’re not together,” I said in a furious whisper.
“That’s how we started, isn’t it, babe?” She smiled up at Kain.
“Once I got you, I didn’t let you go, kaimoni .”
“Don’t go rewriting history, pal. You made plenty of mistakes.” She elbowed him.
“But now you’re mine.” Kain kissed the top of her head, and my chest tightened.
I didn’t want that.
Did I?
Annoyed with myself and the way this evening had gone sideways, I threw myself into building our specialty drinks. My shoulders relaxed when Kain and Bells took off to join Laverne, who was holding court in the corner.
Griffin ended up at the same booth, but he also watched over me. Whenever I was close to needing another keg, he was there with another one. Swapping them out without a word, just giving me that stupid smile that made my stomach flip.
Hell.
It was too busy to worry about my jittery nerves packaged in hormonal idiocy. They were just orgasms. They didn’t need to be more than that—even if I kept double-checking where he was in the room.
He floated from one booth to another, talking to some of the guys who were helping out with the renovations, then shifting back to the Mannings and Ronsons.
He was so easy with everyone. As if he didn’t have to think about it, just chatted and moved on.
I had the same ability, but mine was more on the surface and based on survival. I was polite with customers, but my efficiency overrode any flirting and small talk that Dean and Kevon excelled at.
As the night drew to a close, we played a few fiddle-heavy songs to go with the simple routine I’d worked out with Dean and Kevon. The three of us tossed a series of bottles between one another, creating a monkey in the middle situation that had everyone laughing.
I didn’t do much of a comedy aspect to my flair, but since there were a few younger kids still around, I played it up. Kevon and Dean played keep away while I gave off an air of confusion, followed by a bit of pouting that made the crowd laugh.
Until I did a backbend into a handstand and caught one of the bottles Kevon set on the sole of my sneakers. I turned in a circle, feeling the weight of the bottle shimmy ever closer to my heel until I popped it high in the air and quickly did a roundhouse to a standing position.
Dean threw me a shaker and the bottle arced down neatly into a metal cup with a clink.
The crowd roared just as the Dropkick Murphy’s “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” blasted through the speakers.
“Shots for all!” I shouted as I clapped to the music.
Dean and Kevon sang along as we raced to fill green plastic shot glasses with the Brothers Three barn owl logo etched into them and handed them out to the people who were left.
It was a harrowing few minutes, but finally, those who were interested were happily served.
Kevon, in his endlessly adorable ways, made up a few for the kids with Koolaid.
I raised a shot of my own. “Thanks for coming tonight! Sláinte!”
I was laughing when I glanced over to Laverne’s booth. Griffin was leaning against the wall beside the booth, a grin on his face as he raised his shot and tipped it back, then winked at me.
Freaking winked .
Damn him.