Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
MEREDITH
I can’t sleep another night in his bed. The futon should be uncomfortable. I should be tossing and turning like I always do. Instead, I curled up last night wrapped in his scent and passed out until my alarm went off.
Now I’m finally done for the day. The past twenty-four hours have felt like a week. Tomorrow is the second part of my brew day.
I finish mopping the floors and put all my cleaning supplies away. At the bottom of the stairs, I eye the office with the light still on. Did he fall asleep up there?
“I’m heading out, Calder,” I call.
A chair scrapes against the floor, and the wheels creak seconds before he pops his head out.
My stomach dips. He has the same flinty expression as the day he first entered the brewery, but the clothes he’s wearing are wildly different.
His crisp jeans are more worn after a few days of helping with chores, and his tight shirts are somehow tighter, like his muscles were holding back in the city. But a new furrow creases his brow.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He jogs down the stairs and stops in front of me. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad things were?”
“I told you, I don’t know how it is.” I tip my head back so my confusion is fully visible. He’s using his McBossy tone, like I outright lied to him, when I have no idea what he’s talking about. “That bad?”
“This place. The fucking ranch. It’s amazing the doors are still open.”
Shocked, I rear back. His heated tone is aimed at me. “It can’t be that terrible.” Ransom would’ve said something, given me some warning. “We have distribution deals, and we’re busy most nights. I mean, the winter gets a little slow, but that’s normal.”
“He gave you a hell of a fucking raise when you started working here again.”
Defensive heat licks across my neck. “He set the salary. I would’ve worked no matter what.” Has he spent all afternoon and much of the evening stewing up there, letting me do all the work before dumping his angst on me? “If I didn’t live in Scandal, I’d barely make ends meet with what I’m paid.”
“But you do, because you live in their house. Did he pay for your car too?”
“My douchey ex sold it to me.”
His right eye twitches, and my indignation pumps hotter, turning to anger. I’ve had a long week, my future feels too uncertain and I don’t like being back in that place, and now I have to deal with him?
“You were just waiting to blame me again for anything, weren’t you? What’s the matter? Realized you might’ve had some responsibility in the rift between you and Ransom and decided to take it out on me?”
“You know nothing about that.”
“According to you, I know about everything. It’s like I tossed my sister onto your dad.
” I poke him in the shoulder. Ow. “I don’t know what you want to be angry about—if it’s the funeral, or that your brothers haven’t shown yet, or maybe you’re figuring out it was you three who kept the feud going for much longer than it ever needed to—but I don’t need your shit. ”
I stride away, my heart pounding, and retrieve my purse from behind the bar.
He’s a thundercloud at the base of the stairs. I could get hit by lightning before I walk out the door. “We need to talk about the books.”
“I’m a brewer, not a bookkeeper,” I say, circling the bar.
His long strides eat up the distance between us, and he traps me between him and a chair. “Did you know this place is failing?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you sure? You could buy it dirt-cheap from him and have your chance to do what you want. I’m sure your credit is pristine.
” He’s closer now, hovering right over me.
I like it too much, how his shoulders block out the light.
How he’s so close I can see the dark striations in his eyes.
Close enough to smell him, like I’m wrapped in his sheets.
But he’s infuriating.
“Jules Creek can’t be doing that bad.”
“He’s been taking out loans for years.”
My mouth drops. Disbelief holds my horror at bay. “No. He couldn’t have.”
His gaze tracks over my face. “Why not?”
Because I had to have been more than an obligation to him.
“He would take Carlos’s advice about pasture rotation and feed ratios.
And-and he had no choice but to listen to Sawyer about the cattle.
I could barely get him to put mango in the Razzy Creek or try barrel aging.
So I guess I’m wrong. He absolutely would’ve kept something like that from me.
Maybe he wanted to care more, but I wasn’t one of his boys.
I was never going to be more than the much younger sister he promised his new wife he’d help support. ”
I can’t identify the emotion flitting through Calder’s eyes, but it seems to be sympathy. Guilt also darkens his deep brown irises.
“Jesus, rosy,” he says gruffly. “Sometimes you just dig right in and gut me.”
“Why?” We’re closer again, that pull between us constantly at work. “Afraid you might like me?” It doesn’t come out flirty. I sound tired. Worn.
“I don’t.”
“I know.”
He drops his head, like he can’t help it, his lips hovering just above mine. I can’t breathe. “You said I’m the know-it-all.”
“Because you are. McBossy,” the word puffs out, barely above a whisper.
Then his lips touch mine, warm, firm, and commanding. Just like him. He adds pressure as he grips the back of my neck. A shiver trails through my body, down my spine, and curls between my legs. When he coaxes my mouth open, I let him and stroke my tongue along his.
A whimper escapes me. It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to a guy, but he’s taken charge. I don’t have to wonder what to do. Just like when he barged into town and jumped in. Like last night, when he told me I wasn’t sleeping upstairs alone.
He tips my head back for a better angle, his thumb stroking along the base of my jaw, and he consumes me.
I let him. I dump my purse on the floor and wrap my arms around his neck, tangling my limbs with his.
He urges me back, and my ass hits a stool.
Without hesitation, he boosts me onto it with his free hand, and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist.
He breaks the kiss and tips his forehead to mine. “Christ, Meredith. Do you have to be so fucking responsive too?”
I blink. My lips feel puffy, my brain is offline, and I can’t focus when a hard ridge presses between my legs, hitting all the needy spots. “I—”
He claims my mouth again, grinding harder against me. I cinch my ankles tighter and grip his shoulders. The bar rail digs into my back, but I don’t care. I have to know what his scruff feels like, or if his hair is as soft as it looks. How much I can touch him.
I place a hand on the side of his face as our tongues tangle. Rough stubble scrapes against my palm, and I groan. So good. The pressure against my sex, the way he’s rocking into me while holding me firmly to him—it’s too much, but not enough.
I slide my other hand into his hair. Thick, soft strands tickle my skin.
“Fuck,” he growls, kissing his way down my neck. I tip my head back so far I can’t believe I don’t hit the top of the counter. “Those little sounds you make are driving me fucking crazy.”
I let out another moan just to be wicked. But I also can’t help it. Nerves are fired up all over my body, demanding more touching, more stroking, more, more, more.
“Calder.” I roll my hips into him.
“That’s it, Meredith. You need it.” He lays a path of open-mouth kisses to my ear. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”
Another whimper leaves me. My underwear is soaked. “Yes.”
He brushes his hand under my shirt. “Do you know what I imagined while you were sleeping in my bed last night?” His lips return to my neck.
Shivers trace through my body, chaotic, creating their own storm from his thundercloud.
“I wanted you to take off that shirt and sleep naked against my sheets.”
He crushes me against him, his erection pulsing through the denim between us. I ache for him. If he released me, I’d strip down. At the same time, I don’t want him to let go.
“I was surrounded by you all night.” I gasp as he nips the sensitive skin at the base of my neck.
“If I’d been with you all night, you’d know it.
” He works his hot hand up to cup my breast. My ultra-sensitive nipples beg for him, and he answers the call of one, rolling the tight peak between his thumb and his forefinger.
“So. Fucking. Responsive.” He dominates my mouth again while toying with my needy nipple.
Both my hands are buried in his hair. I don’t know if I’m squarely on the stool or being held up solely by him. I’m wrapped so tightly around him it might not matter.
How did we get like this? He was in the office all afternoon and evening, then he was upset about the books and my ignorance. And now…
“Why?” I gasp.
He pauses, lifting his head enough to catch my gaze. His deft fingers lower the cup of my bra, and it’s skin on skin. I shudder against him. His touch is electric. “Why what?”
“Why are you kissing me?” Why did you stop?
He rests his lips against mine. “Since you first made that little moan drinking a beer, I had to know when else you made them.”
He cups his hand over my breast and rolls his palm to scrape over my nipple. That same moan he mentioned slips out of me.
“That’s it.” His words are a purr. “You’re ready to come.”
My body is rigid, perched on the precipice of an abyss I’m willing to fling myself into. “Yes.”
He places a kiss on the side of my mouth. “I need to know how wet you are.”
He replaces the cup of my bra and trails his fingers down my stomach. I mourn the loss of him plucking my demanding nipple, but then he flicks the button of my jeans open.
Yes.
I arch into him, trying and failing to give him more room. My zipper tracks down. He’s dominating my mouth again, languidly thrusting his tongue in and out, just like I want his cock to be doing.
His hot fingers work between my skin and my waistband. In seconds, he’s tunneling down—
The front door crashes open.
“When the hell did they start locking the house?” a deep male voice bellows into the taproom.