Chapter Three #2
“All right, that’s settled.” Her plate clear but for a few smears of sauce, Carrie boosted herself off the stool. “I’m going back to work. Unlock the front door so we can make some damn money to pay for all this construction.”
Chloe made her way out from behind the bar. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Special tonight is pasta pomodoro with garlic bread and a house salad, and I made lemon raspberry tarts. When they’re gone, they’re gone.”
Chloe paused halfway across the room. “Save me one?”
“When they’re gone, they’re gone,” Carrie repeated and swung into the kitchen.
“I already hid two in my office fridge,” Mo told her.
“You’re my favorite aunt.”
“I heard that,” Carrie shouted from the kitchen.
Laughing, Chloe flipped the locks open on the front door, flipped the switch to light the OPEN sign in the window, then leapt back with a squeak when the door nearly hit her in the face.
“Shit!” Brown eyes wide under the flop of his chestnut hair, Jesse Colson reached out, lightning quick, and grabbed her shoulders. “Are you okay? Did I hit you?”
Staggering backward, she would’ve fallen if he hadn’t tightened his grip.
His hands were bare, the cold seeping quickly through the thin cotton of her shirt, but she barely felt it through the flush of heat.
Embarrassment, excitement, and a level of arousal that she might have found baffling if she hadn’t been living with it for almost two months.
God, he was pretty. That tumble of rich brown hair, threads of red and gold gleaming.
He had the face of a Renaissance angel, carved by one of the masters she’d studied in her art classes.
Full, wide mouth, thickly lashed eyes the color of good chocolate, the kind she kept in the bottom drawer of her fridge for emergencies.
He wore his habitual layer of scruff on his jaw, making her palms itch to stroke.
And when he smiled, the dimples went deep.
“Chloe?” he said, jolting her back to reality. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Cheeks hot, she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. It didn’t hit me.”
“Good. Good.” His breath soughed out in relief and his grip eased, his hands sliding down her arms before falling away. He grinned, making the dimples pop. “Scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too,” she admitted. Her arms were tingling where his hands, rough with calluses, had made contact—and they weren’t the only things tingling.
“Jesse? Why are you standing in the doorway?”
“Sorry.” Stepping to the side, Jesse turned his grin on his husband. “I almost knocked Chloe on her ass.”
“Klutz,” Knox accused mildly, but his smokey hazel eyes were locked on Chloe. “You’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, pleased that her voice didn’t waver.
Considered it a minor miracle she was able to smile.
He was just as pretty as Jesse. More dignified, with his mane of silver hair and neatly trimmed beard, the suit she could see peeking out from under the elegant black overcoat.
But no less striking, no less compelling.
No less knee-knocking, panty-melting sexy.
“Just knocked me back a step is all. I was unlocking the door.”
“I should’ve been more careful,” Jesse claimed.
“I should’ve remembered the door was open,” she corrected.
Knox smiled. “He should’ve been more careful.”
She felt as though she’d been knocked back again.
She was used to seeing Jesse smile—he walked around with a perpetual grin, those dimples playing peekaboo with his scruff, those rich chocolate eyes dancing with humor and good cheer.
It was infectious, that smile—an invitation to join in the joke, to laugh along, even as it sent the butterflies spinning in her belly.
But this smile, Knox’s smile, it invited something completely different.
It made her think not of laughing but of sighs in the dark, of deep kisses and the slick glide of bodies under soft sheets.
It made her ache.
“He’s always barging into places without looking,” Knox was saying, his smile deepening as he stepped inside and let the door shut at his back.
It cut off the light from the street outside, leaving only the soft glow of the pub lights.
She could only be grateful as it put Knox’s face in shadow, and let her breathe again.
“Really, it was my fault,” she said and, deciding a strategic retreat was in order, turned back toward the bar.
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Knox asked.
“No. I mean, yes, I’m sure.” She glanced back over her shoulder, then bit back an oof when she bumped into the bar. “Really, I didn’t even fall.”
“She’s fine, Knox.” Coming up behind Knox, Jesse clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Stop stalking her.”
A furrow appeared between Knox’s eyebrows. “I wasn’t stalking her.”
“Uh-huh.” Tugging off his shearling jacket to reveal a flannel shirt in blues and greens and a pair of worn jeans, Jesse straddled a bar stool. “Hey, Mo.”
Chloe’s cheeks flamed when she realized Mo still stood behind the bar. And had seen…whatever that was.
“Jesse,” Mo said mildly. “How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain,” he said cheerfully. “Got a beer for me?”
“I think we can set you up.” Mo turned her gaze on Chloe. “Can you take care of that, hon?”
“Ah, yeah.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Chloe scurried back behind the bar. “What would you like?”
“Something dark,” he decided and winked. “Surprise me.”
With the wink sending the butterflies zooming again—and the buzz from Knox’s smile still humming—Chloe turned to pull a pint glass from the cooler.
“So, what brings the two of you by? No problems with the permits, I hope.”
“Just the opposite,” Knox said as Chloe turned, glass in hand.
He’d shed his coat and settled on the stool next to Jesse, as comfortable in his elegantly cut suit as Jesse was in his flannel and jeans.
“We posted the permits in the front windows, upstairs and down. We’ll get started bright and early Monday morning. ”
Mo shifted aside so Chloe could get to the taps. “That’s good to hear.”
Chloe chose the tap she wanted and concentrated on building Jesse’s beer while keeping one ear on the conversation.
“Since you’re closed on Monday, we’ll try to get as much of the heavy demo done as possible,” Jesse was saying. “We won’t get it all, but we can get most of it.”
“Appreciate it,” Mo said. “Oh, I emailed you earlier. We picked a tile for the new bathrooms.”
“I got it,” Knox confirmed. “We already put the order in.”
“Any word on the finishes for upstairs?” Jesse asked and flashed a smile at Chloe when she set his beer in front of him. “Thanks, beautiful. What am I drinking?”
“Murphy’s Stout.” She gave in to impulse and returned the smile. “Give it a try.”
He picked up the glass, toasted her with it, then took a sip. His eyes lit with appreciation. “Nice.”
“We’re waiting a few more days on the upstairs finishes.” Mo gave Chloe a subtle elbow jab to nudge her back. “Hopefully our new restaurant manager will be living there, and we’d like to give her a say in the design.”
“Don’t wait too long or you’ll be limited to what’s already in stock,” Knox cautioned.
“Understood.”
Jesse set his beer down, his upper lip covered with foam. “By the way, Chloe, I like the new hair.”
“Oh.” She let out a half-laugh, one hand lifting to toy with her bangs. “Thanks. I’m still getting used to it.”
“It’s charming,” Knox agreed, that slow smile curving his lips. “I half expect you to sprout fairy wings.”
“It’s a good thing she hasn’t.” Mo stepped pointedly between Chloe and the bar. “I’d have to buy all new uniform shirts. Can I get you a drink, Knox?”
“Try this beer,” Jesse urged. “It’s great.”
Knox looked at his husband, a look of amused affection coming into his eyes. “You have foam on your lip.” Reaching up, he wiped it off, then licked his thumb. “You’re right, that is good.”
Jesse curved a protective hand around his beer when Knox reached for it. “Get your own.”
Knox chuckled and looked past Mo to Chloe. “One for me, please.”
“Sure.” She dipped into the cooler for another glass, her heart beating double-time. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything sexier, or more romantic, than Knox licking foam from his husband’s lip off his thumb.
“Carrie’s doing pasta pomodoro tonight, if you’re interested in a meal,” Mo offered while Chloe pulled the pint.
“That means tomato sauce, right?” Jesse asked.
“It does. That sounds perfect,” Knox said with a smile that was far more benign than the ones he’d given Chloe. “Jesse?”
“Works for me.”
“Why don’t you two find a table, and Chloe and I will pop into the kitchen and get that for you.”
“Oh. Sure.” Setting the pint down in front of Knox, Chloe headed for the kitchen, Mo on her heels.
“What the hell was that?” Mo hissed as soon as the door swung shut behind them.
“What was what?” Chloe muttered and hoped the heat of the kitchen could be blamed for the color she knew stained her cheeks.
“You know very well what.” Mo poked her in the ribs. Hard. “The flirting with Jesse and Knox.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Chloe protested.
“No, you weren’t,” Mo agreed. “But they sure were.”
“Were they?” Chloe ignored the leap of her heart. “I didn’t notice.”
“The hell you didn’t. You were blushing like a virgin.”
Chloe blushed like…well, like a virgin. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“If it had just been Jesse, I might agree with you. That boy flirts with everybody, and fuckboys gonna fuckboy.”
Chloe struggled not to take offense, knowing Mo didn’t mean any.
“But Knox isn’t a fuckboy, and I’ve never seen him be anything but professional and courteous,” Mo went on. “Until now.”
Chloe tried to play dumb. “He was courteous.”
Mo’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. Do I have to warn them off?”
Horrified at the thought, Chloe shook her head. “For God’s sake, Mo, it’s just a little flirting. Guys flirt with me all the time when I’m behind the bar. It’s harmless.”
Mo looked skeptical. “Your personal life is none of my business, but they’re married. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You’re overreacting,” Chloe protested, then jumped when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Grateful for the interruption, she dug it out. “It’s Gwen.”
“Good. You talk to her, and I’ll bring out the pasta.”
“You don’t want to talk to her?” Chloe asked.
“After,” Mo said.
* * * *
Knox kept his smile in place until Mo had disappeared back into the kitchen, then gave his husband a boot under the table. “Way to go, Romeo.”
“Me?” Jamming his fork into his pasta, Jesse returned the kick. “What about you, Mr. Smolder?”
Knox winced. “It was the haircut. It caught me off guard.”
“You always did have a thing for punky girls.” Twirling pasta around his fork, Jesse shot Knox a look from under his lashes. “If she’d dyed her hair pink, you’d probably have started drooling.”
Knowing it was the truth, Knox picked up his fork. “You see the stink-eye Mo was giving us?”
His mouth full, Jesse nodded.
Irritated with himself, Knox scowled at his pasta. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t fire us.”
Swallowing, Jesse shook his head. “She’s not going to fire us. They want the restaurant up and running by Valentine’s Day, and it’s too late to find another contractor or have new plans drawn up. Besides, she likes us.”
“That was before she saw us hitting on her niece.”
“We weren’t hitting that hard,” Jesse argued. “At least, I wasn’t.”
“Shut up,” Knox muttered.
“Besides, she was hitting back.”
Knox had noticed. “That’s not the point.”
“If it’s not, then I don’t know what is.” Jesse shot a look over his shoulder. The Friday night regulars were trickling in, and Chloe was busy behind the bar. Jesse turned back to Knox. “I want her, Knox.”
“Keep it down,” Knox muttered, even though with the music and the chatter of voices there was no way Jesse’s words would carry far enough for Chloe to hear.
“She couldn’t hear me if I shouted it,” Jesse pointed out. “You want her, too.”
Knox didn’t bother to argue. Jesse knew him better than anyone, and had clued into his attraction for Chloe almost before he had. “I want a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I can have them.”
“What are we going to do?”
Frustrated lust tangling with the pasta in his belly, Knox shrugged. “Nothing we can do.”
“I’m going to have blue balls for this entire reno,” Jesse groused.
Knox rolled his eyes. “Your balls are far from blue.”
Jesse’s grin flashed. “So are yours.”
“Which is why we’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.” Still, Jesse darted a glance over his shoulder. When he turned back, his brown eyes were wistful. “It’s not just that. I like her, Knox.”
I like her, too. “I know.”
“She likes us, too,” Jesse went on, then narrowed his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“Your Jesse’s being an idiot look. I’m not wrong about this.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong, and I don’t think you’re being an idiot,” Knox soothed, hoping to cut Jesse’s temper off before it got going. He wanted to go home and fuck, not go home and fight. “I just think it’s foolish to focus on something you can’t have.”
Jesse’s eyes fired, and for a moment Knox thought he would argue. Then he slumped in his chair. “Shit. It’s not fair.”
“I know, babe.” Knox put down his fork and reached over the table for Jesse’s hand. Warm and strong, thick with calluses, his hands were Knox’s favorite thing about Jesse’s body. Well, second favorite. “It sucks.”
“Out loud,” Jesse agreed and turned his hand to grip Knox’s.
“It’s only six weeks,” Knox pointed out. “Think you can keep it together that long?”
“I guess.” Jesse glanced up, his eyes sparkling. “I might need to play earl and stable boy, though.”
Knox swallowed a chuckle. “You lent the riding crop to Jamie and Max for Halloween, remember?”
“Oh, shit.” Jesse frowned, then shrugged. “I’ll order another one.”
“Why don’t you just call Jamie and get ours back?”
“They’ve had it for two months,” Jesse pointed out. “You really want it back?”
“Order another one,” Knox decided, and, with a last squeeze of Jesse’s hand, went back to his pasta. “And while you’re at it, more lube.”
“We just stocked up,” Jesse reminded him.
Knox looked up. “Six weeks.”
Jesse pulled out his phone. “Ordering more lube.”