Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve never seen Phil so full of life. The pride in her dark eyes as she showed Story around the pub is brand new.
Shoulders back, she launched into details about the wood used to build the beams and the bar, and talked about all the activities that happened here.
She’s glowing, and I can’t keep my eyes off her.
Sandwiched between our friends at the bar, our thighs brush.
When her friend arrived, everyone came out for trivia night.
“Everyone knows what we’re doing for teams?” Bridger asks.
“Girls versus boys, obviously.” Story waves at the two girls on either side of her. Her hoop earrings sway as she leans back on her stool to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Bridger raises his eyebrows, pointing to Rye. “We have one more person than you ladies.”
“Positive,” Story purrs.
I swear I can see the sparks flying between the two. Bridger’s been fixated on the tall, black-haired beauty since she arrived with Phil at the bar. Knowing she’s staying at the Murphy Inn has me wondering about the back-and-forth flirting going on between the two.
“Where’s Journee tonight?” I ask Phil.
“Wrapping her new pseudo-grandparents further around her finger. I think it was mutual love at first sight. She’s spoken with them plenty of times over the years via web chat and video chat, so there was zero shyness.”
“That’s sweet.” I chuckle picturing her father playing tea party with the spunky girl.
“Believe me. They are more than ready for grandchildren.” She rolls her eyes.
“My parents, too. One of the few times I hate being an only child. The continuation of our line rests solely on my shoulders since my uncle never married.”
“Being the oldest of two feels very much the same at times.”
“Are you fraternizing with the enemy, Phil?” Dar asks over her shoulder.
“No. I am talking to him, though,” Phil replies dryly.
“I know you think she’s cute, but this is war.” Fletch scoots down a few stools away from the girls.
“I apologize, my lady; duty calls.” I give a mock bow and follow suit.
Smirking, she shakes her head and huddles with Dar and Story around a small pad of paper that The Gilded Chance provided for those taking part.
“Things seem to be going well with her,” Rye says, drawing the others’ attention to me.
“Yeah. We’re figuring things out.” I keep things vague, but I don’t hide my smile.
“Oh, look at him. He’s smitten.” Bridger chortles.
“Funny. I’m not the only one expressing interest in someone tonight.” I stare at him.
“It’s harmless flirting. We’re having a good time. She’ll be leaving once the holidays are over.” Does he look sad about that? What in the hell is going on at the Inn to form such a quick bond?
“It’s nice to see you show interest, period. Feels like it’s been a minute.” Fetch takes a drink of his dark stout.
The tattooed former sailor turned pub owner, Shipley, rings the bell attached to a beam behind the bar.
“It’s time to get those slips in with your team names if you’re playing Gilded Trivia.”
With his facial hair and centered mohawk braid, he looks more like a Viking than a business owner. The music cuts off, and a bartender hands him a mic. It comes to life with a hum.
“You’ll be competing for the illustrious mystery prize tonight.” Oos and ahs echo around me.
“Yes.” He nods. “I know that’s what all you thirsty masses are truly here for.” Shipley points at us.
The crowd boos. He waves them off. The MC plays Jeopardy music as the servers come around collecting the info sheets. Scrawled in elegant cursive at the top of our paper is The Wikipedias.
After a few minutes, the music cuts off. “Let’s start things off nice and easy. How do you determine the age of a tree?”
Dar’s hand flies up.
“The pretty brunette right here.”
“Count its rings,” Dar says brightly.
“Correct. That’s one point for.” A pretty bartender taps the paper in front of him. He smirks. “The Spice Girls. Nicely chosen, ladies. Get ready cause the next question is coming at you fast. What do you call a volcano that’s not currently erupting?”
“Safe!” someone yells from the back.
“I’ll give you that. But it’s not the answer we’re looking for,” Shipley answers coolly.
Fletch raises his right index finger.
“To the hipster who runs the thrift shop,” Shipley croons. We laugh.
“Dormant.”
“That point goes to the Wikipedias. Looks like we’ve got a lively game tonight, folks.”
Bridger points two fingers at his eyes and back to Dar. She sticks out her tongue.
“One more question before we take a break. Who has scored the most points in NBA history?”
Story’s hand shoots up.
“The mystery lady next to Phil.” Shipley winks.
“LeBron James.” The confidence in Story’s voice speaks volumes.
Bridger’s jaw drops.
“College basketball player.” She blows a kiss toward us.
“Did she just get hotter?” Bridger whispers.
I smirk at Fletch and Rye, who hide their answering amusement in their drinks.
Music starts back up, and we return to the girls.
“You have a sports expert on your team, then?” Bridger asks.
“I have three older brothers. I know a little about a lot.” Story swirls her whiskey and Coke.
“You didn’t mention that.” Standing beside her stool, he props his elbow up on the bar facing her.
“I don’t remember you asking.” She bats her lashes, holding his gaze over the rim of her drink.
“You see this, right?” I mouth.
“Yeah. Wow.” She elongates the “O”.
Reaching under the bar top, I place a hand on her warm thigh. Her nostrils flare. She presses her thighs closed, trapping my hands as she props her leg against mine. My stomach tightens. Her heat sears my hand.
She relaxes, and I stroke her smooth flesh, teasing her inner thigh. When she shifts her weight from one side to the other slowly, I bite back a moan.
“Look at me, Pepper.” Her sooty lashes flutter up, and I see her dilated pupils. Bending down, I lean to speak in her ear. The noise has risen in the bar, so no one bats an eyelash.
“Do you like my hand on you?”
“Mm hmm.” She nods.
“You’ll have to be good if you don’t want me to stop. Do you think you can do that?” She turns her head toward me. Our lips brush briefly.
She gasps. “What do you think?” she whispers.
Her brown eyes darken to a near black.
Checkmate. She’s matching my energy and raising the stakes. I study her face as I walk my fingers up higher. She shivers, inhaling sharply. The heat pouring off her center is a green light.
I feel a trickle of wetness. Blood rushes straight down. The first time I touch her won’t be in public, but I can tease.
I force my attention back to our group, continuing to draw circles.
Sliding my hand higher, I trace the seam where her thigh and pelvis meet.
She pushes her hips forward, parting her legs a little wider.
I grab my beer and drink to hide my smile.
The apples of her cheeks are slightly pink, and her eyes are glossy.
I’m straining against my jeans, but it’s worth it.
I move my hand back down when the quiz questions start up again.
It’s a one-on-one battle between Story and Bridger.
The heat sizzles. We’re all watching them, amused and aware we’re witnessing the start of a rivalry or a romance.
My phone vibrates, and I slowly remove my hand.
‘Accidentally’ sloshing beer on my hand, I wipe up my mess and suck my fingers into my mouth to clean them off.
She’s a decadent salty-sweet combination I immediately want more of.
“Best beer I’ve ever had,” I say to her.
She looks down and smiles at the counter.
“Good thing we have plenty more where that comes from,” she says slyly.
My phone shakes. I pull it out, frowning when I see my uncle’s name. I think I forgot to lock the deposit bag in the safe. Please double-check for me?
Sighing, I scoot the stool back and stand abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I need to run to the store. Uncle forgot to secure the daily deposit.”
“I’ll go with you.” She hops up.
Explaining to the others, we make our way out of the crowded pub. We step outside, and I twine our fingers.
“I think you were the spicy one tonight.”
“You show up looking like that in your black sweater dress and expect me to behave?”
“I’d hoped you wouldn’t.”
My heart races. Is this her way of permitting me to take things further?
“Remember what I said before? I like clarification.” We step in front of the store. I unlock the door, and she steps inside ahead of me.
I close the door behind me. She pushes me against the cool glass. The contrast of heat and cold earns a groan.
“I want you to touch me. And I very much want to touch you too.”
“Be sure. I’m having a hard time remaining chivalrous as it is.” I study her face for signs of doubt.
She moves closer, placing her lush lips to mine. Groaning, I grope the sides of her sweater dress. “Is that clear enough?” she asks breathlessly. I go taut, pulling her to me.
Our tongues slick together. She buries her fingers in my hair, and I tug lightly. Devouring her mouth, I massage her curves and move my hands down to her ass. Moaning in my mouth. She rolls her hips into mine. I twitch in my jeans, swearing.
“Please.”
“What do you need, baby?” I rasp.
“More.”
I bend my knee, lining up to her soaked heat. Arching her back, she throws her head back.
“Yes.” Gripping my flannel, she rolls her hips. “Right there.” She moans throatily.
“You’re so beautiful. Look at you. Show me how good this feels.”
Phil finds her rhythm, and I help her move, unable to look away.
Swollen lips parted, and eyes low-lidded, she’s a sensual goddess.
I can’t think about the dimly lit street outside or worry if someone might catch our silhouetted shapes walking back.
No one and nothing could make me stop this moment between us.
“Get there for me.” Working as one, we work her higher. Shattering, she explodes like a star, and I watch in awe. Her dew floods onto my leg.
Kissing her temple, I inhale her lavender and honey scent.