12. The Gang’s All Here
TWELVE
THE GANG’S ALL HERE
? Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter
NOAH
The week crept by way too slowly with the near miss at the festival playing on a loop in my mind ever since—her scent, her touch, the feel of her soft body beneath my palms, I can’t escape it.
By Friday afternoon, I’m crawling out of my skin to get away from my thoughts. I need to do something about it, or I’m going to lose my mind.
When Emma drops off Auggie after preschool, I beg her to stay over and babysit so I can drive out to Oak Ridge and get away from the apartment for a while. It’s all I can do to keep myself from doing something even more reckless, like barging across the hall to break the no sex clause.
I could find someone hot and willing to satisfy my needs, make sure they’re satisfied too, and come home before anybody knows I left this shithole, but I won’t. Not only would it violate the contract and humiliate Clio, but it could also jeopardize the custody arrangement.
I take the back roads out of town, pulling up to The Ridge, a small town dive bar just half an hour outside of Willow Valley.
Friday nights are always busy, so I park around back next to my buddy Liam’s SUV.
He won’t mind, and even if he did, I could offer him a free tattoo to shut the fuck up about it.
I slide into an open seat at the far end of the bar, and Liam appears a few minutes later, setting a coaster down in front of me. “Well, if it isn’t Noah fuckin’ Weston. What the hell are you doing in my neck of the woods?”
“Me? What are you doing here? I thought you quit this gig.”
“Paige and Cade are up in Canada visiting her family, so I took a few part-time shifts to cover for him. What brings you to Oak Ridge?”
I run my fingers through my hair and huff out a breath. “Long story.”
He laughs. “I know that look. Pick your poison.”
“Hayes Brothers Bourbon will fix you right up.” Jaxon Hayes slides onto the stool next to me, smiling smugly and patting me on the back. “Try the single barrel. It’s good for a broken heart or unrequited love.”
“What do you know about that? You’re married now.”
He flashes a wedding band. “That I am. Took a helluva long time to find her, but she fixed me up better than whiskey ever could.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not broken or in love.” I turn back to Liam. “Just give me a pint of whatever’s good.”
He raps his knuckles on the bar, heading back the way he came.
Callie appears at his side, running her hand down his spine.
He looks at her like he's seeing the end of the universe. I feel bad for the son of a bitch. It’s nothing against Callie—she’s great—it’s the whole idea of love and marriage in general.
I don’t need to be tied down by vows and wedding bands.
“Hey, Noah,” Callie says. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I tip my head and give her a two-finger wave.
“Clio break up with you already? It’s been, what… a week since she saved your ass?”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
Jaxon looks between us. “You keeping secrets with my wife now, Weston?”
Callie pops onto her toes and kisses his cheek. “I’ll tell you later. Come dance with me.” She drags Jaxon to the dance floor, throwing me a wink over her shoulder.
Liam sets a beer on the coaster and leans his elbows on the bar. I try to hand him my card, but he waves it off. “This one’s on me.”
“Aw. That’s cute, but you’re not really my type. And I’m not gonna get on the wrong side of Ruby Lynn Hayes.”
“You a comedian now? You should take that act on tour. I’ll ask my girl if she needs an opener.”
I pick up my beer and take a long sip of the cool liquid, spluttering when a shock of red hair draws my attention at the opposite end of the bar.
I blink to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
Clio’s here, and she’s not alone.
A white lace top accentuates her generous figure, and the tight jean skirt hugs every curve of her lush body with a long slit up one thigh, ending a few inches above her knees. I follow the long line of her tanned legs to a pair of brown cowboy boots I’d love to have wrapped around my waist.
She’s standing at one of the high-top tables, talking to a man with hair a few shades lighter than hers. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him.
I glance between her and the exit, conflicted by this insatiable hunger and the warring desire to flee. The decision is made for me when her eyes meet mine, widening a fraction before her attention returns to the other man.
I came here to get away from her, so why can’t I walk away?
He says something that makes her throw her head back, laughing, and my hand tightens around my glass.
That laugh should be mine. Her smiles should be mine.
We have a contract.
Granted, there’s nothing in it about her belonging to me—but it’s implied, isn’t it?
She’s mine for the next three months.
When her hand touches his on top of the table, my last thread of restraint snaps. Downing my drink and setting the empty glass on the bar, I’m at their table in a few long strides. I stand slightly behind her but off to the side, my hand resting possessively on her soft stomach.
“Hey princess,” I rasp, my stubble ghosting over her cheek as her potent scent surrounds me.
“You can drop the possessive caveman act,” the man says, holding up a glass of some kind of yellow drink. “She’s not my type.” He eyes me up and down. “But you are.”
Clio giggles. “Connor, this is my… Noah.”
She pauses in the middle of her sentence like she can’t decide what to call me. Fiancé. Boyfriend. Asshole landlord. Any of those options would’ve worked. Instead, I’m her Noah.
I shouldn’t like it, but fuck, it sounds good.
When my mind is done reeling, the puzzle pieces snap into place, and I feel like a dumbass. “Connor. You’re Liam’s brother?”
“That’s me. The younger, better-looking brother.” He winks.
He is good-looking, I’ll give him that, but standing next to Clio, there’s no contest. She has all of my attention.
“Cici! You made it.” Callie’s voice reaches our table seconds before a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me onto the dance floor with Clio still attached to me. Connor waggles his fingers as the crowd closes in around us and he disappears from view.
“What the hell,” I grumble.
“It’s called dancing, Weston,” Callie yells over the thumping of the bass as a country song plays through the speakers. “Live a little.”
Clio looks at me and shrugs, swaying to the music. Whatever I’d been about to say dies on the spot. The way she’s moving her body has me tongue-tied and all kinds of mesmerized.
Callie hip checks me, and I stumble into Clio, my hands landing on her hips to steady myself. Her ass lines up with my groin, and she starts grinding on me. Powerless to resist the pull, I follow her lead, tugging her closer so her back is pressed to my chest.
She raises her hand and places it on my cheek, letting her nails rake through my beard.
It’s grown out a bit this week, but her touch still feels like fucking heaven.
She turns her face to look at me, and our lips nearly brush but not quite.
There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes that I’ve never seen before, and it makes my dick stand at attention.
If she’s trying to start something, I’ll gladly be the one to finish it.
I tuck my thumb into the top of her waistband and press my lips to her bare neck, a rush of smug satisfaction rolling through me when she gasps.
Her fingers run through my hair as she holds me in place.
I open my mouth and lightly bite down, then soothe the sting with my tongue, sucking on the spot.
I have little doubt there will be a mark there tomorrow.
A soft exhale escapes her parted lips. She closes her eyes as she continues to grind her hips.
“Tell me the truth. Are you wet for me, Clio?”
“I—”
I press my lips to her shoulder this time. “If I slip my hand under this tight little skirt, what will I find?”
“Someone will see,” she hisses.
“Mm. Is that a yes?”
She whimpers as I slip three fingers beneath her waistband, resting them on her lower belly. I don’t go any farther.
“Noah.” She whines my name, and my cock twitches in answer.
“Do you need to be fucked, princess?” I run my tongue along the slope of her shoulder.
I didn’t come here for this. In fact, I came here so I wouldn’t do this, but now that we’re here I can’t seem to stop. I need her now more than ever.
“We can’t,” she whispers. “The contract.”
I know this is dangerous.
I know I’ll regret it in the morning.
But I say it anyway.
“Fuck the contract.”
CLIO
Before I have time to respond, a hand wraps around my wrist and wrenches me away from Noah.
“Bathroom. Now.” Callie drags me along, parting the crowd.
When I peek back over my shoulder, Noah’s gone. There’s an empty space where he once stood, and a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Callie turns on the water and douses a paper towel, dabbing it on her chest and neck. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I stare blankly at her.
“You were practically fucking Noah Weston on the dance floor, Clio.”
“Who pulled us out there in the first place, Callie?” I spit her name like a curse. “What did you think was going to happen?”
“Dancing,” she shouts. “That’s what dance floors are for. I didn’t think you would take it that far.”
“Nothing happened.” There’s an unexpected tinge of disappointment in my voice.
“Yeah. Because I stopped it.” She grabs me by the upper arms and forces me to look in the mirror above the sink. “You have a hickey!”
I press my hand to the red mark between my neck and shoulder.
Something inside my chest flutters wildly.
I look at Callie in the mirror, and I snort, unable to contain my amusement.
She starts laughing too, and soon there are tears tracking down my cheeks, and she’s doubled over, clutching her stomach.
“You were just supposed to play with your food, not let him devour you.”
I laugh harder at the nonsensical comparison. “Wait. Who’s the food in this scenario? Are we animals? I’m confused.”