Chapter 8 #2
Instead of scoffing or brushing off my flat statement, McCoy nodded again. “Pretty much. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” A group of guys entered, and one shouted McCoy’s name. He flashed us a regretful smile. “Excuse me.”
He left, and my stomach filled with acid. Beer shouldn’t mix with it, but I finished the pumpkin beer and downed the strawberry sour. Tart sweetness exploded on my tongue. I drained the whole glass.
Jasper’s jaw was set. “Sorry, Sheridan. I would’ve said something, but I thought it had fizzled.”
“No, It’s not your responsibility.” I should’ve kept up with the news. I should’ve been more involved in the community.
I’d only been here less than two months!
I guzzled down the pale ale. “I’ll figure something out,” I said after wiping my mouth.
“I know you will.”
Did he? Because I didn’t. I gave up my job. I moved. I went all in. And I hadn’t done enough research to know whether a big competitor was going to build on the same damn shoreline.
I could lose everything. I could end up with nothing, not even the little house I grew up in. Because there was one thing I knew: this town wasn’t big enough for two Bishop’s Bay resorts.
Jasper
“And then…” Sheridan twirled her hand in the air and listed sideways so far, I hopped out of my seat in case I had to catch her. She gave me a bleary look and frowned. “What’s going on?”
She was a cute drunk. Chatty. I’d heard about the college boyfriend who slept with a sorority girl the night before his graduation.
The ex she’d dated in her mid-twenties who’d slept with a fraternity guy the night before that guy’s graduation.
And then the ex she’d broken up with when her mom had died.
Cocksucker Cooper was what she called him.
Then she told me about her best friend, and the sadness in her voice couldn’t be hidden when she’d said they didn’t get together much anymore.
Nor did she try to cover the disappointment that the distance started when she dropped out of college.
“I liked your mushroom beer.” She wasn’t slurring, but her eyes were slightly unfocused and she blinked a lot.
“It’s good stuff.” My beer had been polished off two hours ago. The brewery was full, and the voices blended together into a steady drone, but I could hear hers clearly.
“I should order one.”
No, she should not. I hadn’t been sure whether to cut her off or to let her continue.
I chose continuing. She hated being treated like she wasn’t competent, but she’d also been reeling from the news of direct competition when the resort was barely surviving without competitors.
While I was grateful McCoy dropped the news early, and we didn’t get hit with it later, I’d have preferred it if Sheridan could’ve enjoyed the evening.
“I need to get home.” I held an arm out when she automatically turned to drop down from her tall chair. “I’m not the night owl I used to be.”
“I never was one.” She clamped on to my forearm, sending a jolt of electricity sizzling over my skin. “Not a party girl.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
She looked around like she forgot something, then she giggled and swayed. “I thought I brought a purse in.”
“Told you it was my treat tonight.”
“Yep.” She popped her p. “A treat tonight.”
She must be thinking about the new resort.
I led her out to my pickup. She inhaled when the warm night air, laced with sweet clover, wrapped around us.
“I’m going to have to move,” she said as she attempted to get into my pickup. I helped her up with a hand on her side, smothering any thought about how warm and soft she was.
“You might not.” I got her settled and closed the door.
She rested her head against the window the whole way to town and stared at the night sky. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“You’re really handsome.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. The beer had been talking all night, but she’d regret none of what she said until now. “Thanks.”
“Like, when you put that cowboy hat on?” Her giggle was throaty this time, going right to my gut. “What’s that song about—saving a horse?”
Ride a cowboy. Goddamn. I gripped the steering wheel like it was a life raft. I couldn’t speed, or that’d be more time alone with her saying things I liked hearing, but that would mortify her. “I’m not a cowboy anymore.”
“No, you’re a handyman.” She smacked her lips. “A big, strong handyman.”
Heat curled through my blood. Sheridan was gorgeous, but she was my boss. My drunk boss. If she wasn’t either of those, I’d be naked as soon as she said go. That wasn’t happening now.
“When you had your shirt off? God. So nice. You must work out.”
“Not officially.”
“Because the way your biceps flex,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “it’s a sin. I could lick them. Up one side and down the other.” She traced the outline in the air in front of her.
My throat grew thick, and that wasn’t the only thing swelling. I pushed the speed up two extra miles an hour. The glow from the lights of town was getting stronger. “Sheridan, why don’t you rest until we get to my place?”
“I mean…” She let out a sigh. “I think about you all the time.”
“Me too.” Shit. That slipped out.
She sat up and stared at me. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. “What do you think about?”
“Nothing I can say out loud.”
“Why not?”
This time, I’d be fully honest. “Because you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning and be horrified at what you said.”
“No.” She shook her head so hard her mahogany hair swung. “No. I know you’re not attracted to me. You’re just a really nice guy.”
It was like I got slapped for being a decent person. I’d been accused of being nice but not ambitious, yet that wasn’t what was sticking with me now. She was so confident, I was driven to prove her wrong. “I’m a nice guy who appreciates a hardworking woman with a sweet ass.”
Her gasp resonated through the cab. “You think I have a nice ass?”
“Most definitely.”
“Aw.” She slumped against the seat. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.”
The bar was that low? Had the compliments been that bad, or hadn’t she gotten enough of them?
Probably both. It was a situation that needed remedying.
I wouldn’t do anything she might regret, but at least she might realize she’d been too hard on herself.
“Your eyes sparkle when you’re excited. You have the perfect set of lips that make a man wonder what you can do with them.
And don’t get me started on those legs.” I couldn’t stop, and it was a good idea to.
Things could get weird at work. But more compliments piled on my tongue.
“I love how you’re determined and capable, and you’ll do the hard things no one’s been able to do. ”
I risked a glance over, my pulse jumping all over the place. Did I go too far? Her eyes were wide in the streetlights. We’d finally reached town.
“What stuff has no one done?” she asked softly.
“Fire Constance. If I was a betting man, I would guess your mom wanted to, but upsetting the apple cart without your dad’s support was likely too much.”
“Oh. You might be right. Constance did a lot, though.”
“She did a lot, but she also did what she wanted and undermined authority. A place doesn’t run the best like that.”
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of my house.
“What about my legs?” she asked before I could get out.
“I said don’t get me started, Sheridan.” It came out as a growl, blood pumping to all the wrong places in my body. She was right here, but she wasn’t mine. She wasn’t anyone’s tonight.
“My lips? What things do you wonder about?”
Mostly about how soft they’d be. How sweet she’d taste. And when the night was long, about having them wrapped around my cock. That wasn’t the answer I was giving her. “I think they’re very kissable.”
Her wide gaze pinned me, and those very lips we were talking about parted. Then she lunged over the console and claimed my mouth.
My mind blanked. She tasted of beer, fruity and yeasty, and I could drink her down. What was happening? I had Sheridan where I wanted her, but this wasn’t right.
She cupped my face, but I grasped her wrists.
Pulling back, I broke the kiss. “I’m sorry, we can’t do this.”
Horror filled her gaze. “Oh no. I was wrong. You’re just being nice again.” She flopped back with so much force I was afraid the door would slam open and she’d spill out. Smothering her mouth, she gawked at me. “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry.” She opened the door and dumped herself out so fast it took me a moment to figure out that she was no longer in the truck.
I clambered out and sprinted around the pickup. She had stopped on my lawn, staring at her car like she realized she couldn’t drive. At least I didn’t have that fight in front of me.
“I-I can sleep in the back seat. I won’t bother you or make it awkward.” She started for her car, fob in hand. The lights flashed. “And don’t worry about work. None of this will be held against you.”
“Sheridan.”
She opened the back door.
“Sheridan.” I gripped her shoulders and spun her around.
I could not have her sleeping in the back of her car, and I couldn’t have her blaming herself.
“You’re coming in the house. I’m going to give you an old shirt to sleep in, and you’re going to get the bed.
You’re going to rest and sober up. Tomorrow, you’re going to take some painkillers and eat a solid breakfast. Then we’ll talk about how much this nice guy wants to shove his tongue into your mouth and to get between those tanned legs of yours so I can feel you from the inside out in two different ways. ”