Chapter 27Cade
Cade
I roll up the sleeves of my red and black checkered flannel to wipe the tap nozzles.
Needing this last half hour of peace, I sent my employees home early for the night, now doing anything to distract my mind.
I’m sure by the time I leave, this brewery will be as spotless as it was when we deep cleaned it before the grand opening.
My fingers knead the white cloth against the stainless steel, spending a generous amount of time on each tap when the front door swings open in my periphery. Without flicking my focus an inch, I deliver the disappointing news to the patron. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed for the night.”
“That works for me.”
My head shoots up at the sound of Olivia’s voice, her bright green eyes already waiting for me. The crook of her rosy lips perks up, reminding me that even when I’m alone, I always have the option not to be.
She’ll always be in my corner.
I swallow thickly as I lay both palms on the bar top, my eyes ogling her hair and outfit on their descent.
Her hair looks thicker somehow, soft champagne curls spilling over her upper arms with more of a bounce.
The swell of her breasts peeks out of her ribbed sweater dress, the thin material practically absorbing into her curves.
And when my eyes drop to the floor, her feet are wrapped in these strappy, black heels.
Her legs tread forward, my gaze stumbling back up to land on her face. “You should’ve told me you were in the parking lot,” I say.
Olivia pops a shoulder, setting her small purse on the bar. “I parked close enough to walk by myself.” Both her hands cup her lower back when she inspects the empty brewery. “Why are you closing early?”
“Shitty day,” I quickly answer, the confession sending my rag back to the metal taps.
Out of the pocket of my eye, I catch the way she holds her arms out. “Well, I’m here. Anything I can do to help?”
I half-turn to toss the dirty towel with the rest, walking to exit the bar right after. “Nope.”
The intention behind her questions is innocent, but the more she inquires, the closer she gets to lighting that fuse.
I pull the clean rag from the back pocket of my jeans, dragging it across the finished wood of a tabletop. But as I’m bent over the surface, the scraping of a stool leg against the concrete chucks my attention.
If I thought her questions were irritating enough, the flare of anger that scrolls over me tells me differently.
To my dismay, Olivia’s body is nudged against the back of a barstool, her hands prepared to slide it into a neater position.
“Stop,” I tell her, straightening myself up. “You’re not my employee.”
She fucking does it anyway.
She shakes her head on a smirk. “This isn’t exactly hard labor. I can see you’re stressed, so I want to help.” Her blonde waves shimmy under the ambient lighting, and she maneuvers that damn barstool into place.
“Olivia, this really isn’t the best time,” I assert. “I’m not in the mood for your mind games tonight.”
I watch as she travels to the next stool, and I know her stubborn ass is about to repeat the same gesture. For fuck’s sake, she’s in pretty shoes and this sweater dress thingy, with her hair all gorgeous.
My pulse slips into overdrive.
I’d cut my own dick off before she ruins her outfit or hair. Right in front of me, nonetheless.
When she stations herself into position behind the next chair, my palm is already planted on the seat. “Get off my barstool,” I demand, my tall frame leaning into her space. “ I’m responsible for it, not you.”
Her brows knit above her mint hues. “Oh, now we’re calling dibs on stools?” she ridicules through a scoff. “What’s the big deal?”
I tuck my lips and whip my head to the side, only to swing my attention back to her.
“You’re in this dress and heels, okay?” Faint panic laces my tone as my rag-clad hand waves over the furniture.
“Me or my employees could’ve missed a beer spill somewhere.
I’m not gonna stand around and let you dirty up your pretty clothes, let alone pick up the slack of my business.
If you need something to do, exercise your mouth like you always do.
And yes, I am calling dibs on this barstool. It’s mine . Get off of it.”
“Fine,” she surrenders, inching back. “But I’ll have you know that this fabric is stain resistant. It’s expensive for a reason.”
“Dammit, you’re a real pain in my ass sometimes, you know that?” I march around her, scrubbing a hand through my hair before wiping down another table.
My ears expect her typical wit, but when she’s a few seconds late with her comeback, I abort my task. Standing up, I rotate my body to the patter of her heels along the polished concrete.
She’s investigating the rear hallway, her hands lifting to tuck strands of hair behind her ears. “Where’s your office?” she asks innocently.
I watch her navigate to the back of the brewery, my jaw screwing tighter with every step she takes. “You’re not listening to me.”
In a flash, she’s spinning around and strolling in my direction. “Excuse me for wanting to talk to you. God forbid you’re not crabby and wallowing in anger,” she challenges. “The world might cease to exist.”
I fold my lips, tossing my rag against the reclaimed brick wall.
“What do you want to talk about, huh?” I spit back.
“How today I confirmed my girlfriend is fucking someone else? How I ended a relationship, only to question if my loyalty will ever be enough?” My hands motion between us.
“Is that what you want to hear, Olivia? Does that do it for you?! Huh?!”
She bows her head, fiddling with her hands at her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
A mocking laugh ejects from my mouth before I’m turning around. “Yeah, right.” I surf a hand through my hair as I walk to the front glass doors. “You’re probably beaming inside now that I can have a go at you.”
I’m fishing the key from the pocket of my jeans, locking the deadbolt when Olivia strolls up to me from behind. “You’re right. I am,” she bites out.
My body rotates, and I’m staring at her through furrowed brows. “Excuse me?”
“I’m ecstatic at this news.”
I wait for the punchline, but her mint eyes are fueled with this fervor, never gleaming a hint of one.
“I’m glad you don’t have to be with a woman who can’t appreciate what she has.
Who can’t see everything she has right in front of her.
” Her voice cracks on the end, but her throat swallows the hiccup.
She shakes her head, the warm lights reflecting off a tiny tear lodged in the crook of her eye.
“She’s probably the stupidest person on this planet,” she breathes.
A tinge of heat prances down my spine. Olivia’s peony scent and flushed chest insert blinders around me, but I can’t deal with that right now.
Not the same night my life just tore apart.
She deserves better than this.
We deserve better than this.
“I’m going to be finished soon, and then I’m walking you out.” I brush past her, heading to pick up the cloth I threw earlier.
For some maniacal reason, I expected Olivia to listen to me. But when I hear the pattering of those damn heels again, I’m rising from the floor.
“Hey,” I call out.
She continues to travel to the rear of the brewery. Her luscious waves just bouncing the fuck away while her curves sway through the tight material of her ribbed dress.
She might be a real pain in the ass, but she’s a hot-as-fuck pain in the ass. And damn if I didn’t want to slap my palm to hers right now.
Once for not listening to me.
Twice so I could spank the attitude right out of those pink lips.
And one final time just because I felt like it. She wouldn’t deserve a reason.
“Olivia,” I echo.
She twists around, hiking a thumb over her shoulder harmlessly. “I just need to use the bathroom,” she answers, referring to the employee restroom.
When she resumes her journey, my boots inch across the floor as I glue a suspicious eye on the rear hallway. I walk behind the bar, discarding my dirty rag before rinsing my hands in the sink. My soapy palms weave under the warm water for about ten seconds, and then Olivia’s voice cuts through.
“Where’s your office?”
I rotate the faucet knob to cut the water, then spin with a clean rag in my hands. Olivia’s leaning her shoulder against the reclaimed brick of the hallway arch, fingers toying suggestively with her top button.
My jaw sets, and I avert my gaze as I toss the rag on the bar top. “I’m not fucking you in my office,” I state matter-of-factly. “I’ll make you squeal another time.”
“I just want to show you something,” she insists, her voice just above a whisper. Flecks of gold twinkle in her irises, and she’s crossing one foot in front of the other. A playful smile emerges when she says, “I guess I’ll just have to find it myself.”
And then she disappears.
“Olivia,” I call after her, listening to the distant drumming of her heels until the sound is nonexistent.
My legs move swiftly from behind the bar, curling the corner until I’m walking down the narrow hallway. The office door is half-closed, dim light filtering out of the room before I reach for the knob.
“Alright, let—”
The remaining words jumble in my throat when her black shoe crashes to the floor. Her feet are bare now, her body standing with her back to my desk.
I gulp roughly when I catch her expectant eyes, and her fingers gradually undo the top buttons of her sweater dress. Those gold flakes remain rooted in her green hues, sparkling just like her pouty lips.
There’s lust swirled within her gaze, but it’s manifested by something stronger. Not sexual desire, but yearning . A long-awaited thirst that only I can quench.
Not my body.
Me .
She unfastens the last few buttons, biting her lip when she glides the ribbed fabric off her shoulders. The garment drags down her arms, her chest inflating before the material pools at the back of her feet.
Jesus. Christ.