Chapter 27 #2
He was cleaning up after their first dinner rush, exhausted after the busy day.
He had ten minutes before they closed, and there were only a couple of people finishing up dinner.
He let Jessica go home early since she’d been run off her feet.
She’d begged, apologized for ever asking for so much work.
The front door opened. Shoot. He’d meant to turn off the open sign.
He pushed through the kitchen door, ready to apologize and say that the kitchen was closed, but spied his favorite pink-haired goddess talking with a handsome man he didn’t know.
Something twisted in his gut at the sight of it.
She wore a new dress that highlighted her growing bump. That’s my bump, he thought, feeling like a caveman.
A second man came in and kissed the cheek of the first one.
Allison walked toward him, her smile widening. “Hey,” she said, noting with happiness the difference in the way that she looked at him versus them. “Would you mind keeping the kitchen open as a favor to me? They’re important Bloom clients and our meeting ran late.”
He smiled. “What do I get if I do?” he said, staring at her lips, thinking about how he’d taken her last night on her couch, fast and hard.
“Anything you want,” she said with a heated look back at him, arching an eyebrow.
“Have a seat,” Wells called, never taking his eyes from hers.
They both ordered the special, and Allison followed him to the back of the diner.
“I like the dress,” he said, flipping her skirt. “It makes you look pregnant with my baby.” He pushed open the kitchen door and slyly tugged her through it with him.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he wrapped a hand around her neck and brought her in for a kiss, needing to bite her lips for some reason, to rake his teeth across them as he kissed her.
She smiled against his mouth.
“Don’t you need to get the drink order?” she said, nipping another kiss from him.
“Always gotta be on task, don’t you?” he said, shoving his hands up through her hair and taking another kiss, tasting her. It had been a whole fucking day.
She shifted on her feet, and he realized she was wearing heels.
“Here, have a seat.” He lifted her onto the stainless steel prep counter that had already been broken down for the night. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he grabbed two glasses and a pitcher of ice water.
As he fixed the food for the couple, Allison and Wells talked about their days as she sat on the counter, safely away from any fryer splash.
She told him the couple were important clients from Pittsburgh, who’d come to Fairwick Falls just for their wedding flowers.
“I’m just stressed,” she said, eating the plate of fries he’d scooted next to her. “I want it to be good enough for them, you know? I’m not as artistic as Lily, so I always hope that people aren’t disappointed with what I make for them.”
Wells shrugged. “No shade to Lily, but I’ve seen how much people smile when they buy your stuff. You’re really good at what you do,” he said, spinning around as he arranged the second plate of the picnic dinner for the couple.
“That’s really nice,” she said with a sunny smile, swinging her feet back and forth as she sat on the stainless steel counter.
“What do you want for dinner?” he said, putting the finishing touches on the two plates and setting them on a tray.
“I think I want…” She thought for a minute. “…a banana.”
He looked at the clock. Eight o’clock at night. “…Okay.”
She pondered. “And green beans…on toast…with cheese. And Worcestershire sauce for the fries.”
He leaned over for a quick kiss. “Shortcake has pretty fucking weird taste.”
She chuckled and pecked his lips.
He ran the food out to the couple and comped their meal since they were friends of Bloom’s, hoping it would help Allison’s chances with their wedding.
Wells went back to the kitchen and fixed Allison her very weird meal that, by the time she actually was closer to eating it, she’d decided she’d only wanted cheese on the side, green beans by themselves, and chicken with Worcestershire sauce on toast.
Something feral and primal in him liked it whenever he watched her eat the food he made for her, moaning over each bite.
He interrupted one bite, not being able to take it anymore. Sliding between her legs, he tugged her hips to him. The heat in her eyes as she swallowed made him dig his fingers in, squeezing her hips.
He kissed her, running a tongue over her lip that tasted like his fried chicken.
It was a heady experience, tasting the woman who tasted like the food he’d made for her.
He smiled against her mouth as he kissed her again, squeezing harder.
She giggled and kissed him back harder. Fuck yes, second trimester. You’re my favorite.
“Where do you want these?” a squeaky teenage voice called behind him.
Allison jumped. Shit. He’d forgotten Brayden had been scheduled for the end of the night.
“Go home,” Wells barked, staring at Allison’s lips.
“Be nice,” Allison said, pressing her knees into his sides.
“Go home, please,” Wells said, never taking his hands off of her.
“This is a weird place to bring a date, man,” Brayden said, putting in an earbud as he walked out.
“Pssh, shows what he knows. This isn’t a date,” Allison said, licking her finger to catch a runaway drip of sauce. Wells licked her finger too for good measure.
They stayed there for the next twenty minutes as he shut down the kitchen, defining exactly what was a date (one purposeful activity, food optional) and what was not a date (standing in line at the bank, shopping for groceries, sex that was purely therapeutic), adding amendments to their contract terms. Wells’s cheeks hurt from laughing so much.
He kissed her after walking her to her car. The heat of it accidentally built until they were catcalled in four-part harmony.
“Fuckin’ barbershop quartets,” he murmured.
In the end, it took very little convincing on his part for her to come over that night for some therapy.
Obviously not a date, as they’d agreed.
“I’m going to take a quick shower to get the fryer smell off. Want to join?” Wells asked with a sly smile.
She shook her head, already crawling into his bed. “I’m going to get a head start on enjoying your sixty-eight-degree A/C and one-thousand-thread-count sheets.”
As he came out of the bathroom, finally fryer-smell-free, he discovered she’d fallen fast asleep, naked under the covers.
She never slept over, and neither did he.
It had been an unspoken rule for the last four weeks.
Come over, have an orgasm or three, and then hit the road, Jack.
She was fully out, and he didn’t have the heart to wake her.
Didn’t want to.
She was in the middle, which was as good an excuse as any for him to snuggle up behind her and wrap his arm around her thickening waist.
Hi, Shortcake. His thumb stroked her bump, and he felt his heart grow three sizes.
My bump.
Our bump, he corrected, and was surprised at the instant visions that phrase gave him of the three of them at playgrounds and birthday parties and silly Saturday afternoons playing in the yard.
The next conscious thought Wells had was that his arm was asleep.
But I still feel…good?
His lips brushed silky strands, inhaling the peaches-and-cream scent that felt right. The warm weight on him made him feel tucked in and safe.
The warm weight was snoring.
He forced one eyelid open.
Allison was half on him—her leg over his, most of her torso flopped onto him, and her head on an apparently important nerve spot on his arm.
He was being cuddled.
It turned out—fuck me—he liked it.
He rubbed his eyes so he could see the clock. The horrid numbers of 3:58 stared back at him. He silenced his 4:00 a.m. alarm, not wanting to startle her. He’d need to leave for the diner in fifteen.
It was so tempting to close his eyes, to wrap his half-asleep arm around Allison and say to hell with it. The diner could be closed today.
In celebration of cuddling.
But he had a baby to provide for, so he gently rolled her to the side and kissed her forehead as he slid his arm out.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she nuzzled back against him. “Hi,” she said sleepily. “I’m sorry for falling asleep. I know you don’t like to cuddle.”
Maybe I like to cuddle with you?
He pushed a tangle of hair out of her face. “I’m going to work, but you should stay,” he whispered, kissing her gently.
She pulled him back down for another kiss that lingered. Hunger flared up inside of him. The kiss lingered into another, and another, until she wrapped her legs around his hips.
They slid into sleepy, grasping sex. She moaned into his mouth as he rolled them over with her on top, holding her close.
He knew her body well enough now to get her over the edge with practiced ease.
They tumbled through sleepy, nuzzling orgasms until they both were satiated in the early dawn light.
He tucked her back under the covers with a promise for more any time she wanted it. She almost succeeded in convincing him to skip work with her lusty, half-closed eyes.
By the time he came out of the bathroom, he heard her snoring again. After a scratch under Smokey’s chin, he shut the bedroom door as quietly as possible.
He smirked, congratulating himself on such a sensible arrangement so no one would catch feelings.