Chapter 28 Fallon
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Fallon
We collapse onto the leather sofa. The room smells of sex and sweat and something sweet—Amber.
She’s sprawled between us, her chest rising and falling in jagged bursts. Her hair is a disaster, her lips swollen and red.
She looks thoroughly, beautifully wrecked. Her third orgasm had her convulsing so hard that I thought she would black out.
Since she came knocking on the door, her eyes wild and hungry, we’ve done nothing but fuck her.
We didn’t even make it to a bedroom this time. We ended up right here on the cushions, stripping her out of her dress the second she stepped inside.
“Missed you today,” Knox rumbles from the other end of the sofa. He’s sitting forward, elbows on his knees, looking at her like she’s a Michelin-star meal he just plated.
She laughs, a breathy, exhausted sound. “Yeah? I have the bruises to prove it.”
She lifts her arm, pointing to a dark mark on her hipbone. I lean over, pressing a kiss to the bruise. My mark.
Eli wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, his glasses sitting askew on his nose. He looks wrecked, happy, and totally drained. “I can’t believe we skipped dinner for sex.”
“I worked on those pork ribs for four hours,” Knox says, though he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds smug.
“I’m worth it,” Amber murmurs, stretching her toes.
I poke her side. “Don’t get cocky, Sunshine.”
She swats at my hand, grinning up at me. The sight hits me in the chest.
The domestic feel of this moment—lounging around, post-sex, completely at ease with each other. It settles into my bones.
“Up,” I say, standing up and offering her a hand. “You need real food.”
She takes my hand, letting me haul her to her feet. I grab my shirt from where it landed on the floor earlier, shaking it out. I pull it over her head. The white cotton swallows her, falling halfway to her knees.
I love seeing her like this. Wearing my clothes, smelling like us. It’s a primal thing, a deep thrum of satisfaction in my gut. It marks her as mine, even if just for tonight.
She smooths the fabric over her hips, looking down at herself. “Cozy.”
“Let’s feed you.”
We pull on our boxers before walking to the kitchen.
“It smells good in here,” she observes, hopping up onto one of the stools at the island.
“We were working,” Knox says, moving to the stove. “I kept everything warm.”
He starts pulling containers from the warming drawers. Platters of ribs, roasted vegetables, potatoes.
“Cleanup first,” I say, nodding at the remnants of our... earlier activities on the counter. We were messy. There’s no point pretending otherwise.
We work as a team. I wipe down the surfaces while Knox plates the food. Eli finds plates and silverware. Amber tries to help, grabbing a rag, but I take it from her gently.
“Sit,” I tell her. “You’re the guest tonight. And the reason we skipped dinner.”
She pouts but hops back onto the stool. We move around each other with ease. It’s not just the three of us anymore; the space has adjusted to fit her.
The dynamic shifts to accommodate her presence, and it feels seamless.
We settle around the island with our plates. The ribs are falling-off-the-bone tender, the glaze perfect. Amber takes a bite and moans, her eyes rolling back.
“Okay, I get why you worked four hours on these,” she says, sauce on her chin. “These are insane.”
“Eat,” Knox commands, though he looks pleased.
We eat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of silverware and the jazz music Eli put on earlier. Then Amber sets her fork down, looking nervous.
“So, Maisie’s debate,” she starts, twisting her hands in her lap. “It got rescheduled. It’s next week.”
“That’s great,” Eli says immediately. “She was so bummed about the snow.”
“Yeah. She asked me...” Amber hesitates, glancing between us. “She asked if I could bring my friends. To come watch.”
“Friends?” I ask, my mouth full of potato.
“Yeah. You guys.” She gives us a shy look. “She really wants you there. She thinks you’ll clap loud.”
I look at Knox. He swallows a bite of rib, his expression thoughtful.
“We can clear the schedule,” Knox says. “I’ll close the kitchen for a few hours. It’s not a problem.”
“Really?” Her face lights up.
“Absolutely,” Eli says. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
“And maybe afterward,” I add, leaning my elbows on the table, “we can all celebrate. At the restaurant.”
She blinks. “You don’t have to do that,” she says quickly.
“We want to,” Knox corrects. “It’s settled.”
She looks down at her plate, and I swear I see her eyes shimmer. She takes a deep breath, composing herself.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “She’ll be so excited.”
“How is she doing?” I ask, changing the subject slightly.
“She’s good.” Amber pokes at her potato. “But... she thinks you’re mad at her.”
I straighten up, my fork clattering against the plate. “What? Why?”
She shrugs, looking at me with those big hazel eyes. “She just said you probably didn’t want to be her friend anymore.”
The thought hurts. It physically stings in my chest. The idea of that kid thinking I’m mad at her.
“I’m not mad,” I say, my voice rough. “Far from it.”
“I think she just misses you,” Amber says softly.
Knox clears his throat, looking down at his plate. “I’m jealous. Of the time you spent with her. I have never met her. C’est poche!”
Amber looks at Knox, surprised. “You want to meet her?”
“Bien s?r,” Knox says. “Of course. She’s your daughter.”
“We should fix that,” Eli says, leaning forward. He looks at Amber. “Tomorrow. Can you bring her to the B&B? Before the dinner rush?”
Amber looks between us, uncertain. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“We’re sure,” I say, grinning. “I want to show her the kitchen. Maybe let her help with the muffins.”
“She would love that,” Eli says. “I can make lemon tarts. And maybe cupcakes? Something with lots of sprinkles.”
A slow smile spreads across Amber’s face. It transforms her, makes her look younger, lighter. “She would love that.”
“Then it is a plan,” Knox says, nodding. “Bring her. We’ll make time. C’est tiguidou!”
Amber looks down at her plate, then up at us. Her eyes are swimming now, wet and bright. She sets her fork down carefully.
“You guys,” she breathes out. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say to you.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Just be here.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything. For being so good to her. To me.”
She looks at each of us in turn, and I see it. The wall coming down. The fear she carries around like a heavy backpack finally sliding off her shoulders.
She looks filled with emotion, overwhelmed in the best way possible.
“Anytime, Sunshine,” I say.
“Eat,” Knox says, nudging her plate with his fork. “Before the ribs get cold. Mangez, chère.”
She laughs and picks up her fork, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The mood in the room shifts back to something warm and easy, but I can feel it. The cement setting.
We’re in this now. All four of us. And I can’t wait to see that kid tomorrow.
The clock on the wall reads five p.m. The lull between lunch prep and dinner service usually belongs to me—a time to grab a smoke, check inventory, or nap. Today, I use it to pace.
My thumb hovers over Amber’s contact name in my phone. I hit dial.
“Hey, Sunshine,” I say when she picks up. “You still alive over there?”
“Sort of.” Her voice sounds tired, but there’s a smile in it. “I’m at the grocery store. I just walked out to a flat tire.”
I stop pacing. “You drive over something?”
“A screw, I think. Or a nail. It’s hissing at me.” She sighs. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have parked so close to the curb.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. You’re at the store on fifth?”
“Yeah. Near the bank.”
“I’m coming over,” I say. I don’t even think about it. “I have the jack and the spare in my truck. I’ll change it for you.”
“Fallon, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I cut in. “And besides, I need a chocolate fix. You were getting some, right?”
“I was getting a peace offering for being so late.” She laughs. “Don’t come just for the candy, Fall.”
“I’m coming for the tire. The candy is a bonus. Stay put. I’ll be there in ten.”
I hang up and grab my keys from the counter. Knox looks up from where he’s plating herbs, and Eli is wiping down the butcher block island.
“Problem?” Eli asks.
“Flat tire. She’s stranded.”
Knox nods. “Go. I’ll start the sauce. We can do spaghetti tonight. It’s quick.”
“Good idea.”
The drive is short. The snow from last night has turned to gray slush on the sidewalks. I find her easily, parked near the back of the lot.
She’s standing by her car, Maisie bouncing on her feet beside her. Even from a distance, the kid looks taller. She has on her red glasses and a puffy winter coat.
I pull up behind them, hopping out.
“Mommy! Look!”
Maisie abandons her mother and runs to me. I catch her, swinging her up in a circle.
“Hey, Munchkin. Keeping your mom out of trouble?”
“Yeah. It was the tire!” Maisie says loudly. “It popped! Pop!”
Amber walks over, shaking her head. “She’s very dramatic. It wasn’t a pop. Just a slow leak.”
“A slow leak is still a leak,” I say, setting Maisie down. “Let’s look at the damage.”
It’s a screw, just like she thought. Embedded right in the sidewall. I shake my head. “Rough break, Sunshine.”
“I know. I’m just glad I wasn’t on the highway.”
I get to work. The jack makes the car groan, but I have her up and ready in under fifteen minutes. I torque the lug nuts by hand, not trusting my impact gun with her watching.
“Can I help?” Maisie asks, standing right in my blind spot.
“Best spot for the supervisor,” I tell her. “Make sure nobody steals my tires.”
She nods seriously, taking the job to heart.
When I’m done, I lower the car. Amber hands me a paper bag.
“Peace offering,” she says. “Dark chocolate. With sea salt.”
“Acceptable.”
“Thank you, Fallon. Seriously. You saved my night.”
“Anytime.”
“We’ll follow you back?” she asks.