Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Torn

Maybe leaned over to squeeze Cora quickly. “You want to defend your family. But I promise you we aren’t attacking them. We’re your best friends and it is our god-given right to take your side. And to tell you the truth.”

“So let’s skip the part where you tell yourself you’re selfish for wanting something for yourself. Who but you knows Walda works better when lightbulbs are this or that wattage? Or that she likes nutmeg in her coffee? And so what if you do? She’s a grown woman, not a toddler. She can express her wishes to someone else. It’s not like she’s shy,” Rachel said, deadpan.

No, Walda wasn’t shy. But beneath all the feathers and bright colors and whatever else she did, her mother wanted to be loved.

Of course Cora felt selfish. And guilty.

“It’s on the list of things I’m thinking about,” Cora told them both. “Thank you for caring about me enough to make me face this stuff. But I’m done with facing it for now. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what’s been happening. How was your show last weekend?” she asked Maybe, who played drums in a punk rock band.

As Maybe excitedly filled her in, Cora leaned back, tucked herself under a blanket of her own and let being with her friends wash over her.

CHAPTER FOUR

That time you walked in

And the universe shifted...

I’ve been falling ever since.

OF ALL THE things from his childhood, Beau had come to terms with the way he’d been raised when it came to a usual lack of nervousness. He’d been a spokesperson, a face for Road to Glory from a very young age, which had given him a natural sense of ambition and ability. A gift of relating to people.

But as he wrestled the box with all the ingredients for dinner out of his trunk, he realized the butterflies in his belly were all about her.

It was fucking delicious.

He didn’t even have to look at his phone for the number of her town house because once he entered the circular courtyard he knew immediately which porch was hers. It just had the most life around it. An overflowing planter on either side of the steps framed them artfully.

And on each step, words had been painted.

I am the light of a thousand stars

I am cosmic dust made human.

As he got to the top step, he caught sight of her through her front window. She stretched up to light candles dotted across a mantelpiece. He couldn’t see anything but the grace in the movement, lost his other senses for a bit as his heartbeat seemed to thunder in time with the blood pounding in his cock.

He managed to hit the doorbell, and when she opened up to him, her smile lightened his nervousness. She looked at him like she knew him. And wanted to be with him anyway.

“Come in!” she said as she stepped aside to admit him. “You can put the stuff on the table.” Cora indicated a stout, round table in the nook just to the left of the kitchen.

He managed not to rush, no matter how much he wanted to hug her. Beau even managed to get his coat off and slung over the back of one of the chairs before he said hello and pulled her into an embrace.

She hummed, low and pleased, and a shiver rode his spine.

“Good evening,” he murmured as he brushed a quick kiss over her brow.

“You smell good. What are you cooking for me tonight?” she asked him as she started to poke through the crate.

“Thank you. You not only smell good, you look good.” She wore a bright yellow sweater with faded blue jeans and thick socks. Cora looked like a fucking flower. Pretty and fresh and sexy all at once.

She blushed and he found it incredibly appealing.

“So I, uh, do you like pasta? I was thinking linguine with clam sauce for the main. Some bruschetta with mushrooms and parsley and another with roasted and marinated red peppers and garlic.”

“Yum! I like all those things. I have a feeling I’ll be overeating. I grabbed some wine, red and white, and some Prosecco just for giggles. I wasn’t sure what you’d be making and it’s not like a bottle of wine won’t find another use if I don’t drink it tonight. Oh, and there’s beer too.

“I didn’t know what you’d be needing, so I just made sure the counters were extra clean,” she said with a shrug. “Cooking stuff is in the cabinets and under the stovetop there.” She pointed. “Use whatever you find. Ask if you don’t see something.”

“Perfect.” He washed his hands while she poured them both a glass of red wine.

“I’m a rebel. I wear white after Labor day and drink red wine whenever I please.” She toasted him, clinking her glass to his.

“I like a little rebellion. We can have white later with the pasta, if you like. Red would be fine, as well. Basically, anything you want because I aim to please.” He tied on an apron and began to get to know her kitchen, setting the oven to get the bruschetta started.

She cleared her throat before speaking. “Can I help in any way or just watch you prepare a feast for me and fantasize about you kissing me?”

He didn’t stop himself from bending down to kiss her. Intending it to be quick. But once she sighed softly, he couldn’t keep it quick. Instead he backed her to the counter and settled in, tasting, teasing, sipping at her until his skin felt too tight.

Cora slid her tongue along his as she pressed herself closer, her hands at his waist, fingers hooked through the belt loops of his pants to hold him there.

She was sexy. Sweet and hot. Like nothing he’d experienced.

It rattled him enough to break the kiss, but in two breaths he had to go back for another kiss.

Because he needed it. Her taste was dark and rich and utterly irresistible. He wondered if the rest of her tasted as good.

With a groan, he pulled away when the oven preheat timer dinged.

Cora cocked her head, her smile gone feline and satisfied. “Well, okay then. You can find me available for kisses anytime.” The slight slur of pleasure in her voice was a caress along the back of his neck.

“Now I’m ready to get back to work. You just sit there, keep my wineglass filled and be available for more kisses in case I can’t get along until I have another.”

“Right-o.” She hopped up on one of the stools facing him across her kitchen island.

He sliced mushrooms thin as he tried not to stare at her mouth, but she made it difficult because she talked a lot, smiled a lot, laughed a lot.

It was really only the fear of slicing into his finger instead of the veggies and herbs that kept him from drooling over her like a cartoon dog.

That made him snort, catching her attention.

“Do I amuse you?” she asked, a teasing note in the words.

“Absolutely. So what did you do today? What have you been up to over the past seventeen years? You only hit the highlights last night.”

“Today I had coffee and doughnuts here with Maybe and Rachel, and then I went into the gallery for a few hours.”

“I need to stop by the gallery and check it out. I’m curious and always looking for something new. Up until now, my art guidance has come from Gregori. Fortunately, he knows my taste so he rarely steers me wrong.”

Her eyes lit as she beamed at him. That’s when her dimple came out and had him licking his lips for another taste of her.

“That’s such a mistake to reveal to someone who runs a gallery.” She sipped her wine. “I had a meeting with a new artist today. She’s got a show coming up with us and I’m amazed at the stuff she does. We like to focus on regional artists, give them space and a voice. She came here with her family from Cambodia when she was an infant, so her stuff, which is mixed media, has this sense of roots and ownership of gender and identity that blows me away. She used to be a chemist for the state department of fisheries and one of her kids encouraged her to take early retirement and give her art more time. And she did. That was three years ago.”