He pulled me right out of the cocktail bar and into the hot lunchtime sun. Stepping into the sticky humidity was like walking into a brick wall, and I instantly fanned myself with my hand.
“Why did you just drag me out of air-conditioned heaven into this hell?” I demanded.
“Because your sister just called. She’s hungry and is craving grilled cheese and tomato soup from the cafe and that’s your job.” He grinned and unlocked his car.
“You know that isn’t a craving,” I said dryly. “That’s a wanting. They’re wildly different.”
“Whatever. You didn’t have to go to Wal-Mart at three a.m. two nights ago for red hot Cheetos.”
“No, you’re right. I would have gone into the cupboard in the kitchen where there are four bags of those Cheetos waiting for her three a.m. cravings.” I paused before I got in the car. “And for future reference, the heartburn things are in the drawer just above that cupboard for convenience.”
“Great. Now you tell me,” he muttered, getting into the car before I did.
“All you had to do was ask!”
“Kitten, the last time I tried to wake you up, you slapped me in the face.” He glanced at me and started the car.
I shook my head. “I didn’t slap you. Your face was in the way of my hand, I already told you that.”
“You can’t spin it just because you slapped me.”
“Do you want to give yourself a blow job?”
He laughed. “No, I want you on your knees giving me a blow job.”
“Then sssh. Your face was in the way.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Did I ever tell you that I’m glad you came home and decided to stay?”
“No, but your cock tells me regularly.”
“Feed your sister and it can tell you again.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a promise?”
“Every day.” He grinned at me as he pulled up in front of the cafe. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in close. His lips brushed over mine lightly before he leaned right in for a full, firm kiss. “Every damn day.”
I returned his smile and tapped my finger against his nose. “Okay, now go in and buy her food. I want grilled cheese and soup too.”
“Wait, no. That wasn’t the fucking deal.” He pulled back.
“We didn’t make a deal,” I pointed out.
“Why can’t you buy it?”
I glanced out of the window into the cafe. “There are people in there. I don’t want to people today.”
“As evidenced by the fact you were just in a cocktail bar.”
“An empty, closed cocktail bar.”
Brett sighed, running his hand through his dark hair.
“If you go in there I’ll give you two blow jobs,” I bargained.
He slid his gaze toward me. “Two?”
“Two.”
He paused for a moment before he said, “All right, you got a deal. I’ll buy lunch.”
I laughed and leaned over the car, grabbing him by the shirt. He dove his hand into my hair as I tugged him toward me and kissed him deeply. “I love you, Casanova.”
He pulled back and winked. “Love you too, kitten. Now do some jaw exercises. You’re gonna be busy this afternoon.”
I gasped through laughter as he darted out of the car before I could respond to him...Or hit him.
I heard his laughter until the cafe door shut behind him.
It had taken a lot of heartbreak, a lot of traveling, and a lot of secrets to get to where I was right now.
Home.
Not necessarily Whiskey Key—although physically, it was my home, my real home wasn’t a place. It was a person.
He wasn’t perfect. He’d given me the worst nickname known to man, and he was cockier than any one man should have been.
He also had a kind heart and an even sweeter soul.
And he was mine.
He always had been.
And I’d always been his.