Page 35 of When I Come Back
The mouth on this fucking man.
I push my lips back onto his as I do as he says, gathering my release on my fingers and bringing it back up to him. He grabs my hand in his and places my finger in his mouth then licks it clean. Once he’s deemed it spotless, he places my hand on his shoulder and goes in for another deep kiss.
The kiss continues, tasting ourselves, our tongues dancing their familiar dance. I don’t know how long it’s been, and I honestly don’t care. I’d stay in this small office the rest of the day if it meant I was with him like this.
The knock on the door makes me jump, and I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming which only makes Cary silently laugh, his broad shoulders bouncing. I bat his arm as I say, “Who is it?”
The voice from the other side is my server, Tiffany. “Sorry to bother you, Thea. A man named James Elsher is here to see you and uh… Cary too, if he’s still in there—I mean here! He said he needs you guys to sign something.” The deed. We knew this was the week it was supposed to go through, but we assumed we’d need to go back to Southbury to handle it.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Let me umm… find out where Cary is, and I’ll be right out. Thank you, Tiff.” I’m already straightening my skirt while Cary pulls his boxer briefs and pants back up.
“I’ll let Mr. Elsher know,” she says back before we hear her walking back down the hall. Once she’s far enough away, I feel like I can breathe again. The possibility of getting caught shouldn’t thrill me the way it does. I’ll dissectthatanother day.
“That was…” Cary starts.
“Irresponsible?” I attempt to finish for him.
“Hot as fuck,” he corrects me.
I roll my eyes as I laugh at him. Thankfully, I keep a small mirror in my desk drawer. I'm sure my hair needs readjusting since he had it wrapped around his fist for the last fifteenminutes. After a quick glance, I realize I need more help than this tiny mirror can offer.
“I’m going to run to the restroom and… clean myself up,” I say. He chuckles at that, and I shoot him a glare.
“I’m perfectly capable of cleaning you up if you need assistance.” His charming smirk reappears.Jesus. I’m not sure how I’ll survive this man.
“Nope. No. We have someone waiting on us.” The look he gives me is downright adorable like he’s actually upset that I said no. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He gestures to the door, waiting for me to exit. I reach up and give him one more kiss before slowly opening the door to make sure no one is in the hallway. I slip out and head for the bathroom to clean up the mess he caused.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I’m washing my hands, noting how rosy my cheeks are. Shit. I look freshly fucked. How am I going to seem casual in front of everyone? I dry my hands off and exit the bathroom. As I get closer to the dining room, I hear Cary and Mr. Elsher speaking to each other, though I can’t quite make out the words.
As I round the corner, Cary says, “Ah, there she is! Thea, Mr. Elsher is here with the paperwork for us to sign and to congratulate us on our new partnership.”
Reality hits me in the face as I remember that Cary now owns fifty-one percent of RED, and he’ll be going back to Seattle soon. I plaster a smile on my face so he doesn’t see the dread welling in my stomach.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Elsher. Can we show you around? If you’re a bourbon man, I’d love to introduce you to our house bourbon called RED. It’s distilled right here on-site.”
He nods his head enthusiastically. “I would love that, darlin’.”
Chapter Seventeen
Carrington
The mood shifted quickly yesterday once Elsher came to see us at RED. Thea was cordial and engaged, but the uninhibited, wild version that hauled me into the office was gone. In her place was the detached Thea that’s kept me at arm’s length up until a few days ago.
I’m not sure if it’s because of what happened between us—although she initiated it and took charge of the whole experience—or if it was because the lawyer’s visit served as a bucket of ice water, reminding her of her grief and her new position.
There’s also the chance that once the lust haze cleared, her guilt about what her actions mean for her relationship with Ripley hit her. It’s obvious he cares for her and maybe he’s been good for her, but there’s too much between us to just ignore it and move on. We tried that. For eight years, we “moved on.” Less than two weeks and we’re right back to where we were before it all went to shit. Thathasto mean something.
If I’m getting a second chance with Thea, I’m snatching it up with both hands and holding on for dear life. I’m not letting her go a second time. Fuck everyone and everything else. I know it makes me the biggest asshole—both because of the people my actions will hurt here, but also because of the beautiful heart it’ll crush in Seattle. Despite guilt being a constant companion at this point, I can’t make myself pause. Everything in me is screaming to forge full-steam ahead with Thea if she’ll have me.
With Travis in the kitchen, I don’t have a reason to go back to the restaurant today. Whether my name is on the ownership paperwork or not, the place belongs to Thea, and I’m not sure she wants to see me there this morning. We left things on a tense note after Elsher left.
Instead, I decide to go to the farmer’s market.
The farmer’s market has been taking place in the town square every Tuesday since before I was born. Although I went practically every week growing up, it appears to have turned into an all out event in the time I’ve been gone. It’s easily doubled in size with vendors coming from surrounding towns and some even further. The market I knew had a small list of participants, just the few local farmers and bakers. Now, the farmers and bakers are mixed in among booths of local artisans, offering handmade soaps, art, jewelry, and the like. The place is busy with everyone picking up produce and last minute items for Thanksgiving in a few days. It’s a chef’s wet dream.
As I browse a produce stand, taking a whiff of an especially beautiful tomato the size of my fist, my mind starts whirring with all the possibilities of what I can do with it. The aromatic scent of the bunches of basil lying on the table mixes with that of the tomato, and I’m imagining a beautiful, crisp bruschetta topped with a drizzle of balsamic glaze. I can almost taste the bite of garlic on my tongue.
