Page 1 of Sweet Surrender
Chapter 1
“Oh Beau, your breath smells like garbage…”
“I’m not usually a fan of receding hairlines but it really works for you!”
“Is that as big as it gets?”
Taylor snickered to herself, mimicking Beau’s date as she watched the woman gushing over him. They sat across the table from each other, his date talking while Beau stared at her with open-mouthed amazement.
Ugh.
Taylor looked away before she was sick. She wrenched open the dishwasher. A cloud of steam attacked her face and she breathed in the heat, reveling in it. Pulling out a tray, she began drying off glasses, stacking them along the back bar of her pride and joy, The Rusty Bucket Inn.
Her break from the loved-up couple didn’t last long as her eyes were inexplicably drawn back to them.God, I hate him,she thought, staring at his stupid smug face beaming down at his stunning date whose breasts were making an enthusiastic escape attempt from her skin-tight dress.
You’re just jealous your breasts don’t look like that. She glanced down at her less than impressive chest and sighed before her eyes lifted to thehappycouple again.
Unfortunately, Beau didn’t have any of the things Taylor just mentioned. His hairline was damn near perfect, his thick hair a deep chocolate brown that Taylor guessed was attractive, if you liked that kind of thing. His breath was always minty fresh, like he ate mints all day long. And his dick? Well, she didn’t know about that but she sure as shit didn’t think it was small. The guy was a giant and he radiated big dick energy.Ugh, stop thinking about his dick!
Taylor hated the way women fawned over him, just because he was hella tall, tanned and absolutelystackedwith muscle? Pssh. Okay yes, he had nice hair that was just begging to be stroked and she could admit his mouth was pretty great, his full, wide lips always smiling. And fine, she would concede that a girl could get lost in those thickly-lashed dark eyes that curved suggestively at the edges.
BUT.
None of that meant a thing when the guy’s personality was a big, fat bag o’dicks andthatshe damn well knew for a fact. She just made it her mission to ensure that everyone else knew it too, like a public service.You’re welcome, America, she snorted to herself as she hip-checked the dishwasher shut and grabbed a cloth, wiping down her bar lovingly. She sighed over every chip the cloth snagged on the handcrafted oak top, her stomach dipping each time like she was touching an open wound.
The bar itself had been what she’d fallen in love with when she first looked around the place and she’d built the idea for the Inn around it. She had put her blood, sweat and tears into this place, renovating the bar as well as the rundown cabins. She’d created a place for folks to come and let their hair down with rooms they could book into if they needed to get away. She’d been running the place for ten years now. It was her life, her passion, the thing that got her out of bed each day. There had been tough times, but she worked her ass off to bring in the customers and it was finally paying off.
On her periphery she saw Beau saunter past the bar, not even glancing in her direction, as he headed down the hall to the restrooms. Looking around, Taylor spotted only a couple of people left in the bar, the hardcore regulars who stayed until closing most nights.
Taylor rang the bell that signaled closing time and was met with the now customary boos from her clientele which she just laughed off. She began going round the tables collecting the empty glasses, stopping by Porter, one of her regulars, who was slumped over on his stool.
“Come on Porter, quit faking it or I’ll call Dina to come pick your ass up. Then you’ll be sorry,” she said, shaking the older man.
“You wouldn’t do that, would you? Not after last time,” the old man replied, slurring slightly. His horrified expression had Taylor chuckling. His wife was a scary lady; no one fucked with Dina.
“Then you’d better git!” Taylor flicked him with her cloth, her Southern accent deepening with her sass. Porter grumbled at her again but slid off his barstool and patted her hand affectionately. Taylor watched as he wandered out the bar, beginning his long walk home since she had confiscated his car keys. She always took the keys of the regulars; she wouldn’t have anyone driving drunk on her watch.
The last few stragglers left, and Taylor collected their empty glasses before stopping at the table next to Beau’s date. She eyed the woman critically. The blonde curls bounced with every movement, as did her impressive rack, inflating with every breath.
Don’t do it!Taylor’s brain screamed. But she was feeling particularly vicious this evening.Jealousy’s a bitch but so am I.
“I just want to say, well done. You’re a better woman than most,” Taylor gushed. The blonde looked at her, confusion tried to pinch her forehead but her vast quantities of Botox made it near impossible.
“Excuse me?”
Taylor plastered a smile on her face. “It’ssogreat that you’re giving him a chance. Rehabilitated criminals need love too, am I right? I mean, sure, hekilledthat guy with his bare hands, but I bet he feels real bad about it.”
The blonde’s face dropped. “What?”
“Oh shoot, did he not get to that part yet in his ‘about me’ section? Well, don’t I feel like I put my foot in it. Forget I said anything.” Taylor waved her hand dismissively and then headed back to the bar, trying to smother her evil grin. She stacked the remaining glasses into the dishwasher. A moment later the clack of stilettos echoed through the bar as Beau’s date skipped to the door.
“Come back soon!” Taylor called after her with a little wave then laughed as the door slammed shut behind her, bathing in her triumph. Seconds later, Beau came back from the bathroom and stopped in his tracks as he took in the empty bar. His steely gaze found Taylor’s and narrowed dangerously before he headed her way. His long, muscled legs ate up the distance between them. He stopped in front of her and folded his arms across his chest, covering his blue t-shirt with the Superman ‘S’ on the front. She gulped as she took in his expression.Shit.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“Good evening to you too, Beau,” she trilled.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he growled. That deep, hard voice of his skated across the bar, gliding over her skin and she fought off an involuntary shiver. It was like his voice was a different frequency to other men, lower and rougher too. And there was definitely something wrong with it because it always made her feel funny inside.
