Page 29 of Honeyed

“Hmm, hadn’t seen that one. Text me the link and I’ll look it over after my shift, yeah?” She’d come straight here after school.

“Sure thing. How is school, by the way, prom all squared away?”

She nods as she ties her apron around her waist. “Yep. It cost me a couple days of sucking up and accompanying Mom to a work dinner so she could tell lies about me and look like mother of the year, but she finally relented and signed the permission slip.”

I text her the link to the landing page as she stands in front of me so I don’t break into a fit about her horrible mother.

“All right, I’m going to start filling all the salt and pepper shakers. Anything else going on for tonight?”

“Not apart from the usual. I think Evan wants to try some tasting menu for this weekend, though, so you should stop in the kitchen to try the dishes so you can memorize them.”

A blush creeps over August’s cheeks. “All right, will do.”

She scurries out of my office, and I sigh. I’ve been noticing the same reaction out of her whenever I mention the youngest Ashton, and I truly hope Evan knows how off-limits she is. And that he’s not stupid enough to mess with a girl who has a chance to get out of here and get her life on track.

I make my way to the front to cash out early dinner orders for some of the teachers on their way home after school and to relieve Leona.

“My son-in-law!” She greets me with a big smacking kiss on the cheek. “Sunday will be our first family dinner as real relatives. How special.”

I’ve always been invited to Ashton family Sunday dinner, but this weekend will be different. It’ll be a full-on performance outside of the restaurant, the first one for Alana and me. We’ll have to act all lovey-dovey. My stomach dips just thinking about getting to touch her with an excuse not to hold back.

Mr. Claus, my old assistant football coach from high school, walks in to pick up an order from the counter.

“Warren, my boy, I hear congratulations are in order.” He grins at me and extends a hand for me to shake.

I don’t necessarily dislike the man, but he’s always been smarmier than my liking.

Not wanting to be a dick, I shake his hand back. “Thank you.”

“I always knew you were in bed with this family, just didn’t realize it was literally.” He winks at me.

Disgust and annoyance make my stomach roll. He’s lucky Leona ran back to get his order when she saw him coming, or she’d have let her tongue loose on this jerk.

“I love my wife and her family very much.” It’s all I say because I’m very close to breaking my rule and disrespecting a customer.

“Frannie told me she saw Alana this morning at the gym, though, and the girl didn’t even have a diamond. I thought you’d be a flashy football star someday. Ah, seems like Hope Crest gets some of the best of us.”

I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that this washed-up high school football champion with a bulging beer belly held some sort of spite and jealousy toward me. He used to make me run extra laps at practice, would berate me when the head coach wasn’t looking, and always had something to say about my successful games.

“Hope Crest is my home, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.” I smile, combatting every negative point he’s making.

He grumbles as Leona comes back with his order, and from her tight smile, I can tell she’s not too keen on Mr. Claus either. As she rings him up and he pulls out his credit card, Alana bustles into the shop, all gorgeous smiles and wind-blown hair. She takes my breath away for a moment; my eyes lock on how she almost glides over the floor in those maddening heels she insists on wearing during the workday. She looks like a warm spring day in a flowing orange and red flower-print skirt and a white gauzy shirt that shows a peak of cleavage. I want to pull her into a private area and confess that I didn’t just marry her for money, but I know we’re past repressed feelings.

“Hi everyone!” she singsongs, scooting behind the counter.

Like we’ve been demonstrating, she kisses me chastely on the cheek. A quick peck, a gesture that a wife might give to a husband if she were arriving somewhere. I lean into it, palming her waist, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

I hear Mr. Claus snort derisively as we part. “That’s how newlyweds greet each other these days? My God, when Frannie and I were first married, I was humping her in front of—”

“Okay!” Leona interrupts him. “They’re at work, and I kind of appreciate that my son-in-law is respectful in front of people.”

“Or he’s just not into his wife.” Mr. Claus smiles deviously.

This guy is fucking unbelievable. I haven’t had a real acquaintanceship with him since high school, yet he’s pompous enough to come in here and spout his mouth off as if my marriage has anything to do with his opinion. As if a guy like him, so self-involved and generally gross, could have a better love life than I do. It pisses me off. It pisses me off so much that I grab Alana, sink my hands into her hair, and fuse my mouth to hers.

After a moment of shock, she kisses me back, her tongue sliding into my mouth as I make her part her lips. Jolts of electricity shoot through me, rendering me senseless as I smoothly fit the groove of her mouth to mine. We move in tandem like I am meant for her and she for me; all the while, the entire restaurant is staring at us. But I can’t care. I can’t even remember that this started as a fuck you to the old high school bully coach I was trying to make even more jealous.

What starts as a gesture to prove a point molds into something incredibly deep. I search her lips for everything we’ve held back for fifteen years. Pouring out every forbidden feeling, every fantasy I’ve dreamed of her when I’m alone in the dark. I kiss her like she’s really my wife, like my lips belong to her for the rest of time.

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