Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (6 page)

Hank opened his mouth to argue, but Alice shook her head.

“Sage is young, hungry. And best of all, she’s a world-class baker, better than I’ll ever be.”

Hank snorted. “No one is better than you.”

She laughed. “Sage is. And she has dreams for this place that I could never accomplish. She can—if you’re willing to work with her.”

“Me?” Why would he need to work with her? There were plenty of other things he wanted to do with her—he’d definitely thought about it—but work? He’d rather have pleasure.

“Yes, you.” Alice swatted at his chest playfully, leaving behind a faint smear of flour on his T-shirt. “You own this building and the surrounding land; she owns the business inside it. What if, eventually, she decides she doesn’t want to keep things inside these four walls?”

He honestly didn’t care as long as it didn’t affect his privacy. Or his plans.

Alice didn’t seem inclined to elaborate at the moment. She reached for a fresh loaf of bread. “I have work to do. And you just got home. Go settle in.” When he didn’t move, she shooed him away. “Scoot.”

Not wanting to upset her any more than he already had, he straightened to obey, but he didn’t have to like it. “I’ll collect my rent first,” he told her as he walked over to the cooling racks. He grabbed a sheet of deli paper from a nearby box and selected two bear claws off one of the trays.

“Don’t forget one for the big brute,” she reminded him, her smile returning.

“Knight loves you, Alice.” Hank palmed a third pastry.

“You both love my bear claws, you mean.”

Hank took a big bite of the pastry. “Of course,” he said, mouth full. Alice’s laughter followed him through the swinging doors.

Killian’s Pub and Grill was the primary adult hangout in Citrus Pointe. According to Alice at least. From the amount of men that eyed her every Sunday night as she crossed the room, Sage had decided it was probably the local pickup spot too. Not as intimidating a meat market as Heathers—BDSM clubs landed around a twelve on the one-to-ten meat-market scale for single females—but she still found herself blushing as she threaded her way through the stares to meet Alice and Merry for what had become a weekly girls’ night out.

The inside of Killian’s was one massive room, divided by a long U-shaped bar stretching three-quarters of the way across the middle. The smaller section behind the bar held what was affectionately referred to as the “poolroom,” a quieter area holding four rectangular tables lined in green felt. Farthest away from the band and dance floor, the poolroom felt more like an old-fashioned men’s parlor with its dark red walls and the seating area with beaten leather chairs that provided a breather from the rest of the bar. All that was missing was the pipe smoke that should be lingering in the air.

Her coworkers had already commandeered a table. Merry met Sage just past the seating area and grinned as Sage grasped the pool cue she handed over. “They’re all staring at your butt.”

“Merry!” Sage wasn’t sure whether to laugh or leave. The heat of interested stares on her back was scorching. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Alice chuckled from her position at the table corralling the balls into a triangle. “We like to live vicariously,” she teased. “No one’s around to look at our elderly butts.”

A tinge of sadness pierced Sage at the reminder that Alice’s husband wasn’t well enough to be here. Barry had already moved in with Deirdre. Alice would follow in a couple of weeks, and though Sage would miss her, she was sure Alice wanted more than anything to be with Barry right now. Trying to lighten the mood, she slung an arm around Merry’s shoulders. “Speak for yourself, Mrs. Evins. Us single girls are in excellent shape, aren’t we, Merry?”

Her friend winked and bumped her hip against Sage’s. “I’ve had a few glances at my derriere tonight. Always do.”

“I know Alice has too. She has the best derriere in her age bracket,” Sage said.

Alice sent her a mock-withering look. “Go get some drinks before your tongue gets you in trouble, young lady.”

“Are we drinking?” Merry asked. “Because I won’t be responsible for
my
tongue if we do.”

“Of course,” Sage told her. “It wouldn’t be a girls’ night out if we didn’t. Besides, getting in trouble is a requirement.”

The two women sent Sage to the bar with a lot of teasing. She returned a few minutes later, a pitcher of margaritas in hand, to Alice insisting she take the first shot of the game—while they started on their drinks, of course. It wasn’t long before the three of them were loose and happy and drawing even more attention as their banter got louder.

They’d finished the pitcher three games later. “We need a refill,” Alice demanded.

“I think your words are s-slurring,” Merry said.

“Nah, there’s something wrong with your ears.”

Sage picked up the tray. “I’ll get us more.” She could at least see straight to cross the room, and she wasn’t so sloshed that she couldn’t insist this round be a bit lighter on the alcohol. She couldn’t say the same for either Merry or Alice, no matter what they claimed.

She wasn’t halfway around the bar when the front door opened and Hank walked in. His presence hit her harder than the two margaritas she’d had. A tight black T-shirt molded to his Viking-hard body like a second skin, revealing every hill and valley she might wonder about. His jeans were black too, and skimmed lean hips and muscular thighs, topping off a pair of scuffed military boots at his ankles. The tattoos along his neck and both arms drew her eyes. What did they mean? Would they feel different under her fingers? Her tongue?

Her toe caught on nothing, tumbling her into a precarious trip that threatened to upset the tray she carried. If she’d been able to pay attention to anything but the glasses and pitcher and keeping them from shattering on the floor, she would’ve laughed. Would she never stop embarrassing herself in this man’s presence?

If you hadn’t been fantasizing about licking him, you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself.

Definitely true, but God, look at him. Every woman present was watching as Hank took the steps down from the entry and crossed to the room. More than one of them appeared to be drooling. Hank watched it all, a smirk pulling at his lips until his gaze settled on her. The smirk evolved into a grin. She swiped a hand surreptitiously across her mouth just in case.

The best defense was a good offense, right? “Hey, Hank. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here every Sunday night. When I’m in town, at least.” He leaned against the bar top with the same nonchalance he used at the shop. Or in the apartment. Come to think of it, the man was always leaning against something. It would be annoying if it didn’t display that sexy body to such perfection.

Wait. Of course it was annoying. He was annoying, not sexy. Definitely not sexy.

She set the tray on the counter and sneaked a glance his way. A groan caught in her throat. Okay, he was sexy, but that didn’t mean she had to appreciate it.

When she frowned at him, his grin widened.

Those lips… She slid onto a bar stool as her knees went weak. Hank’s mouth was dangerous. Even in a grin, his lips were generous, speaking of a vulnerability that wasn’t always evident in his expression or his built-for-aggression body. The power that seemed to radiate from his bones called to the submissive in her, but she was equally drawn to that tiny bit of softness. Every time he walked into the room, she fought the differing instincts surging inside her, one to stand on her own, prove she was no longer the needy sub Kevin had dumped, the other to drop to her knees and beg him to touch her. It was getting old, or maybe she was just getting tired. A sexual relationship with this man would be a bigger mistake than the hundreds she’d made in the past few months. Their business relationship would last for years to come, hopefully; she didn’t want him seeing her as weak.

Submission isn’t a weakness, Sage.

She shook her head, not realizing she was denying that inner voice until Hank’s beautiful lips curved into a frown. Her mind might tell her being a sub wasn’t a weakness, but for her, right now, it was. She needed to focus on rebuilding her life, not revisiting the mistakes of the past.

“Another pitcher?” the bartender asked, breaking through her thoughts.

“Yes please.” She nudged the tray toward him. “Easy on the alcohol.”

“Alice is already feeling it, isn’t she?” Hank asked when she turned back to him.

“Merry too.” She looked toward the poolroom, waving when she found the two women watching her. “They’re a little more lightweight than I expected.”

Hank snorted, his gaze following hers. Merry and Alice had turned back to the table, but their laughter could be heard even above the music from the dance floor and the groups enjoying their drinks at nearby tables.

“Don’t worry. Greg is used to these ‘girls’ night outs.’ By the time they’re really feeling the alcohol, there won’t be any in the drinks.”

“That’s sneaky.”

“And necessary,” the bartender said as he settled her pitcher in front of her.

“I can see why.” Sage hefted the tray like the pro she was. “Are you coming to say hi?” she asked Hank.

“In a minute. I don’t want to intrude.”

“And he needs his own fortification if intruding is on the agenda,” Greg added. Hank huffed in amused agreement.

She figured he probably had other things on his agenda as well; why else would a single guy who looked like Hank hang out at a bar on a Sunday night? She thought another couple of margaritas would help her ignore that…maybe. Maybe not.

Either way, she didn’t want to watch. “You know where to find us,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Alice and Merry wore mutinous expressions when Sage approached the table with their new drinks. “Was that Hank?” Alice squinted toward the bar as if she really didn’t know.

“He said he’ll be over in a minute.”

Merry scoffed. “I don’t think so. Hank!”

The older woman’s yell echoed through the room, if the sound of chairs screeching across the floor and questioning murmurs was anything to go by. Hank’s yell, full of amusement, reached them as he rounded the bar. “Yes, dear?”

Sage looked beyond him to the curious faces staring their way and seriously considered sinking into the floor. That, or laughing.

“Get that cute butt over here,” Merry called.

The floor; definitely the floor.

Satisfied when Hank moved toward them, Merry nodded at the pool table. “Your turn to break, Alice.”

With a wink in Sage’s direction, Alice got to work. Hank joined them just as Sage moved to take her turn. He slung an arm across Merry’s shoulders. “Hey, don’t I get a cue?”

Alice nudged his opposite side, causing him to nearly spill the beer he held with that hand. “You can play the winner later.”

At the slur of the older woman’s words, Hank’s eyebrow went up. Merry took questionable aim at the number four ball. “Just how many balls are you aiming at?” he teased.

“Two,” Merry said. She scratched the shot, then picked her drink back up. “Obviously haven’t had enough margaritas yet.”

“Obviously.”

Hank might tease, but Sage noticed he kept a close eye on his friends as the game went on. When he offered to refill their empty pitcher, his one-sided grin told her this one would be alcohol-free. By the time that round was gone, Alice and Merry were visibly flagging.

“Time to pack it in,” Alice declared.

Sage opened her mouth to offer them a ride home. No way were the two women driving themselves.

Hank nodded toward Alice. “Mick is on his way.”

Merry nodded too, her head bobbing like a buoy. “Yep, on his way.”

Mick?

Sage’s gaze collided with Hank’s.
Her brother
, he mouthed clearly. Hank must’ve called during his trip for their latest pitcher. The tightness in Sage’s belly relaxed, something soft unfurling in its place as she watched Hank take care of his friends.

A few minutes of chitchat later, an older man with hair as gray as Merry’s and a round belly that spoke of good cooking stepped around the end of the bar.

“And there’s our ride,” Alice declared. She patted Sage’s back in passing. “Gotta get home. I’m old.”

Merry’s giggle sounded exactly as Sage imagined it had forty years ago as a twentysomething. “We’re not as young as we used to be, that’s for sure.” She planted a quick kiss on Sage’s cheek. “Can’t stay out as late as you young chicks anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alice said, but she was already walking toward Mick. “Good night, young’uns!”

“Good night,” Sage called.

“Thank God tomorrow is Monday,” Merry muttered to her friend. Monday was their day off since the weekend tended to mean more tourist traffic. It was the only reason Sage had agreed to the late night. Watching the two women put their arms around each other as they came even with Merry’s brother, she was glad they’d have plenty of time to sleep off their margaritas and excitement. Mick nodded at Hank before he ushered Alice and Merry out the door.

And then Sage was alone in the semi-quiet corner with Hank. “I should be getting home too.”