Trouble on Tap (15 page)

That’s all it took. His balls tightened and he thrust forward, his orgasm spilling into her harder than he’d ever come before.

Mateo wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her as he pivoted so he sat on the chair with her nestled on his lap. She settled her cheek into the pocket of his shoulder.

“You’d better not move for a good long while,” she mumbled as her eyes fluttered shut.

He brushed a kiss against her hair and tightened his hold on her, making sure she was secure on his lap. “Don’t worry, you belong right here, love.”

His lungs seized.
Love
. It had just slipped out. But she hadn’t noticed. Her breathing never changed and she didn’t open her eyes as he held her close and tried to process the truth his body had recognized long before his head.

Not that there was anything to be done about it. Olivia was meant for a better man than the beast he’d become.

Steam thickened the air in the bathroom as Olivia toweled herself dry after the shower. Bending at the waist, she stretched down, touching her toes to help relieve the lingering aches from falling asleep in such an awkward position last night. How Mateo made it as long as he did, holding her on his lap as he sat in that hard kitchen chair, she had no idea. She’d woken up hours later as he carried her up the stairs to his room, the dog trailing behind.

Staying over hadn’t been her plan when she’d arrived last night armed with two slices of pecan pie—shit, fucking Mateo in his kitchen hadn’t been her plan—and yet she’d woken up in his arms. It was as if she couldn’t resist, as if being with him was inevitable. The thought should scare the ever-loving shit out of her. It didn’t.

Still basking in the glow of last night’s double-orgasm high, she felt as if anything was possible. Today she was going to persuade the Salvation holdouts to support the veterans’ center fundraiser. It was a win for the vets, for the town, and for the little Sweet on his or her way. Everything was going to work out.

A knock sounded just as she was wrapping a large, fluffy towel around her body.

“I have a T-shirt for you, if you want to borrow it,” Mateo said through the closed door.

Just the sound of his voice sent a delicious shiver through her and tightened her nipples into hard points. “You mean you don’t want to watch me run naked across that back field to the cabin so I can get dressed?”

“I do now. I’m going to go burn all the clothing in the house except for a couple of old ties so I can secure you to the bed.”

“You’re so funny.” She whipped open the door. “Give up the shirt.”

The dog trotted in, sniffing the strawberry scent lingering in the air from her body wash and licking the last drops of water from her toes. Olivia barely noticed the tickle because just looking at Mateo, again dressed only in basketball shorts, put her on sensory overload. The man should never be allowed to wear a shirt. Or shorts. Or really anything at all.

He gave her a slow up-and-down perusal while fisting the gray T-shirt. “Breakfast is ready.”

“You made me breakfast?” That had never happened before. Hotel room service? Yes. Restaurant? Occasionally. Anything not delivered by someone wearing a name tag? Never.

The tops of his ears turned pink. “Don’t get too excited, it’s toaster waffles and juice.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He turned to go, obviously in retreat mode.

“Hey, Mateo,” she called out.

He spun around. “Yeah?”

She held out her hand. “The shirt?”

He looked down as if he’d forgotten what he’d been holding. A wicked smile curled his lips as he looked back up at her, his gaze stopping on the spot right between her breasts where she’d secured her towel as if he could flick it open with just a glance. Instead, he gave her a slow wink and handed over the shirt. “See you downstairs.”

Awareness singed her skin and her breath caught in her chest. Before, they’d always been rushing, her from catwalk to catwalk and him from battlefield to battlefield, stopping only long enough to meet, fuck and begin the countdown until the next time. Maybe this time they’d both stay put long enough to actually see if what was between them could work for more than a stolen weekend at a hotel.

Mateo thought giving her the shirt would help end his perma-boner. Then Olivia sauntered through the kitchen in the T-shirt that barely covered her pert ass and he realized the immense error of his ways. All the thin cotton did was make him remember every single detail of what was underneath. She was killing him with her hotness. Slowly. Thoroughly. Ruthlessly.

“Wow,” she chuckled. “That’s a lot of waffles.”

He looked down at the stack of eight on his plate. “I’m hungry.”

She stopped behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his bare back. “You did have a helluva workout last night.”

Before he could make a snappy rejoined, that weirdo cat of hers jumped up on the island and started stalking Mateo’s breakfast. He slid a protective arm around his plate, marking his territory.

It was just enough movement to make the dog lift his sleepy head, give the air a quick sniff, realize company had arrived and go berserk.

Chaos erupted. Barks and hisses as the cat peered over the edge of the island and glared at the dog. Wagging tails and sharp claws as the dog jumped and spun in place with the cat taking swipes whenever it could. Total fucking insanity ensued as the fur flew when the cat made contact.

He and Olivia jumped apart. He grabbed the dog’s collar while she scooped up the cat. For half a breath, sanity returned. Then the three-legged cat sprung from Olivia’s grasp and skedaddled right out the open back door. The dog broke Mateo’s hold and sped out after the feline.

All Mateo could do was wonder what in the hell had just happened. “Want me to go after them?”

Olivia peeked out of the window and shook her head. “It’s okay. Handsome’s perched on top of the shed.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. The unfamiliar sound just bubbled up inside of him and erupted out. “You named that ugly thing Handsome?”

“At least he has a name.” She grabbed a mug from the counter and poured herself some coffee. You need to give one to the dog.”

“He’s not mine.” He’d said it a thousand times, but each denial was becoming weaker.

“Don’t tell him that, he’d be heartbroken.” She sat down on one of the stools surrounding the island and sipped her steaming coffee as she looked out the window at her cat ignoring the dog, who was still losing his damn mind. The sun caught in her hair, turning the honey strands golden.

The whole scene was foreign to him. In the days before his last fateful tour, he’d never had women stay the night. He’d always gone to their place or a hotel. It just kept things neater; the less involvement, the cleaner it would be when he walked away—and he’d always walked away.

Even from Olivia, the single person he’d spent years running toward, if only for a weekend at a time.

By the time he’d realized what an idiot he’d been for turning down her offer of making their arrangement more like a relationship, he was in a strange country with the explosion ringing in his ears and his friends’ blood dripping down his face.

Yet here he was, sitting in his kitchen with Olivia, and instead of rushing her out the door, the urge to linger had him glued to his stool. Maybe her coming back to Salvation wasn’t his penance. Maybe it was a second chance…if he had the balls to go after it.

“Breakfast.” He pushed a plate of waffles her way as he tried to figure out what to say. Small talk wasn’t in his wheelhouse. It wasn’t even in the same country. So he blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. “Explain to me why this fundraiser is such a big deal for you. It looks like it’s been nothing but headaches so far. Why not just say fuck it?”

She used her fork to slide her cut-up waffles around her plate, refusing to look up at him. “I can’t.”

No doubt Olivia had secondary motives for the fundraiser, but he couldn’t make Hawson’s theory about it all being a plot to get her back into the spotlight jive with the woman nervously chewing a hole in her bottom lip. “Why not?”

“Between us?”

He nodded, not liking the way her body was curling inward as if she could hide inside herself. His dormant protector instinct woke and stomped its way up from the deep dark hole where he’d buried it.

Olivia set her fork down on her plate, folded her hands in her lap and raised her face so their gazes locked. “Miranda’s pregnant.”

How this hadn’t made the gossip rounds at The Kitchen Sink yet, he had no idea. That was some CIA-level secret-keeping there. “And you think rebuilding the veterans’ center will make the town think better of your family before the new member comes along.”

“Exactly.” Her face lit up and the hope he saw in her blue eyes punched him right in the kidney.

Her plan made sense in a convoluted Sweet sort of way, but the town mayor had super-villain level determination when it came to keeping Salvation as his personal Sweet-hating fiefdom. “You’re in trouble.”

“Really?” She snorted. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve got to figure out a way to outflank Hawson.” And the mayor was loaded for bear. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“If only I could just—”

She suddenly jumped off her stool and did an excited shimmy dance that lifted the T-shirt up to her hips, showing off everything that was bare beneath. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” He shifted. Now was not the time for his dick to go back to aching hardness.

“I just need to get some face time with people.” She paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked out her plan of attack. “If I can convince them that this is a win-win for everyone, then the veterans will get a new center and the town won’t have the ruined building as an eyesore.”

“And your niece or nephew may have a better reception from Salvation than you or your sisters did.”

She stopped in her tracks and the hopeful light that had lit her up from the inside flickered. “The problem is, how do I get folks to sit down with me? No one showed up for the volunteer training.”

Shock and awe wasn’t what she needed. It was hearts and minds time. “You need to go one-on-one and forge relationships in hostile territory. You can do it, but having an envoy might help.”

“I could ask Logan. His family has been here forever.”

“Sounds like there’s a but coming…”

“I really wanted to prove to my sisters that I wasn’t the total flake I’d been in the past—you know, the one who brought a documentary film crew home for Christmas and ended up embarrassing the whole town. This fundraiser is also a way to show that I have the chops to bring something useful to the brewery. I’m good at marketing. I can help, and now that the boxes aren’t packed floor to ceiling in my office, this is my chance.”

“I can take you around to a couple of places.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought twice.

“Last night wasn’t about buttering you up. The pecan pie was, but afterwards, that was just us.”

Judging by the way she’d come apart in his arms last night, he didn’t doubt her for a second. “I’ll remember that next time you bring me pie.”

Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him long and slow before pulling away. “Thank you.”

“I’m just your driver.” He shrugged. “Don’t depend on me for anything else.”

Three days later, Olivia shielded her eyes from the setting sun as she and Mateo walked down Phillip Deckerson’s front porch steps and mentally added one more person to her list of fundraiser supporters, which brought the number up to twenty five. All in all, a pretty damn successful day.

She managed to close the SUV’s passenger door before the giggles spilled out from between her lips. “Oh my God, did you see the look on his face when I said Tyrell Hawson’s name? I thought fire was going to come shooting out of his nose.”

Mateo fastened his seat belt. “Nothing like a bogus eminent domain claim by the city to get an old man’s back up.”

“Thank you for this.” She fiddled with the seat belt, a familiar fluttering in her stomach—one that always seemed to make its presence known whenever she was around him.