Daddy in Disguise (Crescent Cove 7)

Evidently, a lot more. Cobwebs had been growing in my lingerie drawer since I moved to the Cove.

“You trusted me to take on this job, so trust me to finish it.”

I crossed my arms over my traitorous tits. The deep timbre of his voice always activated my stupid nipples. It was like they were damn divining rods to our very favorite water source. “It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“We open in six weeks, Gideon. I need to train people in here, get the bar set up. I’ve had the liquor license forever and the booze is sitting in my backroom gathering dust.”

Mostly because I’d heard horror stories about the liquor license process in New York. Late night forums and Googling were my life. I didn’t know how to sleep. Caffeine was my friend for more than one reason.

“And if you’d stop sneaking back here every hour and distracting my guys, we’d be further a-fucking-long.” He raked his fingers through his hair and the sawdust doubled.

“If you’d bring me up to speed, then I wouldn’t have to fucking sneak back here.” I knew I was shouting, and I didn’t even care. Frustration and stress had been eating at me for weeks—months—now. Not to mention the tension caused by my ever-growing personal sexual desert.

He stalked by me and whipped off one of the coverings behind me. A darkly stained booth came into shadowy view. He slapped his hand against a panel and a low hanging pendant light flicked on. The booths were obviously not in the right spot yet. His shoulder brushed the stained glass hood and it swayed, throwing light all over the room.

Deep red paint with a super subtle darker stripe coated the walls. The dizzy beam of light threw the corner into relief. There was something akin to blood splatter along the walls. It was a trick of the light with some sort of clear paint to create the effect, but it was breath-stealing. A poster of Dracula leaned against the rich, midnight stain of the bead-board that covered the lower half of the wall. Kickplates were half installed as well as jet black vents piled against the freshly painted trim.

My gaze bounced around the room. The booths matched the stain of the bead-board. It was a simple style, but the high, arched back had a relief carving of a raven. He whipped off another sheet to show the same booth style, this one with a bat mid-flight.

I spun around to get a look at each one he revealed. Some were achingly chilling, some were funny—all captured everything I didn’t even know I wanted.

As always.

I reached out a shaking hand to touch the bat. The light was still dancing since Gideon was stalking around the room, flicking drop-cloths to the floor. Sawdust and other sundry construction dust floated in the pale shafts of light. I was trying to bring it all into focus, and my heart was racing like I’d run down Main Street. It was too much to take in without proper light, but it was even better than I could have ever imagined.

Finally, I turned to him. His hazel eyes were angry and wild. They were bloodshot with fatigue and something else. The thing that always arced between us like electricity from the climax of a vintage monster movie. Dr. Frankenstein and his creation had nothing on us.

It was terrifying and electrifying.

My fight or flight response kicked into gear. Part of me wanted to run, and the other half of me wanted to stay. To demand he finally fucking man up and touch me.

My heart raced, and I dragged in deep breaths. Black dots danced around my periphery. I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the shadows being thrown from the little Tiffany pendant light.

As I stepped closer, my pulse tripped at the madness flickering in his eyes. Every muscle bulged in his forearms, shoulders, and all those little ones in between that climbed up his arms. The ones I didn’t know the names for but made my mouth water every time he lifted something heavy.

Jesus, he was fucking hot.

He opened his arms, his ever present white T-shirt stretching tight across his broad chest. A stub of a pencil was tucked behind his ear, peeking out from the flipped up ends of his hair.

His chest heaved as he stared me down. “Well? Are you happy now?”

I took another step closer, my heart slamming so hard against the walls of my chest I couldn’t hear anything else in the room. Even the chilling soundtrack from the climax of Halloween couldn’t dent the heaviness vibrating between us.

I grabbed his shirt and dragged him down to me. His mouth crashed onto mine and there was barely a breath of shock before his arms went around me and crushed me to him.

He tasted like my coffee—the special blend of chicory and dark chocolate I’d created just for him. That I brewed for no one else. That maybe, just maybe, I drank when the nights got too lonely. It burned my tongue as he invaded my mouth. His kiss was just as quietly overwhelming as the man himself.

No gentle first kiss between us. Nope. There was only lust unlocked.

And I was fucking here for it in every goddamn way.

Here in the place that I’d been dreaming about since I purchased the dilapidated building last year. Coffee was what I knew. What flowed in my veins, but I wanted more. I always wanted more. I was forever stretching past the boundaries set on me.

Even here in this sometimes stifling town, I wanted to demand more. Make my space more than just a pit stop in someone’s day. Why I pushed myself to create drinks for strangers. To unlock their hearts and make them feel special for a second.

No one knew that but me.