Porter

Men of Lovibond

Georgia Cates

Published by Georgia Cates Books, LLC

Copyright © 2017 Georgia Cates

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Editing services provided by Lisa Aurello

Formatting by Jeff Senter of Indie Formatting Services

Cover artwork by Jeff Senter of Indie Formatting Services

Cover Model Photography by Eric Battershell Photography

ISBN: 978-0-9861204-9-7

Also by Georgia Cates

STANDALONES

Dear Agony: A Novel

Indulge

Sweet Torment: A Novella

THE SIN TRILOGY

A Necessary Sin: Book I

The Next Sin: Book II

One Last Sin: Book III

The Sin Trilogy Bundle

THE SIN SERIES NOVELS

Endurance: Jamie and Ellison's Story

Unintended: Westlyn and Kieran’s Story Publishing October 20, 2017

Redemption: Leith and Lorna's Story (Early 2018)

THE BEAUTY SERIES

Beauty from Pain: Book I

Beauty from Surrender: Book II

Beauty from Love: Book III

The Beauty Series Bundle

MEN OF LOVIBOND

Tap

Stout

Porter

GOING UNDER SERIES

Going Under: Book I

Shallow: Book II

Going Under Complete Duo

THE VAMPIRE AGAPE SERIES

Blood of Anteros: Book I

Blood Jewel: Book II

Blood Doll: Book III

The Complete Vampire Agape Series

.

My employee’s daughter. The tomboy. The kid who once did odd jobs around the brewery. That’s all she was… until three years passed and she walked into my office for an interview.

Frankee Dawson is no longer that girl I once called Kiddo. She’s grown into a beautiful, sexy, desirable woman. Very desirable. And that’s a problem. She’s my employee’s daughter. Lovibond family. And too young for me. Too innocent.

I want to feel her respond to my kiss.

I want her body to tremble as she anticipates my touch.

I want to learn all the places that bring her pleasure.

But mostly I want her to know that she’s never truly been loved by a man until me.

Frankee is my intern and under me for the summer. Literally. It’s a difficult secret to maintain when you can’t keep your hands off each other.

This was supposed to be a hot summer fling. Sex and fun without commitment. That’s what we called it. But we were wrong. This is more. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Never cared more about someone else’s happiness more than my own.

I love her. And I’m happy, so damn happy… until a terrible mistake from my past springs forward and threatens to rip us apart. 

There are a million reasons for her to leave me. And trust me, she should. But all I really need is one good reason for her to stay.

***Note from Georgia—Porter is one of three books in the Men of Lovibond collection. Each novel will feature a different couple and can be read as a standalone. HEA. No cheating. No cliffhangers.

Fuck, this has been one unproductive day so far. Three intern interviews this morning and not a single applicant I’d even consider as a temp while I look for someone to take the full-time graphic design and marketing position. Unless I settle for the guy who called me maaan every time he addressed me, showed up an hour late, and smelled like he had just smoked weed in the car before he came into the brewery.

Liked his designs. Hated the zero-fucks-given attitude.

I pick up the application of my one o’clock interviewee. “Frances Ameline Dawson. Sounds like someone’s grandmother.”

I scan her application and quickly discover that she’s only twenty-one years old… and not even a student. She’s already a college graduate. Shit, this girl’s confused about the position we’re offering. Which means this is another interview that will be a waste of my time; I’m not hiring a new grad for the full-time position.

I scan lower to have a look at her education; I’m curious about what someone so young could have already accomplished.

Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Alabama. Driven. 3.9 GPA. Intelligent. Recipient of the Howard B. Jones graphic design award. Talented. They don’t give that bastard to someone with mediocre skills. She must be a good artist… no, make that a damn good artist.

Miss Frances Ameline Dawson has captured my attention.

I look up when I hear Tap knock on my open door. “Hey. I’ve got to make a delivery to BCC. Want to ride out there with me and grab a late lunch afterward?”

“Love to but can’t. Got an interview in ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you had that going on today. Haven’t found anyone yet?”

“Not even close.”

“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for soon.”

“Hope so.” I’m taking care of all the graphic design and marketing, plus working on the winter seasonal recipe with Stout. I’m up to my ass in alligators and in desperate need of someone to take up some slack.

Molly—our office manager, head of human resources, and second mom to all of us—leans around the doorway and pokes her head into my office. “Next… applicant… is… here.” Why does she sound like she’s singing a song? Is she that happy it’s the last one for the day?

Frances is early. I like that.

“I can see that you have things to do so I’m outta here,” Tap says.

Molly slides her arm around him. “Tell Lawrence I said hello and to stop being a stranger. We miss her face around this place.”

“Don’t worry, mama. I’ll tell her.”

“Are you ready for me to send her back?” Molly has this huge grin plastered across her face.

Why is she so giddy? “Send her in.”

I’m taking another glance at Miss Dawson’s application when she taps on the door. “Hey Beck.”

Beck? Well, hell. There goes any hope I had for this one acting more professional than the three I saw ahead of her this morning.

“It’s Beckman.” I lift my eyes to Frances Ameline Dawson at the same time I correct her.

Long, dark loose curls. Vivid ocean eyes. Flawless porcelain skin. White teeth behind a lovely smile.

Fuck. Me.

Gorgeous.

“Come in and have a seat.”

She and her four-inch fuck-me pumps cross my office and she lowers herself into the chair across from me, placing her black portfolio by her feet. “It’s good to see you again. Been a while, right?”

What. The. Hell?

This girl knows me.

And I have no idea who she is.

Have I fucked her? No. I would remember being between that pair of legs. Unless I was shit-faced. But even then, I don’t think I could forget this one.

Her eyes. Something about them seems familiar. But that body… I’ve never seen it before. And I’m certain I’ve never seen it naked. I would remember.

“How long has it been?” Maybe I can put the pieces together if I have some kind of time frame.

“Three years.” She’s only twenty-one. Three years ago, she’d have been eighteen. A kid. Barely legal. No way I fucked her… unless I had no idea how young she was.

Dammit. I cannot recollect Frances Ameline Dawson. Not even a little. And I really, really, really want to.

“You don’t recognize me?” Her voice is low. Childlike. Am I imagining a pang of hurt in it?

I wish I could place her. But I won’t pretend I do and risk looking like a fool. “I’m sorry, Frances. I don’t.”

“Frankee. Not Frances.”

Frankee… Frankee… Frankee Dawson? Oh, Scott’s daughter. Kiddo. I’ve known this girl since her father came to work for us when we opened Lovibond’s doors five years ago. “Kiddo.”

A broad smile spreads when I call her by the nickname I gave her years ago. “You remember.”

“Took a minute but yeah I do. In my defense, you’ve… changed.” Changed? Huge understatement. Developed. Matured. Bloomed. Blossomed. All of those would be much better word choices.

Short hair. No makeup. Baggy clothes. Straight, gangly body. Those are the things I remember about Frankee as a teenager. But no more. Kiddo is no longer a kid. She is a woman. A beautiful one.

Seems like only yesterday when she was here sweeping the warehouse and doing odd jobs around Molly’s office. Until she’d find her way to the art and marketing department. My territory.

She took an interest in what I was doing. Watched me. Asked questions. Doodled more than she swept. She was quite the little artist even back then.

I once found a crumpled sketch of a beer label in the trash when I was digging for something I had lost. I had no idea who had drawn it until I looked at the name signed in the lower right-hand corner of the page. Frankee Beckman. Not Frankee Dawson.

She was only sixteen, maybe seventeen but was apparently crushing on me since she was toying with the idea of being Mrs. Beckman. Typical behavior for a silly teenage girl. But Frankee was no typical teenage girl. She was a tomboy to the nth degree.

But not anymore.

“It’s okay that you couldn’t place me. I know I don’t look anything like I did the last time you saw me.”

“Not at all.” My eyes are tempted to leave her face and roam her body, but I force them to stay on her eyes… and full pink pouty lips.

Get on with the interview, Beckman. “You graduated from the University of Alabama in three years?”

“I did.”

Damn. That’s an accomplishment. “Impressive but why the rush?”

“The twins graduated from high school this year and they’ll be going to Alabama in the fall. My parents were going to have three kids in college at the same time if I didn’t push to finish early. I couldn’t do that to them because I wanted to take it easy.” Selflessness. A quality you don’t find in many these days.

“I’m sure Scott and Tara appreciated that.”

“It was brutal at the time but completely worth it. I can say that now that it’s over.”

It took five years for me to graduate but not because I was a slacker. Stout and I were concentrating on brewing and how we were going to build a company from nothing. Classes took a backseat to that. And I haven’t spent a single day being sorry about it.

“Let’s have a look at your portfolio.” I’m eager as fuck to see the designs of a Howard B. Jones award recipient.

She leans forward to pick up her portfolio, giving me a clear view down her blouse. Damn. She’s wearing a black lace bra. And I can’t help but wonder if the panties beneath her skirt match.

I quickly divert my eyes back to her application and remind myself that this is Frankee. Kiddo. My warehouse manager’s daughter. Having thoughts like that about her makes me a total dick.

One. Hundred. Percent.

She opens her portfolio case on the sofa and bends forward to take out her work, giving me the perfect view of her ass and legs in that skirt. So I do what men do. I look… despite knowing how dead I’d be if Scott saw me checking out his daughter.

Is Kiddo aware of what she’s doing? Or is she still so innocent that she doesn’t realize she’s presenting more than just her designs?

“This was my senior project. I consider it my best work.” I quickly divert my eyes to hers when she turns around to present her work. I hope like hell she didn’t see me ogling her ass.

“My assignment was to build a start-up business from scratch. I chose a hard cider company. My research stated that men and women are drinking cider equally so my design needed to appeal to both sexes. The cider drinker is between the ages of twenty-one and forty so I knew I needed to keep it modern and fresh.”

She removes the poster cover and it isn’t possible not to instantly be sucked into her design. The font. The colors. The artwork. They’re… perfection.

“For my advertising posters, I chose a different couple for each cider—each with a sexy, classic pinup-style girl and a devil-like man. The play on design concentrates on fruit from the Garden of Eden, depending upon the flavor of cider. The design is reminiscent of sex and sin.” Her smile deepens. “And who doesn’t love that?”

Fuck. Me.

She goes through her posters, explaining them in great detail and then the product label itself. Everything about her design, her strategy… brilliant. “I would never have thought to take this route. My man brain doesn’t function this way, but every little detail about your campaign works.”

“A sexy woman and a bad boy. No one hates that.”

“These are really great.” I’m pretty sure Tap and Lawry would pay big bucks to have these images on their cider products.

“Got an A on this project.”

“You should have gotten an A-plus-plus.” Her work is that good.

She returns to her case and takes out several foam-core posters… while bending over in front of me again. “I have lots of other beer label designs if you want to see them.”

“Absolutely.”

Ales. Stouts. Porters. Lagers. Malts. There must be at least twenty-five labels here for all different styles of beer. And not one of them is less than superb. “I’m impressed, Kiddo. Not only in your designs but the way you grasp the marketing side of this business.”

“That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“Are you aware that this position is for a summer intern and not full-time employment?”

“I am. I’m moving to Austin in September. There’s no point in finding a job in Birmingham only to turn around and quit three months later. A summer internship is perfect for me. I think the experience I’d gain here would look great on my resume when I apply for jobs in the fall.”

I need temporary help. Frankee needs experience. I think this could work out perfectly. “How many hours a week could you work?”

“As many as you need.”

Frankee is already Lovibond family. And the perfect candidate for this summer job. This is a no-brainer. “It’s your position if you want it.”

“Of course, I want it.”

“Can you start Monday if Molly can push the paperwork through in time?”

“I sure can.”

“Stop by and see her on your way out. She’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

She gathers her artwork and returns it to her portfolio. One last look at her ass and legs. After this, no more. I swear.

“Dress code around the office?”

She looks sexy as fuck in what she’s wearing. I’d love to see her in more short skirts, blouses with low necklines, and black lace bras but that ain’t Lovibond brewery style.

“We’re casual around here. Jeans or shorts and a T-shirt are fine unless we have a big client coming in. But you’d never be expected to dress up for them. That would fall on Tap, Stout, and me.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll see you on Monday at…?”

“I get here around eight.”

“All right. Eight o’clock, Monday. I’ll be here.”

She stops in the doorway and looks back at me. “Working together again will be like old times. I look forward to it.”

“Me too.” I say the words but I already know that nothing about working side by side with Frankee is going to feel like old times. It isn’t possible with this grown-up, hotter-than-fuck version of her.

It’s only for the summer. Twelve weeks.

No big deal. I’ve got this.

“Sorry I’m late, girls.”

“No worries. Both of us were late so we haven’t been waiting long.” I wasn’t worried. And I’m also not surprised. Ava and Dillyn are habitually tardy.

“Order drinks yet?”

“Yeah. White wine for me. Red for her,” Ava says.

Wine is their typical drink choice but I’ve never been a fan. Too pungent for my taste. The one and only time I found a vino I enjoyed, my head pounded for two days after drinking it. The pain was different than a hangover, which makes me wonder if I have a wine allergy. I’ve heard that’s a real thing. “You know wine hates me.”

“We know.” Dillyn pushes the drink menu across the table toward me. “Here are the specials if you want to take a look.”

I’m thumbing through my choices when our server returns with their wine. “White for you annnd… red for you. Do you need another minute to look over the menu or are you ready to order?”

At twenty-one, I’m not a seasoned drinker. I usually go for something sweet and fruity but I feel like trying my new employer’s product. My sort-of employer. “I think I’ll have the Lovibond seasonal apricot ale.” Fruity. Seems like a good place to start.

“Nice choice.”

Dillyn takes a drink of her wine. “Well, I can’t imagine you ordering a Lovibond beer if things didn’t go well at your interview with them today.”

“Couldn’t have gone better. I got the internship.” I may be kidding myself but I don’t think my dad’s employment at Lovibond has anything to do with Porter giving me the position. I think he really likes my designs.

Ava holds up her palm for a high five. “That’s great, Frankee. Congratulations.”

Dillyn lifts her glass. “We have to make a toast.”

I point to the empty space on the table. “No drink yet.”

“We’ll toast to you making the big bucks after your drink arrives.” I think Ava is confusing job and internship.

“I’ll be earning a dollar above minimum wage. I’m afraid that doesn’t equate to big bucks.” I’m the summer intern. I’m lucky to be getting paid at all. Minimum wage plus an extra buck an hour… I suspect that part is Porter being generous because I’m his warehouse manager’s daughter.

“How many hours do you think you’ll work every week?” Dillyn asks.

“Porter said to expect forty.”

She nods. “Nice. Forty hours over a twelve-week period will add up. You should have a nice chunk of change by the end of the summer.”

“God knows I’ll need it.” This move to Austin isn’t going to be cheap.

“We’ve already told you to stop worrying about money. Dillyn and I have things covered until you find a job and get on your feet.”

Ava and Dillyn come from wealthy families. They had college funds. Luxury cars. Monthly allowances—big ones. I went to Alabama on a scholarship and worked as a waitress to make up for what my parents couldn’t afford.

I couldn’t be more different than Ava and Dillyn.

I was never that kid who made friends easily. I didn’t click with the girls I went to high school with but all of that changed when I met Ava and Dillyn. They were a year ahead—and I’m still not sure what made them take an interest in me—but the three of us became fast friends my freshman year at Alabama.

I love them like sisters. More than sisters. I’d do anything for those two. That includes moving to Austin, Texas.

We’re from three different states. That would make it nearly impossible to get together more than two or three times a year if we moved back to our hometowns after graduation. That isn’t going to work for us. And that’s why we’ve settled on one place where all three of us could relocate.

We made that decision six months ago. The only thing holding us back are the final classes Ava and Dillyn require for graduation. So close.

“Oh my God,” Ava squeals.

“What?” I twist in my seat to see what has caught her attention at the bar. Chad Morris. Oh man.

“I haven’t seen him in weeks. And now he’s here.” Ava’s hand goes to her chest. “I’m freaking the hell out, y’all.”

Chad is her brother’s teammate on the football team—starting quarterback for Alabama. Fifth-year senior. Her super crush for the last two years.

I think he’s into her too, but the timing has always been off. When she’d be single, he’d be dating someone. And vice versa. But now they’re both single.

Dillyn pats Ava’s hand. “It’s okay, honey. Calm down.”

“What do I do?”

I’m no dating expert, but even I know what needs to happen here. “You’re going to slow your breathing, catch your breath, and then get up and go to the bathroom… to accidentally run into Chad at the bar.”

“Okay. Good plan. I can do that.” Ava stands and smooths her clothing. “Shit, this isn’t what I would have chosen to wear if I’d known I was going to run into him tonight. And I would have put on more makeup. And curled my hair. Do I look good enough to go over there, or should I just forget it?”

Ava has never looked less than perfect a day in her life. “You look fantastic. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“I’m only here a few more months. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll get the opportunity to run into him again. I have to go over there and see what happens. Right?”

It’s a no-brainer. “Of course you do.”

Ava looks back at us halfway to the bar and we both give her smiles and thumbs up. All of my fears for Ava are pushed aside when Chad reaches out for her arm as she passes by him at the bar. “He looks happy to see her.”

“I think so too.” Dillyn watches as Chad pulls out the stool next to him. “You know this means we’ve lost her.”

“I hope so.” At least one of us will be getting lucky tonight.

“We may be minus Ava but tonight is still about celebrating your job at Lovibond. I want to hear more about it.” That’s Dillyn. Always eager to hear about everything happening in my life.

“Like what?”

“Which one of the Lovibond owners interviewed you?”

I grin. “The hottest one. Porter.”

Dillyn laughs. “I know you didn’t hate that.”

“I sure didn’t.”

“He’s not married?”

“Not according to my dad or the empty ring finger on his left hand. I checked it out when he was looking at my designs.”

“Still as good-looking as you remember?”

“I didn’t think it was possible but I’m pretty sure he’s even hotter than he was three years ago.”

His brown hair is shorter and a little spiky on top, sort of like he has a small faux-hawk. And his eyes… gosh… those eyes. The most unusual shade of light brown I’ve ever seen—like warm caramel instead of chocolate—with tons of golden flecks around the center. I’ve never seen eyes that color on anyone but him.

He towers over me, probably close to a foot. And I believe he’s even more muscular today than he was three years ago. His arms are huge and covered in black tribal tattoos that peek out below the stretched sleeves of his Lovibond T-shirt. I could only see the lower half, but I couldn’t resist studying them, memorizing their intricate designs.

I was trying to be professional while I presented my artwork. That means I wasn’t able to get a good look, but I think I saw the edge of some ink at the neck of his shirt. Guys with arm tats like those don’t typically stop there. I bet he has all kinds of ink on his chest. God, I love that so much. Hot, hot hot.

Time has been kind to Porter. He looks even better now than before.

“Porter’s the one you’ll be working with, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Your old crush is now your boss. You’ll be working side by side with him every weekday for the entire summer. This could be your big chance to make something happen.”

I love Dillyn’s romantic tendencies but she’s wrong about Porter and me. “He must be close to ten years older than me. Maybe more. Probably not at all interested in someone my age. Plus, he was just a silly crush I had when I was a kid.”

“Bullshit. You had real feelings for this guy. You missed him like crazy when you left for college.”

She isn’t wrong. I did miss Porter like crazy, but I got over it; that’s what kids do as they mature into adults.

I was sixteen when Porter Beckman became my father’s new employer. I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And after being around him, I found out he was also one of the kindest.

Our lives profoundly changed after Daddy came to work at Lovibond. We had medical and dental insurance for the first time. A real house. A decent car that didn’t stay stranded on the side of the road most of the time. We finally had all the things most people consider necessities and we were even able to afford some luxuries we’d always gone without.

Lovibond Brewery changed my life. And I think that’s one of the reasons I fancied myself in love with Porter at such a young age. I confused gratitude for affection.

“Is he dating anyone?”

It was a job interview. Not a speed date. “I have no idea.”

“But you’re wondering.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Dillyn grins. “What did you wear to the interview?”

“Black skirt. Black and white blouse.”

Dillyn lifts a brow and her grin widens. “The short black skirt?”

I hate admitting that. “Yes.”

“The deep cut black and white blouse? The one that shows off your cleavage?”

I hesitate before answering. Even considering lying. “Yes.”

“What kind of bra?” The corners of her mouth turn up.

The bra is going to make this look bad. “Black lace.”

She cackles. “You. Slut.”

“Excuse me?”

She holds up one finger. “Short skirt.” A second finger goes up, forming a V. “Deep cut top.” A third finger rises, making a W. “Black lace bra you knew he’d see when you bent forward.”

“Means nothing.”

“I might believe that if you’d at least pretended to think about the bra but you rattled that off without any thought at all. You wore that short, sexy outfit to entice him.”

She’s sort of got me there. I could have worn any number of bras but I chose the sexiest one I had. That wasn’t by accident.

“I was dressed like a professional.”

“Like a professional what? Admit it. You dressed sexy so your boss would look at your tits and ass.”

Dillyn doesn’t beat around the bush. She plows straight through it.

I wasn’t exactly a beauty the last time Porter saw me. I wanted him to see me differently from that awkward teen girl he knew years ago.

And I think he did.

“I wanted to look good when I saw Porter again. What’s wrong with that?”

“No one said there was anything wrong with looking good for your interview. Did he notice? Act interested?”

“He was definitely looking.” I could feel his eyes all over me while I was setting up my presentation. And then I turned around and caught him looking at my butt.

And I liked it.

“Interested or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m only in Birmingham for the summer.”

“Which is the perfect recipe for a hot… summer… fling.”

A hot summer fling with my boss… my dad’s boss? “More like a recipe for disaster.”

“You’re twenty-one years old, Frankee. An adult. It’s perfectly fine for you to have some no-strings-attached fun with a man.”

“It’s pointless to start a romantic relationship that has an expiration date.”

“That’s why it’s called a fling. It’s not intended to last.”

“That’s not why I applied for the internship at Lovibond.”

“Then call it a job perk.”

The server brings my drink, interrupting our debate regarding a fling with Porter, and Dillyn lifts her glass of wine. “Here’s to landing an awesome internship at Lovibond. And to the potential job perks that may go along with it.”

Hot summer fling? No-strings-attached fun? Sex without commitment?

Am I cut out for such things? I don’t know.

Do I want to find out? Absolutely.

“Someone’s mighty early this morning.”

Molly isn’t wrong. I’m arriving earlier than usual; it’s my intern’s first day on the job. It would be shitty of me to not be here to greet her.

“I’m early and I have Starbucks.” I stop at Molly’s desk and remove her coffee from the cardboard carrier. “Grande Pike Place. Splash of coconut milk. One sugar in the raw.”

“Best boss ever.”

“Damn right.”

“Don’t tell Lucas and Oliver I said that.”

I give her a wink and lopsided grin. “No worries. It’ll be our little secret.”

Molly removes the green stick from the drink hole of her coffee and sips. “Man, this is just what I needed this morning. ‘Preciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.”

“I know you came in early because you wanted to beat Frankee in, but you’re too late. She’s already here.”

Early again. “How long has she been here?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

She’s an intern who wants to make a good impression. Her desire to impress me will wear off soon enough. “Where is she?”

“Art department.”

Art department is almost a comical label for the room where two desks with computers are surrounded by industrial metal walls. Not a very inspiring work space for a designer.

In my defense, the area isn’t complete. It’s the space where I plan on putting the full-time employee I’ll hire later.

“I knew you’d give Frankee the position.”

How did she know? Because I let the girl do odd jobs around the brewery when she was a child? Because her father is a loyal, dependable employee? Because she’s already Lovibond family?

Or because she’s grown into one hell of a gorgeous woman?

I need Molly to understand that my decision was a professional one. There’s no room for confusion. “The choice was obvious when I saw her designs. She was clearly the best candidate for the internship.”

I don’t fail to see the grin behind Molly’s cup of coffee. “I’m sure she is a wonderful designer.”

I think I could stand here and plead my case all day with Molly about why I chose Frankee but I’m positive she has already drawn her own conclusion. I know that woman well and nothing I say is going to change her mind.

I lift the drink carrier. “Coffee’s getting cold.”

“I notice you have an extra.”

“Thought Frankee might want one.”

“That’s a very nice thing to do for a pretty girl on her first day of work.”

“It’s not your first day, Molly.”

She grins and flings her hand in my direction. “Go on, smartass. Go see to your pretty intern.”

I find Frankee waiting for me in the art department. “Good morning.”

She lifts her face and a broad smile spreads. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. I won’t mind looking at her for the next three months. “Good morning.”

“You’re here bright and early. You must be excited to get started.”

“I am.”

“I’d start the first day with a tour of the brewery if you were any other intern but I suppose you already know your way around this place.”

“Yup. Been knowing my way around here for a long time.”

“Well, since we get to skip the tour, let’s sit for a moment and enjoy our coffee.” I take her cup from the carrier and push it across the desk toward her. “What do you order when you go to Starbuck’s?”

“White chocolate mocha.”

Dammit. “I was so close to getting that. Went with caramel macchiato instead.” Note to self: her favorite is white chocolate mocha.

“I like caramel macchiato too. It’s a close second.” She takes a sip and then sucks her bottom lip into her mouth before running her fingers over it. Fuck. “How’d you know I’d want an espresso drink over black coffee?”

When I was sitting in the drive-thru looking at the menu, I couldn’t imagine anything but sweetness—and maybe my hard cock—touching that lovely mouth of hers. “Just a lucky guess.”

Thinking about my dick in her mouth is the wrong way to begin this working relationship. I can’t have thoughts like that about her.

“Well, thank you. It’s a very nice start for my first day.”

I grab the back of the empty chair and roll it around so I can face her when I sit. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah. I went to Tuscaloosa Friday night to hang with my two best friends.”

“They’re still in school?”

“They are. Both of them were short a few classes to graduate… a little too much partying. They’re knocking them out over the summer and then the three of us are moving to Austin together.”

I had thought it was odd that a woman so young would up and move away from her friends and family. I see now that Frankee at this stage of her life isn’t all that different from the way I was at her age. I did the same thing when Stout and I moved to Birmingham to chase our dreams of starting Lovibond brewery. “It’s good that you won’t be on your own.”

“Have you ever been to Austin?”

“No, but I’m going to a graphic-design expo there in about six weeks.”

“Austin Graphic Expo?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, man. I wish I could go to that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Can’t afford the registration fee or the airline ticket to get there or the hotel room.”

That sucks. “If it makes you feel better, the convention is sold out. You couldn’t get in even if you had the money.”

“Well, it doesn’t make me feel better; I still want to go. But I hope you have a great time. Austin is a fun town.”

“I’ve heard.”

“How long will you be there?”

“Four days.”

“If you want, I can make you a list of must-dos.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

“How did your weekend go?”

“Spent most of Saturday working on my 356B.” And then got laid on Saturday night for the first time in months. Can’t complain.

“I don’t know what a three-fifty whatever you said is.”

“It’s a 1963 Porsche.”

“Ooh. Do you have a picture?”

“Of course.”

I take out my phone and open the album. “This is the before picture. Piece of shit, right?”

“Uh, it could use some love.”

I scroll to the photo I took yesterday after a good wash and wax. “This is what she looks like today.”

“That’s a good-looking car. How long did it take to get it to that condition?”

“‘Bout two years.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. I’ve worked hard on restoring it. I’m a proud papa.”

“You should be.”

She takes a drink of coffee and looks around the room. “This is where I’ll be working?”

“Yeah. Sorry it’s not more visually appealing.”

“Lovibond is a brewery. I wouldn’t expect an office that looked like it belonged in a high-rise in New York.” Her hand gestures to the two desks. “Which one should I take?”

“The right one. Computer is faster.”

I roll across the floor until I’m beside Frankee and wiggle the mouse of the computer. Nothing. I reach around and press the on-off button. “This one has probably been shut down since the last time I used it.”

“Do the two art department computers share a file server?”

“Yes, as well as the computer in my office.”

When the computer fires up, I open Finder and hover back and forth over the folders with the cursor. “Lovibond’s designs are here, and Bohemian Cider Company is here.”

“You do the cider company’s designs too?”

I guess I forgot to tell her that. “Yeah. BCC is Lovibond’s sister company.”

“I knew Lucas was married to Oliver’s sister and they bought a cider company, but I didn’t know that you handled their graphics and marketing as well.”

“Lawrence wouldn’t have it any other way.” No way she was going to let anyone else be in charge of those things for her company.

“You do the graphics and marketing for two companies and still manage to help Oliver with brewing and creating new recipes?”

“I do.” And it’s fucking killing me.

“How can you possibly handle all of that?”

“I ask myself the same thing every day.”

“It’s no wonder you need help.”

Frankee doesn’t know the half of it. Some days, I feel like I’m trapped and drowning in one of the brewery’s damn fermentation tanks with only a few inches to keep my head above the surface. “I’m grateful to have your help.”

“This arrangement doesn’t work out any better for you than it does me. I’m grateful too, Beck.” She tilts her head and grins. “Do you remember me calling you Beck?”

Frankee was sixteen the first time she called me Beck. It happened by accident. She got my name wrong but I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. After a while, it just felt right for her to call me by that name.

Frankee Dawson! Mr. Beckman is my boss. And you’re a kid. It’s disrespectful for you to call him Beck. Apologize. Now.

I’m sorry, Mr. Beckman. I’ll never call you Beck again.

She was humiliated when her father scolded her in front of me. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed. And that’s why I told her later that day that I would like it very much if she continued to call me Beck. Our little secret.

“You can still call me Beck if you want. But I’m not sure you should let your father know you call me that. He might scold you again.”

“I think I’ll stick with Porter if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

I should have her call me Mr. Beckman all the time. It would be a good reminder of how young she is. And that she is deeply off-limits. Mr. Beckman could serve as a prompt to help me remember to keep my fucking eyes in my head and not on her twenty-one-year-old tits and ass. It’s impossible not to look when she’s wearing clothes that hug her body in all the right places.

Dress code around the office?

Fuck. I should have told her to wear a turtleneck and mom jeans when she asked. Maybe then I could resist looking.

Beckman, get this train back on the tracks.

I open the Photoshop file of my latest design. “I started working on this label for the winter seasonal a month ago, and I’m no closer to a final than I was when I started.”

“Hitting a wall, huh?”

Yeah. One that won’t budge. “Nothing has felt right. I put it away with the intention of coming back to it later, but I got busy.”

“Sometimes you have to put it down and walk away, or you’ll dig yourself into a hole you’ll never climb out of.”

“That’s a good way of putting it.”

“What’s the winter seasonal flavor?”

“Smoked vanilla porter.”

Frankee’s head tilts to the side. “Smoked vanilla porter. Sounds like a dessert special at a restaurant.”

Stout and I have worked on that fucker for months. “It’s the finest porter I’ve ever tasted. I think it’s going to be a huge hit with our customers.”

“Sounds delicious. I’m not even a beer drinker and I want to try it.” She’s not a beer drinker? I bet she likes those bright-colored girly cocktails.

“It’s a great beer and it deserves a great label. So far, I’m not doing it justice.” And I hate that. This is one of our best beers ever. I feel like shit because I can’t come up with anything.

“It’s seasonal. Are you okay with having some fun with the graphics?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have a pencil and paper I can use to sketch out what’s in my head?”

This isn’t much of an art department. Zero supplies. “Let’s go to my office. I have everything you’ll need in there.”

I set up my drafting table with a sketch pad, graphites, coals, and pastels. “Need anything else?”

She grins. “I think this will work for now.”

Frankee sharpens a graphite pencil and then begins sketching the outline of a label. I don’t want to make her nervous by standing over her so I move to sit behind my desk. “Do you like to listen to music while you work?”

“I do.”

“Me too. What kind of music inspires you?”

“I know it sounds weird, but I really like eighties and nineties rock.”

I need something more specific than that. “Name some.”

“Toto. Foreigner. Def Leppard. Journey. Heart. Boston. Kiss. REO Speedwagon. Poison.”

Okay. I see where she’s going with that. “Bon Jovi. Mötley Crüe. Pearl Jam. Survivor. Warrant. 38 Special.”

“Yes to every one of those and so many more.”

I wouldn’t have pegged her for liking that kind of music. “You seem awful young to listen to those genres.”

“That’s the kind of music my parents liked, so it’s what I grew up listening to.”

I’m not sure Scott has turned forty yet. “They were young when you are born?”

“Daddy was eighteen and Mama was seventeen.”

Fuck. Her dad is only nine years older than me. My parents could be the same age as her grandparents.

She looks up and grins. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. I was a slipup.”

“What’s that like? Growing up with parents who had you when they were still kids?”

“Hard. Not because they weren’t great parents. They were the best. But Daddy didn’t get to finish school. He had to quit and get a job when they found out I was on the way. No high school diploma means he had to settle for low-paying jobs. Our family struggled for a lot of years. I was sixteen before things started to turn around for us… after Daddy came to work at Lovibond.”

I had no idea Scott was experiencing such hardship when he came to work for us. He hid it well. “I’m glad things turned around for your family.”

“Me too. I don’t know where we’d be today if you hadn’t given him a chance.”

We’ve gone through a lot of employees in the five years we’ve been open. Very few have been as loyal and dedicated to their job as Scott Dawson. “I don’t know where we’d be without him. There isn’t a better warehouse manager out there.”

“That’s a nice thing to say.”

“Nothing but the truth.”

I turn on my phone’s Pandora app and connect it to the speaker via Bluetooth. “Is Bon Jovi station okay with you? It should play all kinds of random late-eighties and nineties hair bands.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The first song to come on is ‘Bed of Roses’ by Bon Jovi. “Wow. Haven’t heard this one in a long time.”

“This song is on one of my favorite playlists. I probably listened to it yesterday or the day before.”

“Want me to skip to the next one?”

“No. I love this song. I could listen to it every day.”

Frankee sketches and erases. Sketches and erases. Sketches and erases. “Not my best work but I think you can see where I’m going with this. Come have a look.”

I go to her and lean forward, one palm on the drafting table, looking over her shoulder. Fuck, she smells good.

“I’m thinking a snowy winter scene as a background to wrap around the bottle. A chalet with a smoking chimney. Hipster man with beard, maybe some random snowflakes that have fallen on top of it. Hat. Snowboard tucked under his arm. Color scheme of cream, rich browns, light blues, deep reds. I think smoked vanilla porter should be a really clean sans serif font with a light drop shadow. All caps. That’s how I envision this label.”

She twists on the stool and because of the way I’m standing, our faces are only inches apart. Her eyes ping-pong from my eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes. “Thoughts? Suggestions? Concerns?”

“It’s very Lovibond… but with a heavier hipster vibe.”

“Is it too hipster for Lovibond? Too fun? I wouldn’t want it to feel like the branding is off from the other labels.”

“It’s different branding, but I think it’s the perfect blend for a seasonal. It’s great.”

She smiles and bites her bottom lip before releasing it. Fuck, it’s sexy. “I’m glad you approve.”

The design.

The lip biting.

The way her eyes bounce back and forth from my eyes and mouth.

I approve of it all. One hundred percent.

“Hey beautiful. Can you break and join your old man for lunch?”

I look up and see my dad standing in the art department doorway. “I can do anything for my old man.”

My old man.

The graying hair around his temples. The deepening lines around his eyes and mouth. My dad is no old man but he has aged far beyond his thirty-nine years. Life mistreated him for a long time. Years spent in various types of jobs requiring extreme physical labor robbed him of his youthfulness a long time ago.

I’m, like, thirty eraser swipes away from finishing this layer of my new design. I hate to stop in the middle and lose my place. “Can you give me five minutes to finish what I’m doing?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you in the break room.”

“I won’t be long.”

I decrease the opacity of my eraser to soften the look and give me a better transition between the two images I plan to merge. “Damn, girl. You are good at what you do.” I do that a lot. Talk to myself when I’m working.

“I love it when a girl is good at what she does.”

I jolt at Porter’s unexpected voice in the doorway and over-erase the layer I’m working on. I can’t decide if I’m more shocked by his surprise appearance or the underlying sexual tone beneath his comment. “All right, sneaky. You just caused me to goof.”

“Sorry.”

I undo my last action. “No problem. Easy fix. What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving for lunch. Would you want to join me?”

I’d love to join him, but I’ve already told my dad we’d eat together today. And I’m not sure what he’d say about my having lunch with his boss. Our boss.

Is it okay to turn your boss down for lunch? “I would love to, but my dad is waiting for me in the break room. It’s a daddy-daughter lunch date over pimento and cheese.”

“I’m sure Scott enjoys having a lunch buddy.”

This is my fifth day at Lovibond, and Daddy and I have had lunch together every one of those days. “I’ve been gone from home for the better part of the last three years. It’s nice to get to spend that time with him. Especially since I’m leaving again in three months.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be guilty of stealing a princess away from her father. We can do lunch another time.”

“I would like that.”

Daddy has already taken our lunches out of the fridge and spread both on the table. That’s him. Always taking care of his little girl. “Pimento and cheese again?”

“You know it.”

My mom makes the best—the kind with cream cheese in it. None of that premade store-bought crap for us. “I asked for extra jalapeño in this batch so you have me to blame if it sets your mouth on fire.”

“I don’t mind a little heat.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Dad holds up his half-eaten sandwich. “Don’t worry. I didn’t wait.”

“It wasn’t my fault. My boss came by right after you left.”

“Which one?”

“Mr. Beckman.” As far as I’m concerned, Porter is my only boss; I haven’t seen Lucas Broussard or his wife, Lawrence. And despite Oliver’s office being only a few doors down from the art department, I’ve only run into him a few times.

I’m curious to see what Dad will make of Porter’s lunch invitation. “He asked me to go to lunch with him.”

Dad stops chewing and his head tilts to the side. “What did you tell him?”

“That I had lunch plans with my old man.”

“Good.”

I figured he wouldn’t like it. “Good because I didn’t stand you up, or good because you don’t want me having lunch with Mr. Beckman?”

“Porter is your boss, and you are his summer intern. There’s a line you don’t cross, and it’s best if you don’t do anything that could blur it.”

“I don’t think eating burgers together qualifies as an act that will blur the boss-intern line.”

“It has nothing to do with eating burgers, Frankee.”

I think my dad sometimes forgets that I’m twenty-one. “I know what you’re talking about, but I don’t see the harm in sharing a meal together while we talk shop.”

“You talk shop with Porter, huh?”

“Yeah. We discuss fonts and Photoshop techniques and plug-ins and I know that when he nods his head and says ‘yeah’ that he isn’t just nodding and saying ‘yeah’ for the heck of it. He understands what I’m talking about. We bounce ideas off each other. We speak the same language.” It’s nice to talk to someone who gets me.

“Well, as long as that’s all you let him bounce off you.”

“Daddy.” I cannot believe he just said that to me.

“You’re a beautiful girl. I assure you that hasn’t gone unnoticed by him or any other man at this brewery.”

I should have known that I couldn’t work with my dad without him being on guard. “He hasn’t done anything out of line.”

Well, maybe that’s not the complete truth. Let’s see… I caught him looking at my butt the day he interviewed me… and there’s been at least three occasions this week when I’ve seen him looking at my boobs… and then there was yesterday. I’m pretty sure he sniffed me when he leaned over to inspect my work.

Scott Dawson would not approve.

“I wouldn’t expect Porter to be anything but professional with you. That’s the kind of man he is. But outside of work… I think that could be another story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“More than one woman has showed up at the warehouse’s backdoor asking for Porter. Oliver too.”

Porter is hot. I’d be surprised if a woman got a little bit of that and didn’t come around looking for more. “How old is Porter?”

“Too old for you.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not why I’m asking.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“He’s part owner of a hugely successful company. I think it’s safe to say that his talent played a large part in that success. I know I have a lot to learn, but I’m trying to gauge the level my talent should be at this stage of the game.”

“Porter wasn’t much older than you when he interned at a printing company owned by Lucas Broussard. Lucas wanted out of the printing business and Porter and Oliver were looking for an investor. That’s how Lovibond was born.”

I think there’s way more to Porter Beckman than I suspected. “I’d love to hear that story from the beginning.”

“Ask him sometime when he’s not busy. I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it.” Dad looks at the clock. “I need to get back.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty minutes.”

“I know, but I don’t like this new guy in the warehouse. My counts have been off lately, and I suspect he could be the reason.”

That’s always a problem my dad has to deal with. “You think he’s stealing from Lovibond?”

“Not sure, but I want to avoid a routine. I don’t want him to feel like he’s able to predict how long I’ll be gone when I step away from the warehouse.”

“Are you going to tell the bosses?”

“Already have. They’re helping me monitor.”

“You’re close to them, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am.”

It makes me feel good that they think so highly of my dad. All the more reason that I need to prove how good I am. All the more reason to show him it wasn’t a mistake to hire the warehouse manager’s daughter.

* * *

This week’s assignment is to update Lovibond’s website since Porter has been too busy perfecting the fall seasonal recipe with Oliver. Sweet potato cream stout. Sounds even more like a dessert than the smoked vanilla porter.

I’ve only seen Porter for a few minutes over the last several days. He gave me the website assignment on Monday and basically disappeared. I appreciate the obvious confidence he must have in me and my abilities, but it’s lonely being by myself so much. I’m confident in my designs, but it would have been nice to have had him here to approve what I’ve done.

“Hey. Everything going okay in here?”

I look up from my computer screen and smile—maybe a little too much—when I see Porter standing in the doorway. “It’s a little lonesome… but all is well.”

“You’ve been sitting in that same spot for three days working on the same thing. Aren’t you stir-crazy?”

“A little. I should probably get up and walk around a bit.” It’s not good to sit in the same position for too long.

“Feel like taking a drive with me?”

A drive… Porter and I in a car… just the two of us. That would probably blur the employee-intern line even more than eating burgers together. My daddy would not approve. “I’m game. Are we riding in the Porsche?”

“No. I’d never drive it to the brewery. I’m in my truck.”

“Where are we going?”

“Not sure. I just know it’ll be away from here.” I follow Porter out of the art department. “Quick detour to grab my keys.”

I stand at his office door waiting for him. “Should I go clock out?”

“No need.”

I watch the door that connects the offices to the warehouse, hoping and praying my dad doesn’t come through it and catch me leaving the brewery with Porter. Doesn’t matter if I’m twenty-one and a college graduate or not. That would not go over well with him. He’s already made that much clear.

Porter stops at Molly’s office doorway. “Frankee and I are going to step out of the office for a little while.”

Frankee and I are going to step out of the office for a little while? Shit. Shit. Shit. That sounds suspicious. God, I hope she doesn’t jump to conclusions. Or say anything to my dad.

The heat is nearly suffocating as soon as we walk out of the brewery. “I bet it’s at least ninety.”

“If it’s ninety out here then it’ll be a hundred and ninety in my truck.”

Porter’s monster black Ford pickup is jacked up and blacked out from top to bottom. It’s badass. “This is not what I expected you to drive.”

“What did you expect?”

“A luxury car.”

“Because my other car is a classic Porsche?”

“I guess.”

Porter follows me to the passenger door and opens it. I’m talking legit. He opens it for me like a gentleman. Like my dad still does for my mom. Like guys my age don’t do. Or at least the ones I’ve dated.

I use the running board to less than gracefully climb into the passenger seat. Thank God I’m wearing Chucks and not some kind of heel. “Short people and tall trucks don’t go together.”

“Guess that means you don’t drive a monster truck?”

“I drive a Honda.” Porter starts the engine and its rumble matches its badass exterior. “It’s big and loud. I guess men enjoy that—the roar of a big motor.”

“We like ‘em big and loud.”

“Because size matters?” Now I’m the one making statements with sexual undertones.

He chuckles. “Can’t lie. Size matters.”

“I like it, even if I do need a ladder to climb into it.”

He turns on the radio. “Want the eighties or nineties station?”

“I’m partial to music from those decades, but I listen to lots of other kinds of music too.”

“I don’t mind eighties or nineties. Nice change of pace for me.”

Porter chooses the eighties station on his satellite radio and Toto’s ‘Africa’ is playing. “Like that one?”

“Love it.”

He’s quiet as he drives down the road and I keep sneaking peeks at him. “Where are we going?”

He stares ahead for a moment. “I don’t know.”

I don’t know Porter well, but I can still recognize that his behavior is odd. “Is everything okay?”

He grips the wheel. “No, Frankee. Everything is not okay. But I don’t want to talk about it while I’m driving.”

Shit. Is he unhappy with my work? Is he going to fire me?

He wouldn’t ask me to leave the brewery just so he could let me go. That doesn’t make sense. Something else must be going on. But what? “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He takes one hand from the steering wheel and pushes it through his hair from front to back. “Would it be okay if I took you to my condo?”

Ohhh… he wants sex. I should have been able to figure that one out when he asked me to go riding with him.

You are so dumb, Frankee.

Porter is incredibly handsome. I’m sure he could ask a dozen women to go to his condo for sex and every one of them would probably say yes. But I’m not that way. I don’t fall onto my back and spread my legs for a guy because he’s hot. That doesn’t make me a prude or goody two-shoes. Just means I have standards.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I was that kind of girl. I’m not.”

“No, Frankee. God, no. I don’t want to take you to my house for sex. That’s the last thing on my mind right now. I need to talk to you about something. Something that’s really important to me.”

“I thought…” Shit. How humiliating. I want to melt and soak into the leather seat beneath me. “I’m terribly sorry. You can take me to your house if you’d like.”

I’m too embarrassed to utter another word so music is the only noise in the cab of Porter’s truck during the rest of the drive. I’m grateful for the noise. It takes away from the awkward silence.

We park and I follow Porter through the lower-level parking lot to an elevator. Silence all the way until we’re inside his condo. “Want something to drink?”

It’s a hot June day in Alabama. It’s so hot that you almost need an IV to stay hydrated. “I’d take some water.”

One look and I learn two things about Porter: he’s clean and organized. His gray living room’s decor is minimal with streamline furnishings. And spotless. Everything has its place.

“I like your condo. Have you been here long?”

“Two years.”

I bet the cost of living in this area is astronomical. “The area is great. You have so many nearby dining and entertainment options. That must be nice.”

“One of the reasons I chose this place.”

Porter hands a bottled water to me before sitting in the chair beside the sofa. “I’m sure you must think I’m acting crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say crazy. Maybe a little… unusual?”

He twists the top off his bottled water and drinks close to half. “I know we don’t know each other well, but you’re the first person who came to mind when I recently got some bad news.”

I have no idea what that means. “What’s on your mind?”

“My mom was just diagnosed with breast cancer.”

Oh. I get it now—why he asked me here to talk. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did your mom say what stage she has?”

“One B?”

“Did she explain the stages and what they mean?”

“No. She’s so shaken that I’m not sure she’s had time to absorb anything about the stages or treatments.”

That’s understandable. “One B is early breast cancer. The tumor is on the smaller side and has only spread to a few lymph nodes. The five-year survival rate is really high.”

“So one B is a good one to have? I mean, as good as it can be with cancer?”

“As far as cancer goes, there are definitely worse stages.”

The lines in Porter’s face ease. “Was your mom’s bad?”

“She had two A. It’s a little more advanced than one B. The five-year survival rate for her kind is around ninety-three percent.”

“And my mom’s kind is higher than that?”

“Oh, definitely. I’m not positive, but I think they may even predict it to be one hundred percent.”

Porter’s face almost completely relaxes.

Surgery. Radiation. Chemo. Side effects. Expectations. I tell Porter everything I know about breast cancer and its treatments. I answer his hundred and one questions, but more importantly I tell him what to expect as his mother undergoes treatment—the important stuff no one tells you.

“Where does your mother live?”

“Mobile.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Yeah.”

“Are your parents still married?”

“They are. And I have an older brother and younger sister who still live there.”

“I’m sure that’ll ease your mind knowing she’ll have family to care for her.”

“I guess. I know they’ll take care of her, but it won’t be like being there myself.”

That makes me think even more of Porter than I already did. “Mobile isn’t that far. You can drive down whenever she needs you.”

“I was afraid I was being out of line by asking you to come here, but I’m glad I did. You’ve put my mind at ease.”

“I’m glad I was able to do that for you.”

“I guess we should get back before everyone at the brewery starts to wonder where we disappeared to for so long.”

Mutha-humper. We’ve been gone for almost three hours.

People had to have seen us leaving together. They aren’t going to be wondering anything. They’re going to be assuming. “Umm… yeah. We’d better get back.”

I relax when I return to the art department and don’t find my dad pacing the floor. I think it’s fair to say that the lack of his presence is equivalent to a dodged bullet this time.

This time. What about next time? The next time Porter asks me to lunch. The next time he asks me to leave the brewery with him.

Intuition tells me that this time won’t be the last time.

I feel like I need to address yesterday with Frankee in case she’s feeling a little awkward about it. “Hey, I just wanted to run by for a minute and say thank you for yesterday.”

“No problem.”

“I can’t tell you how much our talk calmed my nerves. And my mom’s too. She sounded so much more hopeful after I told her about your mom’s experience.”

“I’m really happy you were able to help ease her worries.”

I could feel how much Frankee loves her mother. The same way I love mine. “You’ve been through this. You understand how I’m feeling right now.”

“I do. And it can be very scary. Not everyone understands that the family member diagnosed with cancer isn’t the only one in need of support.”

“I feel like I should warn you that I may need to talk again.”

“I’m a daughter with a mother who had breast cancer. I’d be dumb if I didn’t take a special interest and learn everything I could about it. I’m your girl if you need to talk about it.”

“I can come to you as long as it’s within the next three months, right?”

“You know… we have these handy little gadgets these days called phones. I hear you can communicate on them, even from long distances.”

I shake my head; she doesn’t get it. “Not the same thing. I won’t be able to see your face or feel the calm that you emanate.”

“I emanate calm?”

“You do. I don’t think you realize how much.”

She laughs. “O… kay. I’m going to let you keep believing that.”

“I am. Because it’s true.”

I wasn’t originally planning to come into the art department and talk with Frankee. I was only going to quickly speak to her from the doorway, but like every other time I’m near her, I feel a pull drawing me closer. “What are you working on today?”

“The merch page. How long since you updated that? The actual merchandise, that is. Not the page.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, I can tell. I really think Lovibond could use a facelift in that department.” She covers her face and peeks at me through a split between her fingers. “It’s rather stagnant. Sorry. Would you be all right with me designing some new products?”

She’s a summer intern who’s telling her boss that his merchandise is stagnant. That takes balls. And she’s taking the initiative to improve it.

I like this girl.

“I haven’t had time to mess with that side of the marketing in a long time. What kind of products are you thinking about?”

She sucks air in through her teeth, jaw clenched. “Sooo… this is the thing. Lovibond sells T-shirts and the designs are great but every one of them is for dudes. They’re a boxy fit with a high round neck. The fabric is thick and stiff. Girls don’t wear that kind of stuff. We want soft fabric. A fitted cut. A deep V to show off our boobs… and no guy minds that, right?”

She caught my attention at boobs. “You’d be correct.”

“You need at least one design and cut for women. And I think you need more options on the ball caps. You have one—and again, the design is great—but it’s for a guy.”

I don’t know why I didn’t see that. “You’re right. My stupid man brain didn’t cater to the female clientele. That’s a huge mistake on my part since Lovibond is working hard to appeal to the female beer drinker.”

“I’d also suggest offering a Lovibond logo beanie. This is a modern hipster company. It shouldn’t only have ball caps. And something else to consider: people are crazy about their pets. I think it would be cool to consider collars, leashes, and maybe even shirts for animals.”

Frankee Dawson gets this company and the people we’re trying to market to—I think better than I do. “I can tell that you minored in marketing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. That’s what it’s intended to be.”

“The seasonal labels are done and I should be finished with the website design by tomorrow. I can work on designing the new merchandise after I finish. If that’s what you and Oliver and Lucas want.”

“You have my approval—and mine is the only one you’ll need—but I have to warn you. When Lawrence sees your label and website design and the new merchandise you’re coming up with, she’s going to want you to do the same for BCC.”

“Designing for Bohemian Cider would be fun. I’d love to do it.”

I see sheer eagerness in her wide eyes and broad smile. “I’m not showing Lawrence your work until you’re finished with Lovibond, or she’ll try to steal you out from under me. I can’t afford to share you right now. I have too much going on in the back.”

“Everything okay?”

No. Everything is definitely not okay. “The taste is off in about half of the sweet potato cream stout batches. We can’t figure out what’s happening to them.”

Frankee grimaces. “Yikes… that is a problem.”

“A big problem. If we can’t solve the problem soon, we’re going to be forced to change the seasonal to something else or not put out a seasonal at all this fall.”

“Won’t you lose money?”

“Definitely. Beer drinkers love seasonals. There’s a huge profit in it for us.” We won’t just not make money if we don’t put out a seasonal. We’ll lose a lot of money; so much time and effort has gone into perfecting this recipe.

“Well, go do what you’ve got to do and don’t worry about what’s going on with graphics and marketing. I’ve got this covered, and I won’t hesitate to give you a holler if I run into a problem.”

It’s a fucking relief to have her here.

I trust Frankee’s judgment, and I know she’ll do an amazing job. The burden she has lifted from my shoulders is incredible. “Please know that the stellar job you’re doing doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“I appreciate that.”

She has been with us for two weeks. I can’t believe how much easier she has made my job in that short time. I’m going to hate to see her go in September.

* * *

“Do you like vegan food?”

Frankee looks up at me from her computer screen. “I don’t know. I like vegetables so… maybe.”

“It’s the craziest thing. Lawrence has gotten me hooked on this little vegan cafe about ten minutes from here. Their food is unusual but delicious. I’m thinking about riding over to check out their specials of the day. Wanna go with me?”

A wrinkle forms across Frankee’s forehead and her brows tense. What does that mean? “You don’t have to worry. I won’t let you choose anything weird. I’ve tried everything, so I know what’s good.”

“I’d like to but…” I wait for the words to follow her ‘but’ and I get nothing.

“I’m your boss. I think you’re supposed to do as instructed. And I’m instructing you to have a healthy vegan lunch with me.”

Okay. Maybe that’s a cheap shot—and not at all an instruction she has to follow—but I want to treat her to lunch. Reward her for a job well done. And maybe show her some appreciation for being so kind when she talked to me about my mom’s cancer.

She leans away from her computer and shrugs. “When you put it like that, I suppose I have no choice but to follow my boss’s instructions.”

“Are you at a good stopping place?”

She nods. “I am.”

“Good. We can go early and beat the lunch rush.”

I forgo stopping by to tell Molly that I’m leaving. I don’t want to see the you’re-leaving-the-brewery-with-a-girl look on her face. I’ve already seen it once this week and that was enough.

Molly is a sweet woman. Like a second mom to Tap and Stout and me. She wants us to be happy and has made it clear that she believes the first step in making that happen is being with the right woman. A wife. And she tells me often. To say that Mama Molly doesn’t approve of my dating habits is putting it mildly.

Frankee places her foot on the running board of my truck. “Forgot my ladder.”

“My truck isn’t that tall.”

“Says the man who is at least a half-foot taller than me. I’m five-four on my best day.”

“That’s not that short. But for the record, at six-one I’m more than a half-foot taller than you.”

“Go ahead. Rub it in.”

I shut the door and get in on the driver’s side. “Girls are never satisfied. Short girls want to be tall. Tall girls want to be short. Straight-haired girls want curls. It never ends.”

“You’re mostly right except for the hair thing. I wouldn’t change mine; I like it.”

“You shouldn’t. Your hair is beautiful.”

“Well, thank you.”

I don’t even ask about the music. I automatically put it on the eighties rock station.

“I didn’t realize this was the cafe you were talking about.”

“You’ve eaten here?” That’s sort of a bummer. I thought I was introducing her to something new.

“Oh no. I frequent this area quite a bit, but I’ve never eaten at this cafe.”

Good. “You hang out in this area?” I can see why she would. It’s a young, funky, up-and-coming area.

“There’s a boutique a couple blocks over. They let me sell some of my art pieces in their store.”

Nothing about that surprises me. “What kind of art pieces?”

“Nothing particular. Just an eclectic mix of stuff.”

“That’s really cool that they let you do that.”

I’m glad we came early. It’s only half past eleven and the restaurant is already filling up. “What do you recommend?”

“The Mexican quinoa is delicious. The butternut squash chipotle chili with avocado is a favorite. You also can’t go wrong with the spicy Thai peanut sauce over roasted sweet potatoes and rice. Nothing on the menu is bad although I wasn’t much of a fan of that tofu noodle dish.”

“The word tofu alone is unappetizing. What is that made of anyway?”

“I have no idea and after trying it, I don’t want to know.”

“I think I’ll go with that Thai dish. I love sweet potatoes.”

“I’m going to have the same.”

We place our orders and Frankee goes silent, pointing to the ceiling. “Ahh.”

“What?”

“This song.”

I immediately recognize the iconic Journey song ‘Faithfully.’

“I love it, but hearing it makes me super sad. It’s a reminder they’re coming to Oak Mountain Amphitheatre tomorrow night and my two best friends are going without me.” She frowns and shows me a thumbs-down. “Wah-wah.”

What kind of pals don’t invite you to a Journey concert when they know you want to go? “You have shitty friends.”

She laughs. “It’s not like that. They invited me to go, but I can’t because I have to save every penny I make for the move to Austin.”

“They don’t have to save their money?”

“Dillyn and Ava don’t work. They come from money, and their parents will pay for everything when we relocate. Mine… they’d like to help me, but they can’t afford it.”

Lovibond pays Scott a decent salary, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit when I hear Frankee say that her dad isn’t able to afford to help her with moving expenses. “A dollar doesn’t stretch as far these days.”

“No, it sure doesn’t.”

I want to do something for Frankee, a show of appreciation for the excellent work she’s been doing at Lovibond. And I know exactly what that’ll be.

I take out my phone. “Sorry, Frankee. An important email just came through from a big client. I really need to reply.”

“It’s okay. I need to run to the restroom for a minute anyway. Where are they?”

“Back left corner.”

I locate two seats on the lower level of Oak Mountain Amphitheatre. Row four. If I had to guess, I’d say Frankee has never been so close to a stage. She’ll love it. Sold.

I’m finalizing my purchase when Frankee returns to our table. “I think I saw the Thai sweet potatoes on someone’s table and—oh… my… goodness—it looks delicious.”

“You won’t be disappointed.”

I suppose there’s no reason not to go ahead and tell Frankee what I’ve done. “I have a confession to make. I wasn’t replying to an email from a client.” I push my phone across the table so she can see the e-tickets for Journey’s concert tomorrow night.

“You’re going too?”

“Yeah.”

She picks up my phone and studies the screen. “And you’re on the mutha-humping fourth row? I’m so envious that I’ve probably turned a highly unattractive shade of green.”

“No need to turn green. You’re going with me. I bought you a ticket too.”

Her mouth gapes. “On the fourth row? No way.”

“You see the e-tickets right there.”

Frankee’s mouth turns up at the corners and she tilts her head to the side. “Porter…”

“Whaaat?”

“Fourth-row tickets must have cost a fortune.”

I shrug. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t worry about the cost. Just consider it an expression of my gratitude for the great job you’re doing at Lovibond.”

“Dillyn and Ava’s seats are okay, but they aren't near as good as these. They're going to be so jealous.”

Good. They should be for leaving Frankee out.

“I already made plans to meet them for drinks before the show. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure. What time?”

“Five o'clock at El Barrio. My treat.”

“I can't let you pay.”

“You can and you will.”

No way that’s happening. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Do you think it's best if we keep this just between us? Giving me expressions of gratitude like concert tickets might not be well received by employees who feel they are more deserving than an intern.”

That is something to think about, especially when I take into consideration that I’ve never done anything like this for my other employees. “I don't think keeping it between us is a bad idea at all. I wouldn't want to piss off anyone.”

And I also don't want to make trouble for myself with Tap and Stout. I highly doubt they would approve of my spending time with my warehouse manager's twenty-one-year-old daughter outside of the workplace.

The server returns and places our lunch on the table in front of us. “Two spicy Thai roasted sweet potatoes and rice with peanut sauce.”

“That looks amazing.”

“What are you waiting for? Dive in.”

Frankee takes a bite and her eyes widen. “Mmm… ohh. God, that’s so good!”

Fuck. Me. If my eyes were shut, everything I just heard coming out of her mouth could be mistaken for porn.

“Told you it was good.”

“I can't believe I’ve walked by this place a hundred times and never come in. What a shame.”

“Bet you don't walk by again without coming in to eat.”

“I know that's right.”

The porn sounds Frankee makes while she eats keeps my dick twitching the whole time we’re at the cafe. And they keep my mind wondering what kinds of noises she might make if she were lying under me naked.

I’m looking at her while she talks about one thing and then another and all I can think about is how her long, dark hair would look if it were spread on the bed beneath her.

I wonder if she’d press her face against the mattress while I fucked her from behind? Or would she hold it up, occasionally looking at me over her shoulder when I pulled her hair. How hard would she let me pound my cock into her before she screamed?

I don’t know.

But I’d like to find out.

“An expression of gratitude? What exactly is that?” Ava says.

“Porter says I'm doing a great job at Lovibond, and this is his way of thanking me.”

Dillyn grunts. “Sounds more like a date that he's not calling a date if you ask me.”

“It’s not like that.” Or is it? Am I unwilling to admit that it is like that because then it means that I’m dating my boss?

What if I am? Is there really any shame in that? It’s not like I’m climbing the corporate ladder. Hell, I’m not sticking around long enough to gain any kind of employment perks from it. Not like I’m knocking anyone out of a position and taking it for myself.

“I guess we'll see if he considers it a date when he takes you home tonight.”

“Who says he's taking me home tonight?”

“I say. And that look on your face says you hope that I’m not wrong.”

Damn, these girls can read me like a book.

“Okay. He just walked in the door so everybody zip it about this being a date.” I don’t want him to think that I’m expecting anything if all he has in mind is truly an expression of gratitude.

Porter stills and looks around after entering the door of El Barrio. I hesitate about waving him over because I want to take a moment to admire how damn good he looks dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I never get tired of seeing him in that.

It’s just not fair. No one should be that good-looking.

Dillyn fans herself with her hand. “Gah! That is your boss?”

“Yup. Fine as frog hair, ain’t he?”

“Dayum. I would never want to leave work if I had that to look at,” Ava says.

I’m not surprised they think Porter is hot; we have the same taste in men.

I wave as our eyes meet. A wide smile spreads on his face, and my stomach does this weird flippity thing.

Oh. Fuck. Me. Running.

“Your face just turned beet red.”

I hold up my drink. “It's the Moscow Mule.”

“It’s not the Moscow Mule. It’s the stunning stallion coming this way.”

Oh God. I will kill both of them—dead, dead, dead—if they embarrass me in front of him.

I slide over on the bench seat and he sits beside me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes leave mine and roam down my body before making eye contact again. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.”

I look at my friends and both are grinning like Cheshire cats. One of Ava’s brows lifts and I can telepathically hear what she’s saying in her head. You are sooo going to fuck him tonight. Don’t even act like you’re not.

But I’m not.

I can’t.

“These are my best friends, Ava Cochran and Dillyn Lovelace.”

“Nice to meet you,” they say simultaneously, both grinning.

“My pleasure.”

Porter looks at our glasses on the table. “Looks like we have a white wine, a red wine, and a…?”

“Moscow Mule.”

“Believe it or not, I have never tried one of those. Do they make a good one here?”

“This is my first one so I have nothing to compare it to, but I like it.” I push the mug toward Porter. “Try it and see what you think.”

I watch his full pink lips wrap around the rim of the hammered copper and wonder what it would be like for those lips to touch mine.

“It's good but I still prefer a good ole’ cold beer.”

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something very sexy about a man drinking a beer. “I don't think they sell Lovibond here.”

“I don't order Lovibond when I go to bars or restaurants. I like to try other brands. It's good to check out the competition.”

The server returns with Porter’s beer, and he immediately begins an inspection. “They must have a new bartender. They sent this in the wrong kind of glassware.”

I shrug. “Looks like a beer mug to me.”

“Exactly. This isn’t intended for a Belgian IPA. They should have sent it in a wide-mouthed glass so it could retain its head.”

“The glass matters?”

“Not to everyone but it's a huge deal to a brewmaster. We work hard to perfect a craft beer, and then someone who doesn't know better ruins it by putting it in the wrong kind of vessel.”

“I had no idea the glassware was so important. Are you going to send it back?”

“And risk the next one having spit in it? No way. Bartenders do not appreciate you calling them out. I'll make do with it in a Pilsner glass.”

Ava watches Porter taste his beer. “I bet you can drink like a fish.”

“I can hold my own.”

“How many beers does it take for you to get drunk?”

“Probably not as many as you'd think. Craft beer isn’t watered down like macro brewery beer. The alcohol content is higher so it takes fewer beers to become intoxicated. But I never drink to get drunk. I drink craft beer because I love the flavor.”

“I’ve never found a beer I liked,” Ava says.

“The flavor of beer is an acquired taste and it's not for everyone. Just like wine isn’t for everyone. I hate that stuff.”

I want Porter to know that I’ve at least tried his product. “I haven't drunk a lot of beer, but I tried Lovibond’s apricot ale a few weeks ago. I really liked it.”

“Women tend to like that one. It's a bit on the sweeter side. I bet you’ll love the sweet potato cream stout for the fall.”

Dillyn slaps her hand on the table. “Sweet potato cream stout? You've got to be shitting me. Sounds like something you’d serve at Thanksgiving.”

“It will most certainly be served at Thanksgiving. People will begin formulating recipes using it as one of the ingredients the minute it hits the shelves. You wouldn't believe the cupcake recipes people send us that use our beer as one of the main ingredients.”

“Have you ever tried any of the recipes?” Ava asks.

“I haven’t—I can't cook worth a damn—but our office manager, Molly, tries them out regularly. She always brings samples. My favorite so far has been chocolate stout cupcakes.”

“Chocolate stout cupcakes. Now that’s the kind of beer I could consume.”

We chat for a while, and I check the time as we finish off the last of our drinks. “Concert starts in fifty minutes. I don't think we have time for another.”

Porter looks at his watch. “I don't think so either. Not if we want to get there in time to grab a drink and find our seats before the lights go down.”

“Where are your seats?” Ava asks.

“Fourth row.” I squelch my grin.

She lifts a brow. “Fourth row, which section?”

“The exact one you're thinking.”

She playfully kicks me under the table. “You lucky bitch.”

I point at Porter. “All this guy’s doing.”

“Fourth-mutha-fucking-row. What kind of job performance is she giving you at the brewery to earn seats that close to the stage?”

I cannot believe Ava just asked him that.

“O…kay. We’re done here.” Ava’s mouth is getting a little too loose. That means it’s time to fly, so I lift my hand to gain the server’s attention. “We're ready for our check please.”

“Everything on one ticket?”

“Yes,” Porter quickly answers. “I’ve got this.”

“I told you I was paying for the drinks.”

He winks and smiles. “Maybe next time.”

Next time?

He signs the receipt and places the bill facedown on the table. “I texted my driver. He'll be here in three minutes.”

Dillyn’s full attention has been captured. “You have a driver?”

“He's not mine personally. Lovibond uses a driving service for events. I've made friends with one of the guys and I reach out to him on an as-needed basis to drive me when I know I'll be having drinks. You're welcome to ride with us.”

“That's really nice of you, but I've already planned for that one glass of wine to be it for me tonight. We have to drive back to Tuscaloosa after the concert.”

We say our goodbyes since we aren’t likely to run into one another at the amphitheatre.

“It was great meeting you, Porter. And thank you for the drinks.”

“No problem.”

“I’m glad we were able to get together before the show.” I've missed these girls like crazy.

“We miss you, Frankee. Being apart doesn't feel right. You need to come to Tuscaloosa more often.”

“Maybe I can come next weekend.”

“Please try.” Ava presses her mouth to my ear when we hug. “He wants you, and you are a dumbass if you don't go home with him tonight.”

He’s standing right there. We can't have this conversation. “Okay. Drive carefully.”

I hug Dillyn, and she does the same thing. “He's really cute. And nice. I like him a lot. You should go for it—that summer fling we talked about.”

“Call or text when you get to Tuscaloosa so I’ll know you made it back safely.”

“Will do.”

A black Suburban pulls up to the curb at the very moment we are parting ways with Ava and Dillyn. “I’d call that perfect timing.”

“Ken is very punctual. It's one of the reasons I always hire him.”

It's a short ride to the amphitheatre, but I can't get Ava’s and Dillyn’s words out of my head.

He wants you, and you are a dumbass if you don't go home with him tonight.

Does Porter want me? Would going home with him even be an option tonight?

He's really cute. And nice. I like him a lot. You should go for it—that summer fling we talked about.

Yes. He is very cute and nice, and I like him a lot. Would he be open to having a summer fling with me?

Because I’m starting to become more and more open to it myself.

* * *

We’re in our seats with drinks in hand when the lights go down. The band comes on stage and I am up and out of my seat when they open with ‘Only the Young.’ I am in my element, dancing and singing every word.

Every. Word.

Zero. Shame.

“I hope you don't embarrass easily. Because I'm probably going to sing every one of these songs.”

“Have at it. That's why we're here—to have a good time”

The band is in between songs, and I stop to get a drink of cold beer. “Wow. I didn't realize beer tasted so good when you're hot.”

“It's a definite thirst quencher.”

“I can already tell that I'm going to need another one of these.”

Porter joggles his tallboy. “I’m almost empty. I can make a beer run. Want one or two?”

“Are you double fisting?”

“Definitely. I hate to miss half of the show standing in line for drinks.”

I feel bad that this will be his second time to go for beer. “I’ll make the run next time.”

“No way. I don't want you to miss a minute of this show.”

“Well, that's hardly fair for you to stand in line every time.”

“It would kill me if you were standing in the beer line when they play your favorite song.”

“It would kill me too.” I have to hear them play ‘Faithfully.’ No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Porter leaves and returns with four tallboys straight out of the ice chest. “Oh my God. They’re so cold.”

I lift my hair and hold the frigid can against the back of my sweaty neck. “Ohhh… that feels so good.”

I enjoy my moment of coolness against my skin before opening my eyes to see Porter staring at my mouth, his lips slightly parted. “What is it?”

He grins before looking away and shaking his head. “Nothing.”

‘Wheel in the Sky’ begins, and it triggers one of my favorite childhood memories. “My dad loves this song. He used to put me on his shoulders and dance around the kitchen while my mom cooked dinner.”

“It must have been fun growing up with parents who were so young.”

“You have older parents?”

“They’re in their sixties.”

“My parents were young and fun, but we struggled for a lot of years. I bet with your parents being older, they were financially stable and you never had to worry about your bills getting paid.”

“My dad is a financial advisor and my mom is a college professor. So, no. There was never any worry about how bills were going to be paid.”

“That must have been nice.”

“I never thought about it being nice or otherwise. It was just the way things were.”

‘Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’’ begins, and my hips have a mind of their own. “Ooh, this is a good one.”

“One of their best.”

With knees bent, my hips sway back and forth with every beat. “I swear I was born in the wrong generation. I should have grown up when this kind of music was current. Everyone who knows me says that I am an old soul.”

“I tend to agree. And not just because of your choice in music. You’re very mature for your age.”

“Do you still see me as a kid at twenty-one?”

“I don’t see you as a kid. Not even a little.” He’s unsmiling, eyes locked on mine. If we were somewhere else—just the two of us—I think this is the point where he’d lean in to kiss me. Maybe.

“Excuse us. Excuse us.”

Mutha. Humper.

Porter and I sit in our seats to make room for the two girls needing to get by. And just like that… the moment we were having is ruined.

Journey plays one hit after another. They don’t miss a single one of my favorites. I’m sad when they play ‘Faithfully’—the final song of the encore—but I’m also happy because it’s my all-time favorite. “I’ve seen my mom and dad dance to this song a thousand times.”

Porter takes my beer from my hand and puts it under my seat. “Dance with me.”

“Here? In the aisle?” There’s not enough room.

“Yeah. Right here, right now.” Porter steps behind me and wraps one arm around my waist to pull my body close to his. He uses his free hand to push my hair off my neck and presses his mouth to my ear. “Just like this.”

Oh. Fuck.

His breath on my skin makes the entire right side of my body erupt in chills. And the rest of me erupts in tingles—the sexually thrilling kind. The sort that makes you feel your panties getting wet.

He presses his face against the side of my head and wraps both arms around my body. And I let him. Hell, I even take a step back so that my back—and ass—are pressed firmly to his front.

I lace my fingers through his and we sway slowly together. Anyone looking at us would likely assume we’re a couple deeply in love. And for a moment I pretend we are.

Maybe it’s the song—or maybe it’s the four beers I’ve had since we got here—but I’m feeling brave. Nothing about being in Porter’s arms right now makes me nervous. Everything about this feels right.

I relish the feel of his arms around me, our bodies pressed against one another, and the warmth of his breath on my skin. But mostly, I love the way I feel dancing with him to my favorite Journey song. Feels romantic.

The song ends and so does our dance. I mourn when it finishes, but the night isn’t over. And I have high hopes that this dance is only postponed until later.

The amphitheatre illuminates when the lighting is brightened, and Porter releases his hold on me. “I think that means we shouldn’t expect another encore.”

All good things come to an end. “I think you’re right.”

“Fighting this crowd to get out of here should be fun.” Porter reaches for my hand. “Stay close.”

No worries. That won’t be a problem.

We weave in and out of the crowd, sometimes pressed together. Other times our arms stretched to the point that I’m certain we’ll be torn apart. But we somehow manage to stay together on the way to our designated meeting spot with Ken. “It’s going to take us forever to get out of here.”

“I don’t mind. Gives us time to talk.”

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing me. It was a wonderful concert. Seriously one of the best I’ve ever been to.”

“I think it could be my favorite.”

We make small talk during the thirty-minute ride to my house. Talking across the backseat with a complete stranger in the front hearing every word we say is uncomfortable. And frustrating. I want to continue what we were doing during that final song of the concert. I want to move closer to him. See if he’ll reach out for my hand. Pull me against him. Press his mouth to my ear and whisper things the driver can’t hear.

But none of those things happen.

Shit. Have we gone back to being two professionals in the workplace? Being boss and intern?

God, I hope not. I liked where things were going an hour ago.

The SUV pulls to a stop in my driveway and I don’t want to get out of the car. Not without something more. “I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad.”

I’m thinking of every possible excuse to stay with him, but nothing comes to mind. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I guess I’ll see you on Monday.” I pull the handle to open the door.

“Wait.” That one word makes my heart speed.

Porter gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “No way I’m letting you out of this car without seeing you to the door.”

“My daddy would appreciate that.” Or maybe not. He would probably be quite pissed off if he knew I was with Porter right now.

Walking me to the door. That feels very date-like. But what I’m more interested in is what Porter does once we reach the door.

“Did you tell your parents you were going to see Journey tonight?”

“I did. But I didn’t tell them it was with you since we agreed it was best no one knew we were together. They think I went with Ava and Dillyn.”

“So it wouldn’t be great for them to look out the window and see me on the front porch with you?”

“Probably not.”

Porter takes my purse from my shoulder and places it on the rocking chair. “Let’s move away from the porch light.”

He leads me to the side of the house. “Much better. Less chance of being seen here.”

He steps closer and cups his palms around my lower face the way guys do in all the great romance movies. “I want to kiss you.”

I want to kiss you. Those words make me all swoony-feeling inside, and my chest heaves up and down as I anticipate what’s coming. My breath… it’s suddenly so loud and unsteady. I lick my lips but the air moving in and out of my mouth works against me to dry the moisture I applied with my tongue.

He rubs my bottom lip with his thumb. “Your mouth is beautiful. Full pink lips with the perfect Cupid’s bow. Everything I love.”

He tilts his head and skims his lips and stubbled chin back and forth over my mouth. Not a full-on kiss. Just a tease.

“You should tell me now if you don’t want this. Because it’s going to be damn near impossible to stop once I start.”

“I want this.”

I just asked a girl for permission to kiss her. That’s never happened. Not even when I was young and probably should have been asking.

Frankee couldn’t be more different from my typical kind of woman. Younger. Sweeter. Not at all the kind of girl you’d shove against the exterior wall of this house to fuck—and then walk away because you got the one thing you wanted from her.

No, sir. Frankee Dawson isn’t that kind of girl. If I tried to tug her shorts open right now, I bet she would shove my hand away and tell me no. And for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t find that to be a turnoff.

It’s sexy as fuck.

I want this. I hear those soft, sweet words leave her mouth, and I’m electrified. On fucking fire just by the prospect of kissing her.

I cradle her face and savor the nearness of our mouths. No touching, just simply sharing air. Amazing how fucking intoxicating it is to feel her warm breath on my mouth.

And I can’t remember ever wanting a woman more.

I press my lips to hers. Softly. Sweetly. Slowly. And our mouths move together in perfect synchronization until we open for our tongues to meet. The two are slick, wet velvet sliding against one another.

I move my hands from her face to her lower back and pull her closer so our bodies are pressed together. But I’m careful; I don’t want her to feel as though I’m dry humping her like she’s a cheap whore.

She drapes her arms over my shoulders and pushes her fingers into the back of my hair. Her nails scraping my scalp send chills down my spine.

“Woof… woof-woof… woof.”

She pulls away, and we both turn at the sound of the barking dog on the interior side of the fence. “Get out of here, Teddy. It’s just me. Go away.”

The exterior lights on the corner of the house come on. “Frankee? Is that you?”

Shit. It’s Scott.

Frankee leans forward and places a quick kiss against my mouth. “Gotta go. Stay here until I turn off the lights.”

Shit. I’m thirty years old and sneaking around behind everyone’s back with a girl almost ten years younger than me. I’m fucking hiding out at the side of her house and waiting for a cue to leave so her daddy doesn’t figure out that we were making out after our secret date.

Everything about this is fucked up.

But everything about being with her feels wonderful.

The light goes off, and I return to Ken’s car. “Sorry about the delay.”

“No worries. I’ve been driving you for a while now. I’m used to delays.” Ken’s words are a reminder that he has waited in the car many times while I finished off a one-nighter.

I don’t know why it matters to me, but I don’t like that Ken sees Frankee as another one-nighter. I guess it’s dumb, but I feel the need to set him straight. “This one is different.”

“Ah, I said that once about a woman.”

“What happened?”

“I put a ring on it. That was seven years and three kids ago.”

I had no idea Ken was married with children. “She’s my intern. And her father has been one of my best employees for five years. He knows things about me and my personal life. I’m not sure he’ll approve of his daughter dating me.” Not when he’s been the one to turn away the women who came to the brewery looking for me.

“She’s an adult, right?”

“Barely.”

“Well, Daddy can’t do anything about it if she’s legal.”

True. But that’s not the way I’d prefer this to play out. I’d want Scott’s approval.

I don’t know why I’m sitting here worrying about this. Frankee is only here for ten more weeks. Scott will probably never even know about us.

If there is an us.

Fuck. I really want there to be an us. And I’m ready to work on that right now.

I scroll through my list of contacts and find Frankee’s number. I have to know she’s thinking about me and what just happened.

Porter: Everything ok?

Frankee: It’s fine. He didn’t know you were there.

Porter: I had a great time tonight.

Frankee: I did too.

Porter: I hope you’ll want to see me again. Outside of the office.

Frankee: I would like that.

Porter: Can you see me tomorrow?

Frankee: I wish, but the whole family is going to visit my grandparents after church. I can’t skip.

Porter: Can I book you for lunch on Monday?

Frankee: My boss is a real hard-ass. He has me doing a lot of busy work, but I think I can work you in.

Porter: Good.

Porter: And just so you know, I wasn’t finished kissing you.

Porter: Does that scare you?

Frankee: More kisses? No.

Frankee: How much I want more kisses? Hell. Yes.

Porter: Why are you afraid of wanting more?

Frankee: Because I’m leaving soon.

Porter: I think this is a conversation better had over lunch instead of text messages.

Frankee: Agreed.

Porter: Sweet dreams, beautiful.

Frankee: Goodnight. Sweet dreams to you too.

They will be sweet dreams if they include Frankee.

* * *

I already know Frankee well enough to figure out that she is a creature of habit. She clocks in between 7:43 and 7:45 every morning. Hence, the reason I’m here at 7:35 to have a venti white chocolate mocha waiting for her on her desk, fire up her computer and select a Journey song to be playing when she comes in, and leave a note reminding her of our lunch date. Not that I think she has forgotten. I just want to let her know that I’m pleased to be spending time with her today.

I open the top drawer of her desk in search of a sticky pad and come up empty-handed. I only find her sketchbook. Odd she’d leave it here for the weekend. I’d expect her to take it home in case inspiration struck.

I crack it open and flip from the beginning, searching for a blank page I can tear out. Portraits. Landscapes. Abstracts. You name it and she’s drawn it. She’s talented beyond her years. But her last sketch is the one that catches my attention and hypnotizes me.

Intricate thick black tapered lines. Swirls. Crisp, clean edges. Ink on skin. My skin. Except these sketches aren’t just my tattoos. They’re the lower portions of my tattoos, the only parts Frankee would be able to see below my sleeve, but with new ink and designs added to them. And they look cool as hell.

I take out my phone and snap several pictures of her drawing before putting her pad back in the drawer. I forgo tearing out a sheet; I don’t want her to know that I’ve seen her sketches of my tattoos. At least not for now.

I bolt next door to my office and scribble out my message.

Lunch with the boss at 12:00.

Don’t forget. —P

I have no more than two minutes before she’ll arrive at her desk so I dash back to the art department. I select ‘Faithfully’ to play; I want her to be reminded of our dance. Lastly, I fold the note in half with her name on the outside like a seating card.

I rush out the door and run right smack into Molly, chest-to-chest. Well, almost. More like chest to abdomen since Molly is so much shorter than me. “Good morning, Porter.”

“Good morning, Mama Molly.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you’re up to something?”

Molly’s motherly intuition is never off. “Because I’m always up to something, and this morning is no different.”

“This morning is different. You’re here earlier than usual, and you’re running out of the art department like a scalded dog.”

“I brought Frankee a coffee.” I shrug, playing it off like it’s nothing. “You caught me.”

“Did you bring me a coffee?”

“Yes. It’s waiting for you on your desk.”

“Good boy.” Molly makes a V with her index and middle fingers, using them to point at her eyes and then mine. “But I’m still watching you.”

“What’s new?”

I’m in my office no more than five minutes before Frankee is standing in the doorway knocking. “Thank you for the white chocolate mocha. And the music. That was really thoughtful.”

Ah, she noticed the song playing. “You’re welcome.”

“I was planning to work on the new merchandise today. Is that okay, or do you need me to do something else?”

“Merchandise would be great.”

“Do you have a minute to look at the draft of the new website? Or are you tied up?”

“I can come have a look.”

I go to the art department with Frankee and roll a chair over from the opposite desk so I’m beside her. Close.

She opens her draft. “Home page. I’m keeping everything clean and streamline but with bold graphics.”

“Looks good.”

“Do you really think so? Because I want you to tell me if you don’t.”

“I do. Really.”

“The first drop-down is our beers. I think it’s nice for the customer to see all of the beer options on one page but that’s a lot for a mobile device to load. Since most people will be looking at this from a phone, I broke them down.”

“Makes sense.” I lean closer and inhale deeply. Mmm… peach and floral. “You smell really good.”

“Thank you.” She clicks on the next drop-down. “This one is beer locator. Nothing special going on there. Just a search for Lovibond beer distributors.”

I can hardly concentrate on what she’s saying. “I haven’t been able to think about anything but kissing you again.”

Frankee looks toward the open door and lowers her voice. “Porter…”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to show me your work but being this close to you is killing me. I can’t stop thinking about our kiss on Saturday night or how badly I want to do it again.”

She twists to look at me, and her eyes lock with mine. “It’s all I’ve thought about too. And I’m dying to do it again.”

“When?”

She grins and bites her bottom lip as she looks away. “I don’t know.”

She looks and sounds so timid. Not at all like a woman who freely gives herself to men. And it’s sexy as fuck.

“It has to be soon. I don’t think I can bear to wait.”

A shrug accompanies her wide grin. “You tell me when.”

Frankee jolts when there’s a knock on the door. “Hey early bird.”

“Hey Dad.”

I’m too close. I should roll my chair away from her, but that would probably look suspicious. “Looks like y’all are getting an early start this morning.”

“Yeah. I was just showing Mr. Beckman the new website I’m building.”

Mr. Beckman. Hearing her call me that is a little bit of a turn-on.

“What do you think of my little girl, boss? She’s something, right?”

That is a loaded question. “Frankee is a talented designer. I’m very happy with my choice to take her on as my intern.”

“I knew she’d do a good job for you.”

“She does a great job just like her dad.”

“Appreciate that, boss. Great music choice by the way. Did Frankee tell you that she saw Journey in concert this weekend?”

“She did. I was pretty jealous.”

“You’re a fan?”

“Who isn’t?”

Scott points at me. “I knew I liked you.” He wouldn’t if he knew what I wanted to do with his daughter. “When you get a few free minutes today, can you come to the warehouse and see me for a bit?”

Oh fuck. What’s that about? “Sure.”

Scott winks at Frankee. “See you later, baby girl.”

I wait until I’m certain Scott is gone. “Do you know why he wants to see me?”

“I think it’s going to be about the guy he suspects is stealing.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we had a thief among us. And it wouldn’t be the first time your dad solved the mystery of inventory gone missing.”

“He’s a sharp guy.”

Scott and I have always clicked. Not to say that he doesn’t with Tap and Stout, but I feel like we’ve always had a good rapport. Conversation comes easy for us.

“I’m glad my dad likes you. Maybe that’ll keep him from killing you if he finds out we’re… kissing or… whatevering.”

“Whatevering? I need specifics on what that includes.”

“You’re so bad.” She shakes her head and turns back to her screen.

We spend the next fifteen minutes looking at every aspect of the new website and I fight the urge to pull her into my office and… do a little whatevering.

“Looks great. I think you can go to work on the new merchandise.”

“Good. I’m anxious to see what I can come up with.”

“I’ll be in and out of the brewery today, but I’m planning to pick you up at twelve.”

“Should I wait for you here?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you when I’m ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

I’m on pins and needles for the next four hours. I cycle through an array of emotions. Nervous. Excited. Frightened. Anxious.

And happy. Can’t forget happy.

Porter: I’m back. Waiting for you in my parking spot.

Oh my goodness. My stomach is in huge knots.

Frankee: Ok. On my way out.

I wonder where he’s taking me today. I wouldn’t mind that vegan cafe again. The food was delicious. And the atmosphere was calm and quiet. Being in that tall booth made it feel like we could have a private conversation without everyone around us hearing what we had to say.

I nearly come to a screeching halt when I meet Molly in the hallway on my way out the door. “Going out for lunch today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My phone says it’s eighty-six degrees so try not to melt while you’re gone.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Porter’s probably got the air turned up, so it’ll be cool when you get in his truck.” Molly winks and I nearly shit my shorts.

I say nothing, neither confirming nor denying that I’m leaving with him. But she knows something is happening between us. I know she knows. And I hope she keeps it to herself.

I dart to Porter’s truck and climb inside. “Sorry you had to open your own door. I thought it might bring unwanted attention if I got out and opened it for you.”

I almost feel like I need to duck down before we’re seen. “We don’t need any extra suspicion.”

“Extra?”

“Is Molly a busybody?”

Porter grins. “No. I feel certain she knows just about everything that goes on in that brewery, but as far as I know she keeps it to herself. But she did give me a warning in regard to you this morning.”

“What kind of warning?”

“She told me that she was watching me.”

If she’s issuing warnings, then she’s probably aware that my dad won’t approve. “She knows we’re whatevering. Do you think she’ll keep that to herself?”

“Whatevering. I love that word; it could mean so many different things.”

Porter doesn’t seem near as worried as me. “Back to Molly. Do you think she will keep our secret?”

“I think so.”

“God, I hope.”

“Don’t worry about Molly. She’s like a second mother to me. She isn’t going to be a problem.”

“That reminds me. How is your mother?”

“Her first treatment is today. They’ve probably already started the chemo.”

I remember that first treatment. I think it was the hardest one. “Is she scared?”

“Yes, but she’s putting on a brave face to make everyone else comfortable. That’s how my mom is about everything. I told her I would come, but she says driving down and missing work is unnecessary.”

“She has your dad, so I tend to agree with her. At least for this one. She might need you later, so you shouldn’t take off too much this early in her treatment.”

“Thank you for that.”

“For what?”

“Making me feel less guilty about not being there today.”

“You can show me gratitude by feeding me. Where are we going?”

“My place. I ran by and picked up a couple of dishes from the vegan cafe.”

“Oh.” The knot in my stomach tightens.

“I hope vegan is okay again. I was under the impression you really liked it when we ate there last week.”

“I loved it, so that works for me.”

Oh my God. Someone needs to explain to me how I’m supposed to eat when I’ll be alone with Porter in his condo. When I know for a fact that he’s going to kiss me. He’s said as much. And there won’t be anyone around to keep us from doing a lot more whatevering.

Porter opens the door and catches me around the wrist as we enter the condo. He’s going in for the kiss first thing.

He pulls me close and then turns us so my back is pressed against the door. “I can’t wait another minute for this.”

His hands cup my face the way they did during our first kiss. Although it’s a repeat move, it’s no less romantic this time around.

I quickly lick my lips and Porter presses his mouth to mine before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth and holding it between his teeth.

So hot and sexy.

I place my hands on his chest and the pec muscles I feel beneath the fabric are rigid. This man works out. A lot. I would love to see all the goodies that are hidden beneath this shirt.

We make a game of biting and sucking each other’s lips. It’s fun and playful.

Until it’s not.

Our kiss is no longer teasing. It’s heated and demanding with increasingly harder handgrips and squeezes.

His hands move to my hips and he uses them to steer my body to the sofa while kissing me en route.

He walks backward and sits on the sofa, leaving me to make my own decision about how I want to be positioned.

Beside him?

Across his lap?

On top, mounting him?

I place a knee on each side of him and lower my body to straddle his. His hands move to my hips and he grips the sides, moving them so I’m rocking against his hard cock pressing against my crotch.

One of his hands leaves my hips and comes up to wrap around my nape, pulling me down so his mouth can reach the side of my neck. His mouth is sucking hard. I’m certain I’ll wear a love bite there for all to see. Not sure how I’ll explain that one, but I let him continue.

“Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the words.” He’s talking about stopping but his mouth is kissing and sucking and nibbling harder.

I grasp the sides of his face and press our foreheads together. “I like what we’re doing. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t know your limitations.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re there. For now, keep going.”

“Fuck… Frankee. The way you make me want you… it’s irrational. Makes me lose all sense of self-control.”

Porter lifts my body and flips us so I’m beneath him. His face is pressed against the side of my neck, his lips leaving kisses in their path. One hand slides under my shirt and dips into my bra. He rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger and it instantly hardens. And it’s like a control center for everything between my legs.

I want his hands on me.

I want his mouth on me.

I want him on me, period.

I bend my knee and bring my leg up so it’s wrapped around his waist. His body conforms between my legs like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that connect together perfectly.

We just fit.

I gather the fabric of his shirt in my hand and push it upward. “I want this off of you.”

He puts his fingers inside the neck of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. And there it is. The answers to the questions in my head; his entire chest is inked in black tribal tattoos, matching the ones wrapping around his upper arms.

I reach out and rub my hands over the taut muscles. “I hoped your chest would be tatted.”

“Like that, do ‘ya?”

“It’s art on your body. I love it.”

I grab the back of his head and pull him down—hard—so his mouth is pressed against mine. I love kissing this man. Love the feel of his tongue against mine. Love the taste of his mouth.

Everything about being this way with Porter feels different than it has with any man before him. He makes me feel special. And he makes this feel right. Like I won’t regret taking it further. All the way.

No man has ever made me feel this way. Hence, the reason I always put on the brakes before things go any further.

I don’t want to stop this with Porter. But I also don’t want him to not realize what he’s getting with me.

Not all men want virgins. They want experienced women. Partners who can bring them to the ultimate ecstasy. I’m inexperienced. I won’t be like the other women Porter has had. And I’m afraid he won’t want me because of it.

He pushes my shirt up and nibbles the skin on my stomach and waist. I squirm almost violently beneath him. “Oh God.”

“Someone is very ticklish.” He pushes my shirt higher and stills when he sees the tattoo wrapping around the side of my torso and ribs. “That ink is hot as fuck, Frankee.”

“Glad you like it.”

He pushes down the waistband of my shorts and kisses and licks the skin on my lower belly. Feels so good. I don’t want to tell him to stop, but we have to talk. “Hey, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.” His hooded caramel eyes look up at my face, but his mouth doesn’t stop. God, I can’t think straight with him kissing my body down there while looking up at my eyes like that.

I push my fingers into the top of his hair. “Put the brakes on a minute. I need you to hear what I’m saying. It’s important.”

Porter places one last kiss against my stomach and crawls up my body until we’re face-to-face. He places a sweet closed-mouthed kiss against my lips. “You have my full attention.”

“You knew me as a teenager. What I looked like. How backward I acted. I don’t have to tell you that boys weren’t interested in me.”

“You didn’t need boys being interested in you.”

“I changed during college. Guys started noticing me. And liking me. A lot.”

“With good reason.”

“I knew going into college that I needed to graduate as soon as possible. Dating was a distraction from my studies. I rarely went out with guys. And I sure didn’t sleep around.”

“I know you didn’t; you’re not that kind of girl.”

“I’m not at all that kind of girl.” I wish he would pick up on what I’m hinting at and just ask me if I’m a virgin. I hate making a production out of this. “Do you understand what I mean when I say that I didn’t sleep around at all?”

“You don’t have to tell me this. I know you’re not a slut. I’m not worried about how many men you’ve been with.”

“I haven’t been with any men. Not one.”

His eyes widen and a space grows between his top and bottom lip while he processes my words. “You’re a virgin?”

I nod.

“Fuck. I knew you were different—and it’s one of the reasons I like you so much—but I never imagined that you were saving yourself.”

“I’m not saving myself. I’ve just never found a person I thought was deserving of my virginity.” I stroke my fingers down his cheek and touch his lips with my fingertips. “Until you.”

Silent and unmoving, his eyes search mine. Warm caramel on soft blue.

“I understand that anything between us would be just for fun. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to make promises of forever or declarations of love. But if we do this, I don’t want you to be with anyone but me. At least until I leave for Austin.

Shit. He’s not saying a word.

“I need to know what you’re thinking.”

I’m terrified that Porter sees my virginity and inexperience as a shortcoming—as many men would—and not an asset. A hassle that’s more trouble than it’s worth.

He pushes some stray hairs away from my face. “I’m thinking that I have never wanted anyone more than I want you right now.”

Porter’s mouth comes down on mine gently, and we pick up with our previous kiss—except we’re back to soft and slow and sweet.

His mouth leaves mine and moves lower. Down my throat. Down my chest. Between my cleavage in the deep V of my T-shirt. He cups my boobs from the bottom, pushing them upward, and drags his face back and forth over my soft mounds. “I love your tits. I’ve been wanting to bury my face in them since the day you came into my office for your interview.”

He presses his face between them and inhales deeply. “You bent down in front of me, and I saw your black lace bra. Fuck, you looked sexy in that outfit. I was sitting behind my desk hard as steel while I watched you make your presentation.”

“Is that why I got the position?”

“No, but being sexy as fuck sure didn’t hurt your chances.”

Porter places a quick kiss to my mouth and gets up. He grabs my hands and tugs me to follow. “I want you in my bed.”

Oh shit. Moving to his bed means this is happening. Now.

We enter Porter’s bedroom, and he points a remote toward the television. Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here’ begins playing. Not a song I’ve ever considered romantic, but damn if it’s not perfect.

“In case you’re wondering, this is going to be a very long lunch break.”

Hickeys on my neck. Gone for lunch far too long. Leaving with Porter. I may have some difficult questions to answer when we return, but I’ll worry about that later.

We move next to the bed and he cradles my face. “I swear I’m going to make you feel so good, Frankee. A kind of good that I know you’ve never felt before.”

I hear his declaration, and all my fear and anxiety dissipate. I’m not afraid. I want this. I want this with Porter.

He pushes my shirt up, and together we pull it over my head. I had no idea we’d be getting naked together today. I lucked out on choosing a sexy bra and panties set this morning.

I’m wearing my lacy deep-crimson bra. I know how great my boobs look in it, so I have zero confidence issues with him looking at them.

He gently squeezes and releases both before pulling down one cup and then the other. Both of my breasts topple out of the top and push upward. He studies both intently as he palms them with care and adoration. “So damn perfect.”

He cups one from the bottom and lowers himself to suck it into his mouth. He licks and tugs on the sensitive bud and the vibration of his mouth on my breast when he moans sends tingles throughout my body.

Porter is in no hurry to stop or move on to something different. He’s taking his time and giving equal attention to both of my breasts. I don’t mind it a bit, but I find it surprising. I had no idea a man could take such pleasure in touching and rubbing and sucking a woman’s breasts.

He stands tall when he finishes and tugs at the button on my shorts. They unfasten, and he lowers the zipper. His palms glide into my shorts and panties, and he pushes both down my legs. They land on top of my feet, and I kick out of them.

“Your tits look so pretty jacked up like that, but I want you naked.” He unhooks the bra and slips it off, tossing it on the bed.

With my bra gone, I’m completely bared to him. He licks his lips and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “You are breathtaking.”

Porter goes down on his knees in front of me. “I’m going to show you what it feels like to have your body worshipped.”

I don’t know what that means. But I want to find out.

He reaches around and grasps my butt, surprising me when he pulls me toward him. I’m forced to put my hand on top of his head for balance.

He pokes his nose into the Y where my legs meet my slit and inhales deeply. Heat floods my face. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting so turned on or because I’m afraid he won’t like the way I smell down there.

“Mmm… your pussy smells delicious. A perfect combination of sweet and musky. Let’s see if it tastes as good as it smells.”

Oh fuck.

His tongue darts out of his mouth and licks the top of my slit in one upward swipe. I’m not sure what kind of squawk it is that comes out of my mouth, but I know it is triggered by nothing but ecstasy.

He’s only licked me once, but my legs are already going weak. There’s no way I’ll still be standing if he continues doing that.

I lean against the bed and grasp the edge of the mattress for support. Porter moves closer and lifts one of my legs to place my foot on the box spring. “You’re going to like this. A lot.”

He spreads my slit apart with his fingers, and his tongue does this fast vibration-flicking thing against the top. “Ohhh… ohh… ohh.”

I look down because I want to see his mouth on me. I consider shutting my eyes when he looks up at me. Having his eyes on mine while he licks me that way… it’s almost too erotic. Almost.

He turns his hand palm side up and inserts a finger inside me while he sucks and pulls on the top of my slit. The suction of his mouth starts and stops in a rhythm that matches his fingers sliding in and out of me.

I’m already rocking my pelvis against his mouth when I realize what I’m doing. Pure instinct. That’s all it can be called because this has never been done to me.

A need I’ve never known is triggered low in my groin. A need for more. More suction. More friction. More motion.

I rock against Porter’s mouth harder and faster and with more pressure. “Ohh God. Porter. Something is happening. And it feels so good.”

He sucks harder and I have this strange, rhythmic squeeze-and-release thing happening inside me. A warm rush fills my face and chest and arms and legs. Ecstasy. Elation. Rapture. Euphoria. Call it whatever but it’s wonderful. And I don’t want it to ever end.

I fall on his bed when the rhythmic contractions stop, and I hear the sound of a zipper. I forgot he was still wearing pants.

I was planning to explore his body, but it’ll have to wait. I’m a boneless mess with trembling legs.

Porter crawls over me and lowers his naked body on top of mine, so we’re face-to-face with our bodies pressed together. He’s smiling as he kisses me. Proud of himself, I can tell. “I made you come hard?”

“You sure did, magic mouth.”

He chuckles. “Magic mouth?”

I nod while I nibble on my lip, a little embarrassed to admit the truth. “That’s the first time I’ve ever had an orgasm.”

His smile widens until dimples form in both cheeks. “Did you like it?”

Is he kidding? “Of course, I liked it. I want more. Lots more. Just like that one.”

“I’m not a bit opposed to that. Your pussy tastes good.”

“Porter…”

“Whaaat?”

He knows what. “You have a filthy mouth.”

“Your pussy didn’t mind my filthy mouth just now, so neither should you.”

He kisses me and I smell myself. “I’m not sure how I feel about kissing you with that on your breath.”

“It’s a part of you, Frankee. Get used to it; you’re going to be smelling that on my breath a lot.”

Porter bends my knees and pushes my legs apart. He rotates his hips and the length of his erection rubs against me. “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Porter sits back on his feet so he’s kneeling between my legs. He reaches down and traces the strip of hair on my mound. “I like this.”

“I didn’t know we’d be doing this today. I probably would have taken it all off if I’d known.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

“I thought guys liked it smooth.”

“Not me.” He cups his hand between my legs. “I want this to look like it belongs on a woman, not a little girl. Hairless is weird to me.”

“Okay.”

He leans over to the nightstand and takes out a condom from the top drawer. He’s prepared, a reminder that I’m not the first woman he’s had in his bed. Hell, I’m probably not even the first one this month.

He tears the foil packet and tosses it on the nightstand before rolling the condom over his impressive erection. I may be a virgin but even I know this man is hung. “Your cock is huge. This is going to hurt.”

“You might not appreciate my massive cock this first time, but I promise you that after your virginity is gone, you will love my arm-size dick inside you. You’ll beg me to fuck you with it.”

“I don’t know that it’s arm-size.”

“It’s arm-size.” He chuckles. “I just didn’t say whose arm.”

Porter lowers his body so he’s lying on top of me. “It’s going to take some self-control not to lose myself and fuck you into the mattress.”

“Is that what you’ve been fantasizing about doing?”

“Every fucking night, Frankee. In this bed… pumping my cock… thinking about you.”

“That’s sort of sweet. And dirty. But mostly sweet.”

“Things are about to get real sweet.”

He glides his hand between our bodies and pushes his fingers through my slick center. “Fuck, you’re wet. You have no idea what a turn-on that is.”

Porter rubs the tip of his condom-clad cock up and down through my wet slit. Feeling it at my entrance turns me on in a whole new and different way.

Amazing. I know Porter’s dick is going to stretch my body and tear something deep inside me. Despite knowing there will be pain, I still want him inside me. I crave it. I need it.

Porter positions the tip in my center and slowly eases the head inside. He covers my mouth with his and pushes the remaining length inside me, tearing through my virginity. There’s a stingy-achy-pleasure-pain sensation but it isn’t bad. The discomfort quickly subsides, and I’m ready for everything he has to give.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” I bend my knees and tilt my hips upward. “I’m ready for you to fuck me into this mattress.”

He pulls back, almost to the point where it feels like he’s going to slide out, and then quickly thrusts. He grasps the backs of my thighs and pushes my legs up and apart, using them as leverage to pound into me deeper and harder. “I can’t believe how tight you are. The grip your body has on my cock feels so fucking good.”

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Simple Man’ begins playing and Porter’s pace slows to echo the tempo in perfect synchronization. Again, not a traditionally romantic song but somehow it’s perfect.

He releases my legs and lowers his body, so his chest is pressed against my breasts. His forearms are pushing into the bed around my head, trapping me inside his cage of muscular, tattooed arms. I can’t think of anything any sexier. But then one of his hands leaves its place beside my head. It follows the length of my arm until he finds my hand. He laces his fingers through mine and squeezes. I squeeze back in response, and he brings my hand to his mouth for a kiss. It feels so romantic, a gesture of affection.

The song reaches the crescendo, and Porter moves our clasped hands above my head and pumps faster. He presses his forehead to mine, and his breath increases. A grunt/groan/moan accompanies the last few thrusts, but it’s the last one I love hearing the most. “Uhhh… Frankee.”

Hearing my name on his lips while he’s coming is a special kind of thrill.

He pulls out slowly, rolls off of me, and lies on his back. His breathing has slowed but deepened. “Oh fuck. That was the best lunch break I’ve ever had.”

Porter reaches for my hand, bringing it to his mouth for another kiss. “Thank you for letting me be the one.”

I didn’t do anything but lie there, but that seemed to be what he wanted. “Was it good for you?”

“Baby, calling that good would be an insult to your pussy.”

“You love saying that word, don’t you?”

“Pussy?”

“Yes.”

“I love everything about pussy. Not just saying the word. Does that bother you?”

“Depends.”

“Upon?”

“If you want my pussy, you can have it whenever you want it. But you can’t have anyone else’s. I’m not going to play that game. And if that’s going to be a problem then we need to only be boss and intern.”

Porter rolls and climbs on top of me. He grabs my wrists and pushes my hands over my head. He bites my bottom lip and tugs on it. “Same goes for you, Frankee. If you want my cock, you can have it whenever you want it. But you can’t have anyone else’s.”

“Don’t want anyone else’s.”

“Okay then. I think this is settled.”

“I wanted you to try something different, so I got the Mexican quinoa and creamy butternut squash linguine with fried sage. Both of them are good takeout dishes.”

“Hmm… I can’t choose. Do you want to split them?”

“Sure.”

I divvy out portions of each entree onto two plates.

“I’ll get drinks while you’re doing that. What do you want?”

“I always drink water with meals.”

“Me too.”

We sit at my bar, and Frankee is wearing red lace panties and one of my black Lovibond T-shirts. Sexy as fuck. “Seeing you like that makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and take you to my bed again.”

“I might say yes to that if we hadn’t been gone from the brewery for so long.”

“I know we need to get back… but I’d really love to fuck you again.”

“Pace yourself. I don’t want you to tire of me before September.”

“Not possible.”

“Well, let’s not overdo it just in case.”

My phone vibrates, and my heart speeds when I see who it is. “It’s my mom. I’m sorry, but I really need to take this.”

“Of course, you do. Don’t apologize for that.”

“Hey, Mom. Everything go okay?”

“Much better than expected. The infusion was completed about an hour ago, and I feel great. Better than I have in weeks.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Something feels off to me. I shouldn’t feel so good. The chemo is supposed to make me tired and nauseous. I’d phone the nurse, but it would sound stupid to call because I feel good.”

“Frankee is here with me right now. Would you want me to ask her if she knows what that means?”

“That would be wonderful.”

I take the phone away from my mouth. “My mom’s chemo finished infusing about an hour ago. She says she feels good. Too good. Better than she does on a good day and it’s making her worry something is wrong.”

“I’m sure they pre-treated her with steroids before her treatment.”

I bring the phone back to my ear. “Frankee thinks they pre-treated you with medication. Did they give you something before the chemo?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure what it was.”

I nod to Frankee.

“She’ll be fine today and probably get tired tomorrow evening.”

I take the phone away from my ear and hit mute. “She’s scared and confused. Do you mind talking to her?”

“I don’t mind.”

I pass my phone to her. “Hello, Mrs. Beckman. This is Frankee.”

She smiles, and I wonder what my mother said to elicit that lovely expression.

“I don’t mind at all. What I was explaining to Porter was that I believe they gave you a dose of steroids before your chemo to boost your energy level. The steroid is why you feel so good right now. It makes you a little hyper sometimes, so you might not be able to sleep tonight. A Benadryl an hour or two before bedtime won’t hurt a thing.”

Frankee is silent for a moment before continuing. “I suspect it’s different for everyone, but my mom always started getting tired the next day. Usually around five, depending upon what time her infusion completed. Occasionally the malaise would wait until the following morning. My mother never had problems with nausea and vomiting, but her doctor was generous with meds to prevent that.”

Frankee motions for me to eat.

I shake my head. “Not without you.”

Frankee takes the phone away from her ear and hits mute. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She takes a small bite here and there as she talks to my mom. Twenty minutes later, they’re still talking. And Frankee looks content to keep it up all day. She doesn’t appear the least bit annoyed.

I can see that this conversation won’t be ending anytime soon.

I call out, “Mom, we’re on our lunch break. We’ve gotta go back to work.”

Frankee giggles, and I know my mother probably called me a shit-ass since that’s her favorite name for me.

“It was lovely talking to you too. You’re welcome to call me anytime you like.”

She ends the call. “My mom didn’t want to say goodbye to me?”

“I don’t think so… shit-ass.” Frankee cackles. “Ah, a mother’s love.”

“I take it that your mom doesn’t have an adorable nickname like shit-ass for you?”

“She has some, but none of them are as good as that.”

“You’d love my mother.” And she would love you.

“I can tell just by talking with her that I would.”

“As much as I hate it, we really need to get dressed and head back to the brewery.”

“I know. The longer we’re gone, the more people are going to talk.”

We’re redressing when Frankee leans closer to the dresser mirror. “I’m going to kill you, Porter Beckman.”

“Why? What’d I do?”

Frankee spins around and walks toward me. “Look at what you did. You put hickeys all over me.”

Well, shit. “I’m sorry.”

She pulls the V of her shirt downward. “Look at this purple one on the top of my titty.”

I shouldn’t have been so careless. But damn if I don’t love seeing my marks on her.

“Do you have any makeup with you?”

“A little powder.”

“Try covering the ones on your neck with that. And if it doesn’t work, let your hair down.”

“I left wearing a topknot. People are going to suspect something went down if I come back with my hair looking different.”

“Leave your hair up so they can see my hickeys, and they’re not going to suspect anything. They’re going to know something went down. Pun intended.”

“Shit-ass.”

Frankee leaves the bedroom and comes back with her purse. She dips her finger into the powder and then dabs it on top of the purplish-red marks. “What do you think?”

“Better but you need to take your hair down. Suspicion would be preferable over confirmation.”

“You’re right.”

I go to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

She has the power to make me forget reason. “I lost myself in you. Close wasn’t close enough. Even when I was buried balls deep, I wanted to be deeper inside you.”

“I know. I felt the same.”

“When can I see you again?” I can already tell that one hit isn’t going to be enough.

“I don’t know. When do you want to see me again?”

“Tonight.”

“That soon, huh?”

“You don’t want to see me tonight?”

“I do, but it feels a little risky. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do if my dad knows I left with you and stayed gone for over two hours. It feels like I’m asking for trouble if I don’t go home after work.”

“You think we need to lie low for a little while?”

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.”

“I need to know how long it’s going to be before I can have you again.”

“Three days?”

“Fuck no.” I won’t make it that long.

“Two doesn’t throw anyone off our trail.”

“Well, neither does three. All we really accomplish is three days of sexual frustration.”

“I don’t think we have to make that decision right now. We need to see what kind of damage is done first. See who says what.”

That makes sense. “I agree.”

“So we’re leaving here not knowing when we’ll be together again?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t like that at all.”

“I don’t either, but we’re secret lovers. It is what it is.”

At least we hope we’re still a secret.

* * *

I look up when I hear the three soft taps on my office door. “Just wanted to stick my head in and say bye before I go.”

I motion with my hand for Frankee to come into my office. I wait until she’s close to ask the question on my mind all afternoon. “Everything okay when you got back?”

I dropped her off and waited in my truck a good fifteen minutes before coming in. I know people aren’t stupid, but it would probably look bad for both of us to return together at almost three o’clock.

“I think so. Molly wasn’t at her desk when I came in. No one has said anything to me except my dad. He believes we just missed each other at lunch. I think we dodged a bullet.”

Hearing that makes me feel like we have a get-out-of-jail-free card that we haven’t used yet.

I get up and go to the door, shutting and locking it.

“Porter… we got lucky today, but we shouldn’t push it.”

“It’s a quarter after five. Anyone working in the office is always out of here at five on the dot. We’re alone.”

“My dad never leaves before five-thirty.”

“Don’t worry. He’s in the warehouse.”

Her arms go up and around my shoulders as I pull her into my embrace. Our kiss is gentle but also filled with passion. Makes me want to take her to the sofa and do bad things, but I can tell that she’s too nervous for that. “I just needed to kiss you again and make sure you’re okay before you go.”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“Yes, but in a good way.”

My chest swells a little knowing that I’m the one who fucked her sore. And took her virginity. It’s mine. I own it forever.

“I don’t think we have to wait to see each other again, but I do think we need to be smarter about it.”

“Agreed.”

“I want you to stay with me Friday night. Could you work out using your visit to Tuscaloosa as an alibi?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Stout has asked me to help him move on Saturday. He wants me there around eleven. We’d get to spend the morning together too.”

“That would be good. Maybe we could sleep in a little.”

“We’ll need to sleep in after I finish doing everything I have planned for you.”

“If whatever you’re planning is going to result in an orgasm like the one you gave me today then count me in.” She sucks her bottom lip. “Mmm… I’m still thinking about that.”

This girl has no idea how good I’m going to make her feel. “You’ll have one orgasm right after another. You’re going to beg me to stop because you can’t take any more.”

“How in the world am I supposed to function all week with a promise like that?”

“You’ll need to find time to sneak away with me so I can get you by until Friday.”

“You sound like my drug dealer.”

“Not your drug dealer. Your drug.”

I can tell Frankee that I’m her drug, but I already know it’s bullshit.

I’m the one who wants her. I’m the one who needs her. I’m the one who craves her.

One fuck and I can feel her becoming my addiction.

One hit. Isn’t that how all addictions begin?

As per every other morning, I find a white chocolate mocha waiting for me on my desk. This morning there’s a chocolate croissant accompanying it. “Best boss ever.”

My mocha, croissant, and I trek down the hall to Porter’s office. “Mind if I have breakfast in here with you?”

“I’d love that.”

I hold up the croissant. “You spoil me.”

“Because it’s such a beautiful thing to see you smile.”

The corners of my mouth curl upward.

“See? There it is. That smile makes my day.”

I wonder if he knows that hearing him say things like that to me makes my year. “Then it’s too easy to make your day.”

“It’s too easy to make you feel spoiled.”

“That’s what you get with a girl who grew up with so little. I’m easily impressed.”

“I’m about to spoil you big time.”

“Ooh… I can’t wait to hear this.”

“I got an email from the Austin Graphic Expo, and there are more openings available. I want to take you.”

Going to an expo as big as Austin’s is like a dream to me. “Porter… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll go with me.”

His eyes are pleading for me to say yes. Does he really think I’d consider turning down this kind of opportunity? “Of course I’ll go with you.”

“Is this going to be okay with your parents? That you’re going out of town with your boss for four days?”

Porter has a point. My mom and dad might think it’s completely inappropriate for me to travel with Porter.

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to handle talking to Scott?”

I doubt I could bring it up to my dad and not turn a bright shade of red. “I think it would come off more professionally if you handled it.”

“You’re okay with me fudging the truth a little?”

“I believe we’re already doing that a little every day.”

“As long as we’re fudging the truth, I might as well tell you about an important decision I’ve made.”

“Concerning?”

“Your internship. You’re my intern, and I’ve given you too much responsibility. You need more supervision.”

My heart sinks; I thought Porter was pleased with my work. He told me he was. Has he been lying to make me happy? “You don’t think I’m doing a good job?”

“You’re doing a wonderful job. And I’d like you to continue doing a wonderful job under closer supervision. It’s difficult to do that when you’re in a room down the hall. I want to relocate your workspace in my office.”

I see where he’s going with this now. “You want me at your disposal.”

“Yes. I want you at my disposal. We don’t have that long together before you leave. I’d like to enjoy you as much as possible.”

This could cause problems with some people. “And what do you think everyone is going to say about your moving me into your office?”

“You’re doing very important work for Lovibond. Labels. The website. Merchandise. No one is going to question me for wanting to make sure you’re doing a stellar job on key elements that drive the success of this company.”

“I’m your intern. It isn’t my job to question your decisions.”

“I’ll move your things over this weekend. When you return on Monday, you can expect to be relocated in here with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Something else… we have an appointment at six on Friday. Can you manage to pull off not going home after work?”

An appointment? “Sure. Do you mean we have a reservation?”

“No. It’s an appointment.”

I’m stumped. “Where? And for what?”

“It’s a surprise.”

No way he’s putting that kind of information out there and then not telling me what it means. “I’m going to be crazy by Friday wondering what in the world we’re doing.”

Porter puts his palms together and wiggles his fingers. “Hmm… whatever could it be?”

“You’re so mean.”

His eyes move to the door and widen. “Scott…”

Shit. I hope he didn’t hear any part of our conversation.

I twist in my seat. “Hey Daddy.”

Dad enters the office and holds up my pink lunch bag. “You forgot your lunch.”

“Thank you. I would have been missing that in a few hours.” Or maybe not, depending on Porter’s lunch plans for today. I could stand a little more of what was on the menu yesterday.

“I’m glad you came by, Scott. I was just discussing something with Frankee. Lovibond has two spots reserved at the Austin Graphic Expo. I thought I’d have a full-time assistant when I made the booking a year ago. Lovibond will have to eat the registration fee if I don’t bring a second person. I’d like to take Frankee. Of course, Lovibond will cover all of her expenses.”

Scott looks at his daughter. “Sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”

“It is. Attendance at this expo will look good on my resume. And I won’t be out any money. It’s a free trip.”

“When is it?”

“In a few weeks.”

“That’s very generous of you to offer Frankee this kind of opportunity. I appreciate that, and I know my wife will too.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It won’t only be Porter’s pleasure. It’ll be mine too. Four days with that magic mouth of his. I’ll definitely be spoiled rotten after that.

* * *

It’s Friday afternoon and all of the brewery employees have left. Even my dad. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinking the first thing we’d do is take your car to my building’s parking garage, and you’ll ride with me to the appointment.”

He’s killing me. “Still not going to tell me what the appointment is for?”

“Nope.”

We drive to Porter’s garage, and I park my car and climb into his truck. I slide across the bench seat and grasp his face, kissing him hard.

“Mmm… that is a great way to start this weekend.”

I wink at him. “This is just the start. Wait until you see what I have for you later.”

“Well now I’m curious as fuck.”

That’s my intention. “Sort of like me and this appointment you won’t tell me about.”

“Fair point.”

“Still not going to tell me?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

I’m surprised when I see our final destination. “A tattoo studio?”

“The appointment is for new ink, but that’s not the surprise.”

What in the world is going on? “I’m confused.”

“I know, but you won’t be for much longer.”

Porter does the handshake-bro-hug thing with one of the artists. “Hey, Josiah. This is Frankee.”

“Ah, Frankee, our artist. Nice to meet you.”

Our artist? What does that mean? “Nice to meet you too.”

I follow Porter and Josiah into a room at the back. “All we need to do is prep the skin. I’ve got everything ready to go.”

Porter takes off his T-shirt and the smell of antiseptic invades my nose when Josiah rubs his arm. “I bet this is the last place you expected me to bring you.”

“This definitely was not on my list of possibilities.”

Josiah looks at me and then back at Porter. “She doesn't know what you're getting?”

“No.”

My eyes bounce between the two of them. “What are you having done?”

“I’m about to show you.”

Josiah lifts the transfer paper from Porter’s arm. And I nearly shit my pants. “That's my design.”

“I stumbled upon it by accident. I was looking for some paper and found your sketchbook. I flipped through and saw your design and immediately knew I wanted to add it.”

Oh. My. God.

That’s… I can’t even find the words to describe what that is.

“I can't believe you're inking my design on your body.” Permanently. Like forever.

“Why wouldn't I? It's terrific artwork. And I’ll think of you every time I look at it.”

Exactly.

Fuck. I can’t believe how badly I want to crawl on top of him right now. Naked.

I can’t wait to get back to his condo.

I'm amazed as I watch my design become ink on Porter’s skin. It’s a part of me that will forever be a part of him.

And it's hot as fuck.

The appointment ran long so it’s going on ten by the time we eat and make it back to his place. Sitting for three hours at the tattoo studio gave me time to rest for all the things we’re going to do tonight.

Porter wastes no time pulling me into his arms. “I believe I was promised some sort of surprise. Is that still on the agenda?”

“Oh, it's definitely on the agenda. Plus-some, after what you just did. But I need a minute to get ready.”

He places a sweet kiss on my mouth. “Don’t take too long. It’s been four days. I’m eager to have you.”

Something prevented us from sneaking away together every day this week. It’s like we just weren’t destined to be together again until tonight.

“I won’t be long.”

I was feeling extra naughty when I ordered this lingerie set—crotchless panties and an open-cup bra. He won’t be expecting anything like this tonight.

I take my hair down and shake it. It’s falling in pretty curls on its own after being twisted all day so I don’t mess with it too much.

I squirt myself with a small amount of the body spray Porter loves before slipping into the black straps of fabric. It’s like wearing nothing except for the satin bow over my butt.

Everything is on display. Nothing is hidden. My boobs are protruding through the open cups of my bra. My labial lips are poking through the hole of my crotchless panties.

I am about to blow his mind.

Porter, wearing only his boxer briefs, is sitting on the side of the bed when I come out of the bathroom. His eyes widen with every step I take. “Damn, girl. What the fuck are you wearing?”

His reaction makes me feel a little naughtier.

“What? You’ve never seen a girl in her bra and panties before?” I cup my breasts on the underside and push them upward. “Do you like it?”

“Like isn’t in my vocabulary to describe how I feel about that. I love it.” His eyes are locked on my panties. “What is going on down there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should do a little exploring and find out.”

“Come to me.”

Porter stands and I cross the room, stopping when I reach him. Ozzy Ozborne’s ‘Mama I'm Comin' Home’ is playing. Another song I wouldn’t have chosen but it’s perfect. “I think your choice in bedroom music is more eclectic than mine.”

“I’ve spent all week thinking about eating your pussy and fucking you to this song.”

I touch my fingers to his lips. “This mouth. Both filthy and magical.”

Porter sucks my fingers into his mouth and releases them while turning us around. “Lie down.”

His thumbs dip into his waistband. He pushes his underwear down as I sit on the bed and scoot back, making room for him between my legs. My knees are pressed together and I watch his facial expression transform when I let them fall apart.

He climbs on to the bed and kneels between my legs with his laced fingers cupped on top of his head. His eyes are locked on the missing crotch of my panties. “Fuck, Frankee… just… fuck. I wasn’t expecting anything like this tonight.”

Moving to all fours, Porter crawls upward and lowers his body on top of me. His lips press to mine and he sucks at my bottom lip. I’ve decided that’s his thing. “No one has ever worn anything like this for me. You can’t imagine how much I love it.”

“I’m glad; I want you to love it.”

Porter kisses me, and it’s super sweet and romantic, but it’s short-lived. He’s eager to explore my body in this new lingerie. Which is fine. I want him to have fun with it. That’s why I chose it.

His first stop on the new sexual playground is to play with my boobs poking through the holes of the missing bra cups. “This is a work of art in itself. I’m going to have all kinds of fun.”

“I thought you might enjoy it.”

I use my fingers to play with the top of his hair while he licks and sucks and squeezes my nipples and boobs. He gives my breast one last kiss and his mouth moves in a southern direction, feathering kisses over my tattoo, ribs, and stomach on his way down.

He kisses my inner thighs a few times and sits back on his heels before pushing my legs apart until they’re spread wide. He presses his finger to the black triangle over my mound and drags his fingers down, touching my bare flesh. He uses fingers from both hands to spread the two tiny strips of fabric apart. “These are porno panties.”

“You don’t wear these unless you’re expecting to be well-fucked.”

Porter rubs my wet center. “You have the perfect pussy. I love everything about it, and I want it all to myself. I don’t want anyone else to have it.”

“No one else is having it. Only you.”

Porter lies down on his stomach and puts his face between my legs. I can’t not moan when his tongue licks me the first time. “I can promise you that no one else is getting near my pussy as long as I have your magic mouth going down on me.”

His arms wrap around my legs and spread me apart, exposing the sensitive nub. He alternates circling it with the tip of his tongue and licking it with the soft, fleshy center. I can’t decide which feels better. Good thing I don’t have to choose.

He stops and uses his fingertips to rub the flesh at the top of my slit, giving his mouth a rest I think. He’s been down there licking and sucking for a while.

Doesn’t matter. His fingers are magical too.

And they’re about to make me come.

“Please keep doing that.”

“You like that, do ‘ya?”

“Yes. Feels so good.”

His fingers move in a side to side motion, gradually pressing harder and moving faster. The pleasure builds until my pelvis jolts with the first contraction, and this unexpected squeal-squawk-moan leaves my mouth.

“That’s it, baby. I want you to come hard for me.”

There’s a succession of rhythmic pleasure pulsations deep in my groin followed by what I can only describe as warm relaxation in my arms and legs and face. It’s as though Porter has injected a huge dose of euphoria into my veins, and it’s spreading throughout my body. There’s nothing else in this world like it.

I can see how this feeling might become addicting.

He crawls up my body, kissing everything his mouth comes in contact with along the way. “Your body is so responsive to my touch.”

He stops when his face is hovering above mine and I place my palms on his cheeks, rubbing one of them with my thumb. “That’s because my body likes you very much. And so do I.”

He kisses the tip of my nose, and it feels more intimate than any of the passionate mouth kisses we’ve shared. “I like you too.”

This is a brand-new relationship—so new I’m not sure it even qualifies as being called a relationship. Doesn’t matter what name you give it. “I like everything happening between us. Especially the orgasms.”

“That was just the first of many I’m going to give you tonight.”

“I’ve had mine. I think you’re up next.” I push Porter’s shoulders and he rolls to his back.

“You’ll get no argument out of me.” He laces his fingers and cups them behind his head. “Do what you gotta do.”

What does he want me to do? Suck him off? I bet so. But there’s one surefire way to know. “Do you want your cock in my mouth?”

“Yeah, I’d love nothing more than to watch your pretty pink lips slide up and down my cock.”

I’m no expert at this, but I researched blowjobs a lot this week since I figured I’d be doing it for the first time. I like to excel at everything I do. I won’t be a mediocre blower.

Porter pushes a doubled pillow under his head, getting into position to watch me suck his dick. It’s hot as hell to know he’s going to watch me. I want this to be the blowjob of a lifetime. When I finish, I want him to know he’s never been sucked off so good.

I don’t want this to be only about his dick. Yes, it’s important, but I want this to be a whole-body experience for him. One he’ll remember for a long, long time.

I move so I’m kneeling between his legs. But I don’t jump straight into putting his dick in my mouth. I begin by dragging my nails down his stomach and groin and inner thighs. A little teasing is always a good thing to build up anticipation, so I do it again, this time in reverse.

Before gliding down his body, I lean forward to suck one of his nipples into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it and finish it off by gently biting and tugging it.

I lick my lips and grasp the thick base of his cock in my hand. Damn, he really is hung.

My mouth hovers over the tip. Not because I’m scared. I want him to feel my warm breath. I want him to anticipate my mouth sliding down on it. I want him on pins and needles because he wants it so badly that he’ll do anything to feel my mouth on him.

I slowly drag my tongue over the tip, and his whole body convulses. The liquid on the tip tastes salty and maybe a little metallic. I don’t dislike it. In fact, I may even like the way his precum tastes.

I lick every side, base to tip, and the loud groan I hear when I take him into my mouth lets me know I’m doing a good job. “Ohhh… fuck, Frankee. Feels like you’re taking it down your throat.”

I smile despite having a mouthful of dick. I’m thrilled to be giving him this much pleasure.

He runs his fingers through my hair while my head bobs, like he’s petting me. Giving me praise for a job well done. “I knew you’d look beautiful like this.”

I lift my eyes and make contact with his. And that’s all it takes to finish him off. “I’m about to come. You need to stop now if you don’t want me to do it in your mouth.”

Shit. I don’t know if I want him to do it my mouth. I haven’t done this before, so I’ve not thought that far in advance.

I can’t do it. At least not this time. I need more experience before I try that.

I stop sucking, and Porter grunts/moans/groans as cum shoots out on my chin and neck and chest. “Ohhh… fuck, Frankee.” He says that a lot.

He releases his hold on my head, and I sit back on my heels, my upper body covered in his semen. Porter looks at it, I think admiring his work, before stretching across the bed to grab his T-shirt. “Come here. I got you good, baby.”

He wipes me clean and then I lie down beside him. He takes my hand in his and weaves our fingers together. I love when he does that. Makes me feel special. “That was fantastic.”

“You aren’t disappointed that I didn’t swallow?”

“You gave amazing head and let me come on you. How in the world could I be disappointed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not experienced like the other women you’ve been with.”

“I like that your only experience has been with me. I want to keep it that way.”

He says he doesn’t want anyone else to have me. I might have an idea about what that means if I weren’t leaving in ten weeks. But I am leaving.

This is about sex. Hot sex. Not falling in love. Neither of us can afford to forget that.

Frankee and I stayed up until three in the morning. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. Not when she was wearing that sexy-as-fuck lingerie.

I’ve never seen anyone wear anything like that. Sure, I’ve watched porn and seen it on those women, but never on a real-life woman. And never one in my bed.

Frankee is like my very own porno princess.

I gave her six orgasms last night—one an hour. I’ve never done that before. Not that I don’t have the ability. I’ve just never been inclined to.

“Frankee.”

She doesn't stir. Not even a little. I shake her shoulder this time. “Frankee. Wake up, baby. I have to go.”

She rolls to her back and slowly opens her eyes. “Someone fucked me into next week. You'll have to check back with me when it comes around to see if I can wake up.”

“You don't have to get up, but I do have to go.”

“No. Don't go. Staaaay.” She has no idea how badly I want to.

At some point during the night, Frankee washed off her makeup, and I’m seeing her for the first time without cosmetics. It’s confirmed. She’s a natural beauty and doesn’t need that garbage on her face.

“I wish I could stay in this bed with you all day, but I promised Stout I'd help him move his stuff to his new house today. I was supposed to be there already, but I couldn’t bear to leave when you looked so beautiful in my bed.”

I already know he’s going to give me shit for being late.

“Wait a minute… before you go.”

Frankee dashes to the bathroom, still wearing her porno princess attire from last night. That is one convenient getup. I hope she has more of those.

She returns from the bathroom with her hair twisted into a topknot. I don’t know what it is that makes that so damn sexy.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and lowers herself to straddle me on the bed. “Kiss me before you go.”

Her mouth is minty. And hungry, based on the way she devours my mouth and neck. “Is this your plan for tempting me to stay?”

Her hands are working to undo the button and zipper on my jeans. “No. This is.”

I lift both of us from the bed and push my jeans down my thighs. “One more time, porno princess, and that’s it. I have to go.”

I grab a condom from the drawer and roll it on. “All set.”

She sinks down hard and groans when I’m balls deep inside her. She holds my shoulders and rides me, sliding her pussy up and down my cock. I’d love to feel her come around my cock one more time.

“Roll your pelvis forward when you come down.” I grasp her hips and guide her movements. “That’s it. Just like that.”

Once she has the hang of it, I move my hand between her legs and rub her clit.

“You are so good at that.”

She squeezes my shoulders and presses her forehead to mine. “Ohhh… yes, yes, yes.”

Her entire body quivers, and her pussy tightens around my cock. And it’s my undoing. “Fuck, yes.”

I buck, slamming my pelvis into Frankee’s, and her hold on me tightens. We are getting good at this coming together thing.

I grab her face and kiss her hard. “You have sucked me dry. I don’t think I have one sperm left in my body. Every single one of them is swimming in a latex balloon in the trash.”

“You’re tapping out?”

“I guess I am.”

“Such an old man.”

I palm her breast and pinch her nipple. “Do you have more of these getups?”

She shakes her head. “No. I could only afford one.”

“I’m going to leave you a credit card on the bar. Order more of these. All kinds. Buy enough of them to surprise me in a different one every day for the next two weeks. And order anything else you think we might need to try.”

“I’ll need to ship it here. I don’t want my parents intercepting any of it.”

“That’s a good idea.” Scott would kill me if he found out Frankee was wearing porno panties for me.

I smack her bare ass. “Up. I gotta go, baby.”

She rises and slides off my dick. “I’m going to be away for two days. Don’t forget our agreement. No other women.”

Frankee forgets that I’ve been playing the field for a long time. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’ve never found a woman half as desirable as her. “I don’t want anyone else as long as I have you.”

“Good answer.” She kisses my mouth one last time. “I’m going to shower before I go. Do I need to do anything special about locking up?”

“Don’t worry with the alarm. I’ll show you another time how to arm and disarm it.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you Monday then.”

I hate leaving her. I wish we could have the rest of the weekend together. But I also hate leaving things as they are without any kind of discussion concerning communication for the rest of the weekend.

The shower is already running when I go back into the bedroom. “Want to text me later?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Okay. Drive carefully. And remember our agreement. No other guys.”

“I’ll remember.”

I take out one of my credit cards and leave it beside her purse on the bar. I go to the drawer where I keep spare keys and grab one of the extras for the condo.

I scribble out a note for Frankee.

Porno Princess,

I had a wonderful time last night. And again this morning.

I’m already anxious for more. I’m eager to see what other kinds of surprises you choose for us.

I’m also leaving you a key to the condo. I think you’ll be needing it over the next several weeks.

Yours,

Magic Mouth

* * *

I find Stout in the dining room of his new house. “Well, I’m here, motherfucker. What do you need me to do?”

“I just love how you show up after I’ve already unloaded everything from the truck.”

I guess I am sort of a dick for showing up two hours late, but it was hard as fuck leaving Frankee. Harder than it should have been. “I was doing shit.”

“I know what kind of shit you’re doing—just not who you’re doing it with.”

Frankee and I must not be doing an awful job at keeping our relationship a secret if my own best friend hasn’t figured it out. “You don’t know anything.”

“Why so secretive? Is she fugly?”

No. That is one thing she is not.

I left a beautiful woman wearing porn-star panties to come over here and help his ass. Frankee and I could have spent all day in bed together. This better not be in vain. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need help getting my furniture out of my apartment.”

I can’t envision Stout’s bachelor pad furniture in this nice house. “Lawry’s letting you bring that junk over here?”

“My old stuff is going to her workshop so she can refinish it. Wants to give it life again.”

I suspected as such. Lawry wants to repurpose everything. Damn hippie. “How could I forget? Turn crappy into happy.”

I run my hand over a box labeled Brewster. Our first beer brewer. “Wow. I haven’t seen this in a long time.”

“Me either. Been boxed away for years.”

Brings back a ton of memories. A good kick-in-the-ass reminder about how far we’ve come and what we can accomplish together. “You should put it on display. Maybe down at the brewery if Lawry won’t let you do it here.”

“Not a bad idea. Like a where-it-all-began plaque.”

I move to the large window and pull back the curtain to see the surrounding neighbors. “This is very you.”

“The floral shit will be the first thing to go.”

The house will be cool when Stout and Lawry finish with it but right now it does looks like a grandma lives here. “I meant the house and quiet neighborhood. The privacy. Your own driveway. Garage. Workshop.”

I’d kill for a garage like his. I hate putting my Porsche in a rented storage building across town. Such a pain in the ass to have to work on it away from home. But that’s condo life.

“I’m hoping I can pick up my woodwork projects again.”

Woodwork projects. That sounds like something a husband does. Not a single guy who’s looking for a different girl to fuck every night. “The only thing you’re lacking now is the wife and kids to complete the full package.”

“I think I’ll just take the house for now.”

“Do you ever think about it? The full package?” I know he did once. He was going to ask that cheating bitch to marry him before he caught her in bed with another guy.

“I haven’t for a few years.”

“Right.” I guess you don’t think about that kind of stuff when you don’t have a woman that you’d consider sharing that kind of life with. I know I haven’t.

“There’s a house for sale two streets over if you’re considering giving up condo life.”

I wouldn’t mind leaving it behind and having a place like this. Maybe it’s something I’ll consider.

A pretty redhead coming toward Stout’s house catches my attention. “Well, that all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“If all the women in this neighborhood look like the one walking up your driveway right now. If that’s the case, house sold.” Stout suspects I’m sneaking around with someone. Maybe even in a secret relationship. I need to show him I’m still game, still noticing beautiful women.

“No idea. Haven’t met any of the neighbors.”

He moves to the window to see what I’m talking about. I can tell that he likes what he sees. “Looks like I have a visitor to receive.”

Stout moves toward the door but stops and looks at me when I don’t follow. “You comin’?”

I shake my head. “Nah. You go on. I’ll wait in the truck.”

“Wait in the truck?”

I admit it. I always try to beat Stout to the girl. But not this time.

“Who is she?”

I try my damnedest to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. “Already told you, dude. Nobody.”

“Damn liar.”

I chuckle because it’s killing him to know I have a secret fling happening. “That redhead’s your type. Go meet her. I’ll be in the truck when you’re done.”

“This conversation isn’t over.”

This conversation is over. “Whatever.”

“Gimme five.”

Stout is full of shit if he thinks he’s only going to give this woman five minutes of his time. “Got a Benjamin in my wallet that says I don’t see you for at least fifteen.”

“Sure. I’ll take that bet. I can always use an extra hundred bucks.” Stout can never resist one of my bets.

I hold up my phone. “I’ll even give you a whole minute to get out there and initiate the conversation before I start the timer.”

“You’re on, fucker. Get ready to pay up.”

It’s blazing hot in Stout’s truck, so I start the engine and air conditioning. I decide to pass the time by looking at Frankee’s pictures on Instagram, but her account is private. For shits and giggles, I send a request to follow. But mostly I want to see what kinds of pictures she posts.

Twenty minutes later, Stout finally comes to the truck. He opens his wallet and tosses a hundred-dollar bill at me. “She’s a hot-as-fuck, unmarried redhead and she bakes.”

“Sounds like you just found your dream woman.”

“I don’t know. Getting involved with a neighbor seems questionable. What happens if things go south?”

“I happen to love it when things go south.” I especially loved it last night.

“Think about how many times you’ve fucked a woman and then a few days later, she shows up at the brewery because she doesn’t know where you live.”

That has happened more than I care to admit. It’s gotten downright ugly a few times. I never asked either of them to do it, but Scott and Molly have spared me some shit by putting a stop to anyone getting beyond the office and warehouse entry door. I know they’ve done the same for Stout.

And now I’m fucking Scott’s daughter. What a way to repay the guy.

“I can see your point. May be best to leave that one alone.”

I know my best friend: he’s thinking it over, wondering if this one is worth the risk.

Sometimes it is.

Ava is standing at the apartment door waiting for me when I arrive. “Why are you so late getting here?”

Do I tell Ava and Dillyn I’m late because I didn’t crawl out of Porter’s bed until almost noon? “I have a good reason.”

“It’s only a good reason if it involves that fine-ass boss of yours.”

“It does.”

“Get your ass in here and tell us all about it.”

“Can I put my bag down first?”

Dillyn takes my bag from me and tosses it on the floor. “Bag is down. Now tell us everything about last night.”

I smile and the two of them burst into giggles.

“Look at her, Dillyn. She’s blushing.”

I’m sure I am. I feel the heat in my cheeks.

“That means it was good.”

I’ve been hearing about Ava’s and Dillyn’s sexcapades for three years. It feels strange to be the center of attention. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Duhhh… the beginning. We want to hear everything.” Dillyn is a details person. She wants to hear about every little thing.

“The first thing he did was take me to a tattoo studio. You aren’t going to believe this. He found my sketchbook and saw a drawing I had done of one of his tattoos. I had added some new design work to go with it and he had the tattoo artist do it. He put my design on his arm. A piece of me. On him. Permanently.”

“That’s some significant shit.” Ava means business when she uses the triple-S term.

“You really think so? I don’t want to make more of it than it really is.” That would be so embarrassing.

“Hell yeah, that’s significant. And special. He’s wearing you for the rest of his life. He’ll never be able to look at his arm and not think of you.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“See? He knows that putting your design on his body is a symbol of something important.”

But our relationship is so new. Why would he do that?

“What happened after the tattoo?”

“He took me to dinner… and then he took me to bed.”

Ava squeals. “How was it?”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that last night wasn’t the first time. We did it earlier this week.”

Dillyn’s mouth is gaping. “Whaaat? The last we heard was that he drove you home after the concert and kissed you. I can’t believe that you withheld this information from us all week.”

“I didn’t want to talk about my first sexual experience and what I thought about Porter’s dick on speakerphone.”

“Tell us everything.”

“You know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but oh my God… Porter is…” I struggle to come up with the right words. “…spectacular in bed.”

“Did he make you… you know? Happy?” Happy is Dillyn’s word for orgasm.

“He made me happy six times last night. And then again this morning.”

“I’m so fucking jealous. Do you know how many times I’ve had to reach down there and do it myself because the guy just couldn’t get it right?”

“I’ve been with guys who couldn’t make me happy if their life depended on it. I tried with one guy at least six times. He just didn’t have the talent for it.”

“I assure you that Porter has the talent. His mouth… it’s magic.”

“He doesn’t mind going down?”

“He loves it.” I grin when I recall all the things Porter has said to me about my lady bits.

“What’s that smile about?”

“He says he loves everything about my… P.” I can’t say pussy to my friends. I can barely say it to Mr. Filthy-mouth.

“You lucky bitch. You know all guys aren’t like that, right? They’re takers, not givers. They want to put their dicks in it until they’ve had their fill and that’s it.”

“I don’t have to worry about that with Porter. He is all about making me happy.”

“Gah, I wish I had a guy who was all about making me happy.”

“Question. Why the hell are you here instead of there with him?” Ava says.

I would never leave my girls hanging. “We made plans. Chicks before dicks, right?”

“No, no, no. You’re only partly right. It’s chicks before dicks… unless he licks.”

“Oh. I guess I failed to hear that last part.”

“Oh, sweetie. You need to go back to him and let him make you happy some more.”

“He knows I left town. He probably made plans.”

“Well, text him and find out.”

I guess it won’t hurt.

Frankee: Hey magic mouth. How’s the moving going?

Porter: I lucked out. Stout had already moved a bunch of stuff before I got here.

Frankee: Because I made you late. Was he mad?

Porter: Nah. Wouldn’t matter if he was. This morning was totally worth being late.

Frankee: Making big plans for tonight?

Porter: No. Probably have a few beers with Stout after we finish moving his furniture, and then I’ll go home.

Frankee: I was thinking about coming back. But I won’t if you’re planning on hanging out with Stout.

Porter: Come back.

Frankee: Ok. What time?

Porter: I should be free by 6:00.

Frankee: Ok. I’ll be at your place waiting.

Porter: Ok. See you soon.

“He wants me to come back at six.”

“Of course he wants you to come back.” A mischievous smile appears on Ava’s face. “And since you have a little time, we should go shopping at that adult store on Highway 82.”

Ava and Dillyn go to that place all the time, but I’ve never been. I didn’t see the need since I wasn’t having sex. “I think Porter would be okay with that; he gave me his credit card so I could buy more sexy-time stuff.”

“Did you hear that, Dillyn? She said more.”

“I ordered something naughty to wear last night, and he loved it. He wants me to buy more outfits like it… and also anything else we might need.”

Ava giggles. “You can definitely get whatever you need at that place plus some.”

“He has it bad for you if he handed over his credit card.”

I’m not sure that means he has it bad for me. I think it just means he likes to get freaky. “We’re just having sex, y’all. A little fun.”

“Says the girl who’s giving it up for the first time to the man she has fancied herself in love with since she was sixteen.” Dillyn really is a romantic at heart.

“None of that matters. We agreed on a little fun until I leave. That’s where it ends.”

“We’ll see, Miss he gave me his credit card so I could buy whatever we need.”

I haven’t even told them about the sweet things Porter does for me: bringing me coffee every morning, moving me into his office, taking me on the trip to Austin. And I’m not going to. I don’t want to hear them carry on about this relationship being more than what it really is.

There’s no room for false hope in my life.

Or in my heart.

* * *

“You guys know I’m lost when it comes to this stuff.”

“No worries. We’re going to help you get everything you need.” Ava grabs my hand and tugs me toward the back. “And I think we should start with lingerie.”

“That’s probably the best place to start since that’s what he specifically asked for. He said he wanted me to have a different outfit every day for two weeks.”

“Holy shit. You’re getting fourteen pieces of lingerie?”

I can see that Dillyn is impressed. “I guess. That’s what he said.”

“He plans to put it on your ass good.” Ava stops and looks at me. “Speaking of ass, does he like anal?”

“I have no idea.” I hope not.

“Then I guess we won’t be shopping for anal products today.”

“Nope. Not today or any other day.” I may be new to sex, but I don’t think I’ll ever be interested in doing that.

“Look at this. It’s super cute.” Dillyn holds up a cream lace romper. Quite a bit of coverage but totally see-through. “You need variety so it doesn’t all look alike and this would be something a little different. I could totally see you wearing this around his house.”

Dillyn is right. I can’t buy all crotchless panties and open-cup bras. “I like that. Let’s hold on to it.”

“You need something bright red. It’ll look good with your dark hair and light blue eyes.” Ava pulls out a lace and mesh teddy. “This is hot. And it’s crotchless, so you don’t have to take it off when you bow chicka wow wow.”

“I like it. Add it to the maybe pile.”

I have zero problems finding fourteen lingerie pieces. “Thanks for helping me find this stuff. All of it is so cute. I can’t wait to wear it for him.”

“I’m actually having a lot of fun picking this stuff out even if none of it is for me.”

“You don’t need to be buying something to wear while you’re getting busy with Chad Morris?”

Ava frowns. “We aren’t getting busy. Yet.”

“You need something for when you do.”

“Maybe. But this shopping trip is about you.”

Dillyn’s arms are full. “Let’s leave this stuff with the clerk up front while we finish looking around. We need to check out the battery-operated products next.”

“I have the real thing. I don’t think I need one of those.”

“Trust me. Every woman needs what I’m going to show you to go along with the real thing.”

Bullets. Lubes. Cock rings. A half-dozen things I can’t identify. Ava and Dillyn have made sure I have everything—and more—that I need for sexy time with Porter.

He’s probably going to think I’ve turned into some kind of nympho when he sees all of this.

I arrive at Porter’s condo at five and let myself in. I still can’t believe he left me a key.

I need to find out how much time I have until Porter comes home. I don’t want him walking in and spoiling any of the surprises I have for him.

Frankee: I’m back. Should I still expect you around 6:00?

Porter: Probably closer to 6:30. I made Stout come to the brewery and help me move your stuff into my office.

Frankee: How did you explain that one?

Porter: We’ll talk about it when I get home. See you soon.

Oh wow. I hope my moving into Porter’s office isn’t going to be a problem. His rationale is legit but that doesn’t mean people won’t talk and try to make something out of it.

I carry the sacks of goodies to the bedroom and spread each piece of lingerie on the bed so I can see them all at once. Last night’s attire was black so I think I should go with something different tonight. Something bright and fun.

I start from scratch getting ready for tonight. Shower. Makeup. Hair. The works.

I choose the hot pink peek-a-boo bra and garter panty set with matching G-string and lace top thigh-highs. The outfit is adorable with ruffled trim along the bra and garter but the shoes are the icing on the cake. Silver fuck-me pumps.

Last night’s outfit was porno-worthy. Tonight’s is naughty too but with a fun, flirty edge.

And I think the music should reflect that.

Frankee: Can you text when you’re on your way up? I want to be prepared when you get here.

Porter: Prepared for?

Frankee: Your surprise.

Porter: I love the fuck out of your surprises. Leaving the brewery now.

That means he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.

I’m dressed. I smell great. Hair and makeup are perfect.

I’m ready.

Porter: On my way up. Can’t wait to see what this is all about.

Frankee: You’ll find me in the bedroom.

Music Bluetoothing from my phone to Porter’s receiver—successful. ‘Red Light Special’ by TLC is the first song to play from the playlist when I hit play. Perfect.

I’m stretched across the bed, lying on my side, in what seems like a sexy pose. I hope I don’t look stupid.

I hear the door open and close, and my heart takes off in a gallop to race the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Porter is all smiles when he stops in the doorway and looks at me and the sexy-time accessories on the bed. “Damn, girl. What all did you get into today?”

“I did a little shopping at the adult store in Tuscaloosa.”

He picks up the blindfold lying next to me. “For you or me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I love that answer.”

He comes toward me, and I move to sit on the side. He stands between my legs and places his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face. “Frankee… I just don’t even know how to tell you how much I love all of this. Or how much I’m enjoying every little thing you’re doing. You blow my mind.”

“Good.” I reach for the fly of his jeans. “And now I’m going to blow something else.”

Frankee and me.

We fuck. We sleep. We wake. We fuck again. This time, from behind. I don’t hate anything about this routine that she and I are falling into.

It’s twelve o’clock and we’re still in bed. I’m sweaty and my chest and stomach are sticky against her back. But I don’t move. I enjoy being like this with her—postcoital and unmoving with my softening cock still inside her. “I could get used to doing this with you.”

She laces her fingers through mine. “You could, huh?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“I think I could get used to it too. Except I’m sure my parents would begin to wonder where I was sleeping every night.”

“It’s bad when you have all the freedom you want while you’re away at college, and then you come back home to Mommy and Daddy.”

“It wasn’t that bad until I started sneaking around with you. Now it sucks donkey dick.”

I chuckle and my cock slides out of her. “That’s one I’ve not heard in a while.”

She rolls toward me. “You know what else sucks donkey dick? I got all of those great lingerie pieces to wear for you and totally forgot I’ll be getting my period tomorrow.”

Periods… and planning around them. Not something I’ve ever had to deal with on a regular basis.

“Getting your period is better than not getting it.”

“I know but we just started having all of this fun and it’s like wah-wah.”

“It won’t last forever.”

“It’ll last through Thursday. That feels like forever.”

“You are aware that sex isn’t the only thing we can do for fun?”

“I know, but it’s new to me, and I sure was enjoying it.”

“How about I take you riding in the Porsche today?”

Her eyes widen. “Ooh. That sounds like fun. Does it go fast?”

“It’s a Porsche. What do you think?”

“I think I’ve never ridden in a Porsche, so I only know what I’ve heard.”

I smack her ass and squeeze it. “Let’s get up and shower. As much as I love being in bed together, I’d like to do other things with you today.”

We move to the shower, and I turn on the water while she grabs the towels and washcloths.

“Do you want to go out for lunch, or would you like me to cook for you?”

“You cook?”

“I’m not a chef, but I do pretty good.”

Damn, I love a woman who can cook.

We step into the shower and I can’t resist touching her skin as the water runs over it. “I haven’t been to the grocery store in a while. I’m not sure there’s anything in the kitchen.”

“Maybe we pick up some groceries and I’ll cook dinner for you?”

I’ve never had a woman who would cook for me. “I would love that.”

“What are you craving?”

I don’t even need time to think about it. “My favorite meal is when my mom cooks breakfast for dinner. Biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs and bacon. Do you know how to cook that?”

“Breakfast for dinner happens to be my specialty. We had that at least twice a week when I was growing up.”

“Do you know how to make homemade buttermilk biscuits?”

“Are there any other kind?”

Man, this is my kind of girl.

She’s lathering the shampoo in her hair and her tits are bouncing up and down. They’re soft and real. Not stiff-feeling implants. And I love watching them jiggle naturally.

“I haven’t had homemade biscuits and gravy like my mom’s in a long time. I will kiss the hell out of you if you cook that for me.”

“I’m guessing you’ll kiss the hell out of me anyway.”

“This is true.”

“I don’t know if mine will be like your mom’s, but I think my biscuits are tasty.”

“Thinking about my mom’s food is a reminder that I should get down there and see her.”

“How far is Mobile from here?”

“I can make it in under four hours if I don't stop.” It’s a shame I don’t make the trip more often.

“When is her next chemo?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You should go see her this coming weekend.”

“Even though it means we’ll miss one of our weekends together? We don’t have that many before you leave.”

“Of course, I’ll miss being with you, but you need to go see your mom. It’ll make her happy.”

I love that Frankee is thinking of my mother’s happiness. I’ve never been with a woman who took an interest in my family.

We swap places and I stand under the water to wash my hair and body. My eyes are closed as I shampoo but I feel Frankee’s hands gliding over my chest. “We’ll make up for our missed weekend during our trip to Austin. That’s only a couple weeks away.”

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself for four days. Completely worry-free about being seen together. We can hold hands in public. Hug. Touch. Even kiss if we want.”

“It’ll be nice. But we’ll need to be careful that we don’t get too used to it and slip up when we get back.”

I’ve never had to sneak around with anyone. I’m not a fan of it. “I’m an adult. You’re an adult. Would it be so bad if people knew?”

“We are adults, and seeing each other might be completely fine with everyone in our lives, but there’s a fifty-percent chance it won’t go over well with some. And I’d be very sad if my parents didn’t go along with it.”

“You’re right. I’d rather spend the next two months enjoying each other without catching hell about it.”

One month of her internship is already behind us. I don’t know where the time has gone.

Only two more months until Frankee leaves. These next sixty days are going to fly. I already feel it. And there’s nothing I can do to slow it.

All I can do is enjoy her while she’s mine.

* * *

“Oh, Porter. It’s beautiful.” Frankee glides her hand down the sleek hood.

It’s hard to believe the transformation this car has undergone in the short time I’ve owned her. “She hasn’t always been this stunning. Sophia was one ugly duckling the first time I saw her.”

Frankee giggles. “I believe she and I share that in common, which makes me like her even more. Who is she named after?”

“Sophia Loren.”

“Phew… I was afraid you were going to say your ex-girlfriend.”

“I’m smarter than that.”

I open the passenger door for her and she glides into the smooth black leather seat. “Feels like I’m sliding into a time warp.”

“You sort of are.”

I get in and start the engine. That hum still gives me a thrill every time I hear it. “She barely ran when I got her.”

“Sounds like someone abused Sophia.” Frankee slides her hand over the dashboard. “But you’ve done a great job restoring her.”

“Thanks.”

“What year did you say it was?”

“1963.”

Frankee takes her phone from her purse. “We need era music for our ride. Let’s see what the top songs from 1963 were.”

Her thumbs tap lightning fast on her phone’s screen. “Oh, this is perfect. You’re going to love it.”

She holds up her phone between us, and I immediately recognize ‘You’re the Devil in Disguise’ by Elvis Presley when she begins singing along. And I’ll be damned if she doesn’t know every word. “You know sixties music too?”

“I know all eras of music.” She leans over and holds a pretend microphone while singing the chorus.

“You look like you’ve done that a time or two.”

“We have no shame when it comes to singing and dancing in my house.”

“I can see that.”

We’re cruising down the interstate when song number two begins. “Here’s another one you should know.”

“I do.” I give her a sidelong glance.

“Name it.”

“‘You Really Got a Hold on Me’ by the Beatles.”

“Sing it with me.”

“I don’t sing, Frankee.” Never have. It’s not something we did in my house.

“You do when you’re with me in this time-warp car.”

She holds her pretend microphone to my mouth and belts out the lyrics. I give in and softly croon some of the words I know. The smile on Frankee’s face spreads ear-to-ear, and I see that it’s worth feeling like a fool just to see how happy it makes her.

“Good job, magic mouth.”

Frankee relaxes in her seat and we cruise—and hold hands—while listening to sixties songs.

“I’ve never driven a woman around in my Porsche.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t dated anyone since I bought her. I wouldn’t let just anyone ride in Sophia.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”

“We aren’t not dating.”

“Having sex doesn’t mean you’re dating. Eating meals together doesn’t mean you’re dating. Going to concerts together doesn’t mean you’re dating. But reaching out to hold my hand while we ride around… that means we’re dating.”

Funny how the simplest thing can be the most significant.

“Then it’s official. We’re dating.”

And we leave it at that. Nothing more to say.

* * *

Just enough milk. Just enough salt. Just enough pepper. Frankee’s sawmill gravy is nearly identical to my mom’s. And her biscuits are tall and light and airy with the perfect amount of sour from the buttermilk.

“Damn, girl. You acted like your cooking capabilities were mediocre. Baby, this isn’t mediocre. It’s exceptional.”

She shrugs. “We didn’t have the money to eat out when I was growing up. This is just everyday cooking to me. Nothing special.”

She doesn’t get it. “But it is special. I don’t get this kind of food unless I go home.”

“You don’t have to go home to get meals like this anymore. I’ll cook for you. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

I reach out and grasp her chin as I lean closer and pull her in for a soft kiss. “I know it’s nothing to you, but it’s very special to me. Feels like home.” Her cooking ain’t the only thing that feels like home.

“I’m happy I can do this for you. Are you finished?”

“As much as I hate to admit defeat, I can’t eat another bite.” Seems like such a shame to leave even a crumb.

“No need to gorge because you think you’re never getting this again. I’m happy to cook for you whenever you like. I enjoy it.”

It’s Sunday night. She’ll have to go home soon. “How long can you stay?”

“Two hours max.”

I come up from behind and wrap my arms around her, plucking the dish from her hands. “I’m going to take care of the cleaning.”

“If you’re cleaning then what am I doing?”

“You are going to the bedroom and putting on something sexy and waiting for me on the bed.”

“I can do that. Anything specific you’d like to see me in?”

Things have changed between us today. I’d like tonight to reflect that. “Wear something sweet. Skip the porno apparel this time.”

“I have a very sweet baby-doll set I think you’ll love.”

“Baby doll sounds perfect. And for the music, choose something slow and romantic. A song you consider perfect for making love.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Okay. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

I take my time cleaning the kitchen so Frankee will be ready when I come to her. I know she is when I hear the music. ‘Look What You've Done to Me’ by Boz Scaggs. One of the love songs from Urban Cowboy.

Movie’s older than her. Hell, movie’s older than me.

She’s standing beside the bed in a short but flowing white baby-doll gown. Damn. She looks like a sweet, innocent virgin on her wedding night.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes. You and that outfit and this music are exactly what I want.”

I go to her and tenderly pull her into my arms. I press several kisses to her lips, and we simultaneously open our mouths for our tongues to meet. It’s a familiar yet somehow new sensual waltz for the two.

We’ve shared a lot of kisses, but I want every one we share tonight to feel different. I want each one to tell Frankee how much I care for her. I want my touch to show her how much I adore her. I want my tenderness to whisper all the things I can’t say because I’m too afraid.

We move onto the bed and I feather kisses down her chin and throat. My mouth continues traveling lower and I pull the fabric of the gown down and both of her breasts are bared. I cup them and rub my thumbs over her rosy pink nipples before sucking one. Something between a moan and the sound of my name leaves her mouth as she laces her fingers through my hair.

I release her nipple and she grasps my shirt at my stomach and pushes it upward. I grab the neck and pull it over my head in one swift motion. Her hands explore my pecs and shoulders and biceps, stopping when she reaches her design on my arm. “You’re going to wear me right here on your body. Forever.”

“I am.”

My mouth glides lower down her belly and then to her hipbones. I kiss each of them and everything in between before I pull back the waistband of her panties to bury my nose inside. “Mmm, you always smell so good.”

Kneeling between her legs, I grasp the waistband of her panties and pull downward as she raises her hips. I drag them down her legs and toss them to the floor next to my shirt.

I place my palm on her chest between her breasts and slowly glide it down until I reach her stomach. It’s flat now, but it’ll grow one day with another man’s baby. I don’t like the way that makes me feel inside. Not even a little.

“What are you thinking?”

I move lower and kiss the inside of her right knee as I look at her eyes. “I’m thinking you’re beautiful and perfect, and I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you.”

I kiss her inner thigh and she arches her back, reaching overhead to grab the edge of the mattress. She knows what’s coming.

I flatten my tongue against her and lick straight up her center. One slow upward swipe. “Mmm.”

I slowly drag my tongue up the middle of her slit several more times. No fancy moves. Just licking her like an ice cream cone.

“Porter… that feels… sooo good.”

It isn’t going to take long to push her over the edge. I can tell by the increase in her breathing and rocking of her hips. And although I’m not in a hurry for her to come, I do want her to have a mind-blowing orgasm.

I stiffen my tongue and push it in and out of her against the upper wall, hopefully hitting that ultra-sensitive spot just inside her pussy. I’m certain I’m getting it right when I hear panting and feel her fist the top of my hair. “Oh God… Porter.”

Her body jolts, and I feel the shudder of contractions against my mouth. Her back arches off the bed and she pulls harder on my hair. Such a fucking turn-on to taste her sweet orgasm.

Her muscles relax, my cue that she’s in post-orgasmic bliss, and I work on taking off my remaining clothes. When I’m naked, I kiss my way up her body until I’m hovering above her.

I lower my body between her legs and her eyes lock with mine. “Frankee…” I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it doesn’t move.

She touches the side of my face. “What is it?”

I gather the words I want to say and even in my head it feels like I’m tripping over them. “I’m…”

She strokes her fingers down my cheek. “You’re what, Porter?”

Just say it. “I’m falling for you… so fucking hard.”

Her hand grasps the back of my neck and she pulls me down to kiss her. Our lips are still pressed together when she whispers, “I’m falling in love with you. I feel it happening a little more every time we’re together.”

She bends her knees and wraps them around me, pulling me against her. I’m nearly breathless when I press my erection against her slick opening—unsheathed, uncovered, unprotected—and wait for her answer.

She lifts her hips and pushes the head of my cock against her entrance, giving me the permission I seek. I slide inside her bare. Skin on skin. Nothing separating us. “Frankee…” I’m at a loss for words again.

Never felt anything like this.

I move slowly, so fucking slowly, savoring the full sensation of being bare inside her.

We’re heart-to-heart and our bodies feel like one. I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life. Ever. And I want this feeling to go on and on.

Despite trying to prolong our union, I feel the onset of my orgasm. “I’m getting close. I want to come inside you.”

Frankee tightens the hold of her legs around my body. I don’t think I could pull out if I tried. “Yes.”

“Uhhh…” I grip Frankee’s body tightly and thrust one final time. I spasm and empty myself inside her. But this isn’t only a physical act; it’s also symbolic. I’m filling her with all of the affection and fondness and passion I have for her.

With eyes closed, I press my forehead to hers. Neither of us says anything, but we don’t have to. Our silence does all of the talking for us.

Sex and fun. That’s what we chose to call this.

But this isn’t just sex. This isn’t us having a little fun before she moves to Austin.

We were wrong. So very wrong.

This is more.

A white chocolate mocha isn’t the only thing I find on my desk in my new workspace inside Porter’s office this morning. “Oh, look at that. Someone left an arrangement of flowers on my desk. Since you beat me here, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen who that was, would you?”

“I think it was that guy you’re dating.”

“You mean the one I shared an amazing weekend with?”

“I believe that’s the one. But there’s a card. Maybe you should read it to find out.”

I break the seal on the envelope and take out the white rectangle.

I fall a little more every time we’re together.

—WPB

I can’t not smile when I read Porter’s use of my words last night when I told him I was falling in love with him. “What does the W stand for?” I should definitely know the full name of the man I’m falling in love with.

“William.”

I want so badly to go to him but it’s too risky. “Well, Mr. William Porter Beckman, thank you for the flowers and the coffee and the wonderful weekend. I’ll show you some proper appreciation later.”

“You’re quite welcome, Miss Frances Ameline Dawson. And I look forward to your proper appreciation.”

I put the card inside my purse instead of returning it to the envelope. “It’s inevitable that I’ll be asked about the flowers today. What should I tell people?”

“Say whatever you like.”

“Okay. What would my very handsome, sexy, insatiable boss like me to do today?”

“There are so many ways I could answer that question.”

I’m not the only one who has thought about all the things we could do in here behind a closed door.

“Rephrase. What kind of graphic design and marketing would you like me to do today?”

Porter sits on the corner of my desk. “How far did you get on the merchandise?”

“Maybe halfway.”

“I want to see what you’ve done so far.”

Porter has already fired up my computer so I navigate to the merchandise folder. “I came up with another idea when I was lying in bed last night.”

“Me too. That we’d have lunch at my place today.”

“Silly boy. Did you forget what I told you about my period starting today?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

I stop navigating through the folders and look at him to see if he’s serious about what I think he’s suggesting. “Are you into that?”

“I don’t know. Never tried it.”

He doesn’t look repulsed. “Are you wanting to try it?”

“Are you wanting to try it?”

“I asked you first.”

“Well, when I said that we’d have lunch at my place, I meant we’d pick up food and actually eat lunch together. But then you brought up having period sex.”

“I brought it up… and now I’m dropping it.” I open my girly T-shirt designs first. “Ladies cut.”

Porter moves off the corner of my desk and stands behind me, leaning over my shoulder. He’s not touching me but his body calls out to mine. My attraction to him is insane.

“Those are cool.”

“There you are.”

Why does my dad walk in every time Porter gets near me? “Oh, hey Dad.”

“What’s going on? Why is your desk in here?”

I say nothing, waiting for Porter to take the wheel on this one.

“The separation was making it impossible for me to give Frankee the supervision she needs. I’ve been very pleased with her work and would like to give her some additional responsibilities. But I felt it wasn’t the right thing to do unless I was readily available to guide her.”

Oh damn. He’s good.

“I know Frankee’s learning a lot being under you.”

It’s easy to learn when you stay under your boss as much as I do.

I look up at Porter. “It’s unreal how much I’ve learned being under Mr. Beckman.”

My dad’s brow wrinkles. “Are these flowers for you?”

“They’re from me. Just a token of my appreciation for a job well done her first month at Lovibond. She has lifted a lot of burden from my shoulders, so I’m free to work on other things that need my attention.”

“I’m proud that Frankee being here is working out for you. I just wish this wasn’t temporary. I don’t want my little girl moving to Austin.”

I thought my dad might come around about my move. He hasn’t. “Daddy… you act like I’m moving to the other side of the world.”

“You might as well be. But that’s not a conversation for us to have here and now. I’ve gotta clock in and get to work.”

I wait until my dad is gone to look at Porter. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re as smooth as Ex-Lax?”

He chuckles. “You’re comparing me to shit? The man who eats your pussy? And fucks you into oblivion? And gives you mind-blowing orgasms?”

“And makes sweet, passionate love to me after telling me he’s falling for me. Don’t forget that one.”

Porter looks at his office door and then grasps my chin and quickly kisses my mouth. “Yes. That, too.”

Last night was different. It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t fucking.

We made love.

And we didn’t talk about it afterward. I’m glad; I think words would have ruined that special moment.

Porter simply held me in his arms until I had to go home. And every second was perfect.

He releases my chin. “I liked the way things went last night.”

“I liked it too. And I’d like more nights like that.”

“That can be arranged.”

* * *

Secret embraces. Stolen kisses. Whispered conversations. That’s my daily routine with Porter.

I love my workspace being inside his office. Even when we’re working and not talking, we’re still together. I get to steal glances at his handsome face and hot, muscular body whenever I like.

You’d be surprised how close you become when you spend every day with a person.

Porter hasn’t been in the office much today, so I’m happy when he returns after being gone. “You look pleased.”

“I am. We finally worked out the problem with the sweet potato cream stout. A batch is being bottled as we speak.”

“That’s great. I know you’re glad to have that worry off your mind.”

“That’s one of my worries off my mind.”

“Did you talk to your mom?”

“I did. She said she feels okay. Just tired.”

Her second chemo was two days ago. “That’s to be expected. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. Did you tell her you were coming to visit?”

Porter has been feeling so much guilt about not being there for his mom as she goes through her treatments. I’m glad he’s going to see her.

“I did and she’s very happy. Sounded like it really lifted her spirits.”

“I know it did. I’m sure she misses her baby boy.”

“She wants me to bring you.”

Wow. I in no way had expected that. “Really?”

“Yeah. She enjoyed talking with you and would love for you to come home with me.”

“Is that what you want?” I don’t want him to take me if he’s only doing it for his mother.

“I would love to take you home to meet my family.”

“When would you want to leave?”

“Mom wants us to eat dinner with them so I’d like to leave Birmingham by two.”

“And we’ll come back late Sunday?”

“Not too late. I always try to be back by six.”

Looks like I’ll be using Tuscaloosa as an alibi again. “I think I can do that.”

“Do you have another sweet lingerie set you can pack?”

“You want to have sex at your parents’ house?” Hmm. I don’t know about that. Seems disrespectful. Especially with this being my first visit. I sure don’t want them to think I’m a slut.

“Yes. Tomorrow will make five days since I’ve had you. I’m horny as fuck.”

I’ve never gone home with a man to his parents’ house. I don’t know how this works. “What will the sleeping arrangements be?”

“We’ll sleep in my old bedroom.”

I’m the one with the young parents but there’s no way they would let a guy sleep in my bed with me. “Your mom and dad will be okay with that?”

“I’m thirty years old. They don’t care if my girlfriend sleeps with me in my bed.”

Oh, swoon. “You just called me your girlfriend.”

“You enjoy putting labels on us.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who just labeled me your girlfriend.”

“We’re dating. To me, that makes you my girlfriend.”

“Then I’m your girlfriend.”

“Damn right, you are.”

* * *

We made it onto the road by two o’clock but Friday evening traffic was horrid. We somehow managed to end up making decent time nonetheless. Probably because Porter drove like a bat out of hell on the stretches of interstate.

We pull into the drive of an older-style home that has undergone a major remodeling. “This house looks like the finished product on an episode of Fixer Upper.”

“My parents did a lot of work on it a few years ago. Looks nothing like it did when I grew up here.”

Painted brick. Stone accents. Cedar beams. It’s a cozy-looking ranch style. “I love it.”

Porter has already told me that his parents are older and were well established when he was a child. That made me so afraid that we were going to pull up to some kind of enormous mansion, and I was immediately going to feel out of my element. Not the case at all.

The front door opens before we make it there, and Porter’s mom stands in the doorway waiting for us. She’s an attractive woman. Minimal wrinkles. Fair-haired. Warm caramel eyes, the same color as her son’s. I already know she’s in her sixties but I would have guessed much younger. Time has been kind to Mrs. Beckman.

Porter hugs his mom. “How are you feeling?

“A little tired but I’m okay.” She releases him and takes my hands in hers. “You must be Frankee.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Beckman.”

“I want you to call me Kit.”

“I can do that.”

A huge smile spreads across her face, and she squeezes my hands. “You are just as pretty as you are kind.”

What a lovely compliment to give to someone. “Thank you.”

“Come in and drop your bags in your bedroom. Dinner is ready, and everyone is champing at the bit to eat.”

“Everyone?”

“Oh, it’s just Porter’s dad, our other son and his wife, and our daughter and her husband, and their two boys.” Lots of ands in that list of people.

I follow Porter down the hall to his bedroom. “Sounds like the whole family is here to see you.”

He chuckles. “Not to see me. They’re here to meet the first girl I’ve brought home in a long time.”

“How long?”

“At least seven years. No… I was probably a sophomore in college so more like ten.”

That’s a reminder of our age gap. “Sheez, Porter. I would have been eleven years old then.”

“I haven’t given our age difference a lot of thought, but that shines a whole different light on it when you put it like that. I’m a fucking cradle robber.”

“What’s a fucking cradle robber?”

We turn at the sound of a child’s voice, and two of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen are standing in the doorway. Those must be his sister’s children.

Porter uses his finger to summon them into the bedroom. “Come here, you little hell-raisers.”

They run into the room and hug their uncle’s legs. “Boys, this is Frankee. She’s my special friend, and I want you to be nice to her. Can you do that for me?”

His nephews simultaneously nod. So sweet.

Porter taps the taller boy on the head. “This is Bennett. He’s six, and this little monkey is Callan. He’s four.”

“Very nice to meet you.”

“What’s a fucking cradle robber?” Bennett asks a second time.

Porter chuckles. “Those are grown-up words. I shouldn’t have said them for little ears to hear.”

“But what is it?”

“Don’t worry about what it is.” He playfully swats Bennett on his bottom. “Go on to the table and tell everyone we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Vroom vroom vroom.” The boys take off like a pair of cars racing away.

“They’re so cute.”

“Don’t let the cuteness fool you. They’re total hell-raisers. My sister has her hands full with those two.”

“I’m no stranger to a pair of cute, but mean-ass boys. Finch and Fowler have been raising hell for eighteen years.” And they’re nowhere near done. They just raise a different kind of hell now.

“I haven’t been around your brothers much. Your dad didn’t bring them to the brewery very often.”

“Probably because he was afraid they’d torch the place while they were there. They’re bad, Porter. Sooo bad.”

“I think all boys their age are.”

I think Finch and Fowler are a special kind of trouble. “They’re worse than most. I think it’s because they’re twins and they grew up competing for everything. Whoever acted worse won the attention, and it has carried over into adulthood.”

“They’ll be okay.”

“I’m so afraid they’re going to do something stupid like get kicked out of school or knock up some girl during a one-night stand.”

“I bet they’re smarter than you give them credit for.”

He hasn’t been around them. “Believe me. They’re not.”

“Well, if they screw up, they screw up. You can’t make those decisions for them.”

“I know. But I can’t help but worry. They’re my little brothers.”

“You’re a great big sister. “He presses a kiss on the top of my head. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting to meet you and I’m starving.”

Porter begins the introductions with his dad, Gabe. He’s attractive for a man in his sixties. Tall and fit. Although his eyes are bright blue and Porter’s are light brown and gold, I see similarities between the two. Both are almond shaped with a slight slant on the outer edge. I hadn’t noticed that about Porter until seeing his dad.

His older brother and his wife are next. Cade is shorter, not as muscular, and has a little gray at his temples. Definitely handsome. The brothers share a lot of the same facial features. I can’t stop looking back and forth between the two comparing the similarities and differences. It’s a little strange looking at the face of a man who looks so much like Porter.

His sister-in-law, Bethany, is cute as a bug. I have a feeling her face is a little fuller than usual based on the size of her round belly. “And this is baby Beckman. Due to make his or her debut in four weeks.”

“You didn’t find out what you’re having?”

“No, I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, fun. I don’t think I would want to find out what I was having either.”

Porter introduces his sister and her husband, Clay, last. Alexis is a small female version of Porter and Cade except she got their dad’s blue eyes. Like me, she’s the only daughter and obviously, daddy’s girl. Within a matter of minutes, I can tell that she and the boys are the center of her husband’s world.

“These are our boys, Bennett and Callan.”

“I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting them. And they are adorable.”

“Thank you. We think they’re pretty cute.”

Everyone goes to their chair around the table for ten, but I hang back, waiting for a leftover seat. Porter slips his hand into mine and tugs. “Come on. We’re on that side at the end.”

There’s not an empty seat. Reminds me of lunch around my grand’s table.

I smile when I see we’re having breakfast for dinner. Somebody’s mama cooked his favorite meal.

“I hope you don’t mind having breakfast for dinner, Frankee. It’s something we do around here a lot.”

“We do it at my house too. It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Serving bowls and plates pass counterclockwise around the table. Biscuits. Sawmill gravy. Chocolate gravy. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Pancakes. Hash browns.

The works.

Mrs. Beckman—Kit—went all out. Cracker Barrel has nothing on this woman’s dinner table.

“Porter, how did you and Frankee meet?”

“Her father came to work for Lovibond when we opened the doors. He’s our warehouse manager.”

“You’ve known each other for years and it just now struck you to be interested in one another?”

“Prior to her walking into my office for an interview, we hadn’t seen each other in three years.”

Kit laughs. “I’m guessing you gave her the job.”

“It’s actually an internship. But yes, I gave her the position.”

“What kind of internship?”

“She’s a graphic designer with a minor in marketing. She’s helping out in my department for the summer.”

“What does your dad think of you dating the boss?”

Shit. Porter’s sister could have asked me anything in the world. Any. Damn. Thing. And she asks me that?

“My dad’s very fond of Porter.” It’s not an answer to his sister’s question, but it’s also not a lie.

“What is a fucking cradle robber?” Bennett asks, wearing a mischievous grin as he looks at Porter and me. Little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

Alexis gasps. “Bennett! Where did you hear that?”

“Uncle Porter. I heard him tell Frankee that he’s a fucking cradle robber.”

Alexis narrows her eyes at her brother. “You know you can’t say those words in front of him. He repeats everything.”

“I know and I wouldn’t have if I’d known he and Callan were standing there listening.”

“Callan heard you say that too?” Alexis sighs. “Boys, that is a bad word and we don’t say it.”

“Uncle Porter said it.”

“Well, he’s in big trouble with me, and you will be too if I hear you say that word again. Do you understand?”

Bennett nods and picks up a piece of bacon. No shits given that he just outed his uncle as a fucking cradle robber in front of the entire family.

But I don’t think Porter gives a shit either. He doesn’t appear to be worried about it, so I guess I’m not either.

“Nana, can I spend the night?”

“I don’t mind if it’s okay with your mom and dad. But you know that means Callan stays too.”

“Can we, Mama?”

“I guess so. But you have to be good for Nana. She gets tired a lot easier now.”

Bennett smiles. “Me and Callan will be good.”

I’ve seen that shit-eating grin a million times in my little brothers. This kid has zero intentions of being good.

“I assume this is not how this bedroom looked when you grew up here.”

“Definitely not.” I point to my former wall of women. “This whole wall was covered in posters of sports cars… with near naked girls lying on the hoods.”

Frankee shakes her head. “Sounds about right.”

“My bed was against that wall… and I had nudie mags shoved between the mattresses. I’d take them out at night after everyone was in bed, and I’d jerk off while I looked at them.”

She giggles. “Ah, back in the olden days before everyone could watch porn on a smartphone.”

“What can I say? I am an old-ass cradle robber.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe your nephew ratted you out at dinner.”

“I can. I told you not to be fooled by the cuteness. Those boys are mean little shits.”

“I believe you.”

I go to our shared overnight bag and take out a pair of sleep pants and my toothbrush. “Do you want in the bathroom first?”

“No. You’re quicker than me.”

“Did you bring something sweet to wear like I asked?”

“Yes.”

Fuck yeah. I can’t wait to get inside her. “I’ll be fast.”

I’m in and out quickly; I don’t want to delay Frankee being underneath me.

She comes out of the bathroom wearing a ballerina pink gown and matching robe. It’s sweet and romantic and tame. Just what I wanted to see her wear tonight.

“What do you think?”

I’m sitting on the side of the bed, and I hold out my arms for her to come to me. “Me likey very much.”

She stands between my legs and I push the robe off her shoulders, causing it to become a puddle on the floor. I lean forward and inhale deeply as I place a kiss between her tits. She has her very own fragrance. No other woman on this earth smells like Frankee.

“Did you lock the door?”

“I did.”

I grasp the backs of her thighs beneath her gown and glide my hands upward until I reach her ass, squeezing her cheeks. “No panties?”

“I didn’t see the need for them.”

“Good call.”

I tug the fabric of her gown down and suck one of her rosy pink nipples into my mouth. She pushes her fingers into my hair and pulls me closer as she arches her back and drops her head.

“I want you in this bed with me.” I stand and toss the comforter out of our way. “Come here. I want you beneath me right now.”

Frankee lies on her back, and her dark hair spills all around her. I lower myself on top of her, bringing our mouths together. Our kiss is slow and soft. “I swear I could kiss you all night long and be happy.”

“Maybe so but that’s not why I came to bed without panties.”

“I know exactly why you came to bed without panties. You want some magic.”

“After five days without any, I would not turn down some magic.”

I push her gown up and kiss the top of her pubic bone. I hear her panting as I inch my mouth closer to the spot where she wants it—where she needs it most. Her legs are trembling when I push them apart. I press my nose against the top of her slit and inhale deeply. “I’ll never get enough of this sweet smell.”

My mouth is hovering between her legs, but I don’t lick her. Not yet. I want her to feel my warm breath there. I want the anticipation to make her writhe. And she does.

She lifts her hips so her pussy rubs my mouth. “Come on. Don’t tease me.”

I butterfly kiss her drenching wet center before sliding my tongue up the middle. Her breathing increases as she rocks her pussy up and down my mouth. “That’s so good, Porter. So good.”

I flatten my tongue against her and slowly lick her core up and down because I know how much she loves that. She rocks her pelvis harder, and I slide two fingers inside to rub her inner vagina. “I’m so close.”

I stop licking and suck her clit. Frankee fists my hair and lifts her hips to thrust her pussy harder against my face. “Ohh… ohh. That’s it. Right there.”

She goes limp and releases my hair. Her breathing deepens and slows, a contrast to the panting a moment ago.

I lick her once more to collect the last taste of her orgasm before I crawl up her body. When we’re face-to-face, she grasps my chin and kisses me hard. “I have missed that.”

“Me too.”

I push my sleep pants down my legs and settle between Frankee’s thighs. She brings them up and parts them wide for me to get closer. I’m hard and ready against her drenched entrance when she lifts her hips and coaxes my tip inside. My girl rocks her hips, and it’s all the invitation I need. I slide my remaining length into her until I’m as deep as I can be in this position.

I guess this means we’re done with condoms. Fine by me if we never use them again.

I’m sliding in and out of Frankee, and the headboard hits the wall with every thrust. “We’re being too loud. Your parents are going to hear us.”

I trail kisses up her neck until my mouth hovers over her ear. “I don’t care.”

“I do.” Her hands leave my back and she runs her fingers through my hair. Her nails gently scrape my scalp and goosebumps form all over my body. “I don’t want them to know we’re doing it.”

I slow my thrusts and the headboard behaves. “Better?”

“Much.”

My hands find hers and I bring them above her head where I lace our fingers together. She opens her eyes, and they watch mine as I move above her. I want to tell her how she makes me feel, but I’m so close to coming. Right there on the edge. I don’t think I can talk right now.

“RAAAWR!”

“Rawr.”

Bennett’s roar comes first and Callan’s is a soft echo of his brother’s.

Little. Fuckers.

Frankee and I both jolt—and she screams—from the shock of hearing and seeing Bennett and Callan next to my bed like a pair of little sociopaths.

Bennett bursts into laughter and Callan imitates his brother. “I got you good, Uncle Porter.”

I scramble to find my sleep pants under the covers and yank them on. “Boys, you’re in so much trouble.”

“Porter. What happened?” my mom asks from the hallway while knocking on the door.

I march to the door, open it, and point at Bennett and Callan. “They happened.”

“What did they do?”

“They were hiding in my room and jumped out to scare us.”

“I scared him good, Nana. Porter was on top of Frankee doing this.” Bennett does a stellar job of thrusting his pelvis to demonstrate what he saw me doing to her. “He looked like Casper when he’s humping somebody’s leg. But he stopped when I said RAAAWR because I scared him so bad.”

“I bet you did, Benny.” My mom chuckles and uses Bennett’s shoulders to steer him toward the door. “Okay, boys. Out of Uncle Porter’s room. He and Frankee had a long drive this evening. They need their rest.”

Bennett and Callan take off like a pair of bats out of hell. “They did the same thing to Gabe and me about a month ago. We thought they were in bed but they were hiding in our closet. Scared the shit out of me. I swatted their little asses good.”

“Apparently not good enough. Alexis has got to do something with them, Mom. They’re only six and four, and they’re out of control.”

“I’ve told her she and Clay have a problem on their hands, and it’s only going to get worse as the boys get older. They think they know more than I do about raising children.”

“Discipline now or visit them in jail later. Her choice.” I’m not a parent but I strongly believe that discipline is necessary for any person to become a contributing member of society.

“Don’t say that to her. She will go ballistic.”

I love my nephews but they sometimes make it very difficult to like them. And that’s unfortunate.

“Goodnight.” Mom winks and leans in for a kiss. I turn my face so she kisses my cheek rather than my mouth. “Carry on.”

I shut the door when she’s gone and lock it. Again.

Frankee pulls the sheet over her face and groans. “Oh my God. That was the single most humiliating moment of my life. I’m not even kidding. I sleep farted in class when I was in the tenth grade, and it wasn’t that embarrassing. I want this bed to open up and swallow me.”

I slide under the covers, so we’re both under the sheet. “It’s okay. We’re dating. My mom isn’t surprised to find out we’re having sex.”

“She might expect us to have sex but probably not when I’m a guest in her house. She probably thinks I’m a big ole slut.”

“I promise you she does not think you’re a slut. She likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know my mom. And because she winked at me when she kissed me goodnight and told me to carry on. She wouldn’t have said that if she was mad or upset.”

Frankee throws the covers back. “Your nephews heard me orgasm. That’s sickening.”

“Well, at least you got to come. That fucking RAAWR in my ear put an end to me getting off. My cock went down like a deflating balloon. And I was so close too. Right on the edge.” Those kids are like a double dose of limp dick.

“I’d offer to finish you off but I’m done. Your nephews are mood killers.”

“It’s okay. The little cock blockers killed it for me too. I’d probably have flashbacks of the RAAWR if I tried to get it up again.”

She rolls onto her side, and I drape my arm over her body when she backs up and nestles against me. “This is enough for me, baby. Just holding you.”

I think I could stay this way with her forever.

“I’m glad you got to meet me while I still have my hair. While I still look like some semblance of myself.”

Kit has a beautiful headful of blond hair. It’s a shame she’s going to lose it. “Have you decided to cut it or wait and see what happens?”

“I don’t know. What did your mom do?”

That day is still fresh in my mind. “She chose to cut hers. She felt like the transition from long hair to no hair would be less abrupt if she went short first. And it was more practical to lose short hair rather than chunks of long. And let me tell you, she went down to the salon and had them style it into the sassiest little pixie cut I’ve ever seen. It was adorable. When her hair grew back, she chose to keep the pixie cut rather than let it grow long again. It looks great on her.”

“I’m already seeing a little come out. When should I expect the rest to fall out?”

It’s been almost two weeks since her first treatment. “It’s different for everyone but probably later this week. Maybe early next week.”

Kit stares into her coffee cup. “It’s inevitable. I should just do it.”

“Only when you’re ready.”

“I don’t have any other choice but to be ready. If I can get an appointment today, will you go to the salon with me?”

“Absolutely.”

Porter comes into the kitchen, still wearing last night’s sleep pants but he’s added a T-shirt to his attire. His hair resembles a rooster’s comb the way it’s sticking up in every direction.

He comes up behind me and grasps the sides of my face, planting a kiss on the top of my head, bringing a broad smile to Kit’s face. “What’s wrong with you? You never get up before me.”

Well, if Kit didn’t know we spend the night together, she does now.

“I don’t know. I woke up at six and smelled coffee, so I got up.”

Porter goes to the coffee maker and pours a cup. “You probably couldn’t sleep because you were having nightmares about those two little shits popping out from under the bed like a scene from a Stephen King movie. I ought to go into their bedroom and roar at their asses this morning.”

“Don’t you dare. Frankee and I are enjoying our coffee and our conversation. The peace and quiet will come to an abrupt halt when they get up.”

“What time is Alexis coming to get them?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not putting up with them showing their asses today. They can behave or she can come get them and take them home to act like heathens.” One thing’s clear. He isn’t a fan of children misbehaving.

“Porter…”

“I’m not kidding, Mom. We came to spend time with you. Not babysit Alexis’s kids so she and Clay can take it easy.”

“She’s going to need to come get them early because Frankee and I have plans for today. We’re going to the salon. She’s going to help me choose a haircut.”

“You’re going to cut all of it off?”

“Most of it.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“My hair is going to fall out soon—either this week or the next. It’s better to cut it before it starts. This way, I can get a cute haircut and at least feel good about myself for a little while.”

“I’ve never seen you with short hair.”

Fear. Sadness. Concern. Porter’s expression is a mix of all three. Kit doesn’t need to see that. Not when she’s working toward being in a positive place.

I lift my brows and nod at Porter. “Your mom’s gonna look sassy with a pixie cut. It’ll be cute.”

He forces a smile. “Better not get too sassy.”

The news of Kit’s cancer is still fresh for Porter. It’s understandable that he doesn’t know how to handle these issues in the most positive way for her. There isn’t a guidebook for how to deal with cancer. But I’m going to be by his side—doing whatever I can—every step of the way.

* * *

The hairdresser applies a little pomade throughout the top of Kit’s hair and makes it spike at the crown. “What do you think?”

Kit inhales deeply and releases her breath slowly. She smiles when she reaches up to touch her short locks but her pleasant expression doesn’t mask the sadness in her eyes. “I like it.”

I don’t know Kit so I can’t tell if she really does, or she’s just saying that.

“It’s spunky. I love it.”

“Well, I have always been a little spunky, so I guess it fits me.”

We leave the salon and she pulls down the sun visor and inspects her hair in the mirror. “I’m sixty-two years old. You’d think I’d be over caring so much about my appearance.”

“A woman should always care about her appearance, no matter her age.”

“Gabe likes my hair long. That’s why I’ve never cut it above my chin.”

Gabe and Kit have been married a long time. It’s sweet that she still wants him to find her attractive.

“My dad liked my mom’s hair long too, but I think he prefers it short now.”

“How old is your mom?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Thirty-eight? How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

She chuckles. “Well, I guess Porter is a cradle robber. How old did that make you when you met him?”

“I was sixteen.”

“And he was twenty-five. That shit-ass wasn’t robbing the cradle back then, was he?”

I love hearing her call him shit-ass. “Absolutely not. I had a huge crush on him, but that’s as far as it went.”

“You’ve liked Porter for a long time.”

“Five years.” Almost a quarter of my life.

“He looks happy with you. I’m glad you’re back in his life.”

“Me too.”

“He said you were an intern. What does that mean exactly?”

“I’m only working at Lovibond for three months.”

“Well, I don’t guess you have to be Porter’s employee in order to continue your relationship.”

No. But I do have to be in his life. And I won’t be after September.

No need to keep the truth from Kit. “I’m moving to Texas after my internship ends at Lovibond.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m sure Porter is too. I can tell that he likes you. A lot.”

“I like him too. A little more every day.”

“Texas isn’t going anywhere. Maybe you should stay in Birmingham and see what happens.”

“Porter hasn’t expressed an interest in me staying.”

“It’s not September yet.”

“No. It’s not.”

Staying. Is that something I’d consider? Giving up the life and plans I’ve made with my best friends for the guy I’ve been sleeping with? For the guy I’m falling in love with.

I’m not sure.

But my gut tells me I’ll be heartbroken if he lets me walk away.

Kit closes the visor. “Well, are we ready to see everyone’s reaction to this hair?”

“I know I am.”

Porter wasn’t happy about his mom’s decision to cut her hair but that’s because he doesn’t comprehend what’s going to happen in the upcoming weeks. That’s something he and I need to talk about, so he’ll know what to expect. Especially since he won’t be there with his mom. I think it’ll help him feel better connected if he has an understanding of what she’s facing.

Frankee: We’re on the way home. It’s short but she’s ok w/ it.

Porter: Did she cry when they cut it off?

Frankee: She looked sad, but she didn’t cry.

Frankee: Don’t worry. She’s going to be ok.

Frankee: And you’re going to be ok.

Frankee: Don’t act sad when you see it. Even if you are.

Frankee: She needs to see you be ok with it.

Frankee: It’ll be an easier transition for her if you seem all right with the change.

Porter: I can do that for her.

Frankee: I know you can. XO

I feel Kit’s apprehension when we enter the house. Even if I couldn’t sense it, her uneasiness becomes tangible when she takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

“No worries. They’re going to love it.”

“And if they don’t, it’s going to be gone soon enough anyway.”

I’m a bit on edge myself. I did what I could to prepare Porter but seeing his mom for the first time in his entire life without her long hair is going to be a shock for him.

I went to the salon with my mom, and I remember that moment when they spun her around in the chair. Can’t lie. It was when my brain registered that my mom had cancer, and it was real and it was happening. No more denial.

Gabe. I don’t know him at all. I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing his wife’s hair gone, but I hope he has the same grace my dad had.

Porter and Gabe are in the living room watching television. “Well…” Kit touches her hair as they turn to look at her. “It’s gone.”

The lines that were on Porter’s forehead earlier are gone. And I know he’s going to be okay. “I like it.”

Gabe holds out his arms. “Come here.”

Kit goes to him, and he pulls her onto his lap. He puts his mouth to her ear and whispers something that brings a huge smile to her face. “Gabe Beckman…”

I guess that means he likes it.

Porter gets up and tugs on my hand, my cue to follow him to his bedroom. “They look like they need a minute. Could I talk you into taking a ride with me on the four-wheeler?”

My family rides four-wheelers all the time. “Sure.”

“We should probably put on old clothes. I’ve been known to hit a mudhole or two.”

“I didn’t bring anything old.”

“You can put on something of mine.”

I look like a freaking homeless person when we walk out the door. “I hope we don’t run into anybody. They’ll offer to take me down to the local soup kitchen.”

“You look fine. But doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not going to see anyone where we’re going.”

“Which is where?”

“Into the woods.”

I put on the helmet Porter gives me and climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Better hold on tightly. I like it rough.”

“I’ve ridden with my brothers. You don’t scare me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Porter is a fucking speed demon. A daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. He hit every mudhole he saw and jumped every hill in sight. My brothers have nothing on his ass.

He stops the four-wheeler and turns off the engine. “I think this will be just fine.”

“For what?”

He chuckles. “Checking you for ticks. Come sit in front of me.”

I put my foot on the ground and swing my leg over to swap places with Porter.

“No. Sit the other way so you’re facing me.”

Oh. I see where he’s going with this. “You want to make out?”

“I want to do way more than make out.”

For real? He wants to fuck out here in the woods on this four-wheeler? “You must truly think you don’t have a shot with me later tonight.”

“I could tell that you didn’t feel comfortable doing it in my parents’ house last night.”

“It’s just a little weird to me. Feels disrespectful because I don’t know them at all.”

“Got it. It’s okay. But I’m really horny. There’s no way I can hold out until Sunday night.”

“I won’t make you hold out.” I push down the shorts and panties I’m wearing. “I’m not even going to make you work for it. You can just fuck me. Right here. Right now.”

“Will you bend over and let me have it from behind?”

The boy loves getting it from behind. “If that’s what you want.”

“Fuck yes.”

He comes off the four-wheeler and walks around so he’s standing behind me. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the side of my neck. “You are the best girlfriend ever.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that because I’m letting you bend me over a four-wheeler in the middle of the woods.”

One of his hands slides between my legs and moves back and forth. “I’m not kidding. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you.”

He pulls me against him and my back presses against his front. His erection pokes against my ass. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. All the fucking time. I stay hard for you.”

He pushes my hair away from my neck and kisses that sensitive spot in the bend of my shoulder. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. No fucking lie. It’s unreal how much I want you.”

Those words. His mouth against my skin. His erection pressed against me. All of it has me dripping wet for him. “No more than I want you.”

His fingers curl around my mound and the tips dip into the slick center. “You’re so fucking wet. Soaking.”

“I only get wet for you.”

He slides a finger through my slickness and back up once in a slow, torturous stroke. My hips have a mind of their own as they rock against his hand, which simultaneously makes my ass rub against his cock.

He stops sliding his finger up and down and rubs my clit—what the girls and I call a slut button—in a circular motion. Seriously one of the best sensations in the world.

“Don’t stop. Please. Don’t ever stop doing that.”

His fingers curl and move in a jerky side to side motion. He’s rubbing my clit and that needy spot just inside my entrance. “Oh God. Keep doing that. I’m so close.”

He squeezes me tightly and dry humps his cock so hard against my ass that my feet shove forward on the ground with every thrust. The only thing keeping me sort of in place is my arms locked on the four-wheeler.

“Ohh… Porter… ohh.”

A familiar warm twitch pulsates between my legs. And then it happens a second time and a third. The rhythmic contractions happen again and again, pushing me over the edge into a world of pleasure I’ve only known with him.

“I can’t go another minute without having you. I need to be inside you. Now.”

I feel him working on his jeans and then the tip of his cock is at my entrance from behind. “Lean over and put your hands on the seat and tilt your ass up so I can get inside you.”

He rubs the tip of his dick through my wet center and then slides inside, balls deep. “Fuck. I swear you’re still as tight as you were when I took your virginity.”

He pulls out, almost all the way, and then thrusts his cock in so hard his balls slap against me. He begins slowly, increasing his pace until he’s full speed with me grinding against him, matching his every stroke.

I push against him with every thrust. He’s so deep that it feels like he’s pounding my womb. But I still want more.

His hand moves around and grips my hip when he thrusts one last time, filling me with his seed.

“Fuck, Frankee,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “That was so good, baby.”

He relaxes and his hand comes up to my face to grip my chin, turning it so he can kiss the corner of my mouth. “You are mine. Say it.”

No two ways about it. Porter Beckman owns a little more of me every day. “I am yours.”

“Damn right, you are.”

He pushes up the T-shirt—that fits me like a dress—and kisses the curvature of my back. “Damn, girl. You make sex in the woods hot.”

His cock slides out and cum runs down my legs. “Sex in the woods is messy.”

He chuckles and takes off his T-shirt to wipe my inner thighs. “I guess it’s my duty to give up my shirt for my princess.”

“That’s sweet of you.” I pull on my panties and shorts. “Are we going back to the house?”

“Yeah. I got what I came after.”

“I figured as much.”

He pulls me against him and kisses my mouth. “I want to tell you something before we go back.”

“Okay.”

“What you did for my mom—helping her make the decision about her hair and going to the salon with her…” Porter’s eyes search mine for a moment before he speaks again. “That means the world to me. You mean the world to me.”

“You mean the world to me too.”

He puts his arms around me and squeezes tightly. “I like where this is going. Where we’re going.”

“Me too.”

We are changing. Growing. Progressing. I feel it.

This is becoming more.

It’s five in the morning when I arrive at the Dawson residence. It’s still dark, so they’ve turned on the exterior lights for me. I smile when I recall pulling Frankee around to the side of the house for our first kiss. That was only a month ago. So much has happened since then. It’s like our relationship is on hyperspeed.

Maybe it’s because we know she’s leaving in six weeks. Maybe it’s because we spend so much time together. Maybe it’s because we’re perfect for one another and meant to be together.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Never cared more about another person’s happiness than my own. Never felt sick to my stomach at the thought of losing a woman.

I’m done falling. I’m there.

I love Frances Ameline Dawson.

My porno princess.

Scott meets me at the front door, and we shake hands. “Come in. Frankee will be right out.”

Mrs. Dawson comes into the living room. “Porter, you remember my wife, Tara?”

I nod. “I do, but it’s been a while. Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you as well.”

Tara Dawson is a stunning woman. I didn’t realize how much Frankee looks like her mother until this moment.

“Scott and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Frankee. The internship. The training. And especially this trip to the graphic design expo. It’s all so generous of you.”

Hearing Tara and Scott’s gratitude makes me feel like shit. Like I’ve been taking advantage of their daughter. Using her for sex.

But that’s not the case. It can’t be when I love her.

“I’ve been very impressed with Frankee. She’s a talented designer. I’m lucky to have her at Lovibond.”

I notice Tara’s eyes have left my face, and she’s studying my left bicep. “I’ve seen that before.”

“It’s Frankee’s design.” Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that.

“You had Frankee’s design tattooed on your arm?”

“I did; the design was amazing. I knew I had to have it done the moment I saw her drawing.”

Frankee comes into the living room, rolling a suitcase behind her. Perfect timing so Mrs. Dawson can’t quiz me further. “I’m all set.”

I go to her and take her bag. “I’ve got this, ba…”

Fuck.

Frankee’s eyes nearly bug out of their sockets after my partial slipup. Fingers fucking crossed that Tara and Scott didn’t catch on to me halfway calling her baby.

“Call us when you get there, so we’ll know you made it safely.”

“I will.”

“I’m putting my little girl’s safety in your hands, Porter. Take care of her.”

I shake Scott’s hand. “You know I will.”

Frankee hugs her parents, and the two of them stand in the doorway watching us drive away. “I may have fucked up.”

“You think so, ba…?”

Well, there’s that too. “I’m not talking about that. Your mom recognized my tattoo from your sketchbook. I told her it was your design and she had a weird look on her face. I think she suspects.”

“Well, if she does, she does. I’m twenty-one so there’s not a lot she can say. I mean, she had three kids by the time she was my age.”

“Do you think she’ll say anything to Scott?”

“I don’t think so. She wouldn’t want Daddy to have a problem with his boss, especially if there was no basis behind it.”

Frankee unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the seat so she’s sitting beside me. She fastens the lap belt around her waist and takes my hand in hers. “I don’t want to think about what-ifs on this trip. I only want to think about us and how much fun we’re going to have together.”

“I like that plan.”

We do the airport shuffle and board our flight. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in first class. Hell, I can’t believe I’m flying at all.”

“How have you managed to never fly?”

“My parents have three kids. Two of them were holy terrors. Even if they’d had the money, there was no way they were going to put us on a plane to go anywhere. The boys probably would have taken the plane down.”

“You talk about your brothers like they’re awful.”

“They were, Porter. It was bad. People think twins are so cute but they just don’t know what kind of hell they can raise.”

The attendant brings us the mimosas we ordered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

I taste the drink and find that she didn’t skimp on the champagne. “Good, right?”

“I like it.”

“So you’d freak out if you got pregnant with twins?”

Frankee grimaces. “I wouldn’t get done crying if they told me there were two in there.”

“Wouldn’t twins be hereditary since your mom had them?”

“Identical twins are not hereditary—only fraternal twins run in families—so I shouldn’t have any greater chance at having twins than any other woman. Thank God for that.”

“Do you want children?”

“I do, but not until I’m married to the man I’m going to be with for the rest of my life, and we’re financially stable. I want what your parents have. They did it the right way.”

“They were married years before they started having kids. Do you want to wait until you’re thirty to have your first baby?”

“I’m not stuck on an age as much as I’m stuck on being financially stable.”

I can understand that after everything she went through in her early childhood. “Would you have a baby at an earlier age if your husband were financially stable?”

“Yeah. I guess I might do that. What about you? Do you want a wife and kids?”

“I do.”

“How many?”

“Only one wife.”

Frankee gently bumps my shoulder with hers. “I hope you only want one wife. How about children?”

“I grew up in a family of three kids. That always felt right to me. How many do you want?”

“Two, three, or four. I haven’t decided.”

Big difference between two and four. “Keeping your options open?”

“I think it depends on what gender the first two are. If they’re boys, I think I’m done.”

Her brothers have done a number on her. “I can see that, especially if they’re a handful.”

“Did your brother and his wife wait a while to start their family?”

“They’ve been trying for a long time. Years of infertility. Numerous miscarriages. Failed in-vitros. They’ve gone through hell and back for this baby.”

“Then it’ll be even more special because they waited so long and went through so much.”

“I pray everything goes okay. I don’t think they could make it through another loss.”

“I’m sure their baby is going to be just fine.”

* * *

I upgraded to the presidential suite after I was sure Frankee was coming. I want this trip to be first class all the way for her. “What do you think of the room?”

She falls back on the bed. “I think this is not a bad place to experience hotel sex for the first time.”

“I like that attitude.”

“Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Can’t come to Austin and not do anything so what’s the plan for tonight?”

“We have the rest of the evening to do anything we want. What are you thinking?”

“We don’t get to date like a real couple. I’d like to go out to dinner. Maybe go to a club and have some drinks and dance. You never get to see me dressed up. I’m always wearing shorts or jeans and a T-shirt.”

“True, but you look mighty fine in them.”

“As you do but I’d like to see you in a button-down and dress pants.”

“You’re going to see me in that for the next four days.”

“And it may turn me on so much that I drag you back to the room every day.”

“I wouldn’t complain about that.”

“Can we go dancing at a club tonight? I want to dress up and look pretty for you.”

Does this girl not know she looks gorgeous every day regardless of what she’s wearing? “Dinner and dancing. Done.”

I’ve been waiting on the sofa in the living area for like an hour when Frankee finally comes out of the bedroom. She’s wearing a short, tight black strapless dress and mile-high red fuck-me pumps. Her makeup looks vintage with thick, black lines on her upper lids. Reminds me of a sixties model. “Damn… girl. You look hot.”

I’m going to have a ton of fun peeling her out of that dress later tonight. But the shoes… those fuckers are staying on.

She twirls, and a huge smile spreads across her face. “I guess I clean up all right.”

I get up and she comes to me, wrapping her hand around my body and squeezing my ass. “Me likey this shirt and these pants on you.”

“A bit different than jeans and a T-shirt.”

“Mmm-hmm. I love this look on you.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll soon be back to wearing my workingman attire and smelling like hops and yeast.”

“Because you’re a hardworking man. I find that highly attractive.”

“You know what’s attractive to me? You in this dress and those shoes.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Come on. We need to go before my dick convinces me to peel you out of that dress now instead of later.”

I feel like the luckiest man alive walking through the lobby with Frankee on my arm. I see some other men who share the same belief based on the attention she’s catching.

This is our first time being dressed up and going out on the town together. I’m accustomed to the jeans-and-T-shirt Frankee, and although that version is absolutely beautiful, it doesn’t gain the same attention that black-dress-and-heels Frankee garners.

“While you were taking ten years to get ready, I looked at restaurants in this area.”

Frankee elbows me in the ribs. “Asshole.”

“The hotel steakhouse has some good reviews. Want to give it a try?”

“I’d never turn down a meal in a steakhouse.”

We’re seated and looking at our menus when Frankee giggles. “I just thought of something. Last weekend we ate fried catfish and you bent me over a muddy four-wheeler. Here we are a week later and you’re buying me a sixty-dollar steak and having your way with me in a five-star suite. You are an incredibly diverse man, Mr. Beckman.”

“You’re never bored with me.”

“Definitely not.”

Dinner is delicious and romantic. I find it nearly impossible to keep my eyes off Frankee in this setting. Such a different experience from the ones we’ve shared in Birmingham. And that makes me sad. Angry at myself. She deserves to be taken out on the town, taken out on dates to nice restaurants. Not hidden away in my condo.

“Don’t make plans for next weekend. We have a social engagement.”

“We do?” Her eyes widen.

“It’s Stout’s thirtieth birthday. Lawrence is having a surprise birthday party for him at Iron City.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun. You said we have an engagement. Are we going together?”

“All Lovibond employees are invited. I guess you’d probably come with your parents.”

“Oh.” Her tone is flat.

“I wish we could go together. But you know why that’s not possible.”

“I know. It was a little bit exciting in the beginning to hide this relationship. I sort of liked sneaking around, but now it’s a pain in the ass. I’m liking that aspect less and less all the time.”

“Are you wanting to come out?”

“I’ve considered it, but I think we’re beyond that point now since I’m only here for six more weeks.”

Six more weeks. I hate those three fucking words.

This began as a ten-week affair. In the beginning, it felt like it would last forever. Like I’d probably be glad to see her go when our time was up. But now I don’t want to see this end in six weeks.

There’s more to asking Frankee to stay than simply saying the words. I’d be asking her to change her plans. Her life. That’s not something I can do lightly. Not without having my own plan for what would happen afterward.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’m done. I don’t want to be too full for drinks and dancing.”

“Any idea where you want to go?”

“Dirty Sixth.”

“What’s Dirty Sixth?”

“There are three sections of Sixth street. West, East, and Dirty. Dirty is the bar scene with lots of live music. We can pub crawl.”

“Pub crawl. I haven’t done that in a long time.” I chuckle because it’s a reminder of how much older I am than her. And how much busier. She’s been a college kid having fun for the last three years while I’ve been building a company.

“You work all the time. It’ll be good for you to have fun.”

My girl may not know it, but I used to be the king of a good time. No one out-partied me. “I’m game. Let’s do it.”

We catch a taxi to Dirty Sixth from our hotel. We’re not that far from it and I could easily walk it, but I doubt she could in her fuck-me pumps. “Are you going to be okay in those shoes?”

“These are my clubbing shoes. They’re broken in.”

We hold hands as we walk the strip looking for our first stop. “This one is crowded, and the band sounds good. Want to give it a try?”

“Anything you want, baby.”

Lights flash around us in the dark club and it’s packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The band is playing ‘Play That Funky Music.’ Classic club song. I’m sure that’s right up Frankee’s alley since it’s old as fuck.

She grabs my hand and leads me to the area around the stage where all of the dancers are gathered. She blends into the crowd and moves to the song like it’s something she’s done a million times.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?”

“Used to. Not so much since I moved back to Birmingham and got myself a hard-ass for a boss.” She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in for a quick kiss. “But I like him anyway. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot and fucks me like a champ.”

She turns her back to me and grabs my hands, placing them on her hips, and rubbing her body against me as she dances. The little vixen knows exactly what she’s doing. She has to be able to feel the evidence against her ass.

We’re packed like sardines on the dance floor with little room to move. Everyone here is in his or her own little world, paying us no attention, so I slide one of my hands from her hip down to her lower stomach. I grip her body tightly and pull her against me while thrusting my hard cock against her ass. She leans against my chest and turns to peer at me over her shoulder. “You are being so bad.”

“Did you really think you could rub your ass on me like that and not get a reaction?”

“I knew what I’d get from you.”

The band plays ‘Hurt So Good’ and Frankee lifts her arms over her head, and leans deeper into me. I rest my chin on her shoulder and she snakes her hands around the back of my head and neck. From this angle, I can see inside the top of her dress. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“Nope.”

Fuck.

We dance until I have dry mouth, and we’re both sticky with sweat. “Want to get a drink?”

“Yeah, my throat is starting to hurt from yelling over the music.”

She waits in the corner while I grab a couple of beers from the bar, and I’m not a bit surprised to see that a guy has approached her while I was away.

“May I help you?” Yeah. I sound like a dick, but I don’t care.

The guy holds up his hands. “Got it. Not looking for any trouble.”

I pass Frankee her drink. “They had hard cider.”

“I’ve never tried that brand.” She turns the bottle up and takes a big drink. “Wow, that is good. Want a taste?”

“Nah. I’m not much of a cider drinker. Too sweet for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Frankee leans in and kisses me open-mouthed, her tongue rolling against mine.

“Mmm. I’ve never tasted a more delicious cider.”

We finish our drinks and bounce back onto the dance floor but this time the tempo is much slower. Romantic. “I don’t know this song.”

“It’s Climax Blues Band.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and moves close. “‘I Love You.’ That’s the name of the song.”

Fuck. Me.

There was a fraction of a millisecond where my brain thought she was saying she loved me. And I liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth.

We’ve told one another we’re falling for each other. That’s different from coming right out and saying those three words.

“It’s a good song.”

“Total classic. I can’t believe you don’t know it.”

“I’m not a music head like you.”

“You’re not, and we need to work on that.”

The next few songs are fast—and I’m able to name all of them. Not a great accomplishment, considering most of them are some of the most famous songs ever recorded. Going three for three, I grin. “‘Staying Alive.’ Bee Gees.”

She nods and we move to the beat of the music, dry humping on the dance floor. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her back to the suite. And I’m going to give her a taste of what’s in store for her.

I move my hands down her sides to grip her hips while I lower myself and drag my mouth down the front of her dress. I don’t stop until my face is level with her pussy. And that’s when I look up and lick the fabric of her dress covering her groin.

She pushes her fingers into the top of my hair. “Oh fuck. That is hot.”

I rise slowly, dragging my face up her dress on the way up. I grip her ass in my hands and pull her close. “I’m going to make you come so many different ways tonight.”

“You’re doing a great job working me up for the first way.” Frankee’s smile evaporates as she stumbles toward me—not for the first time tonight with the crowd on this dance floor, but this time she’s wearing a peculiar expression. And I know why when I look behind her.

Some fucker is dancing behind her. On her. Thrusting his cock against her ass.

And all I see is red.

I don’t think. I only react.

“Get the fuck off her.” My first move is to shove his shoulder—push him away—but he doesn’t budge. The asshole has wrapped his arm around her waist and is grinding even harder.

This isn’t a friendly dirty dance because you’re drunk. This guy is assaulting her.

I take one look at the fear and disgust on her face and uppercut the guy in the nose, sending him down onto the dance floor. One punch isn’t good enough for what he did to my girl, so I deliver another blow while he’s still down.

“Shit, Porter. We need to get out of here. Now.”

Frankee grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd toward the door. We speed walk down the sidewalk, not looking back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I’m not so sure about that guy. You knocked the shit out of him. Twice.”

“I wanted to do more than that.” I was so tempted to kick his face in.

Frankee grasps my right hand and brings it up for inspection. “You’re bleeding. Can you move it?”

I fist and flex my hand. “Yeah, but it hurts like a motherfucker.”

“It needs ice.”

We’re quiet in the taxi on the way to the hotel. Have I pissed her off? Scared her? I don’t know.

She grabs the ice bucket when we enter the suite. “Go wash your hand while I get some ice.”

Shit. It’s swelling and hurts like hell, but I don’t regret hitting that fucker. Not even a little.

Frankee comes into the bathroom with the ice bucket liner filled with ice. She wraps the bag with a towel and inspects my hand again. “The cut doesn’t look too bad, but it’s swelling. I hope you haven’t fractured it.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She places the towel-wrapped ice bag on top of my hand and sighs. “Thank you for getting him off me.”

I shake my head as I recall the fury I felt when I realized what he was doing to her. “I didn’t like seeing another man touch you.”

“I didn’t like being touched by him. It made me sick.”

I look up, and our eyes meet. “The thought of anyone else touching you or having you makes me crazy.”

“I don’t want anyone but you.” The words are barely out of her mouth before her lips are on mine.

Our kiss is hungry. Passionate. Loving.

“Bedroom,” she whispers.

Her hands work to unfasten the buttons of my shirt en route to the bed. Unsatisfied with the slow progress, she reaches for the bottom and pulls it over my head while it’s still buttoned.

She unfastens my pants and slides my zipper down, putting her hand inside my boxer briefs. Her hand grasps my cock, and she glides it up and down with long strokes. Damn, this girl gives an awesome hand job.

Our kiss is fervent while her hand pumps me. I’m close to coming, so fucking close, but she doesn’t let me. It’s as though she knows the exact moment to stop before pushing me over the edge.

She flattens her palms on my chest and pushes me down on the bed. “I want you inside me when you come.”

Her dress comes over her head, and she shimmies her panties down her legs while I get out of my clothes. She climbs one knee at a time onto the bed and straddles me before leaning down so her chest is pressed to mine.

My tip is at her wet entrance, but she doesn’t sink down on it. She’s rocking her hips back and forth, teasing me. “You don’t want anyone else to have this? To have me?”

“No, Frankee. No one else can have you. Only me.”

“Show me that I’m yours.”

“Can’t do that from the bottom.” I rise and flip us so she’s on her back. “I’m going to make love to you until you come and shatter into a million pieces.”

She flattens her palms against my chest and rubs my pecs, causing my nipples to harden.

“I belong to you, Porter. You can do anything you want to me.” Her voice is nearly breathless.

I feather kisses down her chin and throat until my mouth finds one of her nipples. I take my time with both breasts before dragging my face and mouth down the center of her body to reach her hipbones. I kiss each of them and everything in between before dragging my nose over her groin. I will never tire of her scent.

I lick straight up her center. “Ahh.”

She squirms beneath my mouth before finding a steady rocking motion. “I love your mouth on me.”

Mmm, I love the way she tastes.

My fingers glide up her thighs and find her hands. She laces them with mine as she lifts her head to watch me. Our eyes meet for only a moment before she throws her head against the pillow and arches her back from the bed. She lifts her hips closer to my mouth and squeezes my hands tightly as her entire body stiffens. “Ahh, Porter.”

Her body trembles and then goes completely lax, panting as though trying to catch her breath. “You are a master Jedi at that. The Force is strong with you.”

I crawl over her body, kissing my way up until I hover above her. She adjusts her hips until my tip is positioned at her entrance. “I need you inside me.”

Nestling between her legs, I look at her baby blues. Everything in this moment feels different, as though we’re the only two people in this world.

I groan when I push myself into her slick opening. She tightens her muscles around me as I move in and out with methodical slowness, savoring the full sensation of being inside her unsheathed.

I watch her beautiful face as I move over her. I’m certain I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life. Ever.

I make love to her the way two people in love should. Slow. Deep. Significant. The affection I have for her is overwhelming: I love this woman with all my heart. She owns me, body and soul.

I bury my face against her neck and push deeply within her body, holding steady when I spasm, filling her with a part of myself. She locks her arms around me and squeezes her legs tighter.

“I fucking love you, Frankee,” I whisper against her ear as I spill every part of myself inside her.

She tightens her grip around me. “I love you, too.”

I still when I’m finished coming and press my forehead to hers. “You’re mine and no one else’s. Say it.”

“I’m yours and no one else’s.”

There. It’s done. There’s no taking it back now.

And that’s exactly the way I want it.

Four days in Austin. Four nights in this luxurious suite. Four mornings like this—waking with Porter’s body curled around mine like a vine, his arms wrapped tightly as though he may never release me.

Because he loves me.

Our relationship has changed during this trip. Transitioned into something very different. So much more.

“I want to talk about September.”

I’ve been wondering if this conversation would come up. “What about September?”

“Don’t go to Austin.”

Don’t go to Austin. There isn’t a lot of wiggle room for misinterpretation, but I need to know that Porter and I are on the same page. The same paragraph. The same word. “Be specific about what those words mean to you.”

“Stay in Birmingham… with me.”

Changing my life plans for a man is a big deal, but it’s astronomical size when you’ve only been dating him for a short time. I’ve known Porter for a lot of years but I don’t truly know him.

And yet I know I love him.

“I’m asking a lot. I’m well aware of how much, but I know that letting you get away would be the biggest mistake of my life.” He pulls me against him and kisses my bare shoulder. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Staying is a big deal. You’re asking me to change everything for you.”

“I’m asking you to change everything for us. I’m asking you to want me more than you want whatever you think is here for you.” He kisses my shoulder again. “Austin can wait.”

“Your mom said something along those same lines.”

“You talked to her about leaving Birmingham?”

“Yeah. She told me I should stay and see what happens with us.”

“Don’t you like where this is going?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then stay. And we can do lots more of this.” He flips me over so I’m lying on my back and kisses the side of my neck. “And this.” He moves lower and kisses the space between my breast. “And lots more of this.” He moves down and kisses my stomach.

“Mmm… I do love me some of this.”

“I’m going to be doing everything within my power to persuade you to stay. If I have to eat your pussy morning, noon, and night to convince you, I will.”

“Porter…” He can be so crude.

“I’m not kidding, Frankee. I’ll do it.”

“I know you’re not kidding.” This man goes down on me every chance he gets. I’m not complaining.

“I have six weeks to convince you to stay. I think I should start my persuasion tactics right now.”

And he does.

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m dropping you off. That was the shortest four-day trip I’ve ever taken.”

“I know. And it was really four days for the convention and then two additional days for travel. You could almost count it as six days.”

Porter walks me to the front door, carrying my suitcase. “I’m going to hate being in bed without you tonight.”

“I know. I’m going to miss waking up with you wrapped around me.”

Our house doesn’t have a foyer so entering the front door puts us in the living room where my parents are on the sofa watching television.

“Hey… there’s our girl,” my dad says.

Porter puts my suitcase on the floor. “Returned safely, as promised.”

“I never worried she wouldn’t be. How was the convention?”

“It was great. I learned a lot. Got to see the latest trends.”

“Did you explore Austin while you were there?”

“Not a lot. We went out the first night but the daily itinerary ran until five every day. That didn’t leave a lot of time for sightseeing but at least we got to have dinner at some great restaurants and talk shop.”

“Thank you again for giving Frankee this opportunity.”

“Happy to do it.” Porter steps toward the door. “I will see all of you at Stout’s party tomorrow night.”

“See you.”

He leaves and it feels unnatural to watch him go without a hug or kiss.

Of course, my parents want to hear everything about my travels the minute he’s gone. What I thought about my first flight. The hotel. The conference. I do my best to stretch the truth as far as it’ll go, hoping I won’t need to tell any lies. I know Porter and I are lying by omission, but I don’t want to add any additional untruths to the mix if I can help it.

I’m showered and preparing for bed when my mom taps on my door. “Can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure.”

She shuts the door behind her. She never does that unless she plans on having a conversation that Dad or the boys don’t need to hear.

“What’s going on?”

She sits on the end of my bed, a sign that she has no intention of leaving anytime soon. “I want to talk to you about Porter.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“What’s going on between you and him?”

It’s one thing to lie by omission, but it’s another to look her in the face and fabricate a story. I can’t do it. “We’re seeing each other.”

“Why haven’t you told us?”

“I was afraid of what you’d say about my entering into a relationship with him when I know I’m leaving in September. And Porter was worried about our relationship causing problems with Daddy. It just felt unnecessary to say anything when we knew it would be over soon.”

“Did you share a room with him on this trip?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Are you being careful?”

“Yes.”

My mom inhales deeply and releases the breath. “You’re twenty-one, and maybe I should have known, but I didn’t think you were sexually active.”

“You weren’t wrong. I was a virgin until Porter.”

“Oh.”

“I love him.”

“Has he told you that he loves you?”

“Yes. And he’s asked me to stay here with him instead of moving to Austin.”

“Would you do that? Stay for him?”

“It seems irrational to drop everything for a guy when our relationship is still so new. But I love him. And I believe him when he says that he loves me. Which makes it irrational to walk away from something real.”

“You don’t have to make this decision right now. You have a little time.” She isn’t telling me this is a horrible idea. She isn’t telling me I should end things with him.

“He says he’s going to convince me to stay.”

“Your dad and I wouldn’t mind that. You know we don’t want you to move away.”

“Will you please not tell Dad just yet?” I hate asking that of her.

“Your dad and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“I know. And I’m not asking you to lie to him or keep a secret. I’m just asking you to put off telling him until I make a decision about where things are going.”

“I can keep it to myself for the time being. But you shouldn’t tarry. The longer you put it off, the more likely he is to find out on his own. And I can promise you that it would go much smoother if this news came from you and Porter.”

“I know. Do you think that Dad will be okay with Porter being so much older than me?”

“How much older?”

“He’s thirty.”

“That’s definitely older. But you’ve always been an old soul. I can’t imagine you dating a boy your age. I think your dad will be okay with it as long as he treats you well.”

“He’s so good to me. And his family is too. They are lovely.”

“You’ve already met his family?” She clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“Yes. His mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, and I’ve been speaking with her over the phone about her treatment. She asked him to bring me home last weekend. His parents, his brother and his wife, his sister and her husband and their children were there. They treated me like I was part of their family. It felt right.”

“When it’s right, it’s right. I don’t think you felt that way for no reason. It’s very possible that he’s the one. And personally, I can’t wait to see what happens.”

“Me either.”

* * *

I’m miserable. Not that this surprise birthday party isn’t awesome. The coordinator did a fantastic job. It’s that I’m in misery watching Porter across the room talking to this woman and that woman.

“Hey, Frankee. Having a good time?” It’s Jason, one of Lovibond’s delivery truck drivers. Cute guy about my age but not my type.

“Oh, yeah. Fun party.”

“It’s cool they invited everyone from the brewery.”

“That was nice.”

“Your dad looks like he’s having a good time.”

I look at my mom and dad on the dance floor and they are cutting a rug. “My parents love to dance.”

“I can see that. Would you care to dance with me?”

All I’m doing is standing against the wall while Porter makes the rounds, talking to every female in the room but me. So why the hell not?

The band is playing their rendition of ‘Come On Eileen.’ Not bad. “Sure. I like this song.”

Jason cups his hand over mine, puts his hand around my waist, and does this weird rocking sideways motion. This guy must not go clubbing, or he’d know this is not a couple song, and you sure don’t dance like one to a song like this.

My mom and dad are out-dancing me. For real. And my dad is laughing his ass off about it.

“Shut up, old man.” I have nothing to work with here.

I’m grateful when the song ends, but the next one is slow. The Pretenders’ ’I’ll Stand by You.’ And the dude doesn’t let go. “Up for another dance?”

“Sure.” One more won’t hurt.

He pulls me closer, and my natural reaction is to lean away. “You dating anyone?”

“Yeah.” Your boss. And he’s standing behind you looking very pissed off.

“May I cut in?”

“Sure.” Jason stops and passes me off to the boss man.

Porter puts his arms around my waist and pulls me much closer than he should. He cups his hand around mine and brings them to rest between our chests. A very romantic position for us to be in. “A boss and his intern shouldn’t be dancing like this.”

“Don’t care.”

“People are going to take notice.”

“Let them take notice.”

I look at my parents, and they’re in their own little world, paying zero attention to Porter and me.

“You look beautiful. And it’s fucking killing me that I have to keep my hands off you.”

“You didn’t look like it was bothering you too much when you were talking to all of those women.”

“All of those women?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I wasn’t on the dance floor holding any of them.”

“He asked me to dance, and it was a fast song. In the club, we bounce to the remix of that song. I never dreamed that he would grab me like that.”

Porter lowers his face until our lips are nearly touching. “You’re mine. I’m not going to let another man touch you like that. And if I have to blow our cover to put a stop to it, I will.”

“Cage the rage. Nothing happened.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I lose my mind when I see another man put his hands on you. I hate it.”

“No one is putting his hands on me. Only you.”

“I’m so damn ready to get you alone. I’m counting down the minutes until I can get you out of this dress.”

“Do you want me to meet you at your place when this is over?”

“Yeah. Do you think you can spend the night?”

“I’d love to, but I should probably go home after being gone all week.”

“I missed having you in bed with me last night.”

“I know. I missed being next to you too.”

“I want you with me every night.”

“I wish I could be.”

“There are ways to make it happen.”

“Like what? Getting married?” I chuckle. “Because that’s the only way my dad is going to go along with his little girl being bedded by you every night.”

Porter doesn’t laugh. Or smile. “Well… I’ve already made the decision that you’re mine, and no other man will have you.”

That sounds an awful lot like he’s hinting at marriage. “What are you saying?”

“What do you want me to be saying?”

I’m too scared to say the words.

“You take all the time you need to come up with what you’d like me to be saying. And when you decide what that is, you let me know.”

The song ends and Porter leaves me standing on the dance floor. Stupefied. With maybe some sort of hint of a marriage proposal hanging in the air.

I’m not certain. But we’re damn sure going to discuss this later tonight.

I find Stout upstairs with some of our Lovibond clients. “Hey man. I’m going to take off.”

“So early?”

“It was a long week at that conference. I need to crash and catch up on my rest.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Your girlfriend did a great job putting it together.” I knew he was going to start fucking that redheaded baker living next door. And damn if it’s not working out well for him.

“She did. I hope she’s not too tired later on to celebrate my birthday with a little one-on-one.”

It’s nice to see Stout happy with someone after the way Eden hurt him.

“I bet you don’t have to worry about that.” We do the half-hug-guy-handshake thing. “Happy birthday, man.”

I’ve had a few drinks so I’m taking advantage of the car service. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out, fully expecting to see some kind of sexy text from my girl.

Not what I get.

Mom: Call me ASAP.

I immediately know something bad has happened.

She answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Bethany has had some complications with the pregnancy.”

Oh God, no. Please do not tell me that something has happened to her or the baby.

“She went to the hospital because she was bleeding, and they had to take her to the OR for an emergency C-section. She’s still back there, and they haven’t told us anything yet.”

My heart immediately aches for my brother. I can’t imagine being in that situation, especially after losing so many pregnancies and struggling to conceive this baby, and not knowing what is happening to your wife and child.

“I need to go home to get my truck, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I’ll tell Cade you’re coming.”

“Call me as soon as you know what’s happening.”

“I will. And I know you’re going to be anxious to get here, but please drive carefully.”

“You know I will, Mom.”

The second I end the call with her, realization strikes: I’ve had drinks. I can’t drive to Mobile. Okay, but that’s not going to keep me from being with my family at a time like this. I lean forward so the driver can hear me. “Do you know if Ken is working the event for Lovibond tonight?”

“I believe he is.”

Good. I’m certain I can depend on him if Frankee isn’t able to drive me. I pass a cash tip to the driver before getting out.

“Thank you sir. Much appreciation.”

Porter: Where are you?

Frankee: Almost at your condo.

I’m throwing some clothes in a bag when Frankee comes into the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“Something happened to the baby and the doctor is doing an emergency C-section on Bethany. I have to go, but I had several beers at the party, and I can’t drive. Can you take me?”

“Of course, I’ll take you.”

Frankee is that girl—the one who doesn’t let you down.

“Do we have time to run by my house and let me pick up some clothes, or do we need to get on the road right now?”

“We can go by and get your things. And I guess try to explain why I’d ask you to drive me home.”

“Well, I was going to tell you later tonight about the discussion I had with my mom about you and me.”

“She knows.”

“Yeah.”

“I knew she did. I could see it on her face. What did she say?”

“It’s fine. I asked her to keep it to herself until I figure out if I’m staying or going.”

I don’t miss a beat stuffing clothes into my bag. “You’re mine and you’re staying. I’m not letting you go.” My possessive, bossy, overbearing words could piss her off, but I don’t care. I want her to know where we stand.

“Can you drive my truck?”

“I have no idea. I guess we’ll find out.”

She scoots the seat forward as far as it’ll go, and she looks like a small child sitting behind the wheel.

We go by Frankee’s house, and she’s in and out in under fifteen minutes. I have no idea what she told her parents, and I don’t ask. I’m too consumed with worry for Cade, Bethany, and their child.

“I don’t know how Cade will react if something happens to Bethany or the baby.” It isn’t fair for anyone to have so much loss.

“You have to believe that they’re going to be okay.”

“I want to believe that.” But there’ve been so many times when it wasn’t okay.

Frankee places her arm on the console of the lowered seat and offers her hand. I don’t hesitate to take it. “I’m relieved that you’re going with me.” I want her by my side if something bad happens.

“I’m glad you want me to be there with you.”

I look back at the time I called Mom, and it’s been almost an hour since we spoke. Surely, she knows something by now. “I don’t know why she hasn’t called. She said she would call as soon as she heard.”

“They may be slow in notifying the family of what’s going on. She may not know anything yet.” Frankee squeezes my hand. “I’m sure it’s okay and you’re an uncle again. Maybe to a sweet niece this time.”

“I hope so. I’d love to see Cade wrapped around a little girl’s finger.”

“We girls certainly learn how to do that with our daddies at an early age.”

“I know. Not only was Alexis the baby, she was also the only girl. Dad did anything she wanted him to do.”

“Same here. My daddy will do anything for me.”

I jolt when my phone rings. “Hey. What’s going on?”

My mother’s voice is clear and calm. “Bethany and the baby are both okay. She had a six-pound, two-ounce baby girl and her name is Anna Cade.”

My heart swells with happiness for my brother. And I may even have a few tears pooling in my eyes.

I turn to Frankee. “I have a niece named Anna Cade, and she’s okay.”

“Who are you talking to?” Mom asks.

“Frankee. She’s coming with me.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy that she’s with you.”

“Me too.”

“Everything is okay here, so don’t rush.”

* * *

Bethany was put to sleep for her surgery, so she’s mostly out of it when we get to the hospital. Cade, on the other hand, is bouncing off the walls like a madman despite the fact that it’s four in the morning.

“Congratulations, bro.” Finally a dad after seven years of trying for a baby.

“I can hardly believe she’s here. And three weeks early. We thought for sure she’d come late since Bethany hadn’t made any kind of progress when the doctor last checked her.”

“She’s a Beckman. Of course, she arrived early.”

“Could you see her in the nursery window when you came in?

“They had the blinds closed.”

“You’ve got to see my baby girl.” Cade takes out his phone and hands it to me. “I only got a few pictures because everything happened so fast. I swear she’s the best-looking baby I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a beauty.” I thumb through his pictures and immediately discover that Anna Cade has taken after the Beckman babies in the hair department. Sticks straight up. “She’s definitely yours. She has the Beckman hair.”

Frankee laughs. “Oh my goodness. Looks like a little Mohawk. Cutest thing ever.”

“How much longer does she have to stay in the nursery?”

“She should be coming out at any time.”

Frankee rubs my arm. “Bethany was asleep when she was born. She hasn’t even met her daughter yet. We should give them this family time and come back tomorrow to see her.”

I hate to leave without seeing my niece, but I know Frankee’s right. Even Mom and Dad and Bethany’s parents went home to let them rest.

“You don’t have to go.”

Frankee moves toward the door. “Bethany will need to nurse when they bring the baby to the room. She isn’t going to be able to comfortably do that with us standing over her. Don’t worry. We’ll be back in the morning to meet Anna Cade.”

My brother and I hug. “Been a long time coming. I’m happy for you and Beth.”

“I know you are. And I hope you know that Anna Cade will be needing cousins before too much longer.”

“She has two.”

“She needs cousins who won’t trick her into picking up a dog turd.”

“And then tell her it’s chocolate.”

Cade shakes his head. “Fuck. I won’t be able to take my eyes off those two for a second with her.”

“I would not recommend it.”

Cade slaps my arm. “Go get some sleep.”

“I’d tell you the same, but those days are over.”

“I’d trade sleep for my baby girl any day.”

“And I’m certain you will.”

Frankee and I leave the hospital and crash at my parents’ house until morning. Well, until late morning. We fall into bed, fully clothed, and that’s the way we wake.

“I smell bacon.”

“And biscuits.”

“She’s cooking to lure us out of bed.” I smack Frankee’s bottom and give it a squeeze. “And it’s working. Come on. I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” Frankee sits on the edge of the bed. “Hey, I know you haven’t seen your mom since we were here last weekend. Don’t be shocked if she has less hair. Maybe even bald patches.”

That was the last thing on my mind. I probably would have been a little shocked for a fraction of a second without the reminder. “I didn’t think about that.”

Frankee’s prediction is accurate. Mom has a lot less hair, but her glowing smile is still there.

I go to her and hug her from behind, kissing her on the cheek. “Good morning, best mother in the world who is cooking breakfast for me.”

“Good morning, son who is going to put on some coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Frankee, it’s good to have you back.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be back quite this soon.”

She’s implying that she did expect to be back. That tells me more than she knows about where her head is in regard to our future.

“What can I do?”

It pleases me that my girl isn’t afraid to jump in and help with breakfast.

“Plates and cups are in the upper cabinet to the right of the dishwasher.”

“Everyone drinking coffee?”

“You know we are a coffee-drinking family, baby.”

“Just making sure.”

Breakfast is low-key since it’s only the four of us. It’s nice to have this quiet time with Mom and Dad.

“How did Cade handle the delivery?”

“He was a total wreck.”

“Worse than the day he and Bethany got married?” I chuckle as I recall him puking his guts up only moments before the wedding.

Dad clears his throat. “A hundred times worse but he had every right to be. It’s scary enough when your wife gives birth to your child under the best of circumstances. I was terrified every time your mother gave birth, but what Cade went through last night was a nightmare.”

My mom grins. “Just wait until your first one is born. I guarantee that you’ll be a wreck too.”

My first one. That’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought. A baby has always been an abstract idea in the back of my mind. An event for the future—the distant future. But now I see both my present and future sitting next to me.

And it doesn’t feel so distant anymore.

* * *

Bethany is alert and bright-eyed when we enter her hospital room. A big difference from the sedated post-op Bethany we saw early this morning. “You look like you feel better than you did the last time we saw you.”

“I’m so sorry. Cade told me you and Frankee came last night, but I have no memory of your being here.”

“Understandably.”

Mom makes a beeline for Anna Cade. “How is my granddaughter this morning?” Mom laughs. “Granddaughter. It feels strange saying that after only saying grandson for so long.”

“She’s as perfect as she can be.”

Mom takes the baby from Bethany and rocks from one foot to the other while studying her face. “She looks like a petite version of Cade when he was born.”

“I bet she would have been as big as her daddy if she’d stayed in there and baked until she was done.”

Mom holds Anna Cade for a while and kisses the top of her head before passing her to Frankee. “All Beckman babies have this wild head of dark hair when they’re born.”

Frankee takes my niece and immediately rocks from one foot to the other just as my mother did. Instinct. “I love it. I think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Porter’s was the worst. It wouldn’t even lie flat when it was wet.”

Frankee goes to the chair with Anna Cade and places her on her lap, leaning forward to play with the tuft of hair on top of her head. “My goodness, you are a beautiful baby. And I just can’t get over this hair. I didn’t have this much until I was two.”

Frankee lifts the baby and presses their cheeks together. “Bethany, you are going to have so much fun snuggling with this little cuddle buddy.”

I take a special kind of joy in watching Frankee with my niece. I like the way she looks holding a baby.

Even more, I like the way she looks holding a Beckman baby.

It’s been a month since the night Porter brought up the topic of having me with him every night and how to make that happen. He was vague about the means, but I’m fairly certain he was hinting about marriage without actually coming right out and saying it.

I fall deeper in love with Porter every day, and the thought of this relationship growing into something like marriage is becoming less and less crazy.

Am I ready to marry Porter today? No.

Do I want to continue this relationship and explore the possibility of progressing in that direction? Absolutely. But that isn’t an option if I’m living eight hundred miles away.

I’m staying. I’ve made up my mind. And I’m ready to tell him.

“Hey there, beautiful birthday girl.”

“I don’t think there’s been a single day that’s gone by during the last two months when you didn’t tell me I was beautiful.”

“And there never will be. Because I’m going to tell you every day.”

Every girl should be told she’s beautiful on a daily basis. There should be some kind of rule about it. “You won’t hear me complain.”

“Are you excited for tonight?”

“I might be if I knew where we were going.”

“I guess I’ve held it in long enough. We’re going to see Halsey tonight.”

“For real?”

“I know they’re not old as fuck, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing them.”

He loves to poke fun at me about loving my old music. “Are you kidding? I love Halsey. You know I love Halsey.”

“I do, and that’s why we’re going, birthday girl.”

“What an awesome gift. Thank you.”

“That’s not your only gift. Hold on.” He goes into his bedroom and returns with a small pink and purple gift-wrapped box. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“It’s almost too pretty to tear into.” I grin. “Almost.”

“I’ve been waiting to give this to you all week. I can’t stand it any longer. Open it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

I rip the paper and lift the top of the jewelry box. A white-gold and diamond pendant. “Porter… this is gorgeous.”

“Do you like it?”

A cushion-shaped diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. Doesn’t get any prettier. “I love it. I really do. Will you put it on me?”

“Turn around and lift your hair.”

He clasps the necklace and places a soft kiss against the back of my neck. “I love you so much, baby.”

I turn in his arms and press a kiss to his mouth. “I love you too.” I touch the diamond pendant at my throat. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“A diamond for your neck this time. Maybe one for your finger next time?”

I can’t stop the smile forming on my face. “Maybe.”

“What do you think I mean when I say a diamond for your finger?”

“I think you’re talking about an engagement ring. Just like I think you were talking about marriage a month ago when we discussed being with each other every night.”

“Would you consider marrying me if I asked?”

“I would consider it.”

“I would have gotten you a ring instead of a necklace if I’d known that.”

“No need to rush it.”

“I don’t have a choice but to rush it. Our time together is winding down.”

I was going to tell him later tonight, but I can’t wait. “I’m not going to Austin. I’m staying here. I’m choosing you.”

He pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tightly. “You have no idea how happy you just made me. Does this mean we’re finally going to tell everyone about us?”

“I think we sort of have to.”

He kisses my forehead. “Finally. No more sneaking around. That shit is for the birds.”

“Are you okay with us telling people next week?” I don’t want that stress this weekend.

“Yeah, but I want to tell your dad first. The worst possible scenario would be him hearing from someone besides us.”

“True.” I get so nervous when I think about telling him.

“I need to get that handled with Scott before I tell Tap and Stout.”

“I think that’s a good plan.”

“Something else to discuss. I still need a full-time assistant.”

“And now that I’m staying, I need a full-time job and not an internship.”

“Do you want it?”

“Are you happy with my job performance?”

“I’m very happy with your job performance. Are you happy with me as your boss?”

I have the best boss ever. “I’m very happy with you as my boss.”

“I need to discuss it with Tap and Stout, but as far as I’m concerned, the job is yours if you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Good. Because I’m afraid I’d never find another employee who’d let me fuck her on my office sofa during lunch break.”

“Asshole.”

* * *

This weekend was one of the best I’ve shared with Porter. We were able to relax because the secrecy will be ending soon.

But not on Monday evening after work as we planned. Dad blindly reached into a box of beer and cut his hand on a broken bottle. A trip to the ER for stitches has postponed our after-work conversation. But the good news of the day is that Porter was able to talk to Stout and has secured my place as his full-time graphic designer and marketing assistant.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk to Dad tomorrow.”

“I hate that he cut his hand, but maybe the injury will keep him from making a fist and punching me in the face when he figures out what I’ve been doing with you all this time.”

It’s sort of cute how nervous Porter is. “He’s not going to punch you.”

“I don’t know. I’m the almost thirty-one-year-old man who’s putting it on his little girl. He’s not going to like that.”

“It’s going to be fine. Stop worrying.”

“I’m a little more nervous about having that conversation with him than I thought I would be.”

“I think he’s going to be pleased that I’m in love with a man he likes and respects.”

“I love hearing you say that you’re in love with me.”

I close the door and push Porter so he’s walking backward toward the sofa. He falls into a sitting position when the backs of his legs reach it. I climb on to his lap, placing a leg on each side of his hips so I’m straddling him. I press a kiss to his lips and then playfully bite and suck at his lower lip. “I’m so fucking in love with you, William Porter Beckman.”

He kisses that dip at the base of my throat where my diamond pendant hangs and his hands glide up my thighs. “I want you to take off your shorts and panties, and wrap your pussy around my cock, and ride it until we both come.”

I touch my fingers to his bottom lip. “The filth that comes out of this mouth.”

Getting up, I follow his instructions and push my shorts and panties to my ankles.

“I knew you’d do it.”

Did he really question if I would or not?

He reaches for the button of his jeans and I help him push them down his legs. I pull his dick out of his pants and sink over him until he’s fully inside me. I rise on my knees and plunge down again, rolling my hips forward to take him so deep his tip hits my womb.

His arms are wrapped around my waist. He thrusts upward and uses his hold to pull me down hard on his cock. “After I marry you, I’m going to stay inside you all the fucking time.”

“And give me little wild-haired Beckman babies?”

He releases my waist and moves his hands to my face, forcing me to look at him. “Fuck yeah, I am.”

Stretching upward, he kisses my mouth as he continues thrusting into me. “I’m gonna put one in you as soon as you’ll let me.”

I press my forehead to his. “I want that too.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold tightly as he takes control and thrusts into me over and over until his body jerks and spasms. It’s some good practice for when he puts a Beckman baby inside me.

We both go completely still, but he holds me tightly against him. “I’ve never wanted marriage and babies with anyone before.”

“It’s a first for me too.”

He pulls back and kisses my forehead. “I liked seeing you hold Anna Cade. You looked good with a baby in your arms. But I was sitting there thinking that I’d much rather see you holding my baby.”

Bam! I think at least one of my ovaries just exploded.

“Have we been together long enough to be talking about this stuff?”

“Lots of people aren’t together as long as us when they start having the marriage talk. Hell, lots of people are married by the time they’ve been together two months. And I know what I want—you as my wife and mother of my babies.”

Porter is watching his two best friends move toward the next stage in their lives. Tap and Lawrence are married and trying for a baby. Stout is seriously dating Adelyn. Today he told Porter that he’s in love with her.

Life is changing for the men of Lovibond.

“Can you come home with me?”

“For a little while.” I know Porter will talk me into staying too long. He always does.

“You do realize that we’ll no longer be incognito after tonight?”

I look forward to being normal. Going on dates. Showing affection when we want. “Will you miss sneaking around in secrecy?”

“No. I’m ready for everyone to know about us. I may climb on the building and shout it from the rooftop.” Porter squeezes my naked butt and kisses me quickly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Frankee stops in the hallway leading to the front offices. “We didn’t discuss the pay for the full-time graphic design position. Is it salary or will you pay me hourly?”

“I was planning to pay you with sexual favors.”

She giggles. “You already give me sexual favors.”

“Well, how about I give you a salary that doubles what you make now with insurance and retirement plus special benefits.”

“Special benefits that you don’t give to your other employees?”

“Oh, I definitely do not give these kinds of special benefits to my other employees.”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that.”

We exit the building and I put my key into the deadbolt to lock up for the night.

“Porter.”

It isn’t Frankee’s voice I hear, so I turn to see who called my name. It takes several seconds for my brain to recognize the woman and make the connection, but when it does, a rigor runs down my spine.

Fuck. If it’s possible for the past to reach out and slap the shit out of you, it just happened.

It’s her—my final one-night stand. The last one I had before Frankee and I started seeing each other.

This is bad. Really fucking bad.

“Hello there. Can we help you?” Frankee’s voice is bubbly. So eager to offer help to this woman who I’m sure she assumes is here on Lovibond business.

“I’m here to speak with Porter.”

Mother. Fucker.

“Oh, okay.” Frankee turns to me. “I can go on and get dinner started while you finish up here.”

“That would be great.”

“Burgers okay?”

“Whatever you want is fine.”

The woman waits until Frankee is in her car to speak again. Thank fuck. “Do you remember me?”

“Charlize?”

“Charlotte.”

“I remember you.” Unfortunately.

“Can we go inside to talk?”

And fuck? I don’t think so. “No need to.”

“This isn’t going to be a quick conversation. Trust me. You’d rather not have it in the parking lot.”

That sends up a red flag for sure. I open the front door and lead Charlotte to my office.

“Was that your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend-about-to-be-fiancée.”

“Pretty girl. Was she your girlfriend-about-to-be-fiancée three months ago?”

“No.”

“Well, that happened fast.”

“I’ve known her for a long time. We recently reconnected. But I’m certain you didn’t come here to discuss my relationship with her.”

“No, I didn’t.”

There’s never been one woman to show up at this brewery because she wasn’t after something. “What do you want?”

She looks at me, unsmiling. She rubs her palms over her jeans. She’s nervous. And that makes me nervous. “I’m pregnant.”

No.

No.

No.

Fuck. No.

I rewind to that night in my mind. I had drunk a few beers, but I wasn’t intoxicated. And I didn’t fuck up when I put that condom on my dick. I did it the right way.

“Are you here because you think it’s mine?”

“I know it’s yours.”

I was at my buddy’s house for a cookout when Charlotte showed up with her friends. We had talked for less than two hours when she let me fuck her. She acted clingy afterward, so I disappeared as soon as she went to the bathroom.

I know. Total dick move.

“How can you be sure it’s mine?”

“There’s a narrow window for when I got pregnant. You were the only one I had sex with during that time.”

“You told me you were on birth control, and we used a condom.”

“Maybe there was a hole in it. Maybe I got a defective batch of birth control pills. I don’t have an explanation for how it happened. I only know it did happen, and now I’m pregnant with your baby.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Of course, I’ve seen a doctor. I wouldn’t come here and tell you this if I weren’t positive.”

“Fuck.” I cover my eyes with my hand and shake my head, wishing, begging, pleading for this nightmare to go away. “Fuccck!”

“I know you don’t want this. Believe me, I didn’t either when I first found out. But I’ve had time to think about it, and I’ve decided that I want to keep the baby. I want you to be in its life. I want you to be a father to him or her.”

A baby joins two people forever.

I don’t want to be joined to this woman for the rest of my life.

I only want that with Frankee.

Only twenty minutes ago I was on the sofa inside of the woman I love, telling her that I want to be married to her. Want to put a baby inside of her as soon as she’ll let me. And she said yes.

But now all of that is going to be ruined. Because of a one-night stand. One fucking mistake I’ll never be rid of.

If this is true, Frankee is going to leave me when she finds out I’ve gotten another woman pregnant.

“You aren’t saying anything. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that this is going to cause me to lose the one thing I love most in this world.”

“I’m sorry for that. But please believe me when I say that I didn’t choose this. It just happened.”

If I’d been solely dependent upon her telling me the truth about the birth control pills, I would definitely be questioning the authenticity of that statement, but I was the one in control of applying the condom. It was from my stash. It isn’t possible for her to have sabotaged it.

This is a hugely unfortunate fuck-up.

“Do you have a father?”

Why does that matter? “Yes.”

“Are you close to him?”

“Yes. I’m close to all of my family members.”

“I don’t have that. I never did. I grew up without a father. I only saw him a handful of times in my entire life. And it was very painful. I could never understand why I wasn’t good enough for him to love me. My mother tried, but she was never able to convince me that there was nothing wrong with me. I don’t want that for this baby.”

I understand. No child should grow up feeling unworthy of a parent’s love.

“Do you want to be a part of our baby’s life?”

Our baby. Nothing about hearing her say that feels right.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I need you to give me time to absorb this reality. Because right now my mind is spinning. I can’t answer any questions about what I want.”

“I don’t think that makes you an asshole at all. I understand you need to absorb it. And that’s fine. We have time to figure out what we’re going to do.”

At least she’s being reasonable.

“Do you expect your girlfriend-fiancée to tell you to turn your back on us?”

“I have no idea what Frankee is going to say.”

She reaches into her purse and takes out a sonogram picture. “This is your son or daughter. Your flesh and blood. Women may come and go in your life. But this will always be your child.”

This is your son or daughter. Your flesh and blood. But this will always be your child. Those words literally nauseate me.

“My due date is February twenty-fourth.”

“How far along is that?”

“Almost thirteen weeks. I know you’re going to do an Internet search the minute I leave, trying to disprove any possibility that you’re the father. When it asks you to enter the last menstrual period, it was May twenty-first. And you’ll see that the dates of conception would be anytime between May thirtieth and June fourth.”

I fucked Charlotte that first weekend in June. I know because Frankee came to work for me the following Monday. I don’t even have to look at a calendar.

“I’m going to ask for a paternity test after the baby is born.”

“That’s fine. I want you to take a paternity test. I don’t want you to ever doubt this child being yours.”

She gets up and reaches for a pad and pen on my desk. “Here’s my number. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

After she leaves, I sit unmoving except for the beat of my heart and breath moving in and out of my lungs. I’m not sure how long I sit there, but it’s long enough to get a text from Frankee.

Frankee: Everything ok?

No. Everything is definitely not okay. And I cannot face her right now.

Porter: I’m sorry, baby. I’m going to be tied up here for a while longer. Go on home, and I’ll see you in the morning.

Frankee: Ok. I love you.

Porter: Love you too.

I don’t know how in the fuck I’m going to tell Frankee about this.

Her standards are high. I don’t see her being okay with marrying me when another woman is pregnant with my baby.

She’s going to leave me. I know it. She’s going to take off for Austin so fast my head will spin.

And why wouldn’t she? She’s a beautiful twenty-two-year-old woman who has her entire life in front of her. She doesn’t have to settle for a man who has knocked up some one-night stand. She can move on and find a man who isn’t having a baby with another woman.

I can’t talk to Tap or Stout about this; neither know about Frankee and me. And I’m damn sure not ready to tell either of them I’m going to be a father.

Fuck my life.

I call the only person on this earth I can talk to about what I’ve done. “Mom…” I can’t get that one simple word out without my voice breaking.

“Porter. What is wrong?”

“I’ve messed up. So bad.”

“Son, what have you done?”

Embarrassment. Shame. Disgrace.

I can’t believe this is happening.

“I was with this girl months ago. It happened before Frankee.”

I breathe in deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. Procrastinating.

“And?”

“The girl just came to see me. She’s pregnant, and she says it’s mine.”

“Oh shit. You have messed up.”

“I know, Mom. I know. Frankee is…” It’s one thing to think the words in my mind, but saying them is so much worse. “She’s going to leave me over this.”

“Oh, Porter.”

“We’ve been talking about getting married and having babies. She’s already told me she wants to. I was going to propose to her soon. And now it’s all ruined. She’ll never marry me when there’s another woman having my baby.”

“Definitely not a motivator for saying yes.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell her about it. She’s going to hate me.”

“The one thing you have on your side is that it happened before her.”

“Would that have mattered to you if Dad told you he’d gotten someone else pregnant?”

“I can’t lie. I would have moved on. But times are different today than they were then. Most families are blended these days. It could be something she’s able to accept.”

“I know Frankee. She isn’t going to be accepting of someone else having my child.” She has a very concrete picture of what marriage looks like. And it doesn’t include being a stepmother.

“Do you think the baby is yours?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The timing sounds like it is, but I won’t know for sure until it’s born and we do a paternity test.”

“I taught you and Cade to wrap it.”

“I did. And I wrapped it right.”

“Do you trust this woman to tell you the truth?”

My mom is going to flip out when I tell her this. “She was a one-night stand.”

“Well, I hope she was a damn good lay because the few moments you had with her are going to be the reason you lose the only girl you’ve ever loved. I am so pissed off at you right now.”

“I know. I’ve messed up bad.”

“When are you going to tell Frankee?”

We were planning to talk to Scott tomorrow after work, but there’s no way we can do that without my telling her about this first. “Soon. I guess tomorrow.”

“I think I know how this is going to end, but please call me and let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

“I love you, son. And I pray it works out.”

“Me too.” But I’m not holding my breath.

* * *

“You're acting weird today. Are you that nervous about talking to my dad?”

“About that. We're going to need to postpone again. There’s something you and I need to discuss.”

“Okay. What do we need to discuss?”

“I don't want to have that conversation here.”

She laughs. “You can't say that and then expect to not have that conversation here.”

I grasp her hand. “You need to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“We've only been at work for an hour, and you already want to leave to go have sex? You’re turning into a real nympho.”

I stop in the hallway before we get to the front door. “No, Frankee.”

“O… kay. You're starting to sort of freak me out.”

I don't reply because I have no reassuring words for her.

She knows something is up, and neither of us says a word on the drive to my condo. The tension is so thick it feels like a blanket wrapped around me. Closing in on me. Smothering me.

We enter the condo, and she stands next to the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself as I sit at the end.

“Sit down.”

“I don't want to sit down.”

I lean forward with my head in my hands, my forearms resting on my thighs. “Fuck, I don’t know how to do this.”

“How to do what?”

I don't reply or look up at her.

“You're scaring me, Porter.”

I get up and go to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. I press my nose to her hair and inhale deeply, savoring the moment because I know this could be the last time I ever hold her this way. “I love you so much. I don't think you really know how much.”

“Please tell me what this is about.”

I can procrastinate no longer.

“The woman who came to the brewery last night.”

“Your business associate?”

“She's not my business associate.”

She stiffens in my arms. “Who is she to you?”

I release her because I know she’s going to fight me if I don’t.

“I had a one-night stand with her a few months ago. But I swear it happened before you. There's been no one else since you.”

“Okay. I knew there were women before me. I don't like it, but I can handle that as long as the past stays in the past.”

“The past isn't staying in the past.”

“Did you tell her we were together?”

“Yes.”

“Why did she come to see you if she was a one-night stand?”

This is it. The moment that is forever going to define the rest of my life. “She's pregnant.”

Frankee stares at me, and I swear I can see the blood draining from her face. “Say the rest of it. Say the rest, so I can hear it come out of your mouth.”

“She says the baby is mine.”

Frankee squeezes her eyes shut, and her erratic breathing causes her chest to shudder. Her eyes are closed, but tears still form in the corners. They drop down her face onto her shirt, forming dark spots on the fabric.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I swear to God, I would take back that night if I could.”

“Do you think it belongs to you?”

I inhale deeply and slowly release my breath. “It’s possible.” I hate admitting that.

Frankee sits on the sofa and covers her face with her hands. “We were in such a good place, and this ruins everything.”

“It ruins everything only if you decide it ruins everything. We can still be happy.”

“You’re having a baby with another woman. That puts a huge damper on our love life.”

“It happened before you.”

“You said that already. But guess what? The consequences of you fucking her—your baby being inside her—are happening right now.” Frankee shakes her head. “You're not a dumb teenager. How did you let that happen?”

“I do not fucking know. I was careful.”

“Not fucking careful enough.”

“She has asked me to be a part of the baby’s life.”

“A paternity test would rule you out if you’re not the father. I can’t imagine her asking you to do that if she isn’t confident that the baby is yours.”

I hadn’t considered that. “Where does this leave us?”

“I don’t know. My head and my heart are on an out-of-control emotional roller coaster. I can’t think because all I want to do is puke.”

“We can get through this. I know we can.”

“I consider myself a strong person, but I don’t know if I can handle someone else being pregnant with your baby. That’s a tough one for any woman to endure.”

“It’s killing me that I’m hurting you this way.”

I can’t lose her over this. She means too much to me.

I drop to my knees on the floor in front of her. I will beg her to stay, with no shame, if that’s what it takes. “I love you, Frankee. I don’t want to lose you over this. Please don’t leave me.”

Tears stream down her face. “Another woman is having your baby. Not me. You can’t imagine how that breaks my heart.”

“We can still get married and have babies, just like we talked about. This does not change that.”

“I wanted to be the one—the only one—to give you babies. Knowing that she has that part of you growing inside her… it taints it for me.”

I press my forehead to her knees. “Please don’t say that.”

“I can’t help it. It disgusts me to know she’s pregnant by you. Think about if the roles were reversed and I just found out I was pregnant by a one-night stand that happened right before we started dating. How would that make you feel? To know that some other man had a part of himself growing inside me?”

That thought sickens me. And it’s just a thought, not a reality. “I would lose my fucking mind.”

“When you said that you wanted to see me holding your baby, I never imagined its mother would be another woman.”

Hearing her say that breaks my heart down the middle.

“I fucked up. No doubt about it, but this doesn’t have to be the end of us. We could come out stronger on the other side because we survived this hurdle.”

“It’s a big hurdle, one I’m not sure I’ll be able to get over.”

“We can do it together, baby. I know I’ve let you down, but we can turn this around. I’ll do whatever it takes if you’ll just give me the chance.”

“That’s the thing. This isn’t a case where you need to right a wrong; you haven’t wronged me. This is about me and whether I can come to accept your having a baby with someone else.”

I grip her hips and press my face against her lap. “I wish it were you having my baby. Fuck, it should be you.”

“But it’s not.”

And it may never be. Because I have fucked up that badly.

“Let’s not go back to work.”

“I don’t think I can go back to work. But I also don’t think I can stay here.”

“Don’t say that. I need you to be here with me now more than ever.”

“I need time—and distance—to figure this out.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know.” She leans away from me. “Can you please take me to my car?”

Again, we don’t speak during the drive back to the brewery. I hate every second of the silence. But what I hate more is watching her get into her car and drive away, not knowing when—or if—I’ll see her again.

She needs time. And I owe her that without being in her face.

Porter: Take off the rest of the week.

Porter: I’ll take care of everything.

Porter: I love you.

No response. Maybe because she’s driving. Maybe because this is it.

Fucking incredible how one small moment can change the entire course of your life.

I’m losing the one thing I love most in this world. I feel it happening. She’s slipping through my fingers. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

I pick up my phone to check the texts that came through while I was driving home. All three from Porter. I want so badly to reply. To tell him I love him too. To tell him not to worry because this is going to be okay. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. Because the truth is that I’m not sure everything is going to be okay.

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m jealous.

I love Porter, so how could I not be?

I go to my bedroom and fall into my bed, curling into a ball. I want to shut it all off.

The pain. The sadness. The envy.

The disappointment. The remorse. The regret.

We were so happy last night. Making love. Talking about marriage. A baby. Our baby. The one he wanted to give me as soon as I’d let him. The one with the wild Beckman hair.

Not one he’s having with another woman.

I lie on my side with my legs curled into my chest most of the day, tossing from one side to the other. I occasionally doze off for brief periods, and it’s the only bit of escape my heart gets from drowning in misery.

The sun streaming through my window has moved lower. Everyone will be home soon. And the questions will begin.

What’s wrong? Why are you in bed? Why have you been crying?

I don’t want to answer everybody’s questions. I just want to be left alone.

The first knock on my bedroom door comes and it’s my mom. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m lying down because I don’t feel well. I was thinking I might take a nap.”

She comes into my bedroom and sits on the bed beside me. “You sound congested. Do you have a headache?”

“Yes.”

“Let me bring you some medicine to help with that. It’ll help you sleep.”

I won’t turn down something that will help me forget about this mess. “That would be great.”

My mom returns with a glass of water and two large gelcaps and flips on my bedroom light. “Well, Frankee. I think you’re getting sick. Your eyes are red and swollen.” She touches the top of her hand to my forehead. “But you don’t have fever.”

“Probably just cold and sinus stuff.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately. Your body probably needs some rest. This will knock you out for at least eight hours.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. I’ll poke my head in later to check on you.”

I’m waiting for sleep to claim me when my phone vibrates.

Porter: You never responded to my texts.

Porter: I’m worried.

Porter: Are you ok?

Frankee: No. I’m not ok.

Porter: I’m coming over.

Frankee: Don’t.

Porter: I don’t want to be apart when you’re not ok.

Frankee: I need you to stay away. That’s what I need right now.

Porter: We should be together.

Porter: Figuring this out.

Frankee: No.

Frankee: I don’t want to think about it anymore.

Frankee: I’m going to sleep.

Porter: Ok. I’ll leave you alone.

Porter: For now.

Porter: I love you, baby.

Porter: So much.

I love him with every piece of my shattered heart, but I still can’t bring myself to tell him right now. It feels too much like saying that this is going to be okay.

I don’t know if it was the medication or state of mind, but my night was nothing more than restless cycles of sleep, nightmares, and waking. Same pattern over and over all night long. Exhausting.

I wake to texts from Porter.

Porter: Checking on you.

Porter: Please text back so I know you’re ok.

Porter: Frankee?

Porter: Please answer me.

He’s sent four texts over the last two hours. I was so dead to the world that I didn’t hear my phone once.

Frankee: I’m fine.

Frankee: As fine as I can be.

Porter: Thank you for texting back.

Porter: I’m going to back off and give you the time you want.

Porter: But please let me know if you need anything.

Porter: Anything at all. Ask and it’s yours.

Porter: I love you.

I withheld my love from Porter yesterday and last night because I was angry and in pain. I used it as a way to punish him. But he’s hurting and in pain too. He hates this as much as me. Probably more.

This situation is far from being okay, but my love for Porter hasn’t changed. And I don’t want him thinking it has.

Frankee: I love you too.

Porter: You don’t know how badly I needed you to say that.

There’s a soft tap at my door before my mom opens it. “Hey. Feeling better?”

“Yes.” No. I feel just as shitty today as I did last night.

“Do you need anything? I can make you some breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“I don’t think I can eat.”

“Are you staying home from work?”

Mom and Dad don’t know I got the full-time graphic and marketing position at Lovibond. And I’m keeping it that way until I figure out this situation. “Porter has given me the rest of the week off.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I finished my jobs ahead of time, so he told me to take off.” I hate lying to my mom but I’m not ready to tell her what’s going on.

“Toni is having some trouble with her babysitter. She’s already lost two days’ work this week because of it. She called your dad this morning, and she’s going to be out today too. It might be nice if you offered to keep Willow and Keeley for her since you’re free.”

Toni works with my dad in the warehouse. We’re about the same age but our lives couldn’t be more different. She’s raising two little girls on her own because her husband is in jail.

“I can keep the girls the rest of the week.” All I’m going to do is sit here and wallow in misery anyway. I might as well do something to take my mind off this shitty situation.

“I know Toni will be happy to hear that. And your dad too.”

“She probably needs me to pick them up so she isn’t late.”

“You could offer to get them at the brewery instead of driving out to her house. That would be faster for both of you.”

“I can do that.”

“Your dad will call her. What time do you want to tell her you’ll be there?”

“Ten ‘til.”

I get to the brewery a few minutes early. I park facing the entrance so I don’t miss seeing Toni when she arrives. Which means I also don’t miss seeing Porter either.

Damn. He looks good in those jeans and that T-shirt, getting out of that big black truck.

I’m not in my usual parking place so he doesn’t spot me. I get to take full advantage of watching him from afar.

Toni is running a little late. I suspect that’s nothing unusual with two little ones. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting on me for long.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s only a few minutes until she needs to clock in, so I get out and help her transfer the kids into my car. I lift Keeley out of her car seat. “Oooh, when did you get so big, Kiki?”

Willow gets out of her booster seat and runs over to squeeze my leg. “I’ve missed you, Frankee.”

“I know. I haven’t seen you in a long time. I’m so happy you’re going to stay with me the next few days.”

“You don’t know what a lifesaver you are.”

“Happy to help. Now go on and clock in before you’re late. I know how to buckle the girls.”

“Thank you so much.” Toni quickly kisses her daughters. “I’ll see you after work. Be good for Frankee.”

* * *

Keeping Willow and Keeley the last three days has been a nice distraction from my fixation about Porter and… baby mama. Damn. I don’t even know that woman’s name.

But I lie in the bed every night thinking of him. And how much I miss him. How much I miss his touch. How much I miss making love.

I don’t feel whole without him.

I’ve thought of every scenario. Reflected about it. Considered the aftermath. And every outcome is the same.

Watching this woman grow with his child will be painful. Having her in our lives forever will be a struggle. Being a stepmother to this child will be hard.

Going through this with Porter will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever endured. But living without him will be harder. I don’t want to live without him.

If this baby is part of his life, then this baby is part of my life.

And that’s all.

Frankee: I’m ready to talk.

Porter: Meet at my place?

Frankee: Ok. What time?

Porter: I have a few things to finish before I can leave. 7:00 ok?

Frankee: I’ll be there.

Frankee: I can come early and cook dinner if you want.

Porter: I would love that.

Frankee: See you then.

Porter: I love you.

Frankee: Love you too.

I feel good about this decision. It feels right.

* * *

I’m dipping a chicken tender into an egg wash when the doorbell rings. “Hang on a minute,” I call out.

I do a quick handwashing and go to the door, drying my hands on a towel. My heart jumps into my throat when I see it’s her. Baby mama.

A woman has many looks. She can be casual. She can be stylish. She can be somewhere middle of the road. But she can also show intention with the way she’s dressed. And this woman is here with one intention in mind: to fuck.

Everything from the way her hair is styled down to her fuck-me pumps says so.

I say nothing, forcing her to speak first. “Is Porter here?”

“Nope. Just me.”

“Do you know when he’ll be home?”

If she were any other woman, I’d tell her to fuck off. But that isn’t going to be an option with her. Ever. “Maybe an hour.”

“Can I come in?”

I don’t want to let her in. I need to speak with Porter about this situation before I have any kind of communication with this woman. “I know we need to—and it’s coming—but I’m not ready for us to have a conversation yet.”

“I see he told you about our baby.”

Our baby. Hearing her say that makes me ill. “He did.”

“What are your thoughts about that?”

Dumbest fucking question ever. “What do you think my thoughts are?”

“I would imagine you’re not very happy about it.”

I look at her, saying nothing. What does she want from me? Denial? Confirmation?

“I’d like to come in and talk to you before Porter gets home. Woman-to-woman.”

This woman doesn’t know me, but we have one common denominator. “Okay.”

I return to the kitchen; I’m not taking her into the living room where she can get comfortable. I don’t want her here one minute longer than necessary “You caught me in the middle of cooking dinner.”

She looks at the chicken on the counter and turns her head. “Raw meat has been making me sick with this pregnancy.”

Good. Maybe that will speed up this conversation she’s insisting we have. “You wanted to talk. I’m listening.”

“I already love this baby, and I want the best for it.”

“You are its mother. I would expect no less.”

“A child needs a mother and father one hundred percent of the time. Not a little parenting here and a little there. Would you agree?”

“I strongly believe a child needs both parents.”

“I’m glad you see things that way, so you’ll understand why having you around isn’t what’s best for my baby.”

What the actual fuck? “Excuse me?”

“My baby deserves both of its parents. And Porter isn’t going to be the father he needs to be as long as you’re in his life.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. He’s going to put you first. You’ll come before his child every time. And that’s not fair to our baby.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I need Porter’s support. He should be going to my doctor appointments with me. He should be by my side when they do the ultrasounds, seeing his child grow inside me. He should be bonding with our baby during my pregnancy. Touching my belly. Talking to the baby. But he isn’t going to do that for fear of upsetting you.”

That has to be some of the most unrealistic expectations I’ve ever heard. “Those are the things that happen when a pregnant woman is in a relationship with the father of her baby. This pregnancy is the result of a one-night stand. You don’t have a relationship with Porter.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We share a child. That puts us in a relationship, a very special one.”

“But not by choice.”

“Maybe not. But those feelings can change. He can become happy about this baby. He can be by my side when it comes into this world. He can look at our little miracle and fall in love with his child the first time he sees him or her. But he isn’t going to act happy or show affection because he’ll be afraid of upsetting you. Can’t you see? My baby will never have the full love of its father because of you. Can you in good conscience rob an innocent child of the love of its parent? Are you really that selfish?”

“I’d like you to leave. Now.”

I manage to stay strong until the door shuts, but I’m a tearful mess crumpled on the kitchen floor the minute she’s gone.

I lean against the cabinet, sobbing. Because I know there’s at least a little truth to what she said.

They share a child. They share a special relationship.

And I don’t have that with him.

I am so fucking nervous right now.

Frankee’s text says she’s ready to talk. The next text says she’ll cook dinner. And the next says she loves me. That has to be a good sign. She wouldn’t say those things if she were about to leave me.

I have a good feeling about this. A damn good feeling.

Until I find Frankee in a sobbing shamble on the kitchen floor.

I sink to the floor and pull her into my arms. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She turns in my arms and curls against me like a child. “I came here to tell you I didn’t want to live without you. And that I could accept the baby. But then she came here and now…”

“Who came here?”

“Her. That woman you got pregnant.”

“Charlotte was here?”

“Yes.”

Why? How does she even know where I live? “What did she say?”

“She says my being in the baby’s life isn’t what’s best for the baby.”

“I don’t understand what that means or where that’s coming from.”

“She told me that you’d never be the father her baby needed as long as I was in your life. You’d always put me first, and that wouldn’t be fair to the baby.”

That’s only partly true. “You’re the love of my life. Of course, you come first, but I’m sure I’d learn to balance my time and attention with the baby after it’s born. That’s what any parent does.”

“She wants you to go to the doctor with her and be there for ultrasounds and touch her stomach and talk to the baby, but she says you won’t because of me.”

“I don’t want to do any of that stuff. And that has nothing to do with you.”

“She says you won’t fully love the baby as long as I’m around. And that I’m robbing an innocent child of its father’s love. And that makes me selfish.”

“I’m struggling with my feelings toward this baby, but that has nothing to do with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Parents love their children. It’s what they do. It’s their job. I know it sounds horrible, but I don’t feel anything for this baby.” I’m fairly certain that makes me a terrible person.

“You just found out. I don’t think you’ve had time to process how you feel.”

“I know it’s only been three days, but I think I should feel something. Anything.”

“It’ll come in time.”

“If you were the one who was pregnant, I’d already love the baby. I know I would.”

“Because our child would be an extension of our existing love. It’s not fair to compare the two.”

I don’t know what I’ll do if Charlotte’s visit has made Frankee change her mind. “You said you came here because you didn’t want to live without me and that you could accept the baby. Is that still true?”

“I think I can, but something became very apparent to me during my conversation with her. We’re only three days in, and she’s already using this baby as a wedge between us.”

“Nothing can come between us unless we allow it to.”

“She wants me out of your life. She was very clear about it.”

“Don’t give a fuck what she wants. I want you in every second of my life.”

“I predict that she’s going to make my life a living hell. But because I love you, I’m going to try to make this work.”

I press a kiss to her lips. “I love you so damn much.”

“I love you too.”

“It’s you and me, baby. Forever. No-fucking-body is ever going to tear us apart. Tell me you believe that.”

“I believe that.”

I take my phone out of my pocket. “I’m calling Charlotte right now. Not because she’s important enough to interrupt our time together. I’m doing it because I want you to hear everything said between us.”

I skip the pleasantries of hello and how are you. “Charlotte. Do not show up at my condo again unless you are invited.”

“I came to talk to you about the baby.”

“I understand we need to do that, but we’ll make arrangements to schedule a meeting. Don’t show up here unannounced again. And don’t, under any circumstances, ever try to convince Frankee that she should no longer be a part of my life. She is my life, and she isn’t going anywhere. Do you understand that?”

She hesitates before replying. “Yes.”

“You’re only thirteen weeks along. We’ll set up some kind of meeting in a month or so to discuss a plan.”

“A month? I’ll be nearly halfway through my pregnancy at that point.”

“Why would we need to meet sooner?”

“You’re supposed to see my belly getting bigger as your baby grows inside me. And we should talk about the baby’s development every week so you’ll know what’s happening.”

No. No. No. That’s not happening.

“I’m sure I’d be interested in experiencing that stuff if we were a couple. But we’re not. I’m going to do what I have to do because it’s my responsibility, but don’t expect me to be gung ho about this pregnancy.”

“You’re saying this stuff because she’s there listening.”

“I’m telling you how I feel, and that has nothing to do with Frankee.”

“It has everything to do with her. You’re already choosing her over this baby.”

How is that even possible when the baby isn’t here yet?

“I’ve already told you that she’s the thing I love most in this world. That isn’t going to change.” Why is she refusing to acknowledge that?

“Not even for your child? Your own flesh and blood?”

“I’m not going to sit here and compare apples and oranges with you.”

“Our baby needs you to love him or her wholeheartedly.”

“And I’m sure I will grow to love this child.”

“You won’t love it as much if you’re not connecting with it while I’m pregnant.”

That’s such bullshit.

“I’m sorry if you’re expecting me to be that man who comes over and rubs your belly and gets a thrill when the baby moves. That’s for a lover or boyfriend or husband to do. And I’m none of those things to you. We fucked once and then went our separate ways. That’s it.”

“You’re being an asshole, and it’s because of her.”

It’s as though she’s expecting me to act like a husband. And I’m not doing that.

“No. I’m being an asshole because you’re placing blame on Frankee for things that are out of her control. And I’m also being an asshole because you really pissed me off by coming to my house and trying to convince her to leave me.”

“I’m looking out for the well-being of our child.”

“No. You’re being a bitch to the woman who will one day be your child’s stepmother. And you need to stop.”

“I no longer wish to talk to you while she’s present.”

“I will contact you in a month.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment in three weeks. They’ll be doing another ultrasound, and I’d like for you to go with me.”

Here we go with that shit.

“Text me the date, time, and address. I’ll let you know in advance if I’m able to come.”

“Please try to come. It’s important to me.”

“We’ll see.”

I end the call. “She was singing a different tune than that one three days ago.”

I thought she was reasonable. Understanding.

I was wrong.

“She’s going to be a problem.”

“She’s not going to be a problem because we’re not going to let her be a problem.” She is not going to come between Frankee and me.

“What are we going to tell people about us? About her and the baby?”

“We are going to tell everyone just as we planned, beginning with Scott. But we’re not unnecessarily telling anyone about her or that baby until I confirm that it’s mine.”

“Do your parents know?”

“I had to tell them.”

“Is your mom happy about getting another grandbaby?”

I hate the sadness I see in her eyes, hear in her voice.

“No. She’s afraid this fuck-up will cause me to lose you.”

“I’m going to try. That’s all I can do.”

“You don’t know how grateful and happy I am that you aren’t turning your back on me. I don’t think I could do this without you.” I press a kiss to her mouth. “I got a glimpse this week of what me without you would be like, and I hated every second.”

“I hated it too.”

“Every day, I wanted to be with you at work. I wanted to be with you here at home. I wanted to be in bed with you. And inside you.”

“I missed all of those things too.”

“I need you, Frankee.”

“You can have me. I’m still yours. That hasn’t changed.”

Hearing her say that she’s still mine, after everything I’ve put her through the last few days, makes me love her even more. She isn’t walking away from me at a time when most women would.

“You are mine. Forever. I’m never giving you up.” I grasp her chin and kiss her mouth. “I need to be inside you. Connect with you. Feel that you’re still mine.”

She nods. “I want that.”

She wiggles to lie on the kitchen floor while I open her shorts and drag them and her panties down her legs. She presses kisses to my face while I work on pushing my jeans and boxer briefs to my knees.

Frankee reaches between us and grasps my dick. I hiss through gritted teeth when she grips tightly and strokes me from base to tip, up and down. “I need to feel you moving inside me.”

She bites my bottom lip into her mouth and roughly tugs. “Fuck me, Porter. Right now, on this kitchen floor. Hard. Without any mercy.”

Sometimes you need to make love. Sometimes you just need to fuck hard. Sometimes you need to fuck out your anger. And this is one of those times.

No time for foreplay.

I bring my hand to my mouth and generously lick my fingers before using them to lubricate her. I plunge deep inside, giving her every inch of my length on the first thrust. She squeezes her eyes shut and gasps as her back arches off the floor. “Ahh.”

Her legs bend at the knees and she wraps them around me with her heels digging into my ass, urging me to fuck deeper. Harder. I pull back and drive into her with complete domination. No mercy. No tenderness. No weakness.

This woman is mine. I’m the only one to ever have every part of her. And it’s going to stay that way.

I pull out and thrust hard, pumping my cock in and out of her body. Bare. Skin on skin. Our bodies becoming one without anything separating us.

I grasp her ankles and put them on my shoulders. I slow my speed but drive into her a little harder at the end of each thrust, shoving her body across the floor with each plunge. She’ll probably wear bruises up and down her spine.

So fucking intense. And hot. Erotic. No one has ever done this to me except Frankee.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.”

She opens her eyes and looks up at me. Those baby blue eyes on mine while I pound my cock into her pussy… it’s my undoing. I grasp her hips and thrust deeply one last time, exploding inside her. Coming. So hard.

I lower her legs from my shoulders and collapse on top of her. “That was so good.”

She bends her knees and wraps her legs around my body. “I needed that. To feel close to you again.”

“I know. Me too.”

“We can’t give anyone the power to control what happens between us ever again. Or we won’t survive.”

“Never happening again, Frankee. I swear.”

No one is ever going to separate me from this woman again.

* * *

Scott is lying on the couch watching television when Frankee and I come into the house. He sees me and immediately sits up, combing his fingers through his hair. “Hey boss.”

The wrinkle across his forehead deepens as he looks back and forth from his daughter to me. “Frankee?”

“Porter and I need to talk to you.”

Mrs. Dawson comes into the living room and sits beside Scott.

“What about?”

“Scott, you have a wonderful daughter. I knew when I interviewed her that she was the best candidate for the intern position. I was certain she would be a hard worker and I wasn’t wrong. She has been a true asset for me and the art department at Lovibond.”

“I’m very glad to hear that you’re pleased with her work. I know she’s going to be sad to leave Lovibond in a few weeks.”

“I’m not leaving, Dad.”

“You aren’t? Well, that’s wonderful news. When did you decide that?”

“When Porter asked me to stay.”

“For a job?”

“He has offered me the full-time position at Lovibond, but that’s not the only reason I’m staying.” Frankee looks at me and smiles. “I love him.”

“You love him?”

I take Frankee’s hand in mine and place our clasped hands on top of my leg. “We love each other.”

“But you’re not even dating.”

“We started seeing each other outside of work a couple of weeks after she came to work at Lovibond.”

“That was months ago, and this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Given my history, I wasn’t sure how you’d react to my dating your daughter. You’re one of my best employees, and I didn’t want there to be any problems between us.”

“Plus, I was planning to leave in September. It didn’t make sense to potentially cause a ruckus when I was going to be gone soon.”

I need Scott to hear me. Trust me. Believe me.

“I have a past. It’s not a stellar one, but please believe me when I tell you that Frankee has changed me. I love her with all of my heart, and she is precious to me. I would never do anything to hurt or disrespect her.”

Scott sits back on the couch, looking at me. “You know what I’ve had to do for you. Surely, you know that isn’t reassuring to me as her father.”

“All of that’s over. You’ll never see another woman coming around there looking for me. Frankee’s it for me. I’d love to have your blessing.”

Scott looks at Frankee. “He’s what you want?”

She nods. “Yes. He’s the one.”

“Then I guess you have my blessing.”

Might as well tell him the rest.

“Frankee and I are talking about getting engaged. That’s probably going to be a conversation I’ll be wanting to have with you soon.”

He sighs. “Y’all are just dropping all kinds of bombs on me today.”

“They’re good bombs, Daddy. We’re happy, and we want you to be happy about us being together.”

“I’m not unhappy. I’m shocked. But I suppose I shouldn’t be. Not after you went off to Texas together for days. And then you went to Mobile together. And those are just the trips I know about. I suspect there have been more spend-the-nights.”

Frankee’s mom places her hand on Scott’s leg. “Don’t.”

“Did you know about this?”

“I knew a little bit.”

“Ah, hell, Tara. You knew more than a little.”

She chuckles. “Maybe I did, but it wasn’t for me to blab about. Porter and Frankee needed to be the ones to tell you.”

“Well, it’s done now.”

One down. Two best friends and a whole brewery to go.

Should be fun.

* * *

I roll up in Stout’s office and sit in my usual chair, putting my feet on his desk. Love pissing the fucker off by doing that. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re messing with a felon now.”

“A felon?”

“Yeah. I spent some time in the pokey while I was in Savannah.”

“What?”

“I got locked up while I was over there for Christie’s funeral.”

“For doing what?”

“Fighting in a funeral home.” Maybe it’s morbid but that instantly makes me want to laugh.

Stout’s been in Savannah because his birth mother died. His sorry, lowdown, no-good birth mother. “You go to a funeral and end up in jail. That sounds like a bad episode of Cops. What the fuck happened?”

Stout’s birth parents are pieces of shit so this ought to be good.

“Jimmy-motherfucking-McCollum happened.” Stout despises his birth father with a passion. Can’t blame him. The asshole always taunted Stout.

“What did he do?”

“The McCollums were being McCollums when we got to the funeral home. All of them were high on something and acting like jackasses. Especially Jimmy. That motherfucker started in on me the minute I stepped foot in that place. It went on the whole time we were there for the visitation, but I put up with his shit for Lawry. I figured I could be the bigger man for a couple hours.”

“Until you couldn’t be anymore?”

“I thought I was home free. The funeral was over, and we were leaving. I was so close to never seeing those people again that I could taste the freedom. And that fucker couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t let me go without poking for one last fight.”

“And you gave it to him.”

“I damn sure did. Right in the funeral home. I hated that, but I had no choice. He grabbed my mom’s arm and told her that she was an uppity bitch who stole his kids and raised them to be assholes just like her and her husband.” Stout’s jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscle is rigid. “My mom was there to pay respects to her children’s birth mother, and Jimmy put his hands on her and then insulted her.”

“Any legal repercussions?”

“Probably a fine. Not sure yet.”

Stout’s smiling like a big douchebag. “What’s with the grin?”

“The whole trip and funeral may have been a clusterfuck but something good came out of it. I asked Adelyn to marry me, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

“Haven’t gotten that far yet but I sure hope it’s soon. I’m ready to give that girl my last name.”

I know the feeling. I want Frankee to have my last name too.

“I have a bit of news myself. You weren’t wrong about my having a secret woman. Frankee and I are together.”

“I knew you were fucking that girl. Knew. It.”

“I’m not fucking her. I’m in love with her.”

“What are you planning to do when Scott finds out?”

“He knows. Frankee and I told him yesterday, and he’s cool with it.”

“That’s a hard one to believe considering that he knows how you are.”

“You too, motherfucker.”

“I don’t matter. I’m not dating his daughter.”

“We touched on the topic of my past, and I told him that part of my life was over. There will be no more women coming around the brewery looking for me. Frankee is the only one for me. And that’s why I told Scott that he could expect me to come to him soon so we could have a conversation about me proposing to his daughter.”

“The hell you say.”

“I’m not fucking with you. I want to marry her.” As soon as possible. “Maybe we plan a double wedding.”

“I don’t recommend that; Adelyn is an event planner. She’s going to blow up a fucking wedding budget.”

“I don’t even care about a wedding. I just want to be married to her.”

Maybe we should elope.

I’m not opposed to that idea at all.

It’s been three weeks since Charlotte’s visit. She hasn’t been back, probably thanks to Porter’s warning, but that hasn’t stopped her from calling every few days to talk about the baby and what a great father Porter is going to be to the baby and how much the baby is going to love Porter.

The baby. The baby. The baby.

Shit goes on and on.

Today is her sixteen-week appointment. Not even halfway through it and she’s doing everything within her power to suck Porter into her web.

This is going to be the fucking longest pregnancy in history.

“Fuck, I don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want you to do this either. Mostly because it’s going to make her so damn happy but as the baby’s father, it’s the right thing to do.”

“I wish you’d go with me.”

That would go over like a turd in a punchbowl. “It doesn’t make sense for me to go. I’d have to sit in the waiting area while you go to the exam room with her.”

“You’re my support system. I want you there.”

“We both know she’ll throw a damn shit fit if I’m there. It’s not worth it.”

“Fuccck.” Porter kisses my mouth. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“We can when you get back. Take a long lunch if you want.”

“Yesss. I want that.”

He kisses my mouth again. “I’ll be back as soon as it’s over.”

“I’ll be here.” Working. I have plenty to keep me busy. But I’m not complaining. I need something to take my mind off the clusterfuck named Charlotte.

I busy myself with Lawrence’s new design series for a line that she and Lucas are planning to launch in the spring. I absolutely love working on Bohemian Cider Company’s artwork. Such fun designs with their cool hippie vibe.

I’m excited to see what Lawrence thinks of my ideas, so I give her a buzz. “Hey. I have some initial designs for the new line if you want to come over and have a look.”

“Will you be there in about thirty minutes?”

“Planning to be.”

“Okay. See you then.”

I’m glad Lawrence is coming. That will help to take my mind off Porter being with the pregnant clusterfuck.

I print off samples of my work and arrange them on Porter’s desk so we can use mine for a workspace. I smile when I see the framed photo of us on the shelf behind his chair. I’m so glad we no longer have to hide our relationship. Makes life so much easier.

I look up when I hear the light tap on the door. “Hey girl. Come in.”

I know the minute I see Lawrence that something is wrong. Her eyes and nose are red and swollen. “Goodness, I wouldn’t have bothered you if I’d known you were sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Everything okay?”

Tears swell in her lower lids. “I’m sorry. I thought I was done crying.”

I don’t know Lawrence incredibly well, but we’re on our way to becoming friends. “Is there something I can do?”

“No.”

I take her hand and tug. “Come sit.”

I take the seat beside her at Porter’s desk. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing’s wrong per se. It’s just that Lucas and I are trying to have a baby, and I thought I was pregnant. But it turns out that I’m not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you been trying for long?”

“Not long but we’ve already been told by doctors that it will probably take a while. It was silly of me to think it had already happened.”

“You never know. It could happen quickly.”

“It’s just very disappointing to think I was and then find out differently.”

See, this kind of thing pisses me off. You have a couple who wants to have a baby and either can’t or will go through problems achieving it, and then you have clusterfuck—supposedly on birth control—who gets pregnant during a one-night stand with a condom. Totally unfair.

She wipes her tears away. “I don’t need to fixate on that. I want to see your designs.”

Lawrence takes my mind off my baby problems, and I take her mind off hers. We’re still talking and laughing when Porter returns from clusterfuck’s doctor’s visit.

“Sounds like y’all are having a party in here.”

“Maybe.”

Porter goes to Lawrence and kisses the side of her face. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Whatcha been up to?”

“Not much. Just staying busy at the cider company.”

“Busy is always good for business.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m married to the numbers guy, remember?”

“Yeah. Tap loves to run numbers, especially when they equal dollars.”

Lawrence gets up. “I’ve gotta get going. I have a lunch date with my husband.”

Porter winks at me. “I’m ready for a little lunch myself. How ’bout you, baby?”

“I could eat.”

“Love the designs, Frankee. Give me a holler when you’re done with edits.”

“Will do.”

Lawrence smiles as she leaves, shutting the door behind her, and Porter pulls me into his arms. “I’m so fucking glad to be done with that.”

I hate to break it to him, but he’s not done. He’s just getting started.

“Was it horrible?”

“No. I’m just not sure why she insisted I go. They didn’t do anything but look at her.”

“They didn’t listen to the heartbeat?”

“Yeah, they did that and asked her some questions.”

“I’m sure she wanted you to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” That’s just one of the many ways she’s going to try to make Porter bond with this baby.

“I can’t believe she had me leave work for that. It was nothing but a waste of my time.”

“Aside from the appointment, how did seeing her go?”

He looks away and grunts.

“What?”

“She was sitting on the table waiting for the doctor to come in and she pulled up her shirt to show me her bump and told me to touch it.”

“Did you?”

“No. I’m not touching her.”

“Did anything else happen?”

“They scheduled her next appointment while we were there and she’s having an ultrasound to find out the baby’s gender. She wants me to come to that.”

“No surprise there.”

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

“A father should be there for the ultrasound. That visit is important. But after that, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to go to regular appointments with her if everything is okay.” I don’t think most dads-to-be go to all of the appointments. I only see a couple of men in the waiting area with their wives or girlfriends when I go see my OB-GYN.

“I was hoping you would say I didn’t have to go to any more at all.”

“It’s not my decision to make.”

“I guess I’ll go to that one, but she can forget me coming to any more after that.”

“As long as it’s always your choice.” I won’t have clusterfuck blaming me for Porter missing any milestones in this baby’s life. If he does, it’ll be his decision.

“My choice is to get out of here and start our lunch break.”

“That would be my choice too.”

“I think I feel like fucking you on the kitchen counter today. And maybe I’ll lick peanut butter off your nipples. And jelly.”

“Well, you do enjoy a good PB&J.”

“I bet there’s never been a better PB&J than what I’d lick off your body.”

“Only one way to find out.”

* * *

Another month behind us and clusterfuck is at the halfway point of her pregnancy. It’s been easy to avoid her because she hasn’t come back to Porter’s condo. I’m grateful for that but her calls to him are coming more frequently.

He took them for the first couple weeks after her last appointment, but he’s had to resort to telling her only to call in the event of an emergency.

Everything is a fucking emergency.

She vomits and it’s an emergency.

She spots and it’s an emergency.

She farts and it’s an emergency.

But the one that takes the cake is her calling an ambulance because she said her water may have broken. Turned out she just has a nasty vagina and it was vaginal discharge coming out.

But she managed to get Porter out of bed with me to come to the hospital to check on her.

Today is her ultrasound to determine the baby’s gender. We haven’t discussed it, but the day is here now, and we’ve no choice but to talk about it. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t care because you’re afraid I’ll be upset if you show some interest in your child.”

“I’m not acting.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t feel anything when I think about this baby. And then that makes me feel like a shitty person because I know I’m supposed to have some kind of bond or connection or feelings for my child. But I don’t.”

“You’re not a shitty person. The feelings will come when they come.”

“Maybe I don’t have the dad gene.”

I hate that he doubts himself. “I’ve seen you with Anna Cade and Bennett and Callan and Willow and Keeley. You sooo have the dad gene. It oozes out of you when you’re around children and makes my ovaries ache.”

“I love that your ovaries ache for me.”

“A lot of my stuff aches for you.”

“I love that too. I have ten minutes until I have to leave.”

“And?”

“Let me stick it in you.”

“Porter…”

“Come on, baby. Let me put it inside you. I’ll be fast.”

“Is the door locked?”

“It can be.”

“Lock it.”

I sit in the chair beside Charlotte in the exam room while the woman prepares the machine for her ultrasound. “I want you to stand by me so you can see better.”

“I can see just fine from here.”

“No, you can’t. Come here.”

Charlotte loves to tell me what I should be doing. A lot. And it pisses me off.

“You won’t be able to see as well over there,” the female technician confirms.

I’d love to tell these two that I honestly don’t give a shit if I see anything or not.

I get up and stand by the table, my arms crossed, and she reaches out to me. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to hold my hand.”

“I don’t want to.”

Charlotte crosses her arms over her abdomen. “You smell like her.”

“Of course, I smell like her. I’m always going to smell like her.”

The woman about to do the ultrasound looks over at me and then back at the machine. I’m certain she thinks I’m the biggest asshole who ever walked the face of the earth, but that’s because she’s judging a situation she knows nothing about.

“All set. I’m ready to start. Warm goo on your belly.”

The woman moves the wand over Charlotte’s stomach and points out different parts of the baby’s body for us to see. She says it’s this or that but I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.

“Look, Porter. You can see the baby’s hand and fingers.”

That one I can sort of make out. “Yeah.”

“Let’s see if this baby will show us if it’s a boy or girl.”

The woman moves the wand and takes a still shot of the view between the baby’s legs. She blows it up and points to the screen. “That looks like a girl to me.”

Charlotte squeals and reaches for my hand, this time successfully stealing it from my crossed arms. “Oh my God, Porter, we’re having a little girl. A daughter.”

I don’t want any of this with her.

“We have to start talking about names and picking out the paint color for the nursery and the baby furniture. It’s going to be so much fun.”

None of that is going to be fun.

The technician interrupts Charlotte’s gleeful idiocy. “Have you been feeling any contractions?”

“I don’t think so. But this is my first baby. I don’t know what contractions feel like. Why are you asking?”

“Your cervix looks a little open. I’m going to let your doctor know.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m going to talk to your doctor so he can make sure. Stay there and I’ll be right back.”

Charlotte’s eyes dart to mine. “What she just said didn’t sound good.”

“I’m sure everything is fine.”

“I’m scared. What if something is wrong?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure she has to report every little thing she sees. Wait for the doctor to tell you if there’s something to be concerned about.”

Charlotte’s doctor comes into the exam room. “The tech tells me she might be seeing a little bit of dilation. Could be nothing, but I’m going to do a very gentle vaginal exam and see if it feels like your cervix is misbehaving.”

I turn my head when the doctor pulls back the sheet to examine Charlotte. She squeezes my hand and looks up at me. It’s real fear I see there.

“Your cervix is soft and dilated about a fingertip. That’s not okay for someone at twenty weeks’ gestation. I’m going to admit you to the hospital and monitor you to see what’s going on.”

“Am I losing the baby?”

“A lot more would need to happen for you to deliver. That’s why I’m putting you in to be monitored. I want to make sure nothing further happens. And if it does, we’ll need to stop it.”

Charlotte bursts into tears. “I knew something like this was going to happen. I knew she was going to upset me so much that something was going to go wrong.”

“Who upset you?”

“Frankee.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “You’ve had no contact with her in almost two months. How could she possibly have upset you?”

“She won’t let you take my calls.”

“That has nothing to do with her.”

“She’s trying to keep you from being a part of the baby’s life.”

She has no idea that the only reason I’m here is because of Frankee. “I didn’t want to come today, but she told me I needed to.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you believe it or not.”

“Seriously? I’m lying here pregnant with your baby, and I may be in preterm labor and you’re talking to me like that?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you. I want you to want me. And I want you to want our baby so we can be a family. The family I never had.”

She is delusional.

“I’ve already told you that I love Frankee. She’s the one thing I want and love most in this world. That isn’t going to change because you’re pregnant with my baby.”

Charlotte releases my hand as though it’s burned her. “You are such an asshole.”

We fucked once. I didn’t even know her name when she came to tell me about the baby. Why does she believe I’m going to drop everything in my life to be with her?

A nurse comes into the exam room. “Honey, I’m going to move you to a room in labor and delivery.”

Charlotte is sobbing and wailing the whole way to the room. Everybody we pass is looking at her. And then at me.

Several nurses come into her room, each doing something different to her—which causes even more sobbing and wailing.

What a shit show.

Porter: Not sure what’s going on.

Porter: They’ve admitted Charlotte to the hospital because she may be in preterm labor.

Frankee immediately calls. “What’s happening?”

“The doctor admitted her to the hospital because her cervix was dilated a little bit.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“They want to monitor her to make sure she isn’t in preterm labor. And if she is, they’ll need to stop it.”

A pillow slams against the side of my head, causing me to drop my phone. “You’re seriously talking to her while I’m over here going through all of this? When it’s all her fault?” She’s shouting so loudly they can probably hear her in the waiting room.

“Stop it, Charlotte.”

I see the nurses looking at one another. Wondering. Assuming. Judging.

Presuming I’m a cheating asshole. And it fucking bugs me.

I pick up my phone and walk toward the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I say nothing as I step into the hallway. “Porter, are you still there?”

“Baby, this is a fucking mess up in here.”

“I heard what she said. What is she talking about?”

I was hoping she hadn’t heard that. “She’s blaming you for putting her into preterm labor.”

“What the actual fuck? I haven’t seen or spoken to her in two months.”

“We’re not dealing with a reasonable person.”

“That’s becoming more and more apparent. So what happens now?”

“I guess we see if she’s in preterm labor and go from there.”

“Does that mean you have to stay with her?”

“I don’t know. What is my responsibility to her in this situation?”

“You may be her baby’s father, but you’re basically a stranger. I would think she’d want her family and friends to be with her.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would think so too, but I’m not sure with her.”

“I guess you’re not coming back to work right now. What do you want me to tell people?”

“Let’s just say I went home sick.” That’s not entirely a lie. I feel like I want to puke.

I’m beginning to see this for what it really is. A situation that is far more fucked up than I originally thought.

* * *

Frankee is sitting on my living room couch when I come home. I go to her without saying a word and wrap my arms around her. We stay like that for at least five minutes, and I enjoy the calm she instills in me.

So different from the yelling and bellowing I’ve listened to all day.

“I’m so fucked, Frankee.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I think something is wrong with that woman.”

“Like what?”

“It’s as though everything she does is to gain attention and put on a show for someone. Every reaction is over-the-top extreme. And I’m having a baby with her. I’m stuck with that for the rest of my fucking life.”

It nearly sends me into a state of panic when I consider the reality of it.

“Do you think she has some kind of personality disorder or something like that?”

“Odds are good, but I’ve figured out one thing for sure today. She’s obsessed with having me and obsessed with needing you to be out of the picture.”

“That’s not new.”

I haven’t told Frankee all the crazy, bizarre, extreme things she has said. “It’s new in that I had no idea how severe it was. It’s not rational. It’s disturbing. Like a Lifetime movie kind of disturbing.”

“One conversation and I knew. She’s going to be a huge problem whether we allow it or not.”

“I can’t believe I was with her. Fuck, I could kick myself in the ass.” I squeeze Frankee. “Baby, I am so sorry that I have brought this woman into our lives.”

“What’s done is done. Now we have to figure out how to deal with her.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Have they determined if she’s having preterm labor or not?”

“She was having some irregular contractions, and they gave her medicine to stop them. The doctor says that if they get it under control, she’ll be discharged from the hospital but could be on bed rest until she reaches full term. You don’t even want to know what she said about that.”

“You can’t say that and then not tell me.”

“Her claim is that if she’s on bed rest, then she can’t work, and if she can’t work, she can’t pay her rent.”

“Does that mean she wants money from you?”

“No.” Frankee is going to blow her top. “She wants to move in with me.”

“Ohhh… fuck that! She can get that idea out of her head right now.”

“She’s going to milk this for everything she can. I’m going to have a huge problem on my hands when she’s discharged from the hospital.” This truly is a clusterfuck.

“There’s no way she’s moving in here.”

“I told her I would pay her rent if she went on bed rest. Which sucks because I don’t even know for sure that this baby is mine. But that’s not enough for her. She says she’s going to need me to take care of her.”

“Like how?”

“Making sure she’s entertained and comfortable and well-fed and stress-free. Oh, and helping her shower and change clothes.”

“Did she ask you to give her orgasms as well?”

“I don’t think I can go back up there and deal with her.” It’s too fucking much.

“You don’t have to. She’s in the hospital where a very capable medical staff is taking care of her and the baby. There’s nothing you can do anyway but sit there.”

“Which is what I think she expects.”

“You haven’t told me if it’s a boy or a girl.”

I know Frankee wants a girl when she has a baby. I sort of hate telling her.

“A girl.”

“Does the thought of having a baby girl make you happy?”

“It would if you were her mother.”

“But I’m not.”

She’s definitely not. But I want her to be one day.

* * *

“You cannot leave me here alone.”

“You don’t have to work; I’m paying your bills. Your refrigerator is full of food. All of your prescriptions have been filled. You’re fine.”

“I’m on bed rest. I can’t be alone.”

“You’re on modified bed rest. Your doctor said you can go back and forth between the couch and bed and you’re able to shower every day and go to the bathroom on your own. There is no need for me to be here.”

“I want to move in with you.”

She’s beating a dead horse. It’s fucking decapitated because she won’t leave it alone.

“Absolutely not.”

“Because she’s there!”

“No. Because I’m there. I don’t want you in my house.”

“But you want her in your house.”

“Yes. I want her in my house. I want her in my bed. I want her, period.”

Charlotte slides to the edge of the bed and pulls her gown up her thighs. “You rather have her when I’ll let you fuck me any way you want? Even if I let you fuck me in the ass like before?”

I did not fuck her in the ass. That is not my thing. “You have me confused with someone else.”

“I remember it well.”

Someone else stretched that one out. It wasn’t me.

“Doesn’t matter. You have nothing that interests me. Frankee’s the only woman for me.”

“You weren’t saying that when your cock was buried inside me.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why can’t you see that we could be a happy family? You. Me. And Katherine.”

“Katherine?”

“Yes. I want to name our daughter Katherine after your mother.”

“How do you know my mother’s name?”

“I know lots of things.”

“You’re creepy as fuck.”

“Don’t ever call me creepy!” she screams.

I turn and say nothing else before walking out the door.

* * *

My phone alerts me to another text from Charlotte.

Charlotte: I need you to come see me.

Porter: I have a job. I’m working.

Charlotte: Come after work.

Porter: No.

Charlotte: Why not?

Porter: I don’t want to.

Charlotte: Because of her.

Porter: Yes. Because of her.

Porter: Stop texting me.

“Is that her again?”

“Isn’t it always?”

Charlotte is annoying as fuck, but nothing she’s done is illegal. I can’t file any kind of complaint or restraining order against a pregnant woman on bed rest. Especially when she’s pregnant with my child and dependent upon me to drive her to the doctor because she has no one else who will do it. Not even her low-down, sorry mother.

“Power off your phone for a little while. If someone needs you, they’ll call the front desk and Molly will transfer them.”

If I want to keep my sanity, I’m going to have to turn off all communication with her for a while.

I toss my phone on the desk after the screen goes black. “Done.”

Frankee comes to me and tugs on my hands. “Come on. Let’s go to the condo and I’ll help you decompress from this pressure and anxiety you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Frankee wraps her arms around me from behind while I put the key in the deadbolt. She slides her hand into the front of my jeans and grasps my cock, sliding up and down my length. “Mmm… damn, girl. That feels good.”

“An all-natural stress reliever.”

“Ooh, yeah.”

I push the door open and turn so she’s in my arms. I grab her waist, pulling her hard against me, and we stumble through the doorway. “I want you in my bed right now.”

“No other place I’d rather be.”

I walk backward, kissing her the whole way while removing our clothes. We’re both naked by the time we make it to the bed. “I need to be in control, Frankee.”

My life is spiraling out of control. I need to take charge where I can.

“Anything you want.”

“Get up there. Hands and knees.”

She crawls onto the bed, and I can’t resist smacking her naked ass. “Face the headboard.”

I crawl over her from behind when she’s in place and press my lips to the back of her neck, scattering kisses on her skin. My teeth graze the skin there, and chills erupt over her body.

She’s squirming beneath me, rubbing her ass from side to side against my erection. I smack her ass again to remind her. “I’m in control.”

She giggles. “Yes, sir.”

Yes, sir. I like that a lot.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours, Porter. Always.”

I place a kiss against her shoulder. “Mmm… you’re so precious to me, Frankee. My treasure. But I’m about to fuck you so hard.”

“Just what a girl wants to hear.”

We both simultaneously jolt at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. Frankee dives toward the head of the bed to yank the sheet over both of us. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

Shock. Disbelief. Fury. Those are the words that come to mind when I try to describe’s Frankee’s expression right now.

Frankee lies on her back and stares at the ceiling. “I cannot believe this.”

“I said how the fuck did you get in here?”

“The door was unlocked.”

“Why are you at my condo after I’ve told you never to come here again?”

“You stopped returning my texts. I called the brewery, and Molly told me you’d stepped out. I thought I’d try here. But I wouldn’t have if I’d known you were fucking her.” Charlotte screams the last two words “fucking her” so loudly that I’m sure everyone in the building heard her.

“You can’t just walk into my house.”

“You let her.”

“Because she’s my girlfriend. What part of that do you not understand?” This is dumb. So fucking dumb. I shouldn’t have to keep telling her this over and over.

“I’m the mother of your child. That trumps girlfriend.”

“No, it doesn’t, and it never will. You need to leave. Now.”

“I can’t. I’m so upset now that I’m having contractions. I need to lie down.”

Frankee lifts her head and looks at Charlotte. Her expression says make one move toward this bed and I will beat the hell out of you, pregnant or not.

“You’re having contractions because you’re supposed to be at home on the couch and not out running around.”

“I had no choice. You wouldn’t text me or answer my calls.”

I’m struggling with deciding if Charlotte is crazy or dumb. Because none of her decisions make sense.

“How did you get here?”

“Taxi.”

“You’re not staying here. We’re taking you home, and you’re going to get on the couch and keep your ass there.”

“She’s not coming.”

“She is coming. Because I’m done being alone with you after that last stunt you tried to pull.”

That gains Frankee’s full attention. “What stunt?”

I didn’t want to tell her about Charlotte trying to tempt me with sex, but we’re approaching a point where I have no choice. I’m not sure what she’ll try with me. “You and I will talk about that after we drop her off.”

Charlotte laughs. “Porter loved fucking me in the ass. He said he’d never had his cock squeezed so tight before. I told him he could fuck it again if he wanted. Anytime. It’s an open-ended offer.”

Frankee looks at me and I shake my head. “I swear that did not happen.”

“Oh, Frankee. Does he not do that with you? Because you’re not much of a girlfriend if you’re not giving him the backdoor action he needs. It’s what he loves.”

Frankee leaves the bedroom, collecting her clothes from the floor, with me close on her heels. “Stop, baby.”

I grasp her arms and hold her in place. “Don’t let her get to you. You know she’s crazy.”

“She may be crazy. But at this rate I may very well be crazy too by the time this baby is born.”

“She sees you get upset and she interprets that as a weakness in our relationship. I know you’re pissed off, but we have to show her that she hasn’t found a way to breach our walls. That our love is as strong as it’s ever been.”

“I know. I know. You’re right.”

Frankee yanks her clothes on while walking to the bedroom door. “Hey clusterfuck. Get your ass in the truck. We’re taking you back to tu casa.”

It’s Ava and Dillyn’s last weekend in Tuscaloosa before they move to Austin. There’s no way I’d let my besties leave without spending time with them, but I feel so guilty for leaving Porter behind to deal with clusterfuck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with me?”

“I like Ava and Dillyn but this should be a girls’ weekend.”

“They won’t mind if you come. I promise.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t done anything with Tap and Stout in a while. Maybe I’ll get together with them.”

It’s been two weeks since Charlotte’s last stunt. We’re due for another shenanigan at any time. “I’m a little afraid of what clusterfuck will try to pull while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle anything she throws my way.”

Charlotte is a special kind of crazy. There’s definitely something off in her head, but I’ve not yet figured out what it is.

“Come here.” Porter lowers the tailgate of his pickup and lifts me to sit on it. He steps between my legs and I wrap them and my arms around him tightly. “Mmm… damn, girl. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I want you to see your friends before they go, but I hate being away from you this weekend. I’m fucking addicted to you.”

“I know the feeling.”

I should be getting on the road to beat the Friday afternoon traffic, but I don’t want to release my hold on Porter.

“Watch it, boss.” Porter and I turn at the same time to see my dad coming out of the brewery. “Daddies don’t like seeing their little girls make out.”

“You know what, Scott? You’ve called me boss for the past five years, but it suddenly feels like I’m the one who should be calling you boss.”

My dad points to the warehouse. “In there, you’re the boss.” He points to me. “When it comes to my baby girl, I’m the boss.”

“I think we can agree on that one.”

“Your mama said you’ll be gone for the weekend.”

“I’m going down to see Ava and Dillyn before they leave.”

“I guess I’d be moving you to Texas next week if this guy hadn’t swept you off your feet.” My dad points to us. “I’m not disappointed this is happening, especially since it’s keeping my baby home where she belongs.”

Porter squeezes me. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping this girl right here with me. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Be careful and tell Ava and Dillyn to not be strangers.”

“I will. See ya, Dad.”

Porter helps me off the tailgate and pulls me into his arms. “Have a good time with your girls.”

“Always do.” It’s impossible not to have a good time with those two. I’m going to miss them terribly.

* * *

Ava’s curling her hair and Dillyn is applying makeup when I arrive at the apartment. I guess that means we’re going out.

Ava looks at my Lovibond T-shirt and denim shorts. “I hope you brought something besides that to wear.”

“I came straight from work. Of course, I brought something else to wear.”

“Good, because we are going to par… tay tonight.”

Dillyn tugs my hair. “Hope it’s okay if Brendon comes.”

I was hoping for a girls’ night, but I don’t mind Dillyn’s brother going with us. He’s sort of like one of the girls anyway.

“And Chad’s coming too.”

Well, hell. I would have brought Porter for sure if I’d known this was going to turn into a group thing.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere we can get drunk and dance our asses off.”

There was a time when I’d have been super excited about those kinds of plans but not so much now that I’m with Porter. I get far more excited about hanging out with him at his condo.

Damn. Have I become domestic?

The taxi drops us at a bar we’ve been to no less than a million times. “I haven’t been here in months but looks like nothing’s changed.”

“New semester. New faces.”

Yeah. And most of them younger than us.

I prefer my older man. These guys look like they should be drinking beer from a sippy cup.

We luck out and lay claim on an abandoned table. “We could sit here all night waiting on a waitress to come around. Go get us some drinks, Brendon.”

“Ever hear of the word please?”

“Pleeease,” Dillyn says.

Chad goes with Brendon to the bar and I’m glad; I want to talk to Ava. “How are things going with Chad?”

“Good, but apparently not good enough since he didn’t ask me to stay. I think this was just a summer fling for him.”

I know she must be disappointed. “There’s still time. You have the weekend to convince him it’s more.”

Dillyn punches my arm. “Don’t encourage her to flake on moving. I can’t go to Austin by myself.”

“It’s been fun. The sex has been one to two levels above mediocre. But I don’t think it’s the real thing. Not like what you have with Porter.”

Dillyn nods. “I expected you to bring him.”

I wish I had. “He wanted me to have fun with y’all.”

“I’m so glad he’s not one of those possessive assholes,” Dillyn says.

“Oh, he’s very possessive… but in the hottest way.”

“Is the sex still good?” Ava asks.

“Phenomenal.”

“You need to hang on to that one.”

“I am. We’re talking about getting married.”

Dillyn’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Shut the fuck up. When?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t proposed, but he told my dad they’d be having the talk soon.”

“He plans on asking your dad first. That’s so sweet. Is he okay with you being with his boss?”

“Yeah. He likes Porter a lot. They’ve always sort of been boss-employee-friends.”

Brendon and Chad return to the table. “White for you. Red for you. And a mule for you.”

“We have to make a toast.”

“Here’s to never letting distance come between us.”

“Good one.”

“To frequent flyer miles.”

“Another good one.”

“To the two best friends… I’ve ever had.” I choke up on the last part, and Ava and Dillyn come around the table to hug me.

“We’re still going to see each other.”

“That’s right. Porter will propose soon, and we’ll come back for your engagement party.”

“And of course, we’re going to be your bridesmaids. We’ll be back so we can pull all kinds of shenanigans before the wedding.”

“I know. It’s just sad seeing you leave; I never had good friends before the two of you.”

Ava picks up my Moscow Mule and holds it to my mouth. “Drink. Tonight is about a good time. No more of this crying shit.”

And that’s what we do.

Drink.

* * *

Two nights of partying with Ava and Dillyn have kicked my ass. I feel like I need to lie down and sleep for a week.

Frankee: On my way back.

Porter: Come by and see me before you go home.

Frankee: Ok

As per my routine, I go inside Porter’s without knocking. It’s as though his place is becoming my home as well. “Porter?”

I find him on the couch in the living room, an angry scowl on his face. “Hey.”

He doesn’t reply.

“What’s wrong?”

He points to a stack of photos on the table. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“What are those?”

“I don’t know. You take a look and tell me what the fuck those are.”

I pick up the photos and thumb through them.

Brendon kissing the side of my face.

Brendon hugging me from behind.

Brendon and I dancing.

This is creepy. “Where did these come from?”

“Charlotte hand-delivered them to me this morning—with a huge fucking smile on her face.”

“These pictures are from this weekend. How in the world did she get her hands on photos of Brendon and me?”

“His name is Brendon?”

“Yeah. That’s Dillyn’s little brother. He goes to Alabama. He went out with us.”

“He’s kissing and hugging and dancing with you.”

“That’s just Brendon. It’s how he is. He’d have acted no differently if you’d been there with me.”

“I fucking doubt that.”

“I’m not lying. There’s nothing between Brendon and me. We’re just friends.”

“Those pictures say otherwise.” Porter’s raising his voice at me. He’s never done that before.

“This is ridiculous.” I take out my phone and go to Instagram. “Look at his profile and tell me what it says.”

Porter looks at it and a big wrinkle forms across his brow.

“Read the profile out loud.”

“Gay as fuck.”

“Yeah. And that ain’t no lie.”

Porter rubs his hand over his scruff. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m not upset that you got pissed off by these pictures. If I saw you hugging and kissing on some girl in photos, I’d get mad too. But I am hugely disturbed by the fact that Charlotte has photos of me from this weekend. That means she wasn’t at her house on bed rest like her doctor ordered. She was out risking the welfare of the baby so she could follow me in an effort to get evidence that would make you leave me. That’s fucked up. And I think we need to go to the authorities.”

“What are they going to do? She hasn’t broken any laws.”

“Yet. There needs to be a formal complaint for the records. You don’t know what’s going to happen with her down the road. If she turns out to be an unfit mother, you can’t let that baby stay with her. We already know she’s crazy. And if you have to pursue custody, you’ll need some kind of record of her putting the baby’s safety at risk.”

“I don’t want custody.”

“I don’t either, but you can’t let an innocent baby stay with a crazy woman.”

“This hole just keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

“And she’s not even close to being done with us.”

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Thank you, young lady.”

“Are you excited about going home?”

“I’m excited about getting away from here for three days so that woman can’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know. Me too.”

It’s going to be like a fucking vacation.

Charlotte has been upping her game, especially after Frankee and I went to the police.

Multiple trips to the emergency room for a variety of reasons. Contractions. Bleeding. Water breaking. Pain. Falling in the shower—of course, because I wasn’t there helping her. There is no end to the hell she is inflicting upon us.

I don’t go to the hospital because I know everything she’s doing is a ruse to get me there.

The boy who cried wolf. One day there’s going to be something legitimately going on with her or the baby, and I won’t know. At least probably not until it’s over.

“I hope she’s not crazy enough to show up at your parents’ house.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s totally crazy enough to do that. She’d love nothing more than to meet Katherine—the baby’s namesake.”

“It irritates the fuck out of me that she’d choose your mother’s name when she doesn’t even know her. She probably snooped around on my social media before I blocked her and figured out that I have a close relationship with Kit. She’s probably choosing her name because she thinks I would want to name our daughter after your mom.”

“I love hearing you say our daughter. Say it again.”

“Our daughter.”

Porter pulls me to him and presses our foreheads together. “It’s so unfair that our lives can’t move forward until this shit is over with her.”

I use the word over but that won’t be the case if the paternity test says the baby is mine. It’ll only be the start of my hell. And as much as I love Frankee and want her as my wife and mother of my children, I don’t know if I can drag her into this burning hell with me.

“It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it without stressing. Let’s agree not to talk about her the entire weekend.”

“You. My mama’s cooking. And zero conversation about Charlotte and the baby. That’s exactly what I need for the perfect birthday weekend.”

“What time do you want to leave?”

“I was thinking two, but I say let’s hit the road right now.” I want to get out of here before anything happens.

“I don’t have anything pressing, so let’s do it.”

Things are quiet when Frankee and I enter my parents’ house. “Mom? Dad?”

No answer. “I’m not sure they’re home.”

“Both cars are in the drive. Would they be out on the four-wheelers?”

“Mom’s not a big rider.”

“Maybe they didn’t hear us because they’re out back.”

I poke my head out the patio door and call out for them. Nothing.

We go into the house. “Maybe I’m unnecessarily on edge, but I don’t like that no one is answering me.”

We walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms, my fear growing with every step. “Ohh… uh… ooh…”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Turn around. Go back,” I whisper.

“What is it?”

“Gabe…”

Frankee’s eyes widen and her mouth parts before she chuckles. “Oh shit.”

“Go. Now.”

We tiptoe to the living room and sit on the couch, both of us bursting into laughter at the same time. “I can’t believe we just almost walked in on your parents having sex.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“We have sex in the middle of the day. All the time.”

“But we’re not in our sixties.”

“Well, we will be one day. And when we are, I hope we still have sex in the middle of the day.”

“I hope I’m still getting some of your pound cake in thirty years.”

“My pound cake?”

“Yes, baby. I love your pound cake.”

“You are so silly sometimes.” Frankee pinches my mouth and kisses my lips. “They’re going to know we’re sitting on the couch because we went looking for them. Should we go to the truck and come back in, so they don’t know we caught them?

“Mom caught us. Seems only fair to return the favor.”

“Porter? Is that you and Frankee?”

“In the living room, Mom.”

“Okay. Give me a minute. I want to put on my head scarf.”

“No rush.”

“I bet she needs to put on more than a scarf.”

“Shut up, Frankee. That’s my mom.”

“I think it’s wonderful they haven’t let her illness stop them from being intimate.”

“I don’t want to talk about my parents being intimate.”

They come into the living room and my mom goes to Frankee first, pulling her in for an embrace. “Sweet Frankee. I’m so happy to see you.”

My mom doesn’t say the words, but I know they’re in her head. She didn’t think she’d ever see Frankee again after she found out about Charlotte’s pregnancy. She thought she’d leave me for good.

“It’s good to see you, Kit. You look well with your rosy cheeks.”

“I got some red blood cells earlier this week. It’s helping with my color. And my stamina.”

No kidding. I know Dad doesn’t mind that.

“Glad you’ll have some energy during the birthday boy’s visit.”

We’re sitting at dinner when Charlotte’s first text makes my phone vibrate. Frankee cuts her eyes at me, and I know she’s unhappy. “It’s on silent.”

“This would be so much easier if you could block her.”

“I know. I wish I could.”

“Ignore it for now. Let’s enjoy being with the family, and we’ll deal with it after dinner.”

I love being home. And I love seeing Frankee bond with my family. I can’t wait until she is officially a Beckman.

* * *

Frankee is in the bathroom washing her face. “What does clusterfuck want?”

I take out my phone and read the series of texts that came through during dinner.

Charlotte: Where are you?

Charlotte: Stop ignoring me.

Charlotte: I’m coming to your house if you don’t answer me.

I read the texts aloud to Frankee. “What do I say?”

“Let her know you’re out of town. If she knows you can’t be reached, then maybe she’ll leave you alone.”

Porter: Out of town.

Charlotte: Where?

“She wants to know where.”

“Lie. You sure don’t want her to suspect you’re here.”

Porter: Nashville.

Charlotte: I wanted to give you your birthday present.

How the hell does she know it’s my birthday? I didn’t tell her.

Frankee comes into the bedroom and I turn my phone around so she can read her response. “What do you think my present could be?”

“She’s probably wanting to give you some dookie chute.”

Fuck, no, she didn’t just say that. “You’re gross, Frankee.”

“I’m gross? She’s the one trying to get you to bang her in the shitter.”

“That didn’t happen with her. It’s never going to happen with her. So let’s stop that conversation right there.”

“Did you check the room?”

“Forgot.”

I get out of bed and look under it. No Bennett or Callan.

Frankee points to the closet and I yank it open. No Bennett or Callan.

Her eyes widen and she points to two pairs of feet sticking out from beneath the drapes. “I don’t guess the boys are hiding in here tonight.”

“Nope. I think we’re in the clear.”

We prowl toward the window like predators after our prey. I hold up one, two, three fingers and yank the curtain back. “RAWWWR!”

Bennett and Callan scream and two streaks take off running for the door. Serves their little asses right.

“Do you smell that? I think one of them shit their pants.”

Frankee grins. “I think you’re right.”

It’s impossible not to fall across the bed laughing our asses off.

“That was sort of mean of us.”

“No way. They deserved that.”

“We have to start checking the room earlier. They do not need to hear conversations about dookie chutes.”

“I don’t need to hear conversations about dookie chutes.”

“Power off your phone. I don’t want our sexy time to be interrupted.”

“Ooh. We’re having sexy time?”

“We’re having birthday sexy time. But you have to be very quiet so no one hears us. Can you do that?”

Fuck, I keep forgetting to tighten the frame on this bed.

I nod and wait to see what’s coming.

Frankee opens her robe, and she’s wearing a red sexy gown thing with her tits tied up in a huge red bow. “This is one of your first gifts to open.”

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

* * *

I wake to Frankee’s naked body nestled against me. “This is what I want. Waking like this with you beside me every morning.”

“According to you, there’s a way to make that happen.”

“We’re going to make that happen.” Soon. Like springtime-or-early-summer soon. Just got to wait on this winter storm to pass.

“What kind of engagement ring would you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. All girls know what kind of ring they want.”

She touches the diamond pendant at her neck. “I love this. The cushion cut with a halo around it.”

“I looked at engagement rings when I was in the store buying your necklace. I held one in my fingers and thought about buying it but we hadn’t talked that much about getting married at the time. I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

Frankee turns and wraps her arms and legs around me. “You think I’d say yes now?”

“I know you would. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t get any more of this.” I open my mouth and roll my tongue in a wave.

“Then I had better say yes. Because I cannot go the rest of my life without that magic mouth.”

I’m giving Frankee a little bit of my magic when a tap on the bedroom door interrupts. “Porter? You have a phone call.”

My parents are the only people I know who still have a landline in their house. “Who is it?”

“She didn’t say. I brought the cordless for you.”

She. “I’ll give you one guess as to who she is.”

“I don’t think either of us has to guess.”

I come up from between Frankee’s legs, wiping my mouth. “Just a minute, Mom.”

I pull on my sleep pants and Frankee wraps her robe around her body. I open the door and my mom covers the lower part of the phone. “Porter… I think it may be that Charlotte woman.”

“I’m certain it is.”

“Is there something going on? More than her being pregnant?”

I see the worry in my mom’s eyes. “Mom, it’s gone far beyond her being pregnant. You wouldn’t believe the things she’s done to Frankee and me.”

“Oh, Porter.”

“It’s bad, Mom. So bad.”

“And Frankee hasn’t left your side.”

“Not for a minute. And trust me, she should have. Many times.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“No doubt about it.”

My mom grins. “You need to put a ring on her finger before she wises up.”

“I’m working on it. Promise.”

“Good. But work faster.”

My mom hands the phone to me. “Sure you want to have this conversation in front of Frankee?”

“Frankee knows everything. I’m completely transparent about all things with this woman.”

“That’s a necessity for a strong marriage. You’re doing right.”

“Hello.”

“You’re such a lying piece of shit.”

“Good morning to you, too, Charlotte.”

“You are not in Nashville.”

“How would you know where I am?”

“People make public posts. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

I’ve not posted anything. And I know Frankee hasn’t either. That can only mean that Charlotte is watching one of my family members’ social accounts. Which means I’m going to have to have every one of them block her.

“Did you turn off your phone, or are you just not responding to my texts?”

“I turned off my phone. I didn’t want you disturbing my family time. And yet here you are… disturbing my family time.”

“Is she there with you?”

“Of course, she’s with me. Not that that is any of your business.”

“I can’t believe it’s your birthday and you took a whore to see your family over the mother of your child. I should be there getting to know your family. What part of that don’t you get?”

“You’re not meeting my family until I know that kid is mine.”

“Katherine is your daughter. The test will prove it. And we will be a family.”

“It doesn’t matter what that test shows; we will never be a family.”

“If you insist on having your little whore then that means she’ll be a part of my child’s life. How do I know that she’s fit to be a stepmother?”

“Look, I’m visiting my family. I don’t have time to have these useless conversations with you right now.”

“Well, I think it’s time I pay Scott and Tara Dawson a little visit. I think they should know what kind of man their little girl is dating.”

No. No. No.

That would ruin everything.

“Don’t do that, Charlotte.”

“I think I should.”

“Please don’t.” Fuck, I hate pleading with this bitch. But I will. “I’m begging you not to do that.”

“How badly do you not want me to?”

What is she asking for? Money?

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to leave her. I want you to never see her again. And if you don’t do this for me, I’ll go to her parents and tell them you got me pregnant and abandoned me when you started fucking their daughter.”

“That would be a lie.”

“I’ll also tell them she knows about my pregnancy, and the two of you flaunt your relationship in my face, which ultimately sent me into preterm labor.”

“You’re such a liar and manipulator.”

“Well, even if they don’t believe me, the proof of what you’ve done is growing in my belly right now. And that’s a fact. You’re not getting out of that one. So tell me, Porter. How do you think all of this is going to look to Pollyanna’s parents? Think they’ll go along with her marrying you? Becoming an instant stepmother?”

I don’t reply because I know she isn’t wrong. Scott and Tara will not want that for Frankee.

“They’ll hate you, and she’ll have to choose between you and her family. Do you really want your precious angel to have to do that?”

“If I do this, you’ll never bother her again? Or her family?”

“If you leave her, there’ll be no reason to.”

I can fix this by going to Scott and Tara and telling them the truth. But I’ll still be that guy—the one who knocked up a woman on a one-night stand. The one who has a kid with someone who isn’t their daughter. They are not going to want her to be with a man like that.

Charlotte happened before Frankee, and I can tell them that, but I will still have to pay the price for my mistake. My huge fucking mistake.

How do I leave Frankee? How do I walk away from the thing I love most?

“I’ll come see you this evening, and we’ll talk. Don’t do anything in the meantime.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I end the call and look at Frankee. “We have a huge problem.”

“What’s new?”

“You don’t understand. This time is different. She has one-upped me—us—in a major fucking way. It’s serious.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“She threatened to go to your parents. Tell them all kinds of shit—enough to make certain that they hate me enough to never go along with us being together. Which ruins any chance you and I have at being happy together since I know you’d be miserable if there were trouble between your parents and me.”

“I hate her so much.”

“Scott isn’t going to be okay with your being in the middle of this situation with her. Hell, I’m not even okay with it. I feel like I should be shielding you from her shit, and instead it’s raining down on your head because of me.”

“Charlotte can fuck with you. Charlotte can fuck with me. But I’m not okay with her fucking with my family.”

“She says the only way she’ll keep quiet is if I leave you. Never see you again.”

“This is the thing. The pregnancy is her ammunition against us. But her power is temporary and won’t last forever. In four months, this will either be over with forever, or she’ll become a whole new beast entirely.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to be smarter.”

* * *

Charlotte is all smiles and dressed in a black lacy nightgown when she answers the door. Not bed-rest attire for a pregnant woman at all. “I knew you’d come.”

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

“Sorry about that. Come in.”

I follow her into the living room and the scene is set for romance. Dim lights. Candles burning. Soft, romantic music. Some girly pop shit you hear on the radio every day. Nothing like the music Frankee would choose.

She gestures for me to sit down. “What did you decide?”

“You got what you wanted. Frankee and I are over.”

Charlotte’s smile couldn’t be bigger. “I knew you’d come to your senses and see that I was right.”

“I didn’t come to my senses, and I damn sure didn’t get what I wanted. I’ve told you from the start that Frankee’s the one thing I love most in this world. And that’s why I was willing to let her go rather than hold on to her and cause her any more pain.”

“You’ll get over her.”

“I will never get over her. Ever.”

“I think you can. And I think you can come to love me too with her out of our way.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“I understand it’s going to take time. I’m patient. Until then, focus all of your love on our daughter. And I promise you that the moment you lay eyes on her, it will be as though Frankee was never in your life. That little girl is going to wrap you around her finger. You’ll see.”

“You agreed not to go to Frankee’s parents. I need your word that you aren’t going to do that.” Not that I believe her word is worth anything.

“I’m not interested in anything having to do with Frankee as long as she’s out of our lives.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that. I hurt her so deeply that she’s never coming back to me.”

“What did you do?”

“She thinks I’m choosing you over her.”

“You’re here. You are choosing me over her.”

“I’m choosing to no longer hurt her because I love her so fucking much. There’s a difference.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll never know that.”

“She won’t. Because she’s leaving. Leaving Lovibond. Leaving Birmingham. Leaving me.”

“Where is our precious little blue-eyed angel going?”

“Texas. She’s moving to Austin to live with her best friends just like she planned. Just like we never happened.”

“Texas? That’s fantastic. How many miles is that? Must be at least a thousand, right?”

“Seven hundred eighty-five.”

“Far enough that I don’t have to worry about her popping in to shit on my life. I’m proud of you, Porter. You finally manned up and made the right decision.” Charlotte slides across the couch and puts her hand on my thigh. “I think you deserve a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.”

“No.”

She tosses her leg over me and climbs onto my lap. “I could ride you all night.”

“No.” I grasp her wrists and push her off me. “First of all, I’m not interested in sleeping with you, but even if I were, you’re pregnant and on bed rest for preterm labor. You shouldn’t be doing things like that. It could make you go into real labor, and they might not be able to stop it.”

“But I’m so horny.”

“Having sex right now is putting the baby’s safety at risk. She’s barely far enough along that she’d have a chance at surviving right now. You don’t need to be messing around with me or anyone else.”

This baby may or may not be mine. Either way, doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be putting a child’s life in jeopardy because she wants to get off.

“But I’m so lonely. You’ve been able to fuck any time you want while I have to lie here and do nothing. Be celibate. How is that fair?”

Such a liar. She hasn’t been lying around doing nothing. And I’d probably be right if I guessed that she hadn’t been celibate either.

“You’re going to be a mother. It’s your job to put your child’s needs ahead of your own. That includes taking your medicine on time and staying inactive. And no sex.”

“We don’t have to have sex. You could go down on me.”

“Fuck, no.” My mouth isn’t going anywhere near that.

“I need you to listen to me closely because the rules of this game are changing. Frankee isn’t in this picture anymore. That means you’re fucked because she was the only leverage you had with me. This shit you’ve been pulling ends now.”

“I haven’t pulled any shit with you.”

“I will continue to pay your rent and bills, but you will not show up at my house. You will not show up at my work. You will not text me. You will not call me. I will not be going to any of your doctor appointments or ultrasounds. I have no intentions of bonding with you ever. And I do not intend on bonding with this baby until I know for a fact that she’s mine. If it’s confirmed that she is, we will make some kind of custody arrangements at that time. If we are unable to agree on the arrangements, we will go to court and a judge will do that for us.”

“Porter … don’t do this.”

“Did you think you were going to win my heart by forcing me to end my relationship with Frankee?”

“You just need a little time away from her, and you’ll see that you belong with the mother of your child.”

“The next time I hear from you, you better be giving birth.”

* * *

My office landline rings. “Porter Beckman.”

“This is Charlotte’s mother, Sandy. She asked me to call you because she’s in the hospital. They weren’t able to stop her contractions this time. The baby’s coming.”

Ten weeks early. She’s going to be tiny.

“How dilated is she?” No way I’m going up there and sitting with her for hours.

“Six centimeters. They told us the baby would probably come soon.”

“I’m on my way.”

I end the call and take a deep breath. “Fuck.”

This is it. I’m finally going to be able to prove or disprove my paternity. No more wondering. I’ll either be set free or imprisoned in hell.

I’m a little more nervous than I thought I’d be.

I stop by Molly’s desk on my way out the door. “I’ll be out the rest of the day. You can forward my calls to my cell if anything pressing comes up.”

“Will do, boss.”

I enter the labor and delivery unit, and I hear Charlotte howling. What the hell? She should have had an epidural by now. That’s one reason I didn’t rush to get here.

Charlotte makes an over-the-top spectacle of everything. I figure giving birth is the worst possible scenario. And I’m not wrong, based on the sounds I hear coming from her room.

She has been writhing in the bed so hard that she has a huge rat’s nest in the back of her hair. Definitely not a good look for her. “Fuck! This is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t think it was going to hurt this bad.”

Charlotte sees me in the doorway. “Porter, I’m in so much pain. Come hold my hand.”

I look at her mother. “Why doesn’t she have an epidural?”

“Part of her blood was too low. The clotting part or something. They said they can’t do the epidural because it could cause a bleed in her spine.”

“Motherfuckers want me to hurt!”

Oh damn. This is going to be unpleasant.

“Here comes another one,” Charlotte’s mom says.

“Shut the fuck up! You think I don’t know when another one’s coming. I’m the one feeling this shit.” She beats her hands on the mattress. “I’ve got to have something for pain. Call my nurse and tell her.”

“The nurse just gave you something.”

“Well, it’s not fucking working.”

Scream. Yell. Cry. Moan. That’s what’s in my ear for the next hour.

I know Charlotte is in pain. I don’t doubt that for a second. And as much as I dislike her for all the pain she has caused me, I don’t wish this kind of agony on her.

“Do you have to smile so fucking big when you come in my room?”

Charlotte’s nurse is a young woman who radiates with happiness–which is probably great for this line of work–but her smiles aren’t flying with her patient right now. “It’s time to check you, Miss Patterson.”

The nurse lowers the head of the bed and does the exam. “Motherfucker!” Charlotte grabs the nurse’s wrist and I can tell that she’s squeezing it. “You’ve got to stop.”

“Ten centimeters. You’re ready to push.”

I back away from the bed and sit in the chair when the nurse begins to uncover Charlotte and position her pushing. I don’t plan on watching anything that happens below the waist.

“Porter, I want you to watch the baby come out.”

“Forget that. Not happening.” I’m in this delivery room for one reason and one reason only. To give the doctor the cord blood paternity test and let him collect the sample for me. I’m out of here as soon as that happens.

The nurse gives Charlotte direction on what to do when it’s time, but I’m not sure she even listened. She’s too busy hounding me about holding her hand and watching our baby come into the world.

Breathe. Push. Scream.

That’s how the next few minutes go.

“I can see the top of the baby’s head.”

That catches my attention. “What kind of hair does she have?”

Charlotte perks up because she thinks I’m interested in the baby. And I am interested. But not for the reason she’s hoping for.

“None.” The nurse giggles. “She looks bald.”

No wild Beckman hair. Doesn’t prove she’s not mine but it’s a good start in my book.

Charlotte’s doctor comes into the room and gowns up for delivery. “Push and we’ll have a baby in the next few contractions.”

One. Two. Three contractions later, Charlotte’s baby makes her way into the world.

“Look at our daughter, Porter. She’s beautiful.”

I look at the baby, only getting a quick moment to search for a part of myself in her. Can’t tell—the doctor hands her off to the intensive care nursery staff quickly.

I do have time to see that her head is bald as a cue ball. It could mean nothing; she’s premature.

But this paternity test… it means everything. “I have a cord blood paternity test. I’d like to ask you to collect a sample for me.”

“Porter, our daughter was just born. You haven’t even held her yet, and you’re asking for a paternity test?”

“I sure am. And you can forget me holding her until I know she’s mine.”

The nurse takes the kit from me and hands it off to the doctor. The tube is passed back to me in a plastic bag. “I’m using a private lab and paid extra for the test to be rushed. We’ll know the results in two days.”

“They’re rushing it? That means they’ll probably make a mistake.”

“Nope. Don’t even go there and start in making claims about the results being wrong. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

“She is your daughter.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

I enter the house with at least twelve sacks of groceries hanging on my arms. Yeah, I’m that person. The one who will die making one trip from the car with groceries rather than go back a second, third, and fourth time.

I bet every vein in my neck bulges when I lift the sacks up and toss them on the kitchen counter. “Uhh.”

“Good grief, Frankee. Let me help you with that.”

“No way. It’s been two days since your last chemo. You should be resting, not putting up groceries.”

“Stop, Frankee.” Kit places her hand on top of mine. “Go to the bedroom. He’s waiting for you.”

“He’s here?”

Kit nods.

“But it’s Wednesday.”

She cradles my face. “Go to him, sweetie. He’s eager to talk to you.”

Porter has come to see me at his parents’ house every weekend for the last six weeks. Like clockwork, he arrives on Friday evening and leaves late Sunday afternoon. It’s been our routine.

Nothing about our lives has been ideal these last weeks. Although extreme, my disappearing act was necessary to convince clusterfuck I was in Texas and no longer in Porter’s life. My absence ended any interest she had in spinning her web around my family. Without her realizing it, her demand for me to be out of the picture inadvertently ended the only leverage she had with Porter.

Everyone in our inner circle believes I’m in Mobile caring for Kit—my mother-in-law-to-be. It’s a huge lie to tell the people we love, but we will have saved ourselves a lot of pain and grief if Charlotte’s baby isn’t Porter’s.

But all of this will have been for naught if he is the father.

Each step I take toward the bedroom makes my heart race a little faster. I simultaneously want to run to him and stand right where I am because I’m terrified of what he’s going to tell me.

‘Mama, I'm Comin' Home’ is playing, and it grows louder as I get closer to our bedroom. He doesn’t hear me approach so I stand in the doorway, taking a moment to study him as he gazes out the window.

He’s so beautiful. And I love him.

He’s mine no matter what.

He turns and smiles when he sees that I’ve entered the room and shut the door behind me. “Baby…”

One word. It’s all he gets out before we’re crossing the room to crash into each other, him clenching me so tightly I can hardly breathe. He buries his face in my hair and his body shudders.

He’s crying.

Oh no. The news isn’t what we were hoping for.

My chest aches and I shudder with him, sharing his pain.

“It’s okay. I love you. We’ll make it work somehow.”

He loosens his hold and presses his forehead to mine, cradling my face in his big hands. “Charlotte’s baby is not mine.”

“Say it again so it can sink in.”

“The baby is not mine. The Charlotte nightmare is over.”

“It’s finally over.”

I smile and Porter’s mouth crashes against mine. He grasps the back of my thighs and lifts me, carrying me to the bed. He lowers me, but we don’t fall together in the middle as an entwined mess of arms and legs. Instead, he sits me on the edge and goes to his knees in front of me. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He pushes his hand into his pocket, pulling out a black ring box. “I bought this weeks ago. I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket to give me hope. Hope that no mattered what happened, you would one day be my wife.”

He cracks open the box and takes out a white-gold and diamond ring just like the one we discussed. “Frances Ameline Dawson. You have been my constant, endless, loyal beacon. The blind faith and steadfast love you’ve given me is more than I ever expected or deserved. There’s been a thousand times you could and probably should have left me. But you didn’t. You stayed and weathered the storm by my side. And that’s where I want you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

I hold out my hand for him to slide the ring on my finger. “Yes. I will marry you and be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

I’m helping Adelyn clean up the kitchen while Lawrence nurses Emeric. “I’m sorry y’all are having to do that without me.”

Adelyn slings her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. Not a big deal.”

“Emeric’s done well with being weaned but he downright refuses to give up his bedtime nursing.”

“One or thirty-one. None of them want to give up tit.”

Adelyn stops mid-swipe over the counter. “Frankee speaketh the truth.”

“You know I ain’t lying.”

“Is Porter obsessed with your boobs? Because Oliver is completely fixated on mine.”

“Yesss.”

“Boobs, beer, and ball. The three B obsessions.”

“You forgot booty.”

“The four B obsessions.”

Tap, Stout, and Porter are in the living room drinking beer while they watch the football game. Typical Monday get-together for these guys—the men of Lovibond.

Emeric jolts when a string of loud cuss words carries into the kitchen. “Guess the wrong team scored.”

A few minutes later, warm rock-hard arms wrap around me from behind. “Hey, baby momma. Game’s over. You ready to go?”

“Yup.” I’ve been ready to go for an hour. My ass is hurting from sitting on this barstool.

“Thank you for having us, Lawry. We enjoyed it.”

“Maybe we’ll miss our get-together next Monday because y’all will be holding a baby.”

“I’d be okay with that.”

I drop my seat back when we get into the car. “Having pains?”

“My ass is. I sat on that barstool too long.”

“Ass pain could be good.”

“Trust me. Ass pain is never good.”

“Think you can pull off giving birth tonight?”

“Well, that would be okay with me.”

“Good. Because I’m going to fuck you into labor when we get home.”

“You’re going to do what?”

Porter chuckles. “Don’t get mad.”

“Don’t get mad at what?”

“Stout and I made a bet.”

Porter and his bets with Stout. “What kind of bet did you make this time?”

“He bet me he could fuck Adelyn into labor before I could fuck you into labor.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. We put a thousand bucks on it.”

“A thousand dollars? You don’t think you should have consulted me about this first?”

“You know I can’t back down from a bet with Stout.”

“I’m tired.”

“I’ll do all the work. And I’ll make you come. Hard.”

I’ve never been one to turn down orgasms. “I guess.”

“Will you wear something sexy for me?”

“I will if anything fits.”

I actually find a few pieces of lingerie that fit but I go with a black and red baby-doll gown because it’s always been one of Porter’s favorites.

My breasts are spilling out of the top and my belly is making the gown split open, but I don’t think he’ll mind. Gives him a nice view of the tiny matching G-string.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed naked and with a huge erection when I come into our bedroom. “Damn girl, you look good enough to eat.”

I put my hand over the black triangle between my legs. “Hope you’re hungry. ‘Cause this is an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

Damn. That was sort of gross, but I’m rolling impromptu with the nasty talk. I’m not as good at it as Porter. But I try.

“Mrs. Beckman. Do you eat with that filthy mouth?”

“I do more than eat with this mouth.” I demonstrate the tongue-roll thing like Porter does. Again, I’m not as good as him.

He uses his finger in the come-hither motion. I go to him and lace my fingers through the back of his hair as I kiss him. His hands are at my lower back and he pulls me closer, making my belly press against him.

He moves to kiss my stomach. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“Me either.”

His hands caress my breasts through my baby-doll top before pulling it up and over my head. He thumbs my nipples, watching them harden, and then takes turns sucking both. The top of my abdomen tightens and relaxes. Happens every time he plays with my boobs.

He pushes my panties down my legs and rubs his hand in a circular motion over my bump. “Damn, girl. You look good with my baby inside you.”

“But I’d look better holding your baby.”

“You’re going to look good holding our baby soon. I’m about to make that happen.”

We slide to the middle of the bed. “Lie on your side. I’m getting me some of this pound cake from the back.”

Good grief.

Once I’m situated, he positions himself as though he’s going to spoon me from behind. He bends my top leg at the knee and pulls backward, so it’s resting over his legs.

He kisses my shoulder in the bend where it meets my neck and eases into me slowly. “Oh fuck. That’s some fucking fine-ass pound cake you have! Best pound cake I’ve ever had.”

I giggle because I can’t help it. “Your warm drizzle on my pound cake is the best ever.”

“Mmm… Daddy likes that mouth.”

He pulls back and thrusts slowly. “Shit, I can’t believe how tight you feel.”

I move my hips against him, and together we pick up the pace. “Is this good for you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He bends my knee and puts the sole of my foot flat against his thigh so my leg is hiked out. He reaches around and strokes my clit. “I’m going to make you come so hard.”

He circles it fast and hard and then slow and soft. He’s stroking me on the outside with his fingers while his magic cock rubs my inside. “Harder.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He moves faster and harder and the first wave begins. “That’s it, baby. Come all over me. I want to feel your body quiver and squeeze my cock because you’re orgasming so hard.”

My orgasm feels different, like quivers radiating throughout my vagina. It’s tingly and weird but no less wonderful than usual.

When Porter finishes inside me, he kisses my bare shoulder. “That was so fucking good. Give me fifteen minutes to build up another one, and we’re going to do it again.”

“You really want to win that bet, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah. It’s like going head-to-head to battle out who can fuck his wife better. I have to win; the loser will never hear the end of it.”

“Have you considered that going into labor might have more to do with the baby actually being ready to come?”

“Maybe, but we’re going to talk this one into coming tonight. We’re winning that bet.”

* * *

We did it four times. Maybe five. Porter finally drifted off to sleep after the last time but not me. No way I can go to sleep with these contractions I’m feeling.

An hour in and they’re getting stronger and closer. Downright painful.

I get up to walk, hoping it might relieve the discomfort in my back. It doesn’t. I try bending over the arm of the couch, but the pain only becomes worse. And real.

I turn on Porter’s bedside lamp and say his name. Nothing. I nudge his shoulder when he doesn’t stir. “Wake up, Porter.”

After another attempt, he finally awakens with wide eyes. “Did I do it?”

“Yes. We have to go to the hospital because you fucked me into labor.”

“Fuck yeah. I am the man. Stout and his little cocktail wiener can bow down to the fuck master. And hand over my G.”

We’re pulling into the hospital when we see Adelyn’s SUV at the admission entrance. “No. Fucking. Way.”

“What?”

“Stout and Adelyn are here. They beat us here.”

“I don’t give a shit who’s here. I am hurtin’ so damn bad.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, baby.”

Stout is standing at the admissions desk talking to the clerk when we walk up behind him. “Think you’ve won, don’t you, motherfucker?”

“I don’t give a damn about that bet. Something’s wrong with Adelyn.”

“What happened?”

“She’s bleeding. A lot.”

“Aw, man. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. They came and got her out of the car and told me to come to the front desk and get her admitted while they examine her. I just finished, and I’m about to go back and see what’s happening.”

“Everything is going to be okay, man. They’ll take care of her and the baby.”

“I gotta go.”

“Let us know what’s going on as soon as you hear.”

“Oh, Porter. I hope nothing is wrong.”

I’m admitted to the hospital, in labor at four centimeters, and Porter calls my parents. The pain is bad, but my thoughts are with my friend Adelyn. That girl and I have become so close over the last two years—she’s like a sister to me.

“I know you’re upset about Adelyn. I’ll give you an update the second I hear from Stout. But for now, try to concentrate on what’s happening here.”

I nod and breathe because I’m starting to have another contraction.

The pain increases every hour and approaches an unbearable level. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can do it, baby. You can.”

My mom wets a washcloth and places it over my forehead. “Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slow and deep.”

I hear Porter’s phone alert him to an incoming text. “Adelyn had a boy. Naming him Maxwell and calling him Max. Both are doing great.”

Maxwell—her maiden name. Cute. “Thank God.” That’s one less worry off my mind.

“What’s it gonna be? Is Lovibond’s future in the hands of three rough-and-tumble boys, or are we going to shake up the mix with a girl?”

“I think we’re gonna shake it up.”

“I think so too.”

I’m starting to feel a ton of pressure in my butt. “I think I should have gotten the epidural.”

My mom pushes the wet strands of hair away from my face. “You’re so close to being done.”

Porter is at my side, holding my hand. “Do you want me to tell the nurse you’ve changed your mind?”

“I don’t think there’s time. I’ve got to push.” It’s something I can’t control. My body is doing what it wants without my permission.

I squeeze Porter’s hand. “Call the nurse, and tell her it feels like the baby’s coming.”

It happens so fast. My nurse comes in and confirms that baby Beckman is indeed on his or her way, and I’m placed in position to deliver.

“I just texted Mom. She and Dad are still an hour away, but she told me to tell you that she loves you.”

“Oh, I hate that they’re not going to be here when the baby comes.”

“It’ll be okay. They should get here right after.”

My mom pats my hand. “I’m going to the waiting room with your dad and brothers. Don’t be afraid. You have a wonderful husband who’s going to help you through this.” My mom kisses my forehead before she leaves. “Love you. Can’t wait to meet my grandbaby.”

The heaviness of the reality hits me—I’m about to become a mother.

Porter brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. “This is happening.”

“Yes, it is. It’s happening right now. I’ve got to push.”

I thought the whole thing was over when the pushing started. Turns out that part doesn’t happen as quickly as I thought. But after about a dozen contractions, the nurse says that I’m ready for delivery.

And I agree one hundred percent with that judgment call.

Porter leans down and kisses my face. “I love you so much, baby.”

“Love you too.”

My doctor comes into the room, gowns up, and sits on a stool between my legs. “This little one got in a hurry about arriving all of the sudden.”

“Sure did.”

“You’re starting a contraction, so push hard and let’s meet this little one.”

The next few moments are an agonizing blur. Until I hear that first squeal—that sweet, earth-stand-still cry of our child.

“What is it?”

My doctor turns our baby around, and Porter and I say it simultaneously. “A girl.”

Porter kisses the top of my head. “You did it, baby. She’s beautiful, just like her mama.”

“She has her daddy’s hair.”

“Definitely. That is wild Beckman hair for sure.” Porter kisses my head again. “Thank you for giving me a daughter. Even if it does mean I’ll have to carry a big-ass stick around all the time to keep Tap’s and Stout’s boys away from her.”

She’s going to grow up with two Lovibond boys. She’ll be around them all the time. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Lockleigh Elise Beckman is placed on my chest and tucked inside my gown so we’re skin to skin. I stroke my finger down my daughter’s cheek and I can’t remember ever feeling anything so soft. “I already love her so much. I didn’t know it was going to feel this way.”

Porter hasn’t taken his eyes off Lockleigh and me. “I knew you’d look good holding my baby.”

An awkward teenage girl falls in love with her father’s handsome boss and later becomes his wife and mother of his children. My life is a fairy tale come true. And now it’s time to live out our happily ever after.

THE END

It is my greatest hope that you enjoyed Porter. I appreciate the time you invested in my story… in my words… in a part of me.

I would be honored and grateful if you choose to leave a review.

Continue reading to enjoy an excerpt of Tap and Stout.

A faceless name. That's all she was when I agreed to play a part in deceiving her. But then the unplanned happened.

We met. And all I wanted from her was a dirty weekend… until that wasn't enough and I longed for so much more.

Lawrence Thorn suddenly means the world to me. And that's a problem. She's my business partner's sister. Forbidden fruit. Pursuing her can mean trouble for me at Lovibond Brewery. But I don't care.

I yearn for her skin against mine.

I crave her smell on my body.

I want to make her laugh and then hear her moan my name.

And she does for a brief moment in time.

But Lawrence wants more than I'm able to give. And it's a damn shame because there's no one on earth I want more than her.

An epic love.

A miserable ending.

Unless it's not.

***Note from Georgia—Tap is one of three books in the Men of Lovibond collection. Each novel will feature a different couple and can be read as a standalone. HEA. No cheating. No cliffhangers.

This quarter’s sales are profitable. Damn profitable. Buying into Lovibond Brewery as a partner four years ago has proven to be a wise decision. Oliver Thorn, Porter Beckman, and I are becoming three increasingly wealthy men.

The opportunity to financially back this company during its infancy couldn’t have presented itself at a better time. My life had been in a shambles.

Miserable in my business.

A failed marriage.

My wife and my business partner in love… with each other.

My world was a complete clusterfuck.

A knock on my office door steals my attention from the numbers. And the past. “Hey, Tap. You got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Stout enters, shutting the door behind him. He never does that.

Oliver Thorn, aka Stout and my business partner, shrinks into the chair across from me. He’s hunched with his forearms resting on his thighs. His face is nearly hidden in his palms. This isn’t the typical carefree Stout who launches himself into the chair opposite me and kicks up his heels onto the edge of my desk to annoy the fuck out of me. The disheveled guy in front of me looks… defeated.

I’m silent as I wait for him to look up at me. But he doesn’t. This is weird. Stout never acts like this.

Maybe I should prompt him to say something. Anything. “I was just going over the numbers. They’re up again. This time by thirteen point nine percent. That’s almost two times what they were last quarter.” Unbelievable how quickly this company is growing.

It began with two college guys brewing beer in their apartment. They dreamed of turning their hobby into a multimillion-dollar company. I was taken aback when Porter approached me about buying in as a partner. I was his boss. Although I wasn’t much older, he and Stout had seemed like a pair of naïve college graduates with zero business experience. Dreamers. But then I sampled the product and knew these guys had something marketable on their hands.

That was four years and several million dollars ago.

The founding fathers of Lovibond Brewery have been called many things. Lords of the hops. Masters of the craft. Top hops. Brew brothers. Boot keggers. The list is endless. The pair know and understand the science and production behind manufacturing high-quality, good-tasting ale. Money-making beer. Interesting direction given their backgrounds in chemical engineering and graphic design. And that’s where I come in. I’m the business and finance guy. Supply and demand. Numbers. Dollars. Evaluation. Return. Those are the things I know and understand. They need me. And I need them.

I trust Stout and Porter to produce a top quality product. They have confidence in me to manage all business and financial aspects. Each of us does his part. That’s why we make a great trio.

Stout still isn’t talking. Guess I’ll have to probe. “I’m assuming you shut the door because you want to speak privately.”

“Yeah. I’ve been having a hard time since things ended with Eden.” No shit. He’s been on a three-month party streak. Booze and women.

“The last few months haven’t been your finest.” I’m pretty sure Stout has partied harder the last few months than his entire college career at Alabama.

“I have a problem.”

Stout turned to the party life to numb the pain of an ugly breakup. I guess most guys have done that at one time or another, but he took it beyond anything considered reasonable. Not the best way to deal when you have beer within your reach at any given time. “I’m glad to hear you’re taking charge before it spirals out of control.”

“Got a little out of control already. I spent the night in the slammer last weekend. Got a DUI.”

Oh, hell. A DUI conviction stays on your record for five years in the state of Alabama. “I can’t believe this shit, Stout. You’re a partner in a company advocating responsible drinking with a designated driver. Do you understand how that looks?”

“Trust me. I know.” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m working with an attorney. He’s almost certain he’ll be able to get me out of it.”

“Avoiding a conviction only fixes part of the problem.” This could mean bad publicity for Lovibond if word gets out.

“My attorney says he’s certain we can divert my case out of the court system and avoid a criminal record if I go through a rehabilitation program.”

“That’s your only option?”

“I can fight it. Maybe I win. Maybe I don’t. But one thing’s for sure if I don’t do the program: I’m fucked if I lose the case.” That’s not good for anyone involved.

“Then you don’t have a choice.” Stout is going to rehab. Probably not a bad place for him, considering the amount of partying he’s been doing. He’ll have time to dry out.

“There’s a hitch.” Isn’t there always? “There isn’t a place for me in an outpatient program. I have to enter a thirty-day inpatient program.”

“Inpatient for thirty days?” Fuck.

Porter will have to pick up Stout’s load. I’m not sure how he’ll handle more work at this point; he’s already snowed under with his own responsibilities. We all are. “You think Porter can take on your work load as well?”

Southern Taste Beer Festival is just around the corner, and we’re in charge of hosting the event this year. Sixteen breweries will be traveling to our home turf in Birmingham for the festivities. It’s a ton of preparation even when we join forces. Being short a partner won’t be helpful.

“I’ve arranged to hire an assistant for him while I’m away, even if he doesn’t like it. Molly is working with a temp service to line up interviews.”

At least he’s making preparations for his absence. “We’ll do what it takes to make things work while you’re away. Just concentrate on getting your shit together.”

“That’s the plan.”

I’m no stranger to how a man can let his life spin out of control. “You’ll pull things together.”

“I have to. If not for myself, I have to do it for Lawrence.”

I try to place who he’s talking about but I’m stumped. “Lawrence?”

“My sister, Lawry.”

Lawrence. Lawry. I should have been able to make that connection. “Right. I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint her.”

“I don’t. And that’s why I’m not planning to let her know I’m in a substance abuse program. She’d freak if she knew.” I’ve always been under the impression he was close to his sister. I’m surprised he’d keep something like this from her.

All this time as his partner and I’ve not met his sister. Never even spoken to her. “You don’t have to worry about me saying a word. I’m sure Porter won’t tell her anything either.”

“I know neither of you will rat me out, but I have a kink in my plan. The program won’t allow me to bring my phone into the facility. That’s a problem because I text or talk to my sister almost every day. She’ll know something is up if I go radio silent.”

“What kind of shit program cuts you off from your friends and family?” That’s his support system.

“They don’t cut you off. I can make calls from the pay phone and have visitors on Sundays.” I can see how that’s going to be an issue if they have daily contact.

“Have you come up with an explanation to explain your disappearance?”

“I have but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.” Stout closes his eyes and peeks at me through a squint. “I need you to be me while I’m gone.”

Well, that’s just dumb as hell. I laugh aloud because the idea is so idiotic.

“You want me to be you? You must be drunk right now because that makes zero sense. No way I could pass myself off as you to your sister.” She knows his voice. Plus, I’m Cajun. She’d hear one word out of me and immediately know I’m not him.

“You won’t have to talk to Lawry. I just need you to pacify her with daily texts.”

Oh, fuck, no. “I hate texting women. And I loathe pacifying them more.”

“You hate being texted by women you’ve fucked and plan to never see again.”

Stout makes me sound like a colossal dickhead. But he isn’t wrong. I have a four-step routine when it comes to dating.

One: I fuck a woman.

Two: She clings. Every. Time. Because that’s what they do.

Three: I call it quits.

Four: End of story.

I’m not a manwhore. Well, maybe I am a little.

I was married to Bridgette for six years. We weren’t in love. Never were. She was my best friend and unfortunate circumstances forced us into a marriage neither of us wanted. I couldn’t love her the way a husband should, so our marriage was over before it ever began. We never had a chance at making it work. There was too much tragedy. Too much hurt.

But I did love her in a different kind of way. And I respected the vows we made to one another, even if we were only nineteen at the time. That means I didn’t fuck around on her… until she asked me to open the doors of our marriage.

So, yeah. I guess I’ve used the time since our divorce to have as much sex as I wanted with many willing women. No harm in that.

Those looking in at my marriage from the outside probably saw a nasty love triangle destined to end poorly for me. That wasn’t the case at all. It wasn’t Bridgette’s or Warren’s fault they fell in love. It just happened. I wasn’t a husband to her so I didn’t feel betrayed. People couldn’t understand that or how I could be so forgiving. Especially after everything that happened.

As Bridgette’s husband, I was the partition between my two best friends. I was preventing two people I loved from being together.

Damn, those were rough times. Fucking brutal.

I didn’t want to be the one standing in the way of their happiness so I did the only thing I could: step aside as Bridgette’s husband and as Warren’s business partner. Best decision of my life.

Fuck, I don’t know why I’m thinking of things long buried.

“I know I’m asking a lot of you.” Stout’s voice forces my thoughts back to the present.

Why ask me? “Porter knows your sister. Wouldn’t he be the better candidate?” That makes better sense to me.

Stout laughs. “Porter goes completely stupid when it comes to Lawry. He’d probably forget he was supposed to be texting as me and hit on her.” I’ve never known Porter to be interested in one particular woman. I have no idea what his type is. I guess the Lawrence type.

“I’m already putting my workload off on Porter. It would be pretty shitty to place double duty on him.” I can agree with that.

I lean back in my chair and tug my beard as I consider the task being asked of me. There is no way I could come off as Stout. We are so different.

He’s a dreamer. An idealist.

I’m a numbers man. Logistical.

I know nothing about his relationship with his sister or their history. This is fucked up.

But Lovibond needs this problem to go away. And fast. If a thirty-day inpatient program is what it’ll take, then I have to help make that happen.

“Why do you feel the need to keep this from your sister? You’re an adult. Can’t you tell her what happened the same way you told me?”

“If she knows I was charged with DUI, she’ll immediately worry I’m an alcoholic. I’m not. I swear. I can lay it down today, never have another drink, and I’d be fine.”

Stout likes to have a good time, but it’s never caused a problem. “I know you’re not.”

“We have a strong family history with drug addiction so I don’t want to upset her.” He’s never mentioned that.

“You’re saying it would be like maybe a text a day or every other day? Something like that?”

“Probably more than one a day but still not a big deal. She mostly messages about random stuff happening in her life. Porter could help you out if you run into a problem.”

It’s texting. I hate that shit, but how bad can it be? “I’ll do it.”

Stout closes his eyes. He brings the top of his closed fist to his mouth and clears his throat before he chokes out, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” At least I hope there’s no problem. “When does the façade begin?”

“I’m scheduled to check in to the clinic tomorrow morning.”

“That soon, eh?”

“No reason to wait. The sooner this is behind me, the better, so I can get back to work.” He ain’t lying about that. Lovibond is going to suffer while he’s out.

“How are we going about doing this?” I need specifics if I’m going to pull this off without a hitch.

“We usually speak once or twice a week. When you don’t take her call, she’ll leave a message. She always does. You’ll need to be clever when you decide how to explain away why I’m unable to talk. You can’t bullshit Lawrence. Her meter is spot on.”

“What do you mean I can’t bullshit your sister? My understanding was that this whole thing was specifically about bullshitting her.”

“It is. I just meant you can’t give her any of that usual nonsense you feed women. Be genuine. Respond the way you would with your sister.”

I don’t have one of those. But I have Bridgette. She’s very much like a sister and I’d never bullshit her. “I’ll do my best.”

“And you have to tell her you love her at night. That I love her. You know what I mean.”

I have all the feels now. “Should I text her hearts as well?”

“I send the smiley faces blowing kisses. Or hearts. Either is fine.”

I. Was. Fucking. Kidding.

I’ve never done hearts, flowers, or any of that other shit with a woman. Ever. Not even my mom. And definitely not Bridgette. It wasn’t how we were with one another. “All right. It’ll be hearts and kissies for sissy.”

“I owe you one, Tap.”

“Yeah, you do. A big one. And don’t you forget it.”

“Name what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

“I hope you know I plan to make this worth my while.”

“I’d expect no less out of you, Tap.”

Texting the sister. Hearts and flowers. I’m a smart guy. I can wing charm and brotherly love. I got this.

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A beautiful neighbor. A complete stranger. That’s all she was when I moved in next door.

Adelyn Maxwell is my neighbor but she’s no girl next door. The more I come to know her, the more I discover she’s a good girl with a lovely dark side. And maybe I don’t want her to stay on her side of the fence.

I want to disturb the rhythm of her pulse.

I want to see the way her hair spills on the bed when she lies beneath me.

I want her to teach me the dirty pretty things she desires behind closed doors. And she does.

But mostly I want to leave my mark on the most intimate, untouched part of her body. Her heart.

A seemingly insignificant intersection of our lives neither of us recalls suddenly becomes a pivotal moment in our future. We aren’t strangers at all. And our paths aren’t crossing for the first time.

These twists and turns of fate will become one of two things: a wrecking ball to tear us apart or the connection to bond us together forever.

***Note from Georgia—Stout is one of three books in the Men of Lovibond collection. Each novel will feature a different couple and can be read as a standalone. HEA. No cheating. No cliffhangers.

The house surrounded by a white picket fence. The house sitting in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn. The house with the inviting brick steps leading up to the front door. This is a home where every member of the family living under the roof wears a true smile. Says please. Says thank you. Says I love you. Not shut your bratty mouth before I give you something to cry about.

This is the kind of house my childlike mind envisioned when I dreamed of the place where happy people lived. This is the home every kid deserves. From the beginning. Not after six years of torment.

Now this house is mine.

Lawry and I stand side by side looking at what I repeatedly refer to as a sound financial investment. But it’s more. So much more even if I don’t admit it.

“I hope you’re not having buyer’s remorse.”

“No buyer’s remorse today. At least not until I have to fork over the payments.”

“Your first home, Ollie.” My first home. I like the idea and sound of those words a little more than I thought I would.

Lawry puts her arm around my waist and leans in for a side hug with her head pressed against my shoulder. “I think you’re going to be very happy here.”

“I think so too.”

I fish the house key from my pocket and dangle it before us. “All those boxes aren’t going to move themselves.”

“Agreed. We better get started.”

“Sorry, sis. You’re not moving boxes.” Lawry’s eyes roll upward. “That’s not an attractive look for you.”

“You’re being ridiculous and really making me wish I hadn’t told you.”

Who is she kidding? No way my sister could keep something this important from me. “Well, you did tell me.”

Her balled hands come to rest on her hips. I’m amused by how much she reminds me of Mom when she stands that way. No genetic connection yet so much alike. “I’m reevaluating that decision at this point.”

Tap would side with me on this one. “I guarantee your husband wouldn’t let you haul heavy boxes either. Especially while wearing that damn long-ass hippie skirt.” I can imagine her feet tangling in it, causing her to tumble down the brick steps in a whirlwind of blonde tresses and patchwork floral print.

She attempts to climb two steps, testing her ability to move in it. And steps on the hem. “See? Total fall hazard.”

“Easily fixed.” She yanks the waist of her skirt up and rolls it down a couple of times. “You do realize I’m not pregnant yet?”

She follows me inside after I unlock the door. “You’re working on it, so you don’t know one hundred percent you’re not.”

“We just started trying. If I were, I’d be all of five minutes pregnant. So you’re being dumb.”

“Five minutes or five months. No difference to me. Pregnant is pregnant.” Lawry and Tap already know conceiving may not come easily, so I won’t have her taking unnecessary risks.

“I can see right now you’re going to be just as bad as my husband if it happens.” I’m protective of my sister. Have been since I was old enough to swing a punch, even if she’s older, but my protectiveness doesn’t match that of Lucas “Tap” Broussard. My brother-in-law is like a damn alpha wolf guarding his mate when it comes to my sister.

Damn. I was so wrong about Tap in the beginning.

“You got the husband. You’ll get the babies too.” Tap will see to it. Of that, I’m certain.

“Would cleaning the floors also be on the list of tasks you deem unsafe?” She rolls her eyes again, this time giving me the eyebrow lift, indicating her question is not about permission. Sassy hippie. “I’d really like to do that before the furniture arrives.”

I forego telling her I’ve already had a cleaning crew come in to take care of that. With Lawry, it’s better to let her believe she’s contributing. “Sure.”

Lawry goes to work on cleaning my clean floors while I haul boxes from my truck. Stacks at least six feet high litter the floor of my dining room.

Wow. The contents of my bachelorhood are compressed into these cardboard rectangles. I have a strong feeling Lawry will try to make me trash most of it. Try. Operative word. After Lawry’s gone, I’ll put my man shit where I want it.

A box with Brewster written in big black letters across the top catches my eye. My first home-brewing beer kit. Got this bad boy before I was even old enough to drink beer… legally, that is.

Fuck, that first batch was nasty. Skunky. But my failure didn’t stop me. I started the next round before the first one soaked into the grass behind my apartment.

I wouldn’t part with this little beauty for a million bucks. It started it all: my love for tasty beer and the science behind what makes a great brew. This old, worn plastic barrel ignited a fire in me and played a huge part in making me who I am today.

A flattened palm raps against the door facing leading into the dining room. “Well, I’m here, motherfucker. What do you need me to do?”

Asshole is two hours late. “I just love how you show up after I’ve already unloaded everything from the truck.”

He looks away and shrugs. “I was doing shit.”

Porter has been doing shit a lot lately. It started out as him going missing for an hour here. Another hour there. Three hours for lunch. Now he disappears for whole weekends at a time. “I know what kind of shit you’re doing. Just not who you’re doing it with.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Why so secretive? Is she fugly?”

Porter shakes his head and looks around my new place. “What do you need me to do?”

Totally avoiding the question. Not an unfamiliar play. It was Tap’s MO when messing around with Lawry behind our backs.

I’ll table it for now. “I need help getting my furniture out of my apartment.”

“Lawry’s letting you bring that junk over here?”

He forgets how much she loves pre-owned shit. “My old stuff is going to her workshop so she can refinish it. Wants to give it life again.”

“How could I forget? Turn crappy into happy.” He does a stellar impersonation of my sister. Always has.

He runs his hand over the box labeled Brewster. “Wow. I haven’t seen this in a long time.”

“Me either. Been boxed away for years.”

“You should put it on display. Maybe down at the brewery if Lawry won’t let you do it here.”

“Not a bad idea. Like a where-it-all-began plaque.” It deserves recognition. Not to be hidden away in storage.

Porter moves to the large window facing my front lawn and pulls the sheer curtain aside. “This is very you.”

“The floral shit will be the first thing to go.”

“I meant the house and quiet neighborhood. The privacy. Your own driveway. Garage. Workshop.”

“I’m hoping I can pick up my woodwork projects again.” Maybe that’s something Dad and I can do together when he and Mom visit. I’ve missed that time with him.

“The only thing you’re lacking now is the wife and kids to complete the full package.”

“I think I’ll just take the house for now.”

“Do you ever think about it? The full package?”

I did with Eden. And look where that got me. “I haven’t for a few years.”

“Right.” I don’t have to say her name for him to understand.

“There’s a house for sale two streets over if you’re considering giving up condo life.”

“Well, that all depends.” He pushes open the drape farther.

“Depends on what?”

“If all the women in this neighborhood look like the one walking up your driveway right now. If that’s the case, house sold.”

“No idea. Haven’t met any of the neighbors.” I move to the window to investigate Porter’s sighting.

Damn. He isn’t wrong. That is one smokin’ hot redhead. Just my brand. And she’s coming this way.

“Looks like I have a visitor to receive.” I stop when Porter doesn’t follow. “You comin’?”

Porter shakes his head. “Nah. You go on. I’ll wait in the truck.”

“Wait in the truck?” This may be the first time Porter hasn’t shoved me out of the way so he could get to a hot piece of ass ahead of me.

Fuck. I recognize the hesitation. The retreat from a hot woman. The pattern. “Who is she?”

Porter shakes his head, wearing a wide shit-eating grin. “Already told you, dude. Nobody.”

“Damn liar.”

Porter chuckles. “She’s your type. Go meet her. I’ll be in the truck when you’re done.”

Porter has been my number-one bro since our freshman year at Alabama. Pals for almost twelve years. We’ve been through a lot together. Booze. Careers. Women. Lots of women. And never once has he handed one over willingly. Not even a fugly one if he thought he could get laid.

“This conversation isn’t over.”

“Whatever.” He catches my truck keys midair when I toss them in his direction.

“Gimme five.”

“Got a Benjamin in my wallet that says I don’t see you for at least fifteen.”

Never been able to refuse one of Porter’s bets. It’s our thing. And we always pay up. “Sure. I’ll take that bet. I can always use an extra hundred bucks.”

He holds up his phone. “I’ll even give you a whole minute to get out there and initiate the conversation before I start the timer.”

“You’re on, fucker. Get ready to pay up.”

I step onto my front porch and find the flaming beauty talking with my sister. “Ollie! Come meet your neighbor.”

Damn. This good-looking woman is my neighbor. That does not suck.

“This is Adelyn Maxwell. She lives next door.”

Adelyn Maxwell. Adelyn Maxwell. Adelyn Maxwell. I repeat her name in my head. Three times guarantees I’ll never forget it. Not that I’m likely to forget her.

Her small, delicate hand nearly disappears inside my large one. “Oliver Thorn. Pleasure to meet you.”

I point to each of the neighboring homes. “Which is yours?”

She gestures over her right shoulder. “White two-story.”

Ah. The house with the pool. Many images dance through my head and all of them include Adelyn Maxwell in a bikini.

Wonder if she has a husband. Don’t see a ring but that isn’t always an indication.

Kids? Probably not with a body like hers but can’t always go by that.

I glance over at her place and see a fine black F-Type coupé parked in the drive. She ain’t hauling kids around in that.

“Are you married or do you have any children?” Thank you, Lawry, for asking the burning question.

“Nope. Just me. Do y’all have kids?” Well, hell. She thinks we’re together.

Laughter slips from my lips like one of those sneaky little farts that bolt for freedom the moment you become a little too relaxed. “Oh, no, we’re not a couple. She’s my sister.”

“My bad. I assumed you were married. But in my defense most people in this neighborhood are.”

“It feels very family oriented around here.” I think that’s one reason Lawry pushed so hard for this house.

“Definitely.” Adelyn points to a passing vehicle and then the two parked in driveways across the street. “Minivan. Minivan. Minivan. This is hardcore soccer mom territory.” Her eyes widen. “And it can be terrifying at times.”

Soccer moms aren’t terrifying. But strung-out-heroin-addict moms are.

“Then I’ll make a point to stay out of their way during carpool hours.”

“Wise decision.” My new neighbor offers the basket she’s holding. “The reason I came. This is for you. Just a little welcome-to-the-neighborhood happy from me.”

I unfold the fabric and my nose and eyes find more than one pleasant sensation. Muffins in cupcake papers. Freshly baked bread, still warm. A jar of jam. Looks like strawberry. Or maybe plum. Sausage balls. Grapes. Cheese and crackers.

I. Am. Impressed.

“This looks amazing. Thank you.”

“No problem. I remember what it was like moving in. Being without a functioning kitchen was a total nightmare.”

“A functioning kitchen makes this guy no difference. He eats trash.”

“Don’t listen to her. She’s a tree-hugging-hippie vegan. She eats grass and granola.”

“Healthy doesn’t equate to unsavory.” And here we go with the nutrition spiel.

“She lies,” I hiss. “Don’t fall for her deception, Adelyn. It’s a trap intended to lure you into her tofu world.” Adelyn giggles.

“I adore baking and it’s very likely I’ll pawn muffins and fresh bread off on you, but I promise I’ll never bring tofu.”

“Ollie loves to eat so I see this neighbor thing potentially working out well.”

“I hope so.” Is that a hint of flirtation in her grin? Or in her unusual hazel eyes, the way they linger on mine a little longer than what’s considered appropriate? Or in the flick of her wrist as she tosses her flaming locks over her shoulder?

Redheads.

She can’t possibly know they’re my preference. My delicacy. My fucking weakness.

And the last one was almost my undoing.

Adelyn’s eyes leave mine, and she glances at her watch. “Oh dear. I hate to pop over and run, but I have a lunch meeting with a client across town.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I own an event planning service.”

Lawry breaks into her well-how-’bout-that smile. “Hear that, Ollie? Adelyn’s an event planner.”

Adelyn’s brow lifts as she watches the exchange between my sis and me. “That’s what I do.”

“It just so happens I’m in need of an event planner. The woman we’ve been using recently relocated so I’m in a bind.”

“Business or personal?”

“Business.”

“Sure.” Adelyn nods as she glances at her watch a third time. “I’m short on time at the moment but how ’bout I take a look at my calendar and give you a call so we can schedule a lunch meeting to discuss the details?”

“That would be fantastic.”

“Perfect.” Adelyn plucks her sunglasses from the top of her head and slips them over her eyes when she and Lawry finish exchanging contact information. “Well, I’m off. Try not to work too hard, guys.”

I put my arm around Lawry. “Don’t worry about this one. She won’t.”

“Hey, jackhole!” She slams her hip into mine. “I can always go home to prop up my feet and dump all this on you and Porter.”

I catch the back of my sister’s neck and squeeze. “You know I’m kidding, knucklehead.”

Adelyn seems amused by our exchange. “I look forward to our meeting, Lawrence.”

I shamelessly ogle Adelyn’s ass in her tight skirt as she walks away and gets into her Jaguar coupé. “You know what? I think I’m going to like living in this neighborhood a lot.”

“I’m sure you will with that living next door. I happen to know how much you visually enjoy a lovely lady of red.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I think she’s a natural.”

“She is.” Both a natural beauty and a natural redhead.

“I guess you would know, being a connoisseur and all.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Well, she wants to feed you, so she’s already okay in my book.” I don’t think my sister’s ever going to get over her neurosis about nourishment.

It’s been twenty-three years since our bellies growled from hunger. Real hunger. Painful hunger. Not the kind people mistakenly refer to as starving when it’s only been a half day since their last meal.

“I see Porter’s truck but no Porter.”

“He’s waiting in my truck.”

“Instead of being front and center to meet your new attractive neighbor?”

I can’t be wrong if Lawry thinks it’s odd too. “I know. Weird.”

“He must not have gotten a good look at her.”

“But he did. He’s actually the one who pointed her out to me.”

Fucker is sitting in my truck staring off into space. Smiling. “He denies it but I think the bastard is in some kind of secret relationship.”

“That’s fantastic. But why would he keep it secret? And especially from you?”

“I don’t know but things have been off with him for a while.”

“Things being off automatically makes you think he’s in a relationship?”

“No, but his sudden ability to perfect the disappearing act does. Reminds me of the days when you and Tap were doing the sneaky behind my back.”

“Ah, the disappearing act. A good indication something is going on and he doesn’t want you to know what it is.”

“I know, right?”

“Cut the guy some slack. He’ll come around and tell you when he’s ready.”

“Unless I figure it out first.”

I look over at my truck and see Porter holding his arm out the window tapping on his watch. Laughing. Bastard.

A missing Benjamin from my wallet makes no difference to me. Those few extra moments with my new neighbor were worth every penny for laying the foundation for my next welcome-to-the-neighborhood happy from Adelyn Maxwell.

Yes. I believe I’m going to like this neighborhood a lot.

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About the Author

Georgia Cates

Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

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Other books by Georgia

STANDALONES

Dear Agony: A Novel

Indulge

Sweet Torment: A Novella

THE SIN TRILOGY

A Necessary Sin: Book I

The Next Sin: Book II

One Last Sin: Book III

The Sin Trilogy Bundle

THE SIN SERIES NOVELS

Endurance: Jamie and Ellison's Story

Unintended: Westlyn and Kieran’s Story Publishing October 20, 2017

Redemption: Leith and Lorna's Story (Early 2018)

THE BEAUTY SERIES

Beauty from Pain: Book I

Beauty from Surrender: Book II

Beauty from Love: Book III

The Beauty Series Bundle

MEN OF LOVIBOND

Tap

Stout

Porter

GOING UNDER SERIES

Going Under: Book I

Shallow: Book II

Going Under Complete Duo

THE VAMPIRE AGAPE SERIES

Blood of Anteros: Book I

Blood Jewel: Book II

Blood Doll: Book III

The Complete Vampire Agape Series