The Deal Dilemma

Whiplash. That’s what Crew Taylor is and has always been.

A severe case of whiplash.

An unexpected bout of turbulence.

Hot and cold.

Cold, cold, cold.

So cold, I have to replay every detail to determine if such a thing as hot exists, and it does, even if only in situations where he’s overcome with the need to remind me he’s in charge of the Davis show. As if I could forget.

Whatever lesson he was trying to teach me yesterday, I most definitely did not absorb it.

The only thing I learned last night is I’m a little broken.

Twisted even.

Why else would I find his grumpy, bossy, hands-on approach spectacularly stimulating?

If only he’d be willing to stimulate me on purpose.

As I think it, my senses are swarmed by his spicy, masculine scent.

Seconds later, Crew’s reaching across me, his hand dipping into my bucket to peep at what’s buried inside. “Do you think you have enough Red Hots?”

“What, these?” I tease, revealing the second layer hidden beneath the first. “They should get me through the night. These two.” I point to the three triple-pack candy necklaces I couldn’t resist, even if I do have a half box left at home.

He scoffs, scooting closer to snag his piece of Bazooka Bubble Gum from the plastic bins in front of me.

Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I meet his gaze, holding it as he peels the wrapper off, tossing the rectangular candy in his mouth. His tongue rolls, flipping the little pink piece over, before his lips close around it, and I wonder what kind of tricks that tongue can do.

Heat fills my chest and a hidden smirk whispers at the corners of his lips. Crew takes the candy bucket from my hand, nodding toward the ice cream and treat bar leading to the register.

I follow a step behind. “You know, considering how you basically played daddy yesterday and painted me the rebel teenage daughter who went out without permission, you’re in quite a tranquil mood today.”

“I stay calm until you piss me off.”

“Ha! False news. You are always pissed off. Pissed at yourself, pissed at me, pissed at a red light. You, Crew Taylor, glare more than you grin. Bummer too, ’cause you’ve got a good grin.”

Crew shoots me a look. “I am not always pissed off. Hurry up and pick your fudge before I tell the nice lady waiting for you to choose that you get none.”

“Sounds pretty pissy to me.”

My eyes dart up, meeting the eyes of the older woman behind the counter, her small smirk creating deeper wrinkles in her cheeks.

Crew frowns her way as my laughter fills the air.

The silver-haired woman winks teasingly as she slips a pair of clear gloves on her hands. “You take your time, honey. Ain’t no one behind you.”

I give Crew a full-tooth smile and face the woman. “What’s your favorite?”

“The mint Oreo is to die for. Chocolate fudge on the bottom, mint layer with crumbled Oreos mixed in on top. Can’t beat it.”

“She thinks mint shouldn’t exist in candy.”

I look to Crew, and he holds my attention as he says, “She’ll have the s’mores bar, and a chocolate-covered strawberry.”

“Two chocolate-covered strawberries, add a chocolate-covered Twinkie for the grump here, please.” I grin, and Crew turns away before his smile slips free. Not quick enough though. I saw it.

“You got it, honey. I’ll have it ready for you at the register.”

“Thank you.” I slip past Crew, but his arm shoots out, snaking around my middle, halting me there.

“I can show you grump, Sweets.”

“I’d say you already did, not that I’m not used to it.”

“Admit it,” he whispers. “You like me bossy.”

Little tingles spread through my stomach, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I like you every way, I think, but say, “I don’t hate it.”

“Mm-hmm.” He tips his head, pushing his cheek against mine. “For the record, if I was playin’ daddy… the last thing you’d be playing is daughter.”

My, oh, my, my imagination is a wonderful thing.

He releases me, setting our items on the counter and waits to pay, so I move toward the door, double-checking all the bins on the way to ensure I didn’t miss anything I want to try.

This morning when I made my way into the kitchen, prepared to whip up some waffles, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of Crew sitting at the table, finishing off what was left in his coffee cup. He grinned, told me to get dressed, because we were going out for the day. Maybe I should have shunned him, played the silent game in response to his growly grab-and-go crap yesterday. But I didn’t.

I’ve never dressed so fast in my life.

Thankfully, my hair is pencil straight, so all it took was a quick swipe of a brush and voilà. It looked like I tried.

I mastered putting on mascara in a moving car when I was fifteen, so that was a non-issue, and an hour later, we were fighting for a parking spot near a giant red barn. On the front, painted in blue, on a giant white sign above the entrance, it read, Nana and Pop’s Sweet Shop.

I might have drooled in anticipation.

Oh, are those fizzes?

“Ready?”

I look over to find Crew at my side, so I link my arm through his, and we walk out the door, but rather than curve left, where his car is parked, we swing right, headed down a short walking path that leads to the harbor.

“Hungry?” Crew asks.

“Starving, but I’m not against a giant block of crispy graham cracker and marshmallowy fudge for breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’d bet not, but it’s noon, so I’m thinking lunch is the better option.”

“I guess,” I tease, shifting to the side to avoid getting run over by a toddler on a tricycle.

Crew pulls his arm free of mine, wrapping it around my lower back instead, and when my eyes flick to his, he only stares a moment, before pointing them forward.

“Thought we’d eat here.” He nods toward an older-looking building. The structure is paneled, a light, sun-faded blue with white trimming. In the middle is a circle with bold red writing and a small fishing boat in the center. Around it is the name of the restaurant.

Rockin’ Baja Coastal Cantina.

“Aw, it’s so cute.” We walk over to the patio seating, lucky enough to score a corner table with an up-close view of the docks.

Busy roaming over boat after boat, I forget to look at the menu, so when the waiter comes up to take our drink order, I’m unprepared, so I steal a glance at the tables around. “Margarita?”

“Traditional or strawberry?”

“Strawberry, please.”

He nods, looking to Crew.

“Water for me.”

The man walks away, and I look to Crew.

“What?”

His lips curve up the slightest bit. “Wondering when you started letting yourself have a drink.”

Guilt washes over me, and I lower my eyes to my lap, but he quickly leans forward, catching my chin with his knuckles.

My brown gaze locks with his.

“You’re an adult. Smart, responsible. No reason you can’t enjoy a drink when you feel like it.”

I shrug, looking away, and slowly, he releases me, but I don’t look at him. “For a long time, I was afraid of drinking, but after a while, the fear turned into this pit of anxiousness every time I was around it or thought about it.” I think of how Crew must have felt as a child, seeing his dad drink himself into oblivion day after day. “Finally, last summer I decided I needed to know how I would handle alcohol, if I’d somehow end up—” I cut off, looking at Crew.

I don’t have to say it. He knows what I mean, he was there when my brother slowly ended his life one bottle of vodka at a time—he was there for it more than any of us were.

“Anyway, I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s nice to loosen up sometimes. I still won’t keep it in the house. Never. Just…”

“Just in case.”

Nodding, I meet his gaze.

“That’s why you had me throw out that bottle that had…” He pauses, thinking. “Twenty-three percent left in it?”

A low laugh leaves me, and I settle farther into the chair. “Yeah, that’s why.”

Crew grins then but looks away before it can grow any wider.

“Why do you do that?”

His gaze comes right back, confusion tightening his features. “Do what?”

“Stop yourself from smiling or laughing when I know you want to.”

Now he’s the one who looks guilty, so I offer a small grin.

“You know I’m happy for you, right?” I ask. “Like, I love that you have new friends, a new… family, so to speak. I want that for you, wished for that for you.” Crew swallows. “You deserve all the happiness after everything. I could cry knowing there are people out there who love you like I love you.”

Crew’s eyes shift between mine, a crease forming along his brows. “No one could love me like you, Sweets.”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” I joke, and this time, Crew does laugh.

He laughs, and it’s low and husky, and his eyes, they’re so damn gentle as they cling to mine.

The waiter reappears, who knows how many minutes later, and I clear my throat, thanking him as I look to Crew again.

“You know,” I tease. “If I knew about this little adventure today, we could have put it to good use.”

Crew arches a brow, taking a slow sip from his glass.

“This could be a solid lesson on first dates. We both know I need one on the subject.”

He studies me for a moment, and then he shoots from his seat, walks around the table until he’s dropping into the wooden chair on my right.

Crew yanks mine closer, draping his arm around the back of it, until his fingertips are brushing along my bicep.

He looks into my eyes, lowering his lips to the exposed skin of my shoulder, blindly reaching for my margarita. He lifts it until the straw is teasing against my lower lip, so I use my tongue to pull it inside, and his attention snaps to my mouth.

I suck on the cool liquid slowly, avoiding a brain freeze like the pro–Slurpee drinker I am. Of course, as it slips from my mouth, a small glop of margarita dribbles over my lower lip, and I dart a finger up, lapping up the access.

Crew’s fingers twitch along my bicep. “Do that on a first date and you’ll send a vibe you might not be ready for.”

“I’m ready for it all.”

His dark gaze lifts to mine, and slowly, his tongue runs along his bottom lip. “You are, aren’t you?”

He says it as if he’s only just realized, as if he didn’t believe me before when I said I was ready.

I am. I want it all. Everything.

I want it with you…

We stare at each other a long moment, and I jump when a woman walks over, setting a plate of bacon-wrapped shrimp in front of us.

I don’t wait for him to go first, I pick one up and blow on it, touching the tip of my tongue to the end to be sure it’s not too hot. I take a small bite, and the bacon uncurls, falling along my chin. Laughing, I tip my head back and push it into my mouth. I reach for a napkin, doing a double take when I catch Crew staring again.

“What?”

His brows jump, and he shakes his head, taking his arm off my chair, so he can eat with me. “Trying to figure out how no one has grabbed you by the neck and kissed the shit out of you yet.”

“That’s… random.” I swallow and I force myself to ask, “What makes you say that?”

“’Cause every time you open your mouth, it’s all I want to do.”

I go to speak, but nothing comes out, and when Crew looks up, it’s nothing more than a quick side peek. I don’t miss the pleased gleam in his gaze.

He loves rendering me speechless. Always has.

It doesn’t take long for us to kill the entire plate of shrimp, and only then, do I realize we haven’t ordered our meals yet, but just before I can suggest we order, the chair across from us scratches against the concrete.

“Sorry we’re late! I had to pee twice on the drive, and you’d be surprised how many of the gas stations on the way here don’t allow you to use their bathrooms.” Layla smiles, stealing Crew’s water for a quick drink.

“The last one only let her in ’cause she cried and said she was going to piss in the aisle if not.” Willie grins, coming over to my side of the table and leaning down for a quick, one-armed hug. “Hey, gorgeous.”

I frown, but quickly add a smile when he straightens. “Hey.” I look to Crew.

He knows I’m staring; he can see me from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t glance my way. Julius walks in next, with Xavier on his tail.

They both come to me for a hug, snag chairs from the table beside us and wedge themselves in at the end.

“Parking here is a bitch. We’re all the way down by the coffee shop.”

“Yeah, I left mine in the two-hour slots by the candy shop.” Crew reclaims his water from Layla, his arm making its way around the back of my chair once more.

Willie’s eyes zone in immediately, and his grin is as wicked as they come as his gaze finds mine. He wiggles his brows, and I play along, wiggling mine right back.

His laughter follows, capturing the attention of the others, so I ditch my straw, quickly burying my smile in my glass.

“What’s so funny?” Crew scowls.

“Nothing, man. Dude back there dropped a plate of something. Poor fucker.” Willie licks his lips, winking at his wife as she knowingly shakes her head.

Crew cuts his head my way, but I just keep taking small sips.

“Heard I missed the fun at the slides yesterday.” Mischief blankets Julius’s features as his gaze roams over me. “Heard you had double braids. Woulda loved to see that, Davis the Virgin… or did Jess, the not female, help you out with—oh shit!” His chair topples over, sending him tumbling to the ground with a crash.

All eyes fly to our table and a waiter rushes over to see if he’s okay, but Julius jumps up with a grin.

“I’m good, all’s good over here. Nothing but a case of blue-ball denial. Please, go back to enjoying your meals.” He bows.

Of course he bows, then Julius quickly jolts toward Crew, knocking the bill of his backward hat and my hand darts out, catching it before it hits the floor.

“Fucker.” Julius laughs, taking his seat once more. “Your woman knows I was teasing, ain’t that right, gorgeous?”

“You’re too much for me, brother number three.”

His mouth drops open in mock hurt. “I’m reduced to bro three? I mean, I know Willie is first class, but X is before me?”

I laugh. “Hey, X is—” I squeal as my chair is yanked, the handle of mine now pressed completely against Crew’s.

His arm never leaves the back seat, but his fingers begin skating along the curve of my shoulder. His eyes hit mine, narrowing. “X is … what?”

“Um.” I can feel my blush rising and think of something different to say. “X … doesn’t flirt every five seconds.”

“In the spirit of being transparent”—X raises his hand—“I would if I weren’t worried about keeping my balls attached.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Willie gives his brother a little push. “You’re obsessed with Neo’s sister, and we all know it.”

“All of us but Neo,” Layla adds with a saucy smirk.

“No…” I look at him, smiling. “Really, you and Nova?”

Xavier frowns and jumps up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

The table laughs at his expense, and a moment later, everyone grows quiet, silently skimming the menu, but while I do the same, I can’t tell you what’s on it. The quiet has allowed my mind to catch up, to process the situation.

If Crew were mad about my being with his friends yesterday, why would he invite them here today?

He wouldn’t, would he?

Crew turns to me then, and I meet his stare.

“Know what you want?” His tone is deep, raspy, and coated in something unfamiliar. Unease?

Crew uneasy? Impossible…

I nod, because I do, but what I want isn’t on the menu. He took it off himself, swapping for the role of chef in this scenario. Crew will create the menu, and I’ll be forced to choose between flank and skirt steak when what I want is the filet mignon.

When what I want is him.

Keen, dark eyes implore mine, and when I feel his palm span wide against my arm, mine bends upward. The moment my fingers brush his, his chest rises with a full breath, and he closes his hand over mine, linking ours together.

He gives a little squeeze and I shift, slowly easing his hat back onto his head. Backward, and pushed down a tad, just the way I like it.

He tips his head toward me, so I lean in, giving him my ear.

“I wanted to rip their arms off when they hugged you. Know why?”

I shake my head, peeking at Layla under my lashes when she shifts in her seat, but she’s looking at the water behind her.

“They touched you.”

That’s it. That’s all he says, and I have sooo many questions, but Crew pulls back. Not to look at me, to face his friends, none of whom are paying us any attention.

“We ready to order?” The waiter smiles.

The others begin reading off their item of choice, but I was too busy fantasizing to look at the menu, so after Crew orders, I simply say “same,” and sit back, ignorant to the conversations flowing around me as I formulate an equation in my head.

I attempt to make sense of the million thoughts running through my mind but can’t.

Crew’s protective and possessive nature taking a turn in the direction I’ve been dying for, his newfound need to touch and overall alpha ways.

His open and angry denials, repetitive refusals, and offer to find someone to take what I want to be his.

God, but his whispered confession and the way his hands feel on my skin—heavy and strong, greedy. Needy?

Ugh! It’s like no matter how many variables I add in, no matter the words that leave his mouth or the ones behind his eyes he chooses not to speak, mean very little when the result remains the same. Regardless of what I may be confused about, I understand the end won’t change.

It will still be me virginityless and Crew a non-participant.

The deal is still on, Davis. Don’t scare him away with worthless worries.

“So, what’s the plan after this?” Willie asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m taking her to the pier to ride the Ferris wheel.” Crew looks my way. “Good way to end our first date, yeah?”

My eyes shoot wide, and around the table, low whistles and quick laughs follow. Pretty sure Layla coos.

All I can do is stare and then Crew shocks the shit out of me.

He leans over, presses his lips just beneath my jaw, and goes right back to his conversation.

Like nothing.

As if it were no big deal and if he didn’t say we were on a date… when it’s pretend.

As if this weren’t simply a lesson… when it is.

As if he didn’t just insinuate he was on the verge of being mine… when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

As if he didn’t willingly press his soft, plush, perfectly rough lips to my skin… when we all witnessed it.

It’s all part of the agreement, an extension of our deal, this lesson in first dates and what to expect during it, but I’m still a ready and waiting virgin with an epically pounding pulse. To be honest, I might faint if the others weren’t here distracting me enough to remember to breathe, especially when the hand on my chair comes back around to rest on my thigh. My bare thigh, where he tortures me with long slow strokes of his thumb.

It’s official. Crew Taylor is trying to ruin me and call me a wayward woman, I’m dying to let him.

He said he won’t allow me in his bed, but I wonder what it would take to get him to play in mine a bit?

“Oh, babe, there’s a live band!” Layla claps, dragging her husband by the hand into the crowd.

Willie cuts a look our way, slicing his finger across his neck as she tugs him farther and farther into the mayhem.

“It’s cute how he acts like he’s anything other than pleased to give her all the little things she wants.” I smile after the couple. It’s so obvious how much he loves her.

He’s never not touching her when she’s in reach, and when she’s not, it’s not for too long and he normally finds her, kisses her to get his fix and goes on his way.

“Yeah, he’s whipped to the core and loves it.” Crew chuckles as he takes my hand. He lifts it until my knuckles are pressed to his mouth and he glides his lips across them with a small nip. His eyes flash, and a moment later, we’re as lost in the mob as the others.

Crew slips behind me, holding on to my waist and leads, swaying my hips the slightest bit while I stare at the band. It’s not a song I’ve heard or a band I know, likely a local, but it’s upbeat and perfect for dancing in the sand. I like it.

I like this.

Having somewhere to go and someone to go with.

Crew presses closer, his hands tightening their hold on my hips, his chest now flush with my back. “Push into me, Sweets. Let me know you like feeling my body against yours.”

Heat pools between my legs at his words, and I swallow, doing exactly what he says.

I press my ass into his thighs, and he bends a hint, so the friction of his zipper brushes along the cotton material of my shorts.

It’s intoxicating, the way his hands span wider, how his shoulders close in more, building a cocoon around me. Locking me into him and keeping me as far away from anyone else as possible. It feels as if he wants me to himself, the world around us be damned.

I’ve danced with men before, but never for more than a moment, and not like this.

“Show me you want more.” His lips find the opposite ear now, and he glides them across the lobe. “Let me know you like what you’re feeling.”

My eyes snap closed, my head dropping onto his chest, and suddenly, my breaths grow more labored. My lungs expand past normal, and with every deep inhale, my mind and body are consumed by Crew.

His scent, his heat, his touch.

God, his everything.

My hand comes up, sliding along his neck until I can tether it into his hair, and I do. I wrap my fingers around his locks and tug. The little groan that fans along my skin has me doing it again, and Crew’s fingertips dig into me.

I spin in his hold, and his eyes shoot down to mine. Maybe it’s the dopamine coursing through my veins, but I’d almost swear they’re half-hooded, wanting, and it’s only me standing here.

“Crew…”

His brows dip low, nearly touching in the center. He lets go, steps back, and nods his head. “Good, that’s good. Mastered on your first try.”

I blink.

He walks away, but before I can decide to follow, a smiling Layla is there grabbing my arm. She pulls me forward, Willie passing us by on his way to catch up with Crew.

“You have to come to the festival this weekend! It’s going to be so fun. X and Neo can’t come because they have baseball stuff, but Julius and my friend, Toni, you already met, will be there. You can help pour beer or slave away on the hot grill with the boys.”

“So, this is a working festival?” I tease.

“Yes, yes it is.” She laughs. “We’re trying to get some investors for Willie’s beer, see if we can’t up our production and get into more bars or restaurants around town.”

I look ahead at the boys. “You sure the boss won’t mind?”

“Your boss or mine?”

Laughing, I look at her with a scrunched nose. “Both?”

She winks. “Don’t worry, sister. You’re on the list. But I should probably tell you now, it’s sort of a free-spirited thing, we sleep in these cool teepees, and they’re all booked up. Crew would be your roomie.”

A tiny teepee with the man who makes my vagina vibrate with nothing but a look.

Sounds like torture.

But, then again, what part of being hopelessly attracted to a man you can’t have isn’t?