Page 27 of The One Timer

“Visiting the distilleries was fun as a kid, but the fine details of the process, from the recipe to sourcing the oak for the barrels, holds no appeal.” I blow out a breath, and she studies me. Crazy as it is, I wait for her words of wisdom, knowing they will come, knowing I want them, need them, crave them as much as I crave everything about her, like she’s an addiction worse than crack.

“Don’t worry about the family legacy, Chase. It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to. As my mother used to say, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Relief snaps my tension as if I needed her permission to let it go. I snort a laugh. “Skin a cat? Really? Did your mom grow up in the woods and hunt for food?”

She laughs and swats my arm, the touch sending a buzz through my nerves that reaches my dick before it reaches my brain. Shit.

Adjusting herself on the pillows, she separates from me, and if it wasn’t for the sizzling look in her eyes, full of sensuality and caring, I’d be disappointed.

“Your family seems to have the business handled,” she says. It should be the last thing I want to talk about and usually is, but talking with her about it is freeing more than disturbing.

“My sister seems to do nothing but attend endless meetings, read endless reports, and take calls in her free time, including when she goes to the toilet. She probably pisses whiskey. But then, she’s accused me of having pucks coming out of my ass.”

Em bursts out laughing, and the sound pulls me in, literally. I adjust my pillow to move closer so we’re skin-to-skin again.

She calms, still grinning. “Your sister sounds like a trip, but it sounds like you’re close to her.”

“We get along, but only because we each have our lane—and a dozen years—to separate us.”

“I wish I had a sibling.”

She sounds so wistful. A shot of guilt immediately followed by a well of gratitude for my sister hits me. “Do you have anyone?”

She forces a smile. “Yes. I have an aunt and two cousins.”

“Are you close to them?”

“You could say that. But I’m closest to my best friend Merry, who I’ve known since we were little. We go to…games together, sometimes, like tonight. It’s too bad you didn’t get to meet her.”

“I’m glad she came with you to celebrate your birthday. But I’m not sorry I didn’t meet her. It’s been amazing to have you all to myself tonight.” I hold my breath and add, “And you never know, maybe I’ll get to meet Merry another time.”

“You never know. After all, meeting you tonight was a crazy coincidence.” She yawns.

“You’re tired.” I wrap my arms around her and lower the pillows, settling us together with her head resting in the crook of my arm.

“Goodnight, Chase,” she barely whispers the words as I kiss her cheek, making her smile a contented smile that sends a rush of heat through me.

“Good night, Em,” I whisper. Then lying on my side, I put an arm over her, resting it on her flat belly, and let the feel of her soft, warm skin and the quiet rise and fall of her chest as she falls asleep calm me the fuck down.

My dick is still too stiff for comfort, but I’m content to hold her while she drifts off. I can save the rest until morning.

It’s almost four a.m. when I fall asleep, and the last thing I remember is her whispering sweet dreams in my ear.

Chapter Eight

EMERY

Iwake with a start and sit up, my heart beating fast as I look around the moon-washed room. Then all the events of last night rush in, warming me, and I reach for Chase, still asleep soundly, one hand resting on my thigh, still but hot. I watch him sleep, torn between my need to get up to leave so I can get to work on time and my strong desire to stay with him for as long as he’ll let me. The pull is shocking, and it should scare the shit out of me.

Maybe I’ll be properly terrified in the light of day, but right now, every lady hormone in me wants nothing more than anything to have his babies and kiss every inch of his body all over again, to feel his hands on me, his mouth on me… No. Don’t go there. Last night was a one-timer, and my time playing Cinderella is up.

The itch in my fingers to reach for him is nearly irresistible and definitely killing me. I ball my hands into fists and back away from him.

Slipping from the bed, I retrieve my clothes from the floor in stealth mode, like I do when I’m trying not to wake Mrs. W while she naps. Oh, my God. Don’t think about his grandma right now. Mrs. W absolutely can’t know I stole her Brawlers tickets, and worse, spent the night with her beloved grandson. I feel so ashamed for being dishonest with her and wouldn’t blame her for firing me on the spot—more for stealing her grandson for the night than the hockey tickets.

And Chase can’t know that I work for his beloved grandma, or especially not that I knew all about who he is, that I planned to take advantage of him for my birthday last night, never mind that I came by the tickets dishonestly.

The damn ticket theft is the least of my crimes. Despite our agreement that this was one night only, he hinted that he might want to see me again, and I have no intention of ever letting that happen.