by: Wendy S. Marcus
Series: Speakeasy Taproom
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 2, 2021
Publisher: Heart Eyes Press
Amazon | Paperback | Audiobook | Goodreads
Randall Dickson is coping. Sort of. An upcoming medical eval, one that could end his military career, has him stressed and making bad choices. So when a concerned friend issues a strongly-worded “invitation” to Vermont, R.D. is all in for a change of scenery, a temporary job as a bartender, and the opportunity to shake himself out of his self-destructive routine.
Then he sets eyes on his seriously sexy new co-worker…
Lily Reynolds, an artist by day, Speakeasy’s favorite bartender at night, works hard to stay positive, unlike her surly new coworker. He may be a treat to look at, but that grumpy attitude and terse manner are not her type. So when Lily finds herself in desperate need of someone to share expenses, she convinces R.D. to rent her vacant room. There’s no way she’ll find herself falling for him.
She’d like to find the secret admirer who’s leaving her secret love notes around the bar, though. But he won’t reveal himself...
This standalone contains: opposites who definitely attract, a workplace romance, and an opinionated French bulldog.
On my birth certificate: Randall Dickson II.
In high school and college: Randy Dick (For well-earned reasons.)
As an adult: I prefer R.D.
Age: 30-something
Physical Description: I’m a big man, over six-feet tall. Got some muscles and a few tatts. Dark blond hair I keep short on the sides and longer on top. I can hold a woman’s attention from across a crowded room.
Occupation: Marine/temporary bartender. (But my college degree is in accounting.)
Pets: Before Lily’s pup Tulip, I never had a pet. Never had the time. Being a girl-dog dad doesn’t suck like I thought it would.
3 likes in no particular order: I like to be needed, to take care of and protect others.
3 dislikes in no particular order: I STRONGLY dislike alcoholics, men who abuse women…or anyone weaker than them, and Lily’s ex, Dorian. I could go on, but you only asked for three…
Drink of choice: Black coffee
Favorite food: I’m not particular. If I’m hungry and it’s edible, I’ll eat it.
Boxers or Briefs: That’s for Lily to know. And only Lily.
Choice of transportation: Motorcycle…at least it was before that motherfucker hit me. For now, I’m sticking to an SUV.
Favorite way to spend an evening: With Lily, doing anything Lily wants to do. Preferably naked things.
Best memory to date: Dessert with Lily in the front seat of her van. (You’ll have to read Stargazer for the specifics.)
If you could have a do-over, what would you do differently? I wouldn’t have left Lily the way I did. Hell, I wouldn’t have left her at all.
What’s something you’ve said you would never do, but in fact have done? Something I never thought I would ever do is walk a tiny dog who was dressed up in a pink satin jacket, using a matching pink leash. But, yeah, I’ve done that. A lot.
Most romantic gesture (done or received): I’m not a romantic guy. I do what needs to be done. I try to be thoughtful.
Words to live by: Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Don’t be so quick to judge.
Lily wasn’t kidding about being a full-body-contact sleeper. Turned out, I didn’t mind at all. Careful not to wake her, I held perfectly still, ignoring the throbbing in my hip and the stiffness in my leg, focusing instead on the floral scent of her hair, the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath my hands, against my chest. Her firm ass pressed against me. Damn good thing I’d left my pants on.
Every place we touched felt on fire. An intense need coursed through my veins, the urge to move, to grind myself against her almost got the better of me.
Almost.
Lily deserved a man who would paint her the paintings, sing her the songs, and write her the poems she loved. A good guy. Dependable. Someone who could stay with her and make her feel safe every night. Not a disabled, cranky fuckup who got himself hooked on pain meds, lived on the other side of the country and spent a majority of his time in war zones overseas. At least, that was where I used to spend a majority of my time.
To avoid thinking about the past, the future, or anything unrelated to my present predicament, I engaged my brain in debating the merits of allowing myself to enjoy the feel of a woman in my arms while waiting for her to wake up naturally vs. disentangling to escape temptation and retreating to the safety of my own bed.
I did not retreat.
Instead, I tortured myself, envisioning how easy it would be to lower the waistbands of my boxer briefs and track pants with one hand, slide her shorts and panties to the side with the other, and ram my cock into her slick heat again and again until I had us both seeing stars.
The exceptional control I’d bragged about last night? It now resembled a single thread of a spider’s web.
Lily shifted in my arms, against my raging dick, and my hips thrust forward. Just once. Only once wasn’t enough. I rocked my hips again, holding her tight, savoring every sensation…until her body went rigid in my arms.
“Didn’t expect that. Thought for sure you’d tell me to ignore it.”
I tried. My mouth refused to form the words.
“You said you had enough self-control for both of us.”
Not how I remembered it. “You said you wouldn’t make a move on me. Yet here you are on my side of the bed.” Not that I minded.
I didn’t make any attempt to change our position.
Neither did she.
Until she pressed her butt back again and said, “Maybe we could—”
I cut her off with, “Do not finish that sentence.”
For a few blissful moments, I held her in my arms, wide awake, neither of us talking. Unfortunately, we couldn’t lie there all day. To change the subject from sex, I asked, “How is your search for the perfect roommate going?” Important to remind her, and myself, that I would not be sticking around.
“I already found the perfect roommate,” she replied. “You.”
As much as I liked the sound of that, I countered with, “I’m only temporary. Could be gone next week.” Not likely, but possible.
“Can’t we enjoy ourselves while you’re here?”
If she were someone else? Probably. But her friendship with Griff and her bad breakup and me leaving soon to return to my real life and so many other reasons stood in the way. “I am trying to do the right thing, here. You’re the one who set down, in no uncertain terms, the no-sex rule. Why am I the only one trying to follow it?”
She didn’t respond.
“What do you have to say to that, Lily?”
“Condoms are in the top drawer of the bedside table behind you.”
I dropped my chin to the top of her head. Shit. “Not cool.”
She shrugged. “I’m allowed to change my mind.”
“Yes. You are. That doesn’t mean I’m going to change mine.” I didn’t want my leaving to hurt her. And I didn’t want to regret leaving.
Lily let out a frustrated breath. “I have never had to work so hard to get a guy to make love to me.”
That right there, her use of the words “make love,” strengthened my resolve. “If I were to take you now, it’d be fucking, raw and dirty. Not making love. Which is why we’re not doing it.” A narrow escape. Never had doing the right thing been so difficult.
“I’m okay with fucking.” She tried to turn in my arms to face me.
Which I did not allow. “You say that now.”
“R.D.!” The frustration in her tone made me smile.
Somehow, she knew. “Are you laughing at me?” She struggled to escape my hold.
I didn’t let her. “Calm down. Listen.” I waited until she did. “You’ve become a good friend. I don’t have many.” To soften what I planned to say next, I kissed the back of her head. “I won’t risk that because we happened to wake up…randy.”
“I see what you did there,” she teased. Then she relaxed against me before adding, “So, am I correct in assuming you’re not big into spontaneity?”
“More of a thinker/planner.”
“You should try it some time. Being spontaneous.”
“Maybe I will. Just not today.”
She huffed out a, “Fine,” in that way women do. “I can’t guarantee I’ll still want to when you finally come around.”
Oh, she’d want to. I’d make sure of it.
Every place we touched felt on fire. An intense need coursed through my veins, the urge to move, to grind myself against her almost got the better of me.
Almost.
Lily deserved a man who would paint her the paintings, sing her the songs, and write her the poems she loved. A good guy. Dependable. Someone who could stay with her and make her feel safe every night. Not a disabled, cranky fuckup who got himself hooked on pain meds, lived on the other side of the country and spent a majority of his time in war zones overseas. At least, that was where I used to spend a majority of my time.
To avoid thinking about the past, the future, or anything unrelated to my present predicament, I engaged my brain in debating the merits of allowing myself to enjoy the feel of a woman in my arms while waiting for her to wake up naturally vs. disentangling to escape temptation and retreating to the safety of my own bed.
I did not retreat.
Instead, I tortured myself, envisioning how easy it would be to lower the waistbands of my boxer briefs and track pants with one hand, slide her shorts and panties to the side with the other, and ram my cock into her slick heat again and again until I had us both seeing stars.
The exceptional control I’d bragged about last night? It now resembled a single thread of a spider’s web.
Lily shifted in my arms, against my raging dick, and my hips thrust forward. Just once. Only once wasn’t enough. I rocked my hips again, holding her tight, savoring every sensation…until her body went rigid in my arms.
“Didn’t expect that. Thought for sure you’d tell me to ignore it.”
I tried. My mouth refused to form the words.
“You said you had enough self-control for both of us.”
Not how I remembered it. “You said you wouldn’t make a move on me. Yet here you are on my side of the bed.” Not that I minded.
I didn’t make any attempt to change our position.
Neither did she.
Until she pressed her butt back again and said, “Maybe we could—”
I cut her off with, “Do not finish that sentence.”
For a few blissful moments, I held her in my arms, wide awake, neither of us talking. Unfortunately, we couldn’t lie there all day. To change the subject from sex, I asked, “How is your search for the perfect roommate going?” Important to remind her, and myself, that I would not be sticking around.
“I already found the perfect roommate,” she replied. “You.”
As much as I liked the sound of that, I countered with, “I’m only temporary. Could be gone next week.” Not likely, but possible.
“Can’t we enjoy ourselves while you’re here?”
If she were someone else? Probably. But her friendship with Griff and her bad breakup and me leaving soon to return to my real life and so many other reasons stood in the way. “I am trying to do the right thing, here. You’re the one who set down, in no uncertain terms, the no-sex rule. Why am I the only one trying to follow it?”
She didn’t respond.
“What do you have to say to that, Lily?”
“Condoms are in the top drawer of the bedside table behind you.”
I dropped my chin to the top of her head. Shit. “Not cool.”
She shrugged. “I’m allowed to change my mind.”
“Yes. You are. That doesn’t mean I’m going to change mine.” I didn’t want my leaving to hurt her. And I didn’t want to regret leaving.
Lily let out a frustrated breath. “I have never had to work so hard to get a guy to make love to me.”
That right there, her use of the words “make love,” strengthened my resolve. “If I were to take you now, it’d be fucking, raw and dirty. Not making love. Which is why we’re not doing it.” A narrow escape. Never had doing the right thing been so difficult.
“I’m okay with fucking.” She tried to turn in my arms to face me.
Which I did not allow. “You say that now.”
“R.D.!” The frustration in her tone made me smile.
Somehow, she knew. “Are you laughing at me?” She struggled to escape my hold.
I didn’t let her. “Calm down. Listen.” I waited until she did. “You’ve become a good friend. I don’t have many.” To soften what I planned to say next, I kissed the back of her head. “I won’t risk that because we happened to wake up…randy.”
“I see what you did there,” she teased. Then she relaxed against me before adding, “So, am I correct in assuming you’re not big into spontaneity?”
“More of a thinker/planner.”
“You should try it some time. Being spontaneous.”
“Maybe I will. Just not today.”
She huffed out a, “Fine,” in that way women do. “I can’t guarantee I’ll still want to when you finally come around.”
Oh, she’d want to. I’d make sure of it.
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