Sex & Sours Read online

  His dimple looked even better in the morning. “It’s exactly a science.”

  “Shush. Just add them.”

  He did. I tried not to explode from happiness.

  “Great. Now a little salt to bring out the sweetness.” The salt was next to me, so I threw it in myself. “And now soak the bread and cook.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Yes. Just make sure the pan isn’t turned up too high.”

  He checked the cooktop and made an adjustment. “Ok.”

  From my perch on the counter, I watched as he trialed a piece, quickly growing more confident as he cooked. After the third slice was placed on a waiting plate, he stepped over to the coffee pot and refilled both of our cups before returning to cooking.

  As he relaxed, he started recalling an article about the rise in pre-mixed spritzers, but all I could focus on was how distracting his lips were.

  Those fingers.

  Those eyes.

  I licked my lips.

  “Tiffany.” Hmm. The way he said my name ... “Are you listening?” That damn lopsided smile. I wanted to lean over and taste it.

  “Mmm.”

  He chuckled, and my stomach flipped.

  When the food was ready, I jumped down and picked up the maple syrup, gathered our coffees, and joined him on the couch, where we ate off our laps, side by side.

  We groaned in unison at our first bite. I must have made this meal a hundred times, but it had never tasted this good before. Nudging his knee with my own, I asked, “If this is your favorite, how have you never learned how to cook it?”

  “I’ve tried. I couldn’t get it to taste right.”

  “What about this?”

  “Incredible. Thank you.”

  “Don’t know why you’re thanking me. You did all the work. I just sat around looking pretty.” And when I was rewarded (as I had hoped) with that stunning, crooked smile, I couldn’t help but lean in to taste it.

  An indiscriminate amount of time later (or perhaps five minutes, who knows?), there was a knock on the door, and Audrey’s voice called out a hello.

  “Shit.” I’d forgotten what day it was.

  “Everything ok?” Sam asked, and I laughed into his shoulder, feeling irrationally caught as if this was my parents discovering me with someone in my room past curfew.

  “Yes. It’s Audrey. We always hang out on Saturdays. Give me a second.” I couldn’t be more thankful that our clothes from last night were close by as we hastily redressed so that we were (at the very least) decent, even though we both looked like we’d wrung through. It was ridiculous, and I loved it.

  I rushed to open the door, the same silly grin on my face that had been plastered there all morning. It was likely going to get stuck this way. “Hey, Auds.”

  My bright tone was as unusual to my ears as it clearly was to hers, and her eyebrows raised, almost becoming one with her hairline. “Wow, did you sleep at all yesterday? Why are you dressed in your work clothes? Did you only just get home?” she asked, her eyes darting past me into the apartment, and I caught the exact moment she saw Sam’s face, her pupils dilating so wide her eyes looked black. “Oh—um,” she stammered, and goddammit, I felt myself flushing.

  Fuck.

  This was ridiculous. I was a fucking adult, for God’s sake. I opened the door wider, stepping back so she could enter. “Alright, you’re lucky I’ve already had breakfast and coffee this morning and that we even bothered to put clothes on before I opened this door. Also,” and here was where I was a bit remorseful, “I may have forgotten what day it was.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured, Tiff,” Audrey said, all too pleased.

  She was silent as she stepped inside, biting the inside of her cheek the way she always did when she was holding back a laugh. Following her line of sight, I saw Sam’s rigid posture, his tight smile. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, these two. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Auds, you remember Sam. Sam, Audrey.” I waved nonchalantly in the air between them before retrieving a fresh cup of coffee for myself.

  Audrey coughed out an embarrassed laugh. “Hi, Sam. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, too, Audrey. How is your fiancé?”

  “He’s good. How are the renovations going?”

  “We hit a road bump recently, but I’m confident we’ll make the deadline.”

  “Oh, that’s great news. I’m looking forward to it.”

  I resisted the urge to shake my head at them. How Sam managed to seem like the most pulled together person in the room while wearing rumpled clothes and a full head of bedhead, I didn’t know. Another of his skills.

  “Speaking of Jackson,” Audrey awkwardly offered as a segue, turning to me. “He’s got the day off today, so I thought we could skip our usual date, and I’d get some time with him while I could.”

  I smirked. “You came all the way over to tell me that?”

  Her glare was challenging. Cute, but ineffective. “You seem to have your hands full anyway.”

  I pulled her into a hug and whispered, “Oh, you have no idea,” enjoying the way it caused her to blush. “Fine, go be with your man. We can chat later.”

  After Audrey had left, Sam looked prepared to do the same. Phone in hand, apologetic expression in place, he said, “I should … probably think about getting back to the bar.”

  But I wasn’t ready for him to leave. Something about him, here, felt precious. “You could,” I said, already removing my shirt, lips curling when I caught his eyes tracking the movement, “or you could stay. Weren’t you the one who said you worked too much?”

  He stayed. And okay, maybe my suggestion of showering together moved the needle in my favor, but once we were clean(ish) and back on the couch, he seemed happy where he was.

  I was glad.

  I synced up my Netflix to play the next episode of a Norwegian sci-fi show I’d recently started watching while Sam lounged beside me, one arm around my shoulders. I was practically purring as his fingers played with my hair. There wasn’t anything I needed right now except this. If someone asked me at that moment what my future looked like, it would be this.

  During a long stretch of exposition, I caught him eyeing his phone. “No work. It’s the weekend, for christ’s sake. You’re not going to miss anything important.”

  “I could.”

  “Sam,” I kissed his cheek as I pulled the phone from his hand and hid it behind a cushion, “it’ll be fine.”

  “It’s just. Since the whole thing with Pierce, I’ve been anxious about the re-opening. But you’re right. I should take a break.”

  It was the mention of Pierce that set my teeth on edge.

  Returning to the show, I sunk a little deeper into his side, basking in the soapy smell of his skin and recalling the surreal reality that only a few months ago, I’d been on this very couch calling him every name under the sun.

  My small chuckle jostled him, and he said, “I didn’t realize a foreboding forest could be funny.”

  “I was just thinking back to when we first met. I would not have guessed this was where we’d end up.”

  “You were very hostile. I was certain you were going to stage a revolt.”

  I poked his ribs where I knew he was sensitive. “You didn’t exactly make it easy on me. Who expects bartenders to be pleasant so early in the morning?”

  He looked smug. “I needed to know who would show up.”

  “You were testing us? You asshole.” I sat up to push him in the chest, careful of his shoulder. “What would you have done if we didn’t show?”

  “Fired you.” He sounded serious, but the tiniest lift in his lips gave him away.

  “Like you could ever replace me.”

  The teasing left his voice. “It has been difficult. You’re one of a kind.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He laughed. “The highest of compliments.”

  “Oh, you want compliments, do you?” Ignoring the show, I st
raddled his lap. “In that case. You’re sweet.” I kissed one cheek. “You’re loyal.” I kissed the other cheek. “You’re generous.” I ran my hands up his chest, around his neck, nuzzled his nose with mine. The next words escaped, soft like a secret. “And even when you make me want to tear my hair out, you’re still one of my favorite people.”

  I pressed one last kiss to his lips, soft but sure, with the conviction of an emotion I didn’t want to voice but knew to be true in every fiber of my being.

  Sam was quiet when we parted, and I had expected it (when was Sam not quiet?), but the silence still dulled the hope that had sprung up under my skin. It was fine, really. What had I expected? That I’d open the door with some sweet sentiments and he’d confess his love for me, and we’d live happily ever after?

  I was too much of a realist for that.

  Still, I’d hoped for something.

  That wasn’t selfish, right? To hope?

  With a last chaste kiss, I pulled off him and stood, collecting our cups from the coffee table in an effort to explain my movements. Sam remained still, but his gaze was clouded with whatever was circling in his head. “Tiffany, I …” he broke off, and while he looked outwardly calm, the air was thick with possibility.

  This was ridiculous. I didn’t do tension, and I didn’t do self-pity. If Sam didn’t feel the same way, well, I was a grown-up. I could handle that. “Shit. Did I break you?” I forced a laugh out, as hollow as I’d ever heard myself. “It’s alright, Cooper.” Jesus, that name didn’t sound right. “You still top the list of people who get under my skin.” A truth that meant a hell of a different thing than it used to.

  But it worked. Sam took a breath and smiled that small smile he always did when he was trying to make someone feel better before saying, “I guess some things never change.”

  It didn’t surprise me when five minutes later, he announced he was going to head home so that he could change.

  And it was only after he left that I let out a harsh laugh and realized that no matter how this ended (and it would end), no matter how it hurt (and it would hurt), the only person I had to blame was myself.

  39

  Tiff

  My mama could tell you that I wasn’t one to waste time. Not on bullies, not on indecision, and certainly not on wallowing. I’d decided a long time ago that if I wanted to be the kind of person who leaped without looking, I’d have to get used to a few bruises along the way.

  And because I knew that I’d likely get bruised a lot, I didn’t bother people with my problems too much. They had lives and their own shit to figure out. They didn’t need me coming around every five minutes with whatever clumsy consequence I was up against now. And frankly, I was damn good at being my own savior.

  So, I knew I’d be okay this time. I always was.

  But even okay people liked a little comfort. I picked up my cell phone.

  “Did you have a good day?” Audrey said, teasing, later that afternoon.

  I watched my foot tap on the ground. “Hypothetically, if I told you that I had feelings for Sam, would you tell me it was a bad idea?”

  A pause. “Wow. Uh … I thought it was just sex. I had no idea.”

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “It surprised me, too.”

  “When you say feelings …”

  My heart skipped. I hadn’t said the “L” word to a person in years, always too aware of what I wanted it to mean to want to throw it around. Just the thought of meaning it, of saying it out loud, felt like those final few clicks of the uphill climb on a rollercoaster.

  Tick tick tick.

  “I like him. A lot.” A fucking understatement for sure, but I didn’t like the idea of saying it before I’d talked to Sam. He should be the first person to hear how I felt.

  There was a light giggle from her end. “You know, it’s kind of weird being on the other end of this conversation. Weren’t we just here a year ago? Except it was me freaking out about Jackson.”

  “I’m gonna stop you there. I’m not freaking out about Sam.”

  “But you’re still asking me for relationship advice, which is how I know this is serious.”

  “It is serious.” That, at least, felt safe to say.

  “What will you do if Sam doesn’t feel the same?”

  My head sagged back against the couch. Of all the things I’d been mulling over since Sam had left, this was the one I kept coming back to. But it was also the part I was most sure of. “I’ll do what I always do. Pick myself up and keep going.”

  “You wouldn’t want to fight for it?”

  “And what? Convince him to stay with me if he doesn’t feel the same? No, thank you. Besides, I want him to be happy. Fuck, Auds, he puts so much of himself into his work, like everything. And the last time he was with someone, they walked away with all of it. He’s good at hiding it, but I can tell it’s hurting him that he has to start over. I can’t be another thing dragging him down. And I deserve way more than to be pining away for someone who doesn’t want me back.”

  “I’m sorry, Tiff. I can’t even think of what to say.”

  “That’s ok. I just wanted to hear a friendly voice. Now, disgust me with some sappy story so I can remember that fairytales exist or whatever.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Jace got roped into attending some promotional thing tonight. I could come over with ice cream, and we could watch that sexy demon show you like.”

  I burst out laughing. “It’s called Lucifer, but yes, that sounds like a great way to spend tonight.”

  Audrey showed up a few hours later, and in that time, I’d watched two and a half episodes of something that I hadn’t paid any attention to, baked blondies, gotten out some extra toppings that we’d need to make spiked sundaes (booze and dessert? What could be better?), and slipped into my favorite pair of super-soft sweatpants.

  As Auds and I curled into opposite ends of the couch, our legs collectively huddled under a handmade blanket between us, desserts in hand, I knew that no matter what happened with Sam, I’d still have this. And I’d be okay.

  “Do you regret it?” Audrey asked with a mouth half full of ice cream.

  “Quitting or having sex with him?”

  “Either. Both.”

  The answer was swift. “No. Definitely not.” And why the hell would I? “I’ve spent the last few weeks having some of the most amazing sex of my life.” The joke fell flat, so I opted for sincerity. “But even without that, I’m really glad that I met him. I didn’t realize how stuck I was, and not just at work either. I knew something was feeling off. It’s been years since I’ve gotten out of my comfort zone, and I’m excited now. Especially because I don’t know what’s next.”

  I twisted on the couch, my legs getting caught in the blanket and pulling it off Audrey. She rearranged it while I continued. “It’s like …” I ran my free hand through my hair. “I don’t even know. Being with him … I feel exactly the same, and yet …”

  “Different?”

  “Yes! I mean, I’m awesome, right? You know that. I know that. And I’m completely capable of being happy by myself, but ... I just enjoy everything better when he’s around.”

  “I think that’s called—”

  “Uh uh uh uh.” I stopped her. “I know what you’re about to say, and I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t even know how Sam feels yet. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

  “Ok, now you’re really scaring me. I don’t know what you’ve done with Tiff, but if you wake up in the morning with a third arm, don’t call me.”

  I threw a cushion at her, narrowly missing her sundae. “Oh, shut up.”

  We settled again, letting the next episode autoplay. I caught Audrey texting someone (who I could only assume to be Jackson) with a goofy smile on her face, and I playfully nudged her with a foot to get her attention. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

  She put her phone down so that she could reach over and squeeze my hand. “Anytime. You know that.
I just want you to be happy. And I still kind of owe you for getting Jackson and me together.”

  “Oh, right. You do,” I joked as I leaned in and hugged her. She smelled of lavender and felt like home. “This makes me happy, too, you know. I’m really grateful you’re my friend.”

  “Aww. You’re going to make me cry.”

  “All your sappiness must be rubbing off on me. Now, let’s rewind so I can see Maze kick that guy’s ass some more.”

  40

  Sam

  “There should be another delivery this afternoon. Audrey added a crate of MacMillan’s small batch release for us to taste.”

  “That’s great, Sam,” Tiffany said, finishing her coffee.

  We’d migrated down from the apartment to finalize our supplier contracts. At least, that was what I was doing. Tiffany was enjoying free expressos while draped across the chair opposite me.

  “Are you sure you didn't want to rethink getting the back bar done? Diego said that the article would be posted next week, and once Pierce sees it, they won’t want to risk the bad press. You could get your deposit back.”

  I hummed, keeping my eyes trained on the screen, even if I wasn’t reading anything. I hadn’t yet told Tiffany about my comments in the interview. She’d gone out of her way to set it up, specifically so that I could smooth things over. I wasn’t sure how happy she’d be once she knew I’d gone against her advice. Especially since I had, somewhat politely, told Stephen Pierce to mind his own goddamn business. Somewhat literally, I realized with amusement.

  It had only been four months since I’d come home, and I was already burning bridges.

  “Whether the interview changes anything remains to be seen, and I’d rather not put my hopes on Pierce’s reaction.” I’d rather not have anything to do with him ever again, but the likelihood of that was slim. “I’d feel better knowing that the bar is completed without any further interruptions.”

  She looked up from her phone. “It’s your bar.” A smile played on her lips. There wasn’t any difference in her today, yet something felt different.