Whiskey Kisses

  A river of tears slick down my father’s face as he quietly shakes his head.

  A stone settles in my throat, but I push the words out anyway. “You said that you’d never be able to read them.”

  He cracks a smile—a ray of light that pierces right into my soul and fills in the darkness. “Honey, I love it when I’m wrong.”

  We share a soft laugh, as he pulls the wrapped bundles to his chest like a prize.

  Mom’s phone rings, and she stares at the screen a moment. “I think I need to take this.” She picks up and starts in on a brief conversation that has her saying okay, and that’s great, over and over. Mom ends the call and picks up her lemonade. “It was the realtor. Great news! I have a buyer for the studio.” She cuts a look to Laney and me as her smile turns into a scowl. You could slice the air with my mother’s displeasure over the fact we’re not sharing in her elation. “Knock it off girls, this isn’t the time. Pick up your damn glasses,” she barks out the command. “To new beginnings.”

  We reluctantly lift our lemonade. “To new beginnings.”

  I take a quick sip.

  Yup—leprechaun piss. That about sums up how I feel about losing the studio, too.

  It feels like I’m losing my best friend, my invisible third parent. I guess when the universe gave me back my father, it needed to take one good thing away in order to make that happen. In a perfect world, I’d have both. But I’m glad my father is the last man standing.

  I can’t help think how perfect my life would be with both my father and the studio in it.

  I guess I’ll never know.

  That night, much to my mother’s horror, Holt helps me move three duffle bags filled with my stuff into his truck. Mom and Dad wave us off as we drive to Holt’s apartment—my new home.

  We park and head on up. Holt places my bags down just inside his door.

  “You ready to do this, kitten?” He gives that cocky grin that I’m positive he invented just to make my insides melt.

  “Only if you are.”

  He scoops me into his arms, and I let out a little scream mixed with laughter.

  “I want to do this right.” He carries me over the threshold and lands us softly onto the couch. “I think we should do a lot of things right.” He tucks a kiss up by my ear. “I’m in this for the long haul, Izzy.”

  “Me, too, Holt.” I dig my fingers into the back of his cool, soft hair. “I think there are a few fury people we forgot to bring.”

  He sucks in a quick breath. “Sounds like we need to make another trip.” He starts to get up, and I pull him down by the shirt.

  “Tomorrow.” I give a quick wink. “We’ll let grandma babysit just one more time.”

  A muted laugh drums from his chest. “That makes this the last night we get the whole place to ourselves.”

  I give a silent nod. “We should probably make the best of it.”

  “I’ll make sure we will.” Holt presses a soft kiss over my lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For just being you.”

  His hands run up my thighs in one smooth motion as his heated skin connects with mine. Holt teases me with soft kisses as he lifts off my dress. He pulls back and examines me with my lace panties, my matching bra that I picked out just for him.

  “Work of art,” he whispers straight into my mouth. “Izzy Sawyer, you’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”

  “Thank you. I guess I should have said that a long time ago.” My cheeks flood with heat. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you.” My throat runs dry at the thought of what’s about to sail from my lips. I never thought I’d say these words. I never thought I’d want to. “I love you, Holt Edwards.” I steady my eyes over his. “I’m madly, deeply, so far gone in love with you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  Holt smiles at me with those luminescent eyes as if a lightning bolt were trapped in each one, unquenchable, unable to extinguish themselves if they tried.

  “I love you, Izzy Sawyer.” His expression grows serious. “And I didn’t think I’d ever say those words up until you came into my life this summer. But the truth is, I loved you the first day I laid eyes on you. You’ve always held a place in my heart, Izzy. And you always will.” His lips trail down my neck, straight down my chest through to my hip. Holt slides my panties off before lifting my knee and kissing the tip. He runs a long fiery kiss up through my thigh, to that tender part of me where he lingers. He moves up to my belly before raking his lips across my flesh all the way to my mouth. I greet him with my tongue, pulling him in by the hair as his body adheres to mine.

  Holt makes love to me right there on the sofa. On the table, the floor, the bathroom before landing us on his ultra soft bed.

  “Is this the grand finale?” I tease pulling the sheets up over us.

  “More like the grand beginning.”

  Now this is a new beginning I can wrap my head around.

  Holt dips his knee between my thighs and settles himself over my body. He pushes in nice and slow, diving onto my lips with a kiss that says welcome home, Izzy, and I love you all at once.

  We’re free at last.

  Together forever.

  This is our happily ever after—a brilliant beginning.

  Holt

  Laney and Ryder invite us over to their place for dinner. I met with them earlier in the week, and they both loved the idea of helping Izzy keep the studio. Tonight is the big reveal. After that, Ryder and I are going to take a little drive. I asked him to get as much info out of Laney about the dirtbag that touched Izzy when she was kid. He mentioned over the phone he knows where to find him—that we could go tonight if I wanted. Of course, I’m not saying a word to Iz. I’m pretty sure she’d try to stop me.

  We ride up in the elevator and head toward the penthouse. It’s fancier than hell, and, for a moment, I feel bad I can’t give Izzy something this nice at this stage of our lives—hell, probably at any stage of our lives.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” She traces her finger up my chest to my chin and makes me look at her. “As long as you’re in my bed, we’re in the right place.”

  “Music to my poor bartender ears.”

  “You’re the new owner.” She gives my sides a pinch. “Let’s turn that whiskey into gold.”

  “With you by my side, that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

  Laney greets us at the door, and we sit down to a nice meal that she and Ryder whipped up—minute steak with barbeque butter sauce.

  “So, turnabouts fair play,” Laney sings. “I think you guys should have us over. I’m dying to see your new place.”

  “Don’t expect much,” I’m quick to say.

  “He’s being silly.” Izzy touches her shoulder to mine. “There are a lot of crazy cats and lots and lots of love. You’re both welcome. I’ll even break out the pots and pans—see what I can come up with.”

  “Can’t wait.” Laney gives a dreamy sigh to her sister. It’s nice having Laney and Ryder as family. I can definitely get used to this. “And, now, if you don’t mind, Holt, I think it’s a perfect time to share your special treat.”

  Izzy turns to me. “Were we in charge of dessert?”

  “No, but it’s sort of a sweet treat. Laney, why don’t you do the honors.”

  “Brace yourself, Izzy.” Laney bounces in her seat as if she’s about to burst. “You and I are the new owners of the Electric Lights Dance Studio!” She leans in. “I want to help you with this, Iz. This is technically your baby. But I don’t want you to feel burdened or overwhelmed. I’ll pick up the slack however you need me to.” She holds out her hand. “Congratulations, partner. You’re half owner of the ELDS.”

  Izzy leans back in her seat as if she needs the support. Her features bleach out. She’s holding her breath, clearly stunned by the news.

  “No kidding?” She looks to me for a moment.

  “No kidding. Congratulations, Iz. I know you can turn those dan
ce shoes into gold.” I lean in and steal a kiss right here at the table.

  Things have finally turned around for us.

  We’re headed in the right direction. We faced the demons of our past and turned our relationship into gold.

  Nothing can stop us now.

  But there’s still one more demon I need to slay.

  While the girls celebrate with copious amounts of champagne and chick flicks, Ryder makes an excuse about needing to meet with a potential client downtown for a quick drink, and we take off.

  “Quick drink, huh?”

  “Chuck Dupree owns a pawnshop right next to a liquor store. Sounds like just the right excuse we needed.”

  “How about I buy you a drink after? I have a feeling we’re going to earn it.”

  “Deal. And, by the way, I know we always haven’t gotten along, but I’m glad you’re with Izzy. You make her happy.”

  “When haven’t we gotten along?” I’m fucking with him because I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “When you dated Laney. It pissed the shit out of me. How would you like it if I dated Iz?”

  “Got it.” I settle back in my seat as we trade cityscape for countryside outside the window. “Yeah, that must have sucked for you.” Hell, I knew it did. “But, for the record, she asked me to do it. She thought it would drive you insane. Worked, didn’t it?”

  “Sure did.” He nods toward the black highway. We drive a good forty-five minutes before pulling into a rundown strip mall with nothing but a pawnshop and liquor store. A nail salon is boarded up at the far end. “So, this is where he’s holed up. He runs the place with his nephew. I called and said I was interested in a few things—spoke to him myself. He said he’d be here until ten if I wanted to stop by and chat.”

  “Good work.” I crack my knuckles. “I think it’s time to have that chat.” We get out of the car and head inside. It’s dark, smells like piss with the faint scent of an artificial deodorizer that’s long since expired.

  Two men huddle over an array of colorful bottles—both tall with the same dull scowl on their face, but the one on the left is old as dirt, so I assume it’s him. His eyes slice right through me, dark and barren much like his soul I’m guessing.

  “You Chuck Dupree?” I cut right to the chase.

  “The one and only.” He tilts his head as if I were boring him to tears.

  “You remember a girl by the name of Izzy Sawyer?”

  “Elizabeth?” His brows arch straight into his forehead because this son of a bitch just figured out which direction this is headed in.

  I lunge for him, pulling him across the counter until his boozed-up breath is raining down on my face. He’s thick and heavy, and I want to gouge out his sorry eyes when I think of where he put those crooked hands.

  “She’s the one. Consider this a gift from her.” I pull him over and start pummeling my fist into him hard and fast. My knuckles dig into his flesh—into his jawbone until I feel it pop beneath me. He lets out grunt after grunt without putting any real effort into fighting back. Before I know it, the nephew and Ryder are getting into it. Ryder goes flying out the door, and I catch a pair of dirty Levis stomping over through my peripheral vision.

  I pull back just in time to see a bright blue vase hovering over my head.

  Shit.

  This is going to hurt.

  My eyes feel as though they’ve been glued shut. My head feels as if it’s wrapped in bricks, and my mouth won’t open on command. All I manage to do is get a few weak moans out.

  “Holt?” A familiar voice shrills over me in a panic. “Holt, baby, come back to me. Come on, cowboy—we’ve got a hell of a lot of rodeos to get to.”

  A dull laugh rattles through me.

  Izzy. I try to open my eyes, but my lids won’t crack.

  “You can do it!” Her sweet voice strings out the words like a song. “I’m right here. Just smile or look at me. I just need to know that you’re okay—that you’re going to be able to give me some more of those sweet whiskey kisses.”

  “Iz.” I manage to push the words out of the iron trap that my mouth has become. My eyelids split, and the world warbles in and out like a blur.

  “Holt! Oh my, gosh, I love you! I love you so much, please wake up for me.”

  I take a deep breath and force my eyes open, then I see her. Her hair is pulled back. She looks frightened and happy all at once. The room comes into focus, unfamiliar with a small TV up near the ceiling.

  It all comes back to me, the drive down to the country, the pawnshop, the man with the vase.

  Crap. At least I made it out alive—mostly.

  “Ryder?” I try to sit up, and my head explodes as if an anvil just fell on it.

  “He’s fine.” Izzy leans in and blesses me with her cool, soft lips. “You’ll be fine, too. The doctor says it’s nothing more than a concussion. Be thankful.”

  My neck knots up and I wince. “Do you know what happened?”

  “You sent good old Chuck a thank you note from me. He was going to press charges, but Laney and I had a little talk with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote you a thank you note right back.” She gives a little wink. “Thank you for that. But please, don’t ever go vigilante on me again.”

  “You were worth it. Sorry I didn’t kill him.”

  “Don’t be. I’m over it. I filed a formal complaint with the police so they know what went on, and, if possible, he’ll be added to the predatory watch list. Laney said she’ll come with me to speak to a lawyer and see what options I might have. He apologized through tears until we left.”

  “He should have done it sooner.”

  “I didn’t need his apology. Thanks to you, I’ve moved on. But I need you alive and well to do that, so no more mortal combat. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Izzy climbs into the bed next to me, and we hold each other like that all night long.

  We did it.

  Izzy and I crawled through hell and came out the other side. We’re survivors, and we did what we know best—survived.

  She lands a kiss on my lips, and I hold her there just like that.

  Her heart thumps over mine, and I drift off to sleep, just feeling the love—just breathing Izzy, one heartbeat at a time.

  14

  Wishes and Dreams

  Izzy

  One week later

  The Black Bear Saloon is roaring tonight. It’s the final round of the epic search for house bands, and Laney, Baya, Roxy, and I have migrated to the far end of the bar in a meager attempt to save our sanity.

  “So what do you think?” Laney’s eyes elongate as she sticks her finger down her throat.

  “The first band was definitely the best.” Baya nods with such exuberance I almost think she means it. They sounded like shit, though. But that’s the nice thing about Baya, she always seems to find the silver lining. I’m glad Laney has someone like Baya in her life.

  “Ryder says there’s a wild card tonight.” Roxy looks over her shoulder at her brother. “He and Holt went scouting off campus and found a garage band to shake up the votes.”

  “Nice,” I say. Holt vaguely mentioned something about it. Strange that he didn’t go into detail. We’ve been inseparable lately. “You never know who can swoop in last minute and steal the win.” Sort of the way Holt swooped in and won my heart. I don’t know if I’d call it the last minute, but for sure my sanity was beginning to fray in all sorts of unflattering directions.

  Holt pops up from behind and lands a kiss on top of my head. “Can I get you girls something to drink?”

  Roxy holds up a finger. “Pink Panty Dropper.”

  “Buttery Nipple.” Baya shrugs as she says it.

  “Between the Sheets.” Laney winks over at Ryder as he and Bryson head over.

  “And you?” Holt kneels down beside me. His eyes glow in this dim light. His smile is dazzling and electric.

  “A strawberry daiquiri. Make it a vir—make it whiskey.” I lean into thi
s beautiful man who is all mine from head to toe. “Make it anyway you like it.”

  His lids hood low. That lewd smile dips into his cheeks, and my panties want to slide off voluntarily.

  Holy hotness, I’ll never get over the fact that Holt Edwards is a god that has come down to live among us.

  “Make mine whiskey, too,” Roxy is the first to abandon her sexed up drink.

  “Me, too.” Baya pushes her shoulder into Laney.

  “Me three.” My sister is quick to cave.

  “What’s up?” Bryson asks as the boys join us.

  “It’s about to rain whiskey,” I say, and I have no idea why. Obviously Holt is much better at persuading people to purchase hard liquor than I would have guessed. If he keeps this superpower up, the bar has the potential to double its take in a month.

  The microphone squeals as Cole introduces the next band in the lineup.

  “Let’s hear it for the wild card pick of the evening, Twelve Deadly Sins!” The crowd whoops it up as if it were the second coming of the Beatles. “Let’s get some thunder going on up here!” Cole incites the bar into a riotous howl. The tables, the floor vibrates as a thousand coeds harness the ability to split the atom by way of stomping their stilettos.

  Cole comes back and joins us just as one of the waitresses brings a rectangular bottle filled with our own brand of liquid gold—whiskey. Holt sits next to me and wraps his arm around my waist. It’s been a week since the incident, and he’s healing nicely, just a few stitches up by his forehead that have yet to be removed.

  Bryson pours us each a shot.

  “Let’s toast.” Bryson nods over to me, and we all lift our glasses. “To Izzy and Holt. Make it last forever.”

  “Forever.” We each touch our glasses to one another until it sounds as if a xylophone is filling the air with its crisp, clear hum.

  Holt leans in and brushes my cheek with a kiss.

  “Why are they toasting us?” I whisper.