#Franklin Clay x OFC

[justjessame]

Falling for a Max

Dinner with Grandmother and Maxen was exactly as I expected - dull as dishwater with a heavy dose of fawning from both sides about how wonderful both of them were, to one another. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had to be present, other than witnessing the spectacle and chewing, I didn’t have much to offer - and there were a few shows that I was behind on, and my “to read” pile of books was growing.

“Maxima,” hearing my name, I looked up to see my brother’s smirk growing and my Grandmother looking exasperated. “Am I interrupting some grand internal thought about curing cancer?” Nice, Grandmother, nice. “I didn’t think so.” Did they always have matching smirks or was I just imagining it? “Now that you’ve rejoined us at the table, perhaps you could join us in the conversation as well?”

Join them, alright. “Absolutely, Grandmother.” Pasting a smile on my face, and glancing down at my plate to be certain I was completely through with the meal that had been placed before me, I looked back up at the pair of them. “It really is such an honor that you’ve chosen to grace us with your obscenely tanned visage, and I’d be inconsiderate if I didn’t mention not completely healed, but most definitely well earned beaten face.” Smiling coming out in full and dare I say real bloom now that they were both having issues holding tight to their own smugness, I went on, “And Grandmother you’ve truly outdone yourself with dinner. I’m sure preparing the list of what you wanted the staff to prepare took a full ten minutes of your packed to the gills day of -” I squinted as I considered just what it was that she did while I went off to the family business and put out fires in the human resources department all day. “Well I’m sure it’ll come to me. Now that I’m finished, please don’t try to tempt me with Max’s favorite dessert,” I stood up and started my retreat, but not before one last parting shot. “Oh and Max?” He wasn’t smirking, but he was studying me like he was considering making our faces match a little better - “lock my bedroom door” definitely added to my mental list - “Give me the name and number of whoever gave you those bruises would you? I want to send them a gift.”

“And there were no family photos in the office?” Clay was going over Jensen’s contact with Maxima Alexander again - alright he was going over it for the fifth time, but it felt wrong to him. They were twins, fraternal sure, but didn’t all twins have some sort of connection?

“None,” the younger man was squinting behind his glasses trying to recreate what he’d seen in the office. “Wait, no, there was one.” He nodded and Clay thought that he’d known it, there had to be something. “It was of a really old man, and I’d asked who it was, and she smiled and said her grandfather.”

Damn it, he was dead too. The founder of the company she worked for, would probably own one day if she was in the line of succession, but definitely not the link they were looking for - fuck.

“There were no other pictures in the office?” Clay was grasping at straws at this point, he wanted, no he needed something that proved that this entire trip wasn’t a fool’s errand - again. It seemed like since that first face-to-fist with Max was lightning in a bottle, and everything after was just fucking nothing - all of Aisha’s connections and tips lead them on wild ass chases that had them coming ever closer to that end dance she promised was coming over the death he’d dealt her father, but damn if it was not leading them were they all wanted - to Max.

Jensen sighed and Clay perked up. “There were other pictures -” seeing his fearless and let’s be frank, scary as hell face show the signs that he’d been holding out on intel that was important to the mission, he sat up straighter and explained how inconsequential they were, “pictures of her and her friends. Maybe a boyfriend?”

He shrugged, shoulders sagging at the failure of his ability to dig further into Max’s sister’s life while he was in her office, and ohh boy had he wanted to dig harder and deeper into any part of her life, sister of the devil himself or not, she was an eyeful. “All I know is that the pictures were scattered and she looked way more relaxed in them and happier than she did trapped behind the desk wearing those heels and suit - even if she does rock the fuck out of both of them.” His eyes closed at the memory of how well she wore both of them, even if she was petite as hell, she managed to be both confident, intimidating, and welcoming - it was weird as hell after meeting Max.

It was Clay’s turn to sigh. Well shit, that didn’t help at all. “So we have Max, the sister, and grandma?” He slumped in his chair and felt the urge to throw something. “What’s the likelihood it’s the grandma?”

I made sure to lock my bedroom door, tossing off the outfit I’d been forced to redress in for a dinner I hadn’t wanted to participate in, I was tugging the pins holding up my hair when I heard the tell-tale notification sound warning me that I was being paged to a video call on my computer. Before I could start to curse anyone working late at the office, my brain engaged and realized the tone wasn’t a work one, but a personal one - grinning like a goofball I rushed to the desk situated in the office area of my suite and checked to be sure my t-shirt was covering my pertinent parts before hitting the answer button.

Two of my favorite faces popped up and then we were joined by the third - always late- one.

The greetings rang out as if we didn’t do this almost weekly, and I would have laughed, but I was still feeling the effects of dinner - and it was noticed.

“Where is your glass?” I’d completely forgotten that we were going to have our video chat and so I’d completely forgotten to grab a drink, but I was shocked that Maxwell had one in her hand - it must have been obvious on my traitorous face because she rolled her eyes and her husband - and my best friend since before we were potty trained came to the rescue.

“I found the best recipe for mock-tinis that has ever been devised,” Ezra swore, and I shook my head at his widening grin, and I knew his hand was cradling Maxi’s ever growing baby bump. “Do you honestly think we’d be down with prenatal alcohol consumption?” I’d forever envy his ability to arch his eyebrow the way only he seemed capable.

Cassie cleared her throat and earned an eye-roll from Maxi, “you’re deflecting, Mimi,” that got her a matching one from me. “Where’s your drinky-poo?” She raised her own glassful of what looked like champagne and I was tempted to do the time-difference mathematics to see just what time it was in whatever part of the world she was at this particular point in time - “Never you mind the time, another deflection won’t make us forget that you definitely forgot our togetherness time.” She pushed out her lower lip into a dramatic pout and I finally had to laugh - she was too ridiculous, but then again she had been since the first time we met in grade school.

“You’re right,” the sigh slipped out and Ezra’s eyes narrowed, he knew me like he knew the back of his hand. “Sorry, I was -”

“When did he get back?” Seriously, how did he know? “Clearly your evil twin is back in the family fold, not only did you forget the drink, but you’re wearing the shirt.” I glanced down and another sigh slipped out. Shit. I was. How did I not notice pulling it out? “So, how long?”

Groaning, I sat back in the chair, and told them what little I knew - feeling marginally better as I let the verbal diarrhea release from deep within me. “And then I got up from the table and asked him to give me the name and number of the guy who gave him the bruises because I wanted to send him a gift.” I shrugged and Ezra broke, laughing like he couldn’t hold back any longer - “I locked the bedroom door, changed out of my dinner clothes, and threw on what I thought was the first crap I grabbed,” my gaze me Ezra’s and we shared a knowing look, “that’s when you guys started ringing in -” another shrug.

“Wait,” Cassie was wide-eyed and I waited for her to gather her thoughts while she held up one finger and took a long drink from her champagne flute. “You asked Maxen for the number of the guy who beat his ass bad enough to leave him still bruised and battered even now when he shows up on Grandma’s doorstep, and that’s after you also basically told her that she sits on her pompous ass and does nothing other than write up the menu and -” she couldn’t go on, a snort slipped out and then she was sounding less ladylike than she’d ever pretended to be in her life.

“Damn, Mimi, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Maxwell was looking at me like she might be impressed. “After all these years of just taking all the crap that those two have handed you like it was candy during Trick or Treat, you finally took a bite out of them -” So much for a compliment, but then again, that was Max - and she was pregnant.

Ezra was still studying me, he was the one who’d known me the longest. The one who knew both Maxen and me, but he was the one who had stood by me, not Maxen. It was his shirt I was wearing, the other two had no idea, none - not even his wife - who he met thanks to me.

“You make sure the door is locked, that the balcony and patio doors are locked.” He wasn’t listening to the other women as they tittered, they clearly were of no concern at the moment. “You know that he knows how to pick locks and he knows that house as well as you do.” I nodded, the balcony was already on lockdown, I wasn’t as keen on using it during the cooler nights and was happy Maxen hadn’t chosen the warmer months to pop up.

Maxwell was looking back and forth between us, even through the computer camera I could tell she was trying to see what she was missing. “You two are acting like Maxen is going to do something crazy like -”

“Like stuff her in a trunk and hide the key?” Ezra hissed, clearly remembering the day a game of Hide and Seek went off the rails in a way that the two of us would never forget.

“The next question,” Pooch was staring at the folders that held what he knew was limited intel on Maxima - Max’s twin sister. “How do we get close enough to figure out what our next move is?”

Clay was wondering pretty much the same damn thing.

[justjessame]

Falling For A Max: Chapter Two

Overall the day wasn’t a total loss, weird at parts, but not a loss. Joe Roque, if his background checked out was impressive on paper. And his knowledge seemed pretty advanced, far more than what their office would necessarily need, but he seemed interested and my position only entailed taking his information and running it while checking to see if we had any openings that he’d be the appropriate candidate they were seeking.

I managed to work through more issues - even diplomatically solving the paper clip issue - and totally pushed dinner out of my mind right up until the twelfth hour. Then my phone buzzed and I glanced down, wondering why anyone was bothering to message me on my cell while I was still in the office and saw an unfamiliar number, but when I unlocked the screen I knew immediately who it was and remembered exactly what was coming -

“Can’t wait to see you, baby sis,” the red tinge that came over my vision was completely normal for this time of day. At least that’s what I was telling myself as I forced myself to breathe through my nose - something I learned during a session that the office budgeted with a Yogi - I think that was what she called herself - during a wellness session.

Baby sis? He was older than me by barely two minutes. And that was only because he was always demanding more attention than anyone else in any room - I was sure. Come on, Mimi, get it out of your system before you get in the car and take it out on unsuspecting people sharing the road - or worse, before you get home and see his smug jerk face.

Jensen was blushing. How red could the guy get? Very, the answer to the question is very.

“What I’m asking,” Pooch was staring at the burning red face of their tech guru and hacker extraordinaire and wondering if he touched his face would he get burned? “How alike are they?”

Jensen shook his head, not completely unlike a puppy when it was wet. “They aren’t.” He was emphatic, eyes wide and staring around him like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “At all.”

Clay rubbed a hand down his face and pleaded with a clearly uncaring God for patience. “I’m not concerned with gender, Jens, I need to know if they have the same inner workings -” Is she evil mastermind part two, he was thinking, but he was the leader and asking about cartoon villainy was a tad much. “Does the sister seem like she has her fingers dipping in the same dark pools that her twin does?”

“I’m telling you,” Jake shook his head again, the flames that had burned her flesh so bright were dimming. “She’s nothing like him.” He’d been left alone in her office while she’d been called away to deal with some incident with feuding employees and he did a pretty thorough search through her desk, computer, and she’d even managed to forget her cell - nothing - not a single shred showing that she had any inkling of what her brother was into or that she had a part in any of it. He explained his reasoning and they were listening.

“Aisha,” no one blinked or groaned, Roque was gone, the dissent out the window, “her intel mentioned a connection.”

“How do we know it’s the sister?” Pooch asked. “He has other family, right?”

Clay considered this, he’d seen the jacket, so had the others. “Mother and father are dead, they were raised by their grandmother -”

“Isn’t she old?” Jensen, such tact in that boy. “I mean, monied yes, but she’s getting up there.”

“Leave no stone unturned,” Pooch offered. “You’re sure that it isn’t the sister,” he reminded his friend. “If it isn’t her,” he looked at Clay, “and the intel is good,” a nod, “ then we gotta look at nana.”

I made it home safely and even got all the way to my room without seeing anyone - including Grandmother. A hot shower and then I was dressed and almost ready to share space with Maxen Abalone (don’t blame me, blame my dead parents - Max and food, weirdos). I contemplated coming down with mysterious job related food poisoning - it could happen - but knew that my grandmother would be the type to just decide to move the meal into my room to share the experience or something far more horrifying.

Which is how I found myself coming face to face with my twin brother at the foot of the stairs with more grace than I felt, and hopefully with the red tinge that my vision still held hidden from my traitor face - He looked smug, but that was his usual visage so it was difficult to gauge just where his mood was - Max was always one mood swing away from snapping, so it was never easy to know where he was on the loop.

“Don’t you look,” he was eyeing me like choosing the most sensitive spot to slide a blade in. His eyes settled on my hair, a shade darker than his, subtle enough that people who didn’t know us would never really notice, but of course he did. “Darker.”

“So do you,” I was taking in his tan, fake or - I’d be afraid to guess - given that he was so careful to never tell us precisely what he did for “the government”. His smirk twitched, barely. “Take a vacation lately?” There were other marks, less tan, more - wait, had he taken a beating? I tilted my head closer to him, just in case Grandmother came sauntering in from the mist as was her usual. “What happened to you? It looks as if you met your match, Max.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of it. My brother, the twin that I truly hadn’t wanted, a bully from the moment our mother shat him out had finally had someone smack the ever loving -

“Never mind,” he muttered, hearing the soft clatter of Grandmother’s slippers on the hardwoods. “Just know that I’m home.”

“For now,” I prayed.

[justjessame]

Falling For A Max

Trying to run down the stairs while juggling my briefcase - sorry “business bag” - while attempting to check the messages that seemed to be coming in faster than I could read them and not trip over the heels that were necessary for the length of my suit’s pant legs was a feat that I was fairly proud of almost mastering.  If only my grandmother didn’t decide to interrupt my forward momentum -

“Maxima, darling?” Shit, shit, shit.  I almost skidded to a stop. Which nearly made me pitch forward, causing a dangerous nose-meet-floor situation - thank God I was almost at the foot of the stairs when she called out.  “Be careful,” she offered, staring down at me from her perch at the top, and I had to control a sigh from slipping out.  “You nearly tumbled down there.”  No kidding.  “I wanted to make sure that you were planning on eating dinner at home tonight?  Oh, I nearly shrugged at the banality of the question - dinner at home, what a worrisome query - but she followed it up with a reason that made the distraction of my phone pause - “Since your twin is coming home -”

“Maxen is coming here?” Her raised eyebrow told me all I needed to know about how she felt about my interrupting her mid-sentence, but she just threw me for a huge loop.  “Tonight?”  I wanted confirmation and a possible way out.  Perhaps all the way out of the country.  “I think I have -”

“You do not have plans, Maxima Ambrosia Alexander.”  Damn it, then why did she ask?  “I wanted to make certain that you knew your brother would be here, and that you’d behave yourself.”  My face and I were going to have to have a conversation about what it was allowed to say without my permission from now on.  “Since you have no plans, I expect you to be here and ready for –”  I agreed, mindlessly and without much enthusiasm - Work called, after all.

“I’ll be here,” stepping carefully down the final stairs, I told her goodbye and was on my way, finally.  

As I made my way out of the gates of our long driveway, I had to wonder - what was causing my darling twin brother to come crawling home from God knew where?  

“Are you sure we have the intel right on this?” Pooch was staring across the street from where they’d watched the small dark haired woman walk into the building juggling an expensive looking leather bag while staring intently at her cell phone with a furrowed brow and maneuvering through the pedestrians better than he’d seen some soldiers go through maneuvers wearing less and she was doing it in some scary looking stilettos.  

Clay sighed, feeling as comfortable standing in the open as Pooch sounded, but the intel was good - even after he and Aisha had crashed and burned, they still had a common goal - Max.  And the woman they were watching was his sister.  His twin sister to be absolutely clear.  Although, if he were being honest, watching her wind through the bodies while barely glancing up from her phone, yet not jostling anyone or losing her own footing in those sexy as hell shoes, he had to admit he was surprised that they shared blood. 

“Yeah, it’s good,” he murmured.  “Send him in.”  

Was sending Jensen in to make first contact the best idea? He thought so - Jensen wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Cougar could be, or as distracting if the female population following him around in Bolivia was any indication.  And this was just to get a feel for whether or not Max’s sister was fruit from the same tree, rotten.  

How do all these fires get set while I’m sleeping?  I couldn’t quite figure it out, but as I put them out, one by one, I could feel the strain from learning that the person I’d spent womb time with would be soon sharing oxygen with me - who knew that dealing with the daily log of personnel issues and public relations nightmares could actually be soothing?  

I was in the middle of reading an internal email detailing something truly riveting about how one of the administrative department members had the audacity to take paper clips from the supply closet designated to the tech department and was thinking of the best way to diplomatically tell the person who sent it to walk their sorry sad ass to the administration department supply closet and replenish the lost clips if it was really that upsetting when I looked up to see the cutest and most awkward looking monster sized dork of a guy I’d ever seen in the building. 

“Hello?”  Smiling, I wondered if I had an interview to conduct, but there wasn’t anything on my calendar, and nothing had popped up on my chat screen to warn me of a visitor - odd.  “Can I help you?”  Maybe he was lost.

“I’m Joe,” that’s great, which my face clearly telegraphed, because he rushed to go on.  “I was sent up to speak to you about applying for the IT department.”  

“They sent you up to speak to me about applying to the Information Technology Department?”  My disbelief was obvious, I hoped.  “Usually people apply online, or we tell anyone who walks in to go to the website found on the card that they are handed - on the first floor.”  

He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t lose what stride he had, I’d give him that.  “Right, but I have plenty of experience,” my eyebrow shot up, I felt it.  “Which I wowed them with downstairs.”  

“And they just sent you up to me?”  I sat back in my chair and gestured to the seat in front of my desk, mostly because he was so tall and big that he was taking up too much space even close to the door - hovering bothered me.  “Well, Joe, tell me all about your experience.”  I pulled up a notepad and grabbed a pen. 

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 25

Have you ever felt like you age regressed? I’m not talking about picking up a coloring book or having a juice box. I’m talking full on, oh shit, am I suddenly five years old again? Because that’s how it felt as my uncles drove me home from what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner at my favorite restaurant with my favorite people.

Silence wasn’t something the three of us was known for, much less awkward stifling silence. Yet, as Davey drove us down the familiar streets toward their house, ignoring the route that would take us to the coffee shop and my apartment, it’s all that we had.

I knew there would be questions, and concerns. I knew that the catalyst that came from Clay’s team and MAX’s standoff would somehow come to a head and involve my family, but I thought somehow that I’d have come up with a way to explain it. To be able to make it make some type of sense, or at least so they wouldn’t worry, but that was stupid, so stupid. How could I EVER explain this entire mess to my uncles? Without them worrying?

Davey drove into the garage, he let the garage door shut behind us, and then we all walked into the house, still silent. I thought I could feel the waves of their disappointment, but I wasn’t gauging anything correctly, not at all.

I watched, confused as they went room by room, searching for what I hadn’t a single clue. Then back to where they’d left me before motioning for me to follow them into the kitchen where George turned on the blender and a food processor while Davey turned on the CD player. Seeing me staring at them as if they’d both lost their minds, they moved closer so we could talk in whispers.

“Since we have to believe that you’re being watched,” Davey muttered, since our heads were all close together, his lips barely had to move to be heard above the racket. “We have to assume that they bugged any property that is associated with you.”

“Including our house.” George agreed with a sigh. My eyes flashed to his and he grinned. “Did you think that Clay wasn’t going to take a moment to clue us in?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “He loves you, and wants you safe. As soon as we came back, almost-” he corrected when Davey nudged him and rolled his own eyes. “He gave us the condensed version of their story.”

“It helped that we’re not fans of Walter or his cronies.” Davey agreed. “You have to stay here tonight.” My mouth opened to argue, but he shook his head. “Clay made us promise, Charlotte. Whatever is happening, you need to be safe and sound HERE.”

“When-” their eyes told me more than anything they could have said. They didn’t know. None of us would know anything, not until it was over. Until the dust or flames or bodies were found, no one would know anything. For now we were all in limbo, and I couldn’t even go home.

I was due, according to my uncles and the ‘party line’ as it were, for a vacation. Keli was in charge of The Little Drip and I was in forced isolation at my uncles’ house. George kept me busy with baking. Our conversations were benign, since we couldn’t be sure that the house wasn’t bugged, and Davey was our source of ‘news’.

News, what a joke. My father was still playing as a BMOC. A new election was looming, so he was campaigning, I could see the signs popping up when I bothered peeking out the front windows. MAX, or Matthew and Alexander were strangely absent from the narrative currently. They weren’t stumping for Daddy Dearest, but they also weren’t being mentioned at all. Not as criminal elements, body parts found scattered, or missing persons which would make Clay’s return imminent.

Instead, limbo. Limbo and baking. Limbo and binge watching television shows. Limbo and god help me, board games. I was growing stir crazy. I wanted news, real news, something that told me that Clay was alive and safe. News that promised his return and good things ahead. Something that wasn’t THIS.

A week passed. Then another. A knock came to the front door and I would have rushed to answer it, but Davey probably would have tackled me to safety. Instead, George opened it to find Carrie holding takeout and a face that was strikingly similar to the one that stared back at me in the mirror.

“I thought I’d bring dinner,” she said with a forced smile. “And see if you-” I shook my head, as my uncles helped her with her burden. She sighed, the smile dropping. “Dinner then.”

The four of us gathered around the dining room, plates filled with pasta and bread, uncorked bottles of wine and faces that looked like a wake. “We can’t keep this up,” I sighed into my forkful of alfredo. Everyone stared at me. “This,” I gestured at the room at large, at me and Carrie in particular. “We can’t.” I set my fork down. Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I did something I’d been talked out of doing since the moment that I arrived at my uncle’s house that night. I sent a text that I had typed up that very moment. It was simple, it wasn’t the least bit personal, but it was necessary. For my fucking sanity at least. I hit the send button and sat the phone down again, picking up my fork and held up my head. “What?”

“Was that a good idea?” Carrie, the one person who MIGHT know what hung in the balance personally, even as her eyes gleamed with the same hope that I clung to.

“No clue,” I shook my head, stabbing another bite. “But I can’t do this-” another gesture at the silence and the waiting. “Not for much longer.”

I didn’t get a response immediately. I didn’t expect one. Our foursome ate, drank, and while we weren’t ‘merry’ we weren’t entirely miserable either. The ding of a message came in as Carrie was getting ready to leave. All four sets of eyes landed on my phone, still sitting on the dining room table.

“It’s probably just Keli.” I muttered, unwilling to get my hopes too high. I picked it up and swiped the screen. I felt my lips curl up at how wrong I was, at how much relief I felt from a single photo with a time stamp. I sighed so loudly that I actually FELT the other three unwind from their own stress. “Safe.” I held up the screen and Carrie nodded, her eyes glassy at the picture of Clay and the team in a crowded selfie, safe and sound.

It was enough. To hold me off, to keep me sane. For now at least.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 24

Clay helped me make several rooms in my childhood home look far more cheerful before we left and headed back to the cafe. We were in the kitchen, catching our breath as he braced me against the large island in the middle, when my eyes landed on the cup and saucer sitting just behind the glass cabinet over the sink.

“What do you see, Char?” Clay’s lips were on my bare shoulder, his eyes must have taken note of my focus out of the periphery. His lips left my skin and he turned so he could follow the line of my gaze. “Did they belong to her?”

I felt my lips curl up into a smile despite the sadness I felt. “Yeah, they were her favorites.” We had an entire set of perfect china, but the cup and saucer didn’t match the set, or one another, for that matter. They were a riot of color, mismatched and silly, and entirely perfect. I vaguely remembered asking her, when I was little why they didn’t match anything we owned, but like a lot of my memories of her, the answer was nowhere to be found.

“You want to take them home?” He was looking down at me, his hands on my shoulders. “We can wrap them carefully and you can have them nearby.” I moved my hands so they could pull his face down to mine, and as our lips met I felt his curve into the smile I’d fallen in love with. “Or we could make some more happy memories first.” He muttered against my lips.

When we finally returned to the shop, I found that Keli had taken the deposit to the bank, that our customers were taking the change of management with the grace that I expected, and that my father had visited. Fuck. That last part was exactly what I muttered when Jensen told me after Clay had dropped me off and I met the younger man in my office.

“Did you-” He shook his head. I let out a relieved sigh. “Well at least there’s that.” I sat down behind the desk and he took one of the other chairs. “Do you know what he’s sniffing around for?”

“Us,” he leaned back and gave out his own sigh. “I know that Clay wants to stick around, MAX is near, we all know it, but I got to say-”

“What if-” it hit me, hard and fast. Shit. “I’m bait.” Clay had said it, when they were doing my security system. That MAX could, if they thought it would work, use me as bait. What if that’s what they were doing? Walter coming in, even after I’d put my proverbial foot down. Matthew and Alex in and out, the warnings over and over. “Jensen, can you get a message to Clay, without GOING to Clay?” He barely moved, but I knew he understood. “The party-we’re going to have to make it a little bit bigger.”

Truth time. KNOWING that you’re being used as human bait to reel in your boyfriend and his team and being ALRIGHT with being bait isn’t the same thing. It’s really fucking difficult to act normally while setting your own trap for the first trap setters. I don’t even know how to word that, is there a word for it? Hunter/hunted?

Clay worked overtime. Not on trap setting, oh God no. I had a feeling that Lt. Col. Franklin Clay could set a trap in his sleep after being on a three day drinking spree while heavily concussed. No, Clay worked overtime to keep me from being so stressed out and tense that I gave up the fucking entire plan just from my twitchiness. And thank fucking heaven for that, since I had a cake to create.

Keli becoming my manager gave me ample reason to finally out myself as The Little Drip’s baker. I guess I could out myself as the owner too, but honestly, I was more excited to finally let people know that I created the treats they loved. The cake, a huge layered coffee cup, each layer a different flavor, each layer separated by a paired filling, was a work of edible art.

George helped me. Clay watched and cheered us on as the cake grew from a single layer to five. And when, on the day of the party, the final touches were completed, he whispered to me that EVERYTHING was in place, I knew that after that night, nothing would be the same.

Enzo’s was ready for our group, which included not only my staff and their significant others and families, but Davey and George, and Clay’s team and Carrie joined Jensen. Joey came to see the cake, sniffing at it, but then pulling me aside and forcing a promise from me that cannolis and tiramisu was off my menu out of professional courtesy he grudgingly offered that the cake looked delicious.

“Matthew and Alex Xavier are in the dining room with Walter,” Clay offered as he held my chair, and I knew that my smile grew a tad strained. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, this is our part.” A slight nod from me, and our party began with speeches, food, and cheers.

“Oh, I thought I heard your voice, David.” Walter, my lips pursed. “What’s worth all this celebration? Is my daughter finally going to get married?” I felt his eyes on me, but Clay’s warmth wasn’t by my side, since he’d slipped away a few moments before. “I don’t see her gentleman, guess not.”

“Walter,” it was George’s voice that answered, and I had to bite my lip at the venom dripping from it. “I don’t recall seeing your name on the invite list, perhaps you should scurry along to wherever the exterminator’s table might be, isn’t that what your LOVELY wife��s family does for a living?”

“Always so quick with the quips,” Walter bit out, “Too bad you weren’t faster at-” he never got to finish, since there was something of a very loud commotion in the front of the restaurant, some smoke, a few bangs, and a hell of a lot of screams. “What the-”

“Miss Ramble,” I was holding back the very long suffering sigh that seemed to have grown in the back of my throat over the course of MONTHS. Tweedle Dum was staring at his tiny notebook. “You said that this was a celebratory party for a Ms-”

“Keli Travis,” I offered for the thousandth fucking time it seemed. “Yes, because I promoted her to manager of my coffee shop. As I said.” For the thousandth fucking time.

“Right,” Tweedle Dee offered, his own tiny notebook upright. “And you were seated-” he was glancing around the event room of Enzo’s as though there were thousands of seats to choose from, than the ONE I was still fucking seated in.

“Right here,” I bit out, wanting to smack my fucking head on the fucking table. “Just like I-”

“Said, yes, we understand.” Do you? Do you fucking really?! “And since you were in this room, celebrating Ms. Travis’ promotion, sitting in THIS seat, there’s NO WAY you could SEE anything that happened in the other room, much less the front of the restaurant with Mr. Matthew or Alex Xavier and the gentlemen who claim they attacked them?”

I shook my head, feeling exhausted. “Carrie DiMarco said that there are security cameras outside, don’t they show the attack? I mean, why are you asking ME when there are cameras?” Seriously, leave me the fuck alone, please.

“Miss Ramble, you should know that we have to be thorough, every person must be spoken to. Every statement taken, every fact checked.” I raised an eyebrow and looked around the EMPTY room. Well, empty but for my uncles. “Other officers are taking care of-”

“You’re finished,” George hung up his cell phone and stalked up to us. “That was our lawyer. Unless you are taking our niece IN for further discussion AT THE STATION and READING her her rights, this is over. And if you ARE reading her her rights, then we’re invoking her right to having her counsel present.”

The cops shared a ‘she’s so guilty look’, but let me go. And I FINALLY let the LONG suffering sigh loose. For fuck’s sake, really?! In the car, with the quiet slowly rolling over the three of us, I waited for the first question to hit. Because I knew it would and I was curious. Not of which of my uncles would ask, not of what the question would be, but of how I would answer it.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 23

To say I wasn’t tempted by the idea of doing a drive-by instead of a inside tour of my mom’s house would be a fucking lie. There was a HUGE part of me, even with the confidence having Clay by my side gave me, that wanted to drive by as fast as possible with a nod of my head toward the house and then fuck all the way off, but that wouldn’t do. Facing it, getting it out of the way, and then deciding what to do with the house was the best course of action. At least that’s the mantra I kept repeating to myself throughout the morning, while I also prepared for the celebratory dinner at Enzo’s.

Carrie was in the office when I called and she nearly squealed at the idea of a party being held. I wanted to cancel, just from the glee that she seemed to be oozing, but then I shrugged. Small tourist town on the coast, we didn’t get much excitement, I guess. We talked over how to make it work, without alienating Enzo’s regulars, and discussed something that I hadn’t wanted to mention to Keli.

“If I make it, can I bring it in without Joey getting pissed?” Joey was Enzo’s pastry chef, a territorial Italian who was known to lose his shit if he overheard a muttered complaint about the tiramisu.

Carrie snorted. “Joey will be fine as long as I promise him that you aren’t stealing his job. He keeps hearing glowing reviews of the pastries you make over at the Drip, he doesn’t KNOW it’s you, but he suspects.” Takes a baker to know one, I thought. “I’ll handle his overabundance of testosterone, you take care of the cake.”

I chose Saturday night. I hoped that Davey and George would come, and I thought I’d ask Clay to invite his team. It felt right, somehow to have all of us together for a night of celebration. Plus, with all of us in one spot, maybe I wouldn’t worry about the knife hanging over our heads.

Clay came in around lunchtime, and I smiled as I shifted control to Keli. While I did it almost daily when I made a run to the bank, this time we both knew, as did the girls I left in her hands, was different. She wished us well for our chore, since I told her what we were planning, and Clay’s eyes widened when she didn’t look murderous while she offered it.

I was chuckling as we walked to my car. “Keli’s my new manager,” I offered as I beeped the car unlocked so we could get in. “I think she’s taking well to her new role.” His eyes met mine when we got inside the car and I smiled. “You told me I should start delegating more.”

His answering smile nearly made me forget why we were in the car. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” I was still thinking about Keli, but he went on. “I’m right here, Char, if it gets too hard-” Oh, I blinked, he meant the house. Right, the whole point of the day. Shit.

“I know,” now, I added, starting the car and pulling onto the street. And I hoped he knew how much I loved having him with me. The house I grew up in looked more like a doll house than my memory bank allowed it to. In fact, if someone asked me to describe it prior to us pulling up in front, I might have created a word image that was a cross between the Addam’s family house and Dracula’s castle. Good times, good times.

In reality, it was white with pale blue trim. The scalloped framework of the wrap around porch, the white picket fence, the perfect lawn all belied the darker memories that took place inside. I shook my head when I took in the matching dollhouse mailbox.

“I forgot she added that,” I muttered, touching the wood with a fingertip. “She tried so hard to make everything picture perfect.” Clay was looking around, and I knew he was wondering if I had the key. “It’s here,” I held up the keyring that held all the keys I used daily. “Habit,” I murmured, thinking that it made little sense to have kept it with me, but I had.

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet as we walked through the gate, up the floral lined pathway. I nodded, thinking it was all surreal. The last time I- Shaking it off, I took the steps onto the porch carefully, smiling at the care that Davey had paid for to keep up the house no one ever went inside.

I unlocked the door and took a deep breath. Opening it, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the air wasn’t stale. Then again, Davey and George probably had someone come in and air it out regularly, not to mention keep the dust at bay. What I wasn’t prepared for, as I stepped over a threshold I hadn’t touched since I was ten years old, was the fact that it was still completely furnished just like the last time I was inside.

Looking around, without moving further than the entry hall, it felt like if I stood still I’d hear her call out. That my mom would come through the doorway from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and admonishing me for staying at the cafe too late. Or from the living room, a book in her hand and her reading glasses perched on her nose, eyes tight with worry and anxiety, asking me if I’d eaten or if I wanted her to make me a sandwich.

“Char?” Clay’s voice startled me, so lost in the past that I’d forgotten him. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely a whisper, I felt scared that I’d pop the bubble of nostalgia, the feeling that she was still here, still just out of sight felt so real to me.

I’d forgotten how light she’d kept the colors inside the house too, my memories of those years so clouded by the pain she was coiled in. Pale walls, pale wood, pale patterns. I started moving, knowing that she wasn’t here, not really. Her book, or the one she’d been reading last was still by the chair she always sat in near the fireplace in the library. Her glasses on top of it. I was surprised the cup she used for her tea wasn’t next to it on its matching saucer, but the housekeeper had probably washed and put it away.

It felt surreal, how light and airy the house actually felt, versus how I remembered feeling living inside of it. As I climbed the stairs, wondering what room she’d done it in, if there would be a sign of it, I saw that all the bedroom doors were open. So were the bathrooms. Mom would have had a coronary, I thought with a sad smile. My feet took me to my old bedroom and I held my breath at the sight of the room filled with everything from a childhood that I tried to block out.

The bed, so big for the tiny girl I’d been the last time I slept in it, had four huge white posts and a set of steps to help me get into it. The bed clothes, were they always lavender colored? I vaguely remembered the dollhouse, another replica of the house I stood in, filled with miniature versions of the furnishings and even the people. Or at least there had been, at one time all of them. I walked to it, feeling Clay watching from the doorway and bent down.

The house, like the one I was inside of, was immaculate. The little girl was in the kitchen, baking with a man who looked like George. A woman was in the library in Mom’s chair with a tiny book and a cup on the table beside her, a man who looked like Davey on the sofa. Tilting my head, and twisting the house on it’s rotating base, I smiled as the front came into view. There, hanging from the gingerbread trim of the front porch, from a noose I’d fashioned out of dental floss was the doll that looked like Walter. Happy that no one had removed at least the one thing that proved I’d actually fucking lived in this perfect house, I stood up and turned to see Clay staring at me, his eyes flashed to the dollhouse and I waited for him to gasp or his eyes to widened but he just grinned.

“Takes talent to make a functioning noose out of floss, Char,” he came further into the room and took a look around. “This house is something else.”

“This house is a lie,” I amended. “It’s gorgeous, it just doesn’t-” I sighed. Did I want it?

Clay wrapped himself around me, tucking my head under his chin. “You don’t have to make a decision today, or tomorrow.” I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. “It is a beautiful house though.” I couldn’t deny that. “Want to make at least ONE more good memory here?”

I tipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. His head lowered to mine and as his mouth met mine I smiled into his kiss thinking, perhaps, just perhaps, the house wasn’t ALL bad.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 22

Clay and I did NOT sleep on the island in the kitchen. First of all, I was hungry. For real food, not just Clay based nutrition, no matter how filling he was. And secondly, while the island was an amazing spot for a pounding sexual encounter, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Even with Clay acting as a mattress for me, it was going to make both of us sore in all the wrong ways.

Dinner in my apartment, that I cooked from scratch, followed by a LONG hot bath was on our menu before bed. As I lay with my back against his chest in the warm water, I felt far calmer than I had all day. It’s not everyday a woman learns that the business she’s managed for years is actually HER business. And the house. That fucking house. I was tempted, heavily, to call a realtor first thing in the morning and list the damn thing.

“You have some decisions to make, Char.” Clay’s chin was propped on the top of my head and his arms were wrapped around me, holding me against him.

“I do?” I did, but I was curious as to what he thought they were.

He hummed his affirmation. “Now that you’re not just the manager of the shop, you could delegate more.” I could, and it wasn’t something I had even thought about. “I’m not saying you have to, but you could.” He was right, I could give someone the dreaded Wednesday inventory and ordering. I could hand off the day to day and focus on baking or find another hobby. Who knew, maybe I could give someone else purpose like managing The Little Drip had given me one.

“What would I do with all that extra time?” I smiled as his fingers slid down my arms and moved lower, giving me ample promise for a new focus for my extra time.

Dried and lying in my bed, an early bedtime for once, I sighed. While I knew Clay’s theory about the coffee shop was a good one, I still had to deal with the house. That house. The one that loomed dark in my childhood memories. The one where my parents had lived together with me for the first five years of my life. The one where my father broke my mother’s will to live. The one where she killed herself.

“What’s wrong?” Clay’s voice, the tones of it I was learning intimately, took on the softness that came as he was allowing himself to grow prepared for sleep.

“I’m thinking about the house,” I felt his nod, so I went on. “I haven’t been back since-” he hummed when I stopped, letting me know he understood. “Knee jerk reaction is to sell it, sight unseen, just call up a realtor tomorrow and get rid of it.”

“But?” His voice was still soft, but I knew his training meant he was fully awake.

I tried to explain why the urge was high, but something was holding me back. “I don’t think I can explain why I don’t do it. Just cut ties and let go.” I strained, why was this so difficult for me?

“I’m sure, Char, that you had moments of happiness there. It wasn’t all-” he stopped, using his finger to tilt my chin up so our eyes met in the dim light of the streetlamps through my lace curtains. “Before he left, when you and your mom spent time playing together,” a memory of a tea party in my playroom, my mom sitting across from me with a smile lighting up her face as we had real tea and sandwiches on the tiny porcelain set at a small table and chairs came to me. “Or when you read together,” bedtime, propped up against her side while she read through one of the many books she read to me nightly. “Even when you were older, after he left, didn’t you have moments that weren’t tinged by it?” My birthdays, with Davey and George pushing my mom from her shell of pain, with Carrie and her mom helping her forget for a tiny speck of time that her pain wasn’t everything. Reminding her that she had me, even if I escaped the house and her as often as I could, and how when everyone left, the two of us tried so desperately to keep that feeling going, only to lose the fight as soon as morning dawned.

“They aren’t all bad memories, Clay, but the bad are pretty damn miserable.” My father looking at my mother and me as though we were beneath him. The fact that I couldn’t think of one pleasant memory that included the three of us, not even holidays, since those included Davey and George and they barely counted. Walter would sequester himself in a separate room. He’d open presents, but then slink off on his own. He didn’t coddle me, or cuddle me, I wasn’t sure I even had a standard fresh from the womb picture of him holding me. I sighed, burying my face in his shoulder and breathing him in because even after a bath using my soap and shampoo, Clay managed to still smell exactly like Clay.

“Will you take me to see it?” I tried hard not to tense up at the thought of going back inside the house. “We can drive past if you want, we don’t have to go inside.” I considered it, realizing that tucking it all the way out of my mind didn’t appear to solve anything.

“We can go, inside too, if you want to.” My voice muffled against his skin, but I knew he heard me. I kissed his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “I think I can face anything with you beside me.”

Geroge was waiting for us the next morning in the kitchen, eyes twinkling at our appearance and our linked fingers. Clay had his breakfast upstairs and would probably last through the day without needing a repeat on the island, but he did beg off from gopher duties. Kissing me as if we didn’t have an avid audience, he said his goodbyes, and George offered to walk him to the door so he could grab us drinks and I could get started.

As we baked, George asked me how I was handling what Davey and he had told me about the day before. I’d always been honest with my uncles, talking to them about any concerns I had or any questions that came to me about things in my life was natural somehow. This was no different, with the tiny exception of who Clay and his associates were. I wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the subject of my being involved with a man who was, at least on paperwork, dead.

“Clay wants to see the house,” I told him after I explained my conundrum over what to do with the property. “He told me we could just drive past, if I didn’t want to go in.”

“He seems-” when he paused I looked up from where I was forming dough to see his puzzlement over what he wanted to say. “Nice is a little too tame for a man like Clay, isn’t it?”

My smirk answered him and I went back to forming pastries, thinking to myself that nice didn’t nearly cover Clay at all.

Once we had the display cases filled, George and I each took a sweet treat and sat at a table near the counter. As we ate, and settled in for the day, he asked me if I was planning on changing anything about The Little Drip now that I had full reign.

“I still want to be here most days,” I offered between bites. “But I think I’d like to promote one of the baristas to manager, at least to get inventory and ordering off my chore list.” George chuckled, knowing that was the one duty I appreciated least. “Managing this shop, it saved me,” my uncle’s eyes met mine. “Gave me a purpose, and I think I want to pass that along.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, a smile bright on his face. “We wanted to tell you sooner, we did, but-” he sighed, and looked toward the windows facing the street. “Walter is a snake and a weasel, we had to make sure that you were strong enough to stand up to him.”

“And I am?” My head was tilted when he faced me again. His smile told me more than words ever could. “Of course I am, I was raised by two of the strongest men I know.” I reached out my hand and he took it easily. “I love you two, you know?”

“We do,” he answered, for him and Davey. “We love you so much, Char, so damn much. I always thought-” he stopped, seeming to think better of what he was going to say.

“What?” I squeezed his fingers, wanting to know what he thought. “Tell me, G.”

“I always thought, it was almost like you were born to be ours.” He looked conflicted, and I understood. He never wanted my mom to die, but having me in their lives, as a daughter as opposed to just a niece felt right. I’d felt it too.

“I always thought I was yours.” Blinking back tears, I smiled. “I feel so guilty for what happened to her, George, so fucking guilty that I couldn’t be enough, that I ran from her.”

He shushed me, standing and pulling me into his arms. “No, Char, that wasn’t your fault. You were so young and she was so broken, sweetheart. She needed peace, and she found it in the only way she could.” I managed to regain my composure as I listened to my uncle tell me how he saw my mother’s suicide. “She knew that we loved you so much, that we took good care of you, and she knew she could go and you’d be safe and loved.” And she’d been right, if that was her goal, it had worked. “Are you sure you want to go to the house? Even with Clay-”

“With Clay I can face anything,” my conviction was growing in that belief, firmer and surer by the moment. “He’ll know if it’s too much, or he’ll listen when I tell him it is at least.”

George left after Keli showed up. She was far more mellow than she had been, the snark still alive and well, but she seemed to know that I’d listened to her and HEARD her. She and George exchanged pleasantries and it came to me. If Keli was doing paperwork, inventory, and ordering, she wouldn’t be in close contact with the customers. If Keli wasn’t in close contact with the customers, maybe the rates of my insurance wouldn’t skyrocket because I felt pretty certain that she might end up biting someone. Matt or Alex Xavier were at the top of the list for potential victims.

As we worked to get the shop ready to truly open, I broached the subject with her by first breaking the news that I was the owner.

“Of course you are,” she rolled her eyes. “Not even two flaky fairies like George and Davey would just toss someone your age the keys to this place and wander off to frolic in the sand in Florida.”

“You couldn’t have tossed me a clue?” I asked, mouth quirked. “Damn, Keli, now I’m wondering if offering you the management position is really a good idea? I mean I’d want a manager that keeps my dumb ass in the loop.”

She’d gone completely still with her back to me. “Manager?” Her voice was barely a breath and I almost took it back and said I was joking in case she was pissed that I’d offer it to her, with her family’s plans to relocate and all.

Before I could she turned to face me and I was shocked to see a smile on her face. I’d seen many expressions grace Keli’s face since I hired her, a smile was not one of them. Yes, I do realize that hiring a woman who didn’t smile often for a customer service job didn’t sound smart, but she was capable, had a memory like a fucking steel trap, and she was efficient as hell.

“It would come with a raise in pay,” I continued, confident she wouldn’t throw a bag of coffee beans at my head now. “Of course it would also come with more duties.”

“Such as?” As we finished up the opening prep work, I went over what duties I planned on turning over to her. “Done.” And with that, Keli became The Little Drip’s manager. Or would once I had an employee meeting to make it official.

“I’ll tell everyone as they come in, but I think we should have a meeting to make it official.” She nodded, walking to the door to flip the sign. “Not here though. Let’s do it at Enzo’s. Make it a celebration and a meeting. You can bring Stacy and Jason, the others can bring their significant others and family.”

“You gonna bring Clay?” I felt my mouth drop open at her use of his fucking name. “What? Just because I don’t use their names, doesn’t mean I don’t KNOW their names.” She rolled her eyes, but her smile held. “I like the idea. We don’t really social much outside of the shop, why not?”

And that’s how, in the course of two days, I became the recognized owner of The Little Drip and Keli was promoted to manager. And somehow that was the normal part of my week...

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 21

Most people would assume, since my uncles own the coffee shop, when they come to town to visit, they spend the majority of their visit taking stock of their business. Not so. When Davey and George come to town, their focus is on me, and the people they miss during the year, the business comes far lower on their list of worries.

They would come in a few times, just to say hello to the employees and to see and taste any new pastries I’d come up with (so George could demand the recipe to take back home with them and wow their friends in Florida). I knew what to expect, the routine of their visits were natural, the expectation of family dinners which I loved and craved as much as they did, and the contentment that came from having my family nearby was a treat.

I had given Davey and George the security code, it was their business after all, and wasn’t too surprised that George was waiting in the kitchen for me the next morning. He and I had baked together so much before they moved to Florida, my uncle by marriage seeming to know that I needed an outlet of some sort to calm the upheaval that my home life had caused within me. When my mom died, that need amped up a thousandfold, and so did our time in the kitchen together.

He smiled as he took in how close Clay was when we walked into the room, the ease of his hand on my waist, the naturalness of our touching obvious to anyone who witnessed it. He already had my mixing bowls and measuring cups out and I felt my own grin match his at the reality that we’d be falling into familiar family routines.

“I should go,” Clay’s voice rumbled through his body and into my back where he was pressed.

“What the hell for?” It was George who answered. “If you’ve been watching Char bake every morning, why stop because I’m here?” I felt a laugh bubbling up at the thought of Clay’s daily serving of breakfast, but managed to hold it down. “Unless you don’t just WATCH-” George did it, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and I snorted. Dear God.

I could feel Clay shaking his head, but heard his laughter coating his answer. “Oh, I haven’t got a single fucking clue about baking, George.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s not where your strengths lie,” I was going to crack a fucking rib from holding in my laughter. “Come on, girl, get over here and help your poor uncle bake. Your gentleman caller can fetch us refreshments when they’re needed.”

Clay kissed my temple and dutifully sat in the stool he normally watched me bake from, and just like George had demanded, he became our gopher while we worked.

I said goodbye to Clay at the door, once the last batch of pastries were in the oven. “I should have had breakfast in your apartment,” he murmured against my lips and I grinned into his kiss. “Now I’m gonna be a fucking bear to deal with all fucking day.” Another kiss and he left, just as Davey arrived.

“That man is something else,” my uncle offered, smiling as I locked the door behind us. “He makes you happy.” He was studying me, taking in whatever changes he thought he saw in me. “You look happy.”

I nodded, letting him follow me to the kitchen where his husband was drinking a cup of coffee. “I am happy, mostly.”

I caught the look the two of them shared and felt a twist in my stomach. Shit. What now?

“We told you we wanted to discuss something with you, sweetheart,” Davey started, taking Clay’s seat on the stool. “Now seems as good a time as any.”

George rolled his eyes. “You’re scaring her, for Christ’s sake.” He pulled me close and kissed my temple. “It’s nothing bad, Char, at least we don’t think you’ll think it’s bad.” That didn’t sound comforting, but what followed wasn’t bad. It just fucking changed a shit ton of my life in one go.

By the time Clay slipped in before closing, my mind had finally calmed down enough to process what my uncles had told me that morning. I’d managed to get through the day as normally as possible, since I hadn’t seen Keli shooting me any of those looks that I equated with her being concerned for my mental health. I hadn’t dropped anything. I didn’t scream or lose my shit, not even when the two cops popped in for an update on my memory.

Of course, George and Davey had been in the cafe at the time, and they took both cops to school on police harassment and innocent until proven- They’d stared both men dead in the eye and straight out asked if they honestly thought that their niece was involved in the arson. Even Grumpy Pants gulped uncomfortably at the implications my uncles were making.

All in all, the day wasn’t a loss. It wasn’t nearly as horrifying as it could have been, after the news that my uncles handed me.

Clay’s arms were around me as soon as I set the alarm, his need for me evident against my stomach as his mouth took mine hotly. Jesus, I thought, being swept into his arms and thinking that he couldn’t get me upstairs fast enough for my tastes, but he didn’t head upstairs. Oh no, clearly Clay wanted to get his breakfast right where he normally did, as he strode with purpose back into the kitchen and joined me on the island countertop where I normally prepared the dough for each morning’s pastries.

Far sturdier than my bed, the island still took a pounding, because Clay was single-minded in his hunger, and I was more than ready to match him.

We were still naked, still on top of the island, and still wrapped up in one another when I finally had to let out the laughter that I seemed to have held in since we found George in the kitchen waiting for us. “Something funny, Char?” Skin on skin, I couldn’t think of a better way to start or end a day with Clay.

“This entire day,” I sighed. “Did you know,” I propped myself up so our eyes could meet. “That this business is mine?” I gestured around, leaving no doubt as to what I meant. His eyes went wide. “I don’t mean that Davey and George just gave it to me,” I shook my head. “Oh no, they literally bought it FOR me, when I was born. The name was something Davey called me when he found out Mom was having me. ‘The Little Drip’ was interchangeable with ‘The Little Bean’, but George convinced him that there were too many coffee shops using the word ‘bean’ in the name.” My wonderful, sweet, thoughtful uncles had thought of me first since the moment they knew I was coming. “George told me that they wanted to make sure that I always had SOMETHING of my own, since they were worried that Walter would find a way to take everything from Mom.”

“You own the shop?” His fingers were sliding along my skin, listening as I told him how wonderful the two men who basically raised me were.

“The shop, the house that my mom-” I stopped, taking a deep breath. “They contemplated putting the house they stay in when they’re in town in my name too, but I convinced them that I had more than enough real estate,” and I’d only told Clay about two pieces of it. “Since I’m not interested in relocating, they wanted to make sure I had a home.”

Clay smiled up at me, his eyes twinkling. “Those two really love you.” I nodded again. “They’re good people, I know, I have experience in reading people.” Biting my lip, I wondered if I’d ever be able to tell my uncles just who Clay really was. “Pretty fucking soon, Charlotte, I hope that MAX will be dealt with, and then no secrets from anyone anymore.”

“So I don’t have to tell my uncles I’m in a relationship with a corpse?” I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head and sat up to kiss me. “Damn, for once I thought I’d get to make George blush.” His laughter joined mine as our lips met.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 20

The security system that Jensen put in at Clay’s request was simple enough to get used to. Explaining the need for it to my employees, a little less easy. Keli was staring at me with a look of shrewdness that almost caused me to squirm, but I couldn’t tell her that Clay and the others were fucking assumed dead black ops, and that my dad and his two butthole buddies were gunning for them, could I?

Baking, creating new sweet treats, kept me mostly sane, and almost nightly visits from Clay helped too. Actually the nightly visits more than helped, but I was worried about when the other shoe would drop. Matthew and Alex Xavier along with my biological sperm donor wouldn’t just go away on their own, not with Clay and his group still working to bring them down. Even with Clay keeping my bed warm and the rave reviews I was getting from customers for the newest pastries I came up with.

Time seemed to keep slipping by, and I lost track of the date, even while keeping the inventory and ordering schedule on track. I was crouched behind the counter, checking out the supplies that we kept there, when Keli nudged me with her knee. I almost tapped her leg back, but then I heard her mutter out a greeting to Davey and George. Shit.

I nearly smacked my head on the counter as I rose to my feet, fuck shit fuck. “Hey!” I offered, sounding high pitched and slightly freaked out. Way to go, Char. “I didn’t realize it was time for you two to visit.” A call would have been nice, a postcard, a fucking email. I walked around the counter so my two uncles could embrace me between them. My two sweet, loving uncles.

“When did you put in the security system?” Davey asked, as he pulled away and smiled down at me. “Didn’t think our little town was a hotbed of criminal activity.”

My smile felt forced, because it definitely was. “The fire across the street, I told you about it, remember?” George tsked and pulled me back into his arms. “I’m alright, Uncle George.”

“Has the donor been by lately?” Davey looked like he smelled and tasted something disgusting which was apt, since my father was pretty fucking gross. I shook my head, not since the last time, thank God.

I sighed. “No, but my two favorite officers have started to come in every other day.” Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum I called them in my head, which was a hell of a sight better than some of the nicknames I heard Keli mutter at them. “I completely forgot that you guys were coming,” even if you come every single fucking year around the same fucking time. “How’s Florida?”

Davey and George had kept their house in town, so while I was expected to have dinner with them almost every night, we weren’t all squished into my apartment upstairs. Once I locked up that evening, I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable so I could drive to their house, completely forgetting my new routine. When I heard Clay’s soft knock, it hit me that I hadn’t told my uncles about the new man in my life. In fact, I hadn’t told them anything about Clay or the others. My fucking life had been in complete upheaval for months, so give me a break, would you?

“Hey,” I offered, after I killed the security system and unlocked the door. He was staring at the dress I’d pulled on, my hair down from the topknot that was part of my unofficial uniform for work.

“We going somewhere, Char?” He and his team hadn’t been in for their daily dose of caffeine so I hadn’t been able to tell him that Davey and George were visiting, and now- Shit.

“Dinner with my uncles,” I bit my lip, wondering if I should call and tell them I was bringing a guest. “Give me a second, I want to make sure they made enough food for four.” He shook his head, but was smiling, so I knew that he probably knew I’d forgotten to tell them he was coming along.

I called and told George that I’d be adding a plus one for dinner. He chuckled and said he’d heard from Keli that there was a certain someone. After assuring me that he assumed that my guy would be coming along, and so they had more than enough, especially if the rest of my gentleman’s friends wanted to tag along. Shit, Keli was just a little sharebot wasn’t she?

“I think it will just be the two of us,” I answered, smiling as Clay’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Let me make sure though.” Holding my hand over the mic, I asked him if his team wanted to join us.

“Jensen has another date with Carrie,” he offered. “Pooch went home for a furlough with his wife and son. Cougar is doing what Cougar does. Just you and me, Char.”

Confirming with George that it would just be the four of us, I told him we’d be on our way soon. Clay’s arms were around me as soon as I hit END. “This is nice,” I leaned back into his chest.

“But,” he kissed the top of my head, “we have to go.” Ugh, the thought of not climbing Clay like a tree was repulsive to me, but he was right. “Come on, Charlotte, let’s go so I can meet your family.”

Davey opened the door and his face broke out into a wide grin at the sight of Clay practically wrapped around me from behind. “Oh, Charlotte, this must be Clay.” I guess a part of me was happy that Keli had told them Clay’s name and not his ‘nickname’. “Come on in,” he stepped back and let us in. I shook my head as I saw my uncle look Clay over from top to bottom and then back up again. Who could blame him? “George is in the kitchen,” he offered as I walked toward the scent of my favorite meal. “Clay, come into the family room, Char is heading toward her happy place.” I was grinning over my shoulder reassuringly at Clay as I moved with purpose to the one person who understood my love of baking and cooking.

George shook his head when I came through the swinging door of the kitchen. “You have a man with you and you’re going to come hang out with me, I thought I taught you better.” He was smiling too, and I knew that he was teasing. “I made your favorites.”

“I know, I could smell them through the front door.” Hopping onto a stool at the island, I watched as my uncle moved around his kitchen with the same confidence that I did in mine and the cafe’s. “You know, I completely forgot-”

“That we were coming?” His eyebrow arched perfectly, making me jealous of his natural aptitude. “I think your mind was on other, far more pleasant, topics.” From an arch, both eyebrows waggled, causing me to giggle. “Not to mention Daddy Dearest deciding to touch base. Fucking asshole.”

I stole a bite of food and nodded. “Yeah, it was different.” I wanted to know what the twins and my father had brewing that would cause him to show up now. The town wasn’t huge, so the fact that we hadn’t bumped into one another at all until recently told me far more, but not nearly enough. “How long are you guys staying this time?” While my uncles came home yearly, their stay lengths varied depending on what else they were planning. A cruise shortened one trip to a week, but another year they stayed almost a month.

“We’re playing it by ear,” his eyes met mine and I knew this was a sudden choice. One made when they learned that the cops were becoming regulars. “I want to see how harassing the police are, Char, and there are a few things Davey and I want to discuss with you.” Shit.

Dinner, once we all gathered in the dining room, was a hell of a lot less awkward than I’d thought possible. Davey and George included Clay in the conversation, and for his part, Clay honestly seemed to enjoy himself. Dessert was one of my own recipes, one that George told me was a favorite among their circle in Florida, and while rushing away so we could be alone was tempting, we didn’t.

Sitting in the family room, surrounded by family photos, with me as a center focus, I listened as my uncles regaled Clay with stories about my younger years.

“There she was, covered head to toe in mud, glaring at Carrie’s big brother Chris like she was going to throttle him and it was all we could do to not laugh.” Davey was chuckling at the memory. “I swear, I can still see her almost steaming from her rage.”

“He called me a dog,” I muttered, “and not a female one. Just a dog.”

“How old were you?” Clay asked, eyes twinkling and dimples deep.

“Sixteen,” George laughed. “She was sixteen and contemplating murder because an eighteen year old was being a douche.”

“He tossed me in a mudhole that could have fucking drowned me,” I glared, the memory coming back fresh. “And said even dogs were cute with mud on them, but not me.”

Clay pulled me into his body, kissing my head. “Carrie’s brother sounds like a blind asshole.”

“Didn’t he marry the Costello girl?” Davey asked, his smile widening and I giggled and nodded. “Talk about unattractive.”

“Davey,” George admonished, but his chuckle ruined it. “That’s not very charitable.”

“Charity was marrying that girl.” Davey muttered, offering to top our drinks off, but I begged off. “That’s right, you need to get home so you can wake up early.” His eyes landed on Clay’s hand running down my arm and I shook my head. “Get at least a little rest, would you?”

We said our goodbyes, my uncles hugging both of us and telling me that they wanted to talk to me at the cafe about something important, we left.

“Davey and George are pretty great,” Clay was holding me, our naked skin pressed together, the well earned exhaustion pressing down on both of us. “Thank you for taking me to meet them.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for coming with me.” His finger traced my lower, kiss swollen lip. “They like you.”

“Good,” he pulled me up so he could replace his finger with his lips. “I-” I heard him swallow hard. “Char, I think I-” I pulled back so I could see him a little better in the dim light that was coming through the lace curtains. He looked hesitant and unsure, not at all Clay-like. “Shit.”

I smiled and kissed him. When I pulled away again, I shook my head. “Trying to say you love me?” I heard him gulp again. “Took you long enough,” I mumbled, nipping at his bottom lip. “I love you, Franklin Clay.” Then chuckling I broke the tension that seemed to be radiating off him. “Does that make me a necrophiliac?”

[justjessame]

Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 12

Clay helped Morgan clean up after lunch. OK, he mostly pressed himself against her back as she TRIED to clean up after lunch. Loading the dishwasher, with him rocking into her from behind was tempting, but did not fucking make it easy to NOT cut her fingers off on broken dishes.

“Clay,” Morgan was fighting with keeping her tone clear of her own fucking need. “Let me-” Another roll of his hips and she called it a wash. “Fine,” and turning she met his waiting lips. “Fuck the dishes,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Not what I’m planning on fucking, Morgan,” his lips curled into a smile as he lifted her onto the island in the middle of her kitchen. His fingers worked quickly to unbutton his shirt and part it, clearing a path for his mouth to trace down her body. Morgan’s head fell back and her hands slid through his hair, biting her lip as his tongue flicked against her ribcage. “I don’t hear you complaining now, sweetheart.” Clay’s breath played against the dampness he’d created on her skin. As his mouth relearned every curve of her upper body, his hands were sliding up her legs, to her very bare hips. “Did you forget something?”

Morgan’s fingernails dug into Clay’s scalp. “I’m a soldier, Clay, I NEVER forget anything.” As his tongue flicked against her bellybutton she gasped. “Every single thing I do is-” hips arching off the island as his fingertips teased her inner thighs, “precisely calculated for-” A moan as his thumb met her dampness. “Maximum impact.”

Clay’s chuckle vibrated against her as his mouth met his thumb and he picked up where they left off when forced from bed for mundane issues like food.

Hours later, duty called Clay away from Morgan and her house. Alone and pleasantly exhausted, she realized that her life was forever changed. Not just because she was technically a civilian now, but because she had just opened herself up for a commitment to Clay. Franklin Clay, a man who had atrocious taste in women. Until now, she thought smugly.

Since her guard detail was over, Morgan found herself at the mercy of her own boredom. She hadn’t noticed how having the guys in and out had given her something to do when she wasn’t at the hospital. Instead of focusing on the loneliness threatening to overwhelm her, she tried to pick something to do that had been impossible with her former team underfoot.

A long hot bath sounded pretty fucking amazing. Then again, so did sitting down with a good book and being lazy. Or, oh dear fucking God, binge watching something ridiculous on Netflix. Something girly and obnoxious.

Instead, feeling the glorious ache in her muscles and the feeling of absolute fatigue that comes from repeated satisfying sex, she chose a nap.

The doorbell woke Morgan and like every other normal human on the planet that wasn’t under attack on a daily basis, she had a moment of uncertainty about where she was and what time it could be. Shaking off her sleep, she remembered lying down for her nap, and a glance at the window told her it was late afternoon heading toward evening.

“Damn it, Clay,” she was smiling as she considered that he’d come rushing back as soon as possible. She could definitely get used to this. She opened the door without a glance through the peephole, a complete contradiction to every fiber of who she was, but she was certain who had rung the bell. She didn’t even get a chance to register who stood on the threshold because the darkness was almost immediate.

Clay arrived at Morgan’s house as full dark had taken over. He was whistling as he walked up the walkway, and it cut off as quickly as his good mood evaporated. The door was wide open and he knew, as clearly as he knew his own fucking name that there was no way she’d leave it open. His heart pounding like it was going to leave his damn body and rush ahead, he entered the house with his gun in his hand. Muscle memory took over as he cleared each room, and his heart never once stopped rushing and beating fast and furious.

No sign of her at all. Nothing seemed out of place, but he’d only been inside the house twice, so he’d need the team to sweep it for any signs of disturbance other than Morgan’s absence. If asked later, Clay would struggle to remember calling them. He’d try to recall what he’d done from the moment he saw the door wide open like a screaming mouth, but nothing would come to him. Nothing would come to him because all he’d ever remember was the taste of fear and the cold knowledge that Morgan was gone. Again. And he knew it was because of him. Again.

Morgan woke up again, this time with the taste of iron in her mouth and rolled her eyes. For fuck’s sake, this shit again? Testing her arms, she shook her head. Zip cuffs? Check. Ankles? Yep, bound to the hardass, metal chair. Did this fucker buy these cheap ass chairs in bulk? Or is it MY chair? Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the same dimness from her earlier captivity and fought rolling her eyes again. Seriously? Again? Max needed a new decorator. Or just a whole fucking new schtick.

She was a bit taken aback when the voice she heard wasn’t metrosexual male. And even more so when the owner of this voice came into the tiny bit of light afforded to her torture chamber and she recognized its owner.

“Well, hello, Aisha.” Morgan’s voice sounded as unconcerned as she truly felt. A jealous former lover/compatriot of Clay’s was nothing new. Even if she was at her mercy. “Guess we had to meet eventually, I’d expected less of an S&M theme, but Clay does have pretty fucking diverse tastes, doesn’t he?”

Morgan would struggle, later to recall how she ended up unconscious again. A fist? Hardly. An inanimate object? Possibly. Drugged again? More likely. The point was the conversation was over and she was under again. Dark and nothing.

[justjessame]

Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 11

Morgan woke up wrapped in Clay’s arms. His head was tucked into her shoulder. His legs tangled with hers. And she had no urge to run. No feeling of constriction, or fear creeped along her skin. No feelings of wrongness, of losing her place by losing her heart to him. She wasn’t that person anymore. She’d given it up when she left the last time. She’d been forced out further by the torture that Max had insisted Wade inflict upon her body. She wasn’t a Loser, and she wasn’t Captain Dean any longer, not really.

She felt Clay waking up and smiled. The warmth of his naked body pressed tight against her, the feeling of his hands running down her body, and that moan that came from deep down, almost a purr, Christ she could get used to this. Her eyes met his and her heart stopped. The sun lighting his eyes such a light honey color made her fully understand the reason women were fucking entranced by him. Well, aside from the more obvious reasons.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His lips met hers and she felt his own smile curve around their kiss. “So that wasn’t a fucking dream?” His voice was rough from sleep, but it wasn’t mocking, or taunting.

Biting her lip, Morgan cupped his face between her hands. “If it was, let’s not wake up, what do you say?”

And then she pushed him onto his back and straddled his body. Her lips claimed his and his hands fell to her hips. A few moves and they were joined again, and that feeling rose, the one that they’d both felt the night before. Completion. Rightness. And shit, was that LOVE?!

Morgan rose up, Clay’s hands moved up as well, running up her sides until he was cupping her breasts in his hands. And when she rocked her hips, his eyes were forced closed at the feeling. Jesus, this, her and him, they hadn’t touched half of what they could have. As she tortured him, rocking and rolling, letting him feel how very hot and wet she was for him, his eyes opened and he saw that hers were locked on his face. She was watching his expressions, how he bit his lip when she arched just a bit. How his mouth went slack when her hips rocked just a little harder.

“Jesus, Morgan,” it was a moan and a plea, and she smiled down at him. And then he rolled, and she was under him.

His hand lowered, hooking her knee and lifting it to wrap around his hip. And that did it. As he thrust into her, it was her turn to close her eyes. The feeling he built was nearly overwhelming. Her hands slid up his arms, touching him as she forced her eyes open, and realized he was watching her as intently as she had him. Her hands found his neck and she was pulling him down, needing his mouth, needing to taste him. Their mouths locked together as they rode the waves of what they’d tempted one another with.

When it was over, they were still locked together, because now that they’d seemingly made peace with one another and what they were to one another, parting would take more effort than leaving ever had before. Clay was cradled between Morgan’s thighs, his head on her chest, listening as her heart slowed. He’d kill anyone who came between them again. Anyone.

Morgan’s fingers were sliding through his hair, and she was smiling. They’d fought it for so damn long. OK. She’d fought it for so damn long that this was entirely unexpected. Almost too peaceful after their entire relationship. Or lack thereof.

“I can hear the gears grinding in your head from here, Morgan.” His voice rumbled through her chest and she giggled.

“I was just thinking,” Clay propped his chin up on her chest to look up at her. “Why did I fight so hard against us?” Her voice was quiet, but her eyes were clear, drinking him in. Her fingers were still playing in his hair.

Clay smiled, and dropped his face down and kissed between her breasts. “I think I finally get it.” His voice was muffled. “You worked damn hard, Morgan. So damn hard to get where you were, and us-” He glanced up and smiled at her. “It could have fucked it up.” He was trying to let her know that he finally understood. “It sucked, fuck did it suck to know that you’d pick your career over me, over us.” He shook his head. “I had to ask myself, recently, what I would have done if our places were reversed.”

Morgan’s hands had gone back to touching his face. “And what did you realize, Clay?”

“I would have fought it too.” He answered, looking back up at her. “And I didn’t have to fight and work nearly as hard as you did, Morgan.” He slid up her body so they were face to face. “I won’t do it again,” he promised, brushing her lips with his. “I won’t throw it up, I won’t fuck this up. I fucking swear.”

Morgan tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth down for a better kiss. That he understood was important, but that she trusted what he said was more so.

They eventually untangled and left Morgan’s bedroom. Hunger happens to everyone. Clay watched as she danced around the kitchen in his button down, reheating something that smelled fucking amazing.

“What are you fixing?” He finally asked, seated at the island.

Morgan turned with a grin. “Leftovers,” she laughed and went back to her task.

“Yeah, smartass, I kind of figure that out from the use of the microwave.” He left his stool to creep up behind her and wrap his arms around her from behind. His head lowered to her neck and he brushed his lips against her skin.

She stopped moving and let herself relax into his touch. Closing her eyes to the press of his shirtless chest burning through the fabric of his shirt, and the feeling of his pants against her bare legs. “I made mozzarella stuffed chicken parm last night,” she could feel him still behind her. Right, for Jensen. “Are you gonna freak out anytime Jensen is near me, Clay?”

He groaned. “No,” it came out as a growl. “Sorry, no, Morgan. It’s fine, just a little fresh.” She giggled and turned. He’d risen to his full height as she turned, but she shook her head and hooked his neck with her hands, pulling him back down to level with her own.

“You, Franklin Clay, are the ONLY man I’ve had inside of me for a very long time.” Morgan was smiling at the look on his face at this revelation. “No need for any jealousy.” Her lips were about to meet his when she noticed the tightness in his eyes. Shit.

“I almost forgot.” He began and Morgan’s eyes closed. Her. Of course. He swallowed so hard she could hear him. “Morgan. Look at me.”

She forced her eyes open and stared into his. “I know that you and-” His finger touched her lips to stop her.

“Yeah, we did, but not for the reasons you think.” She waited, and he sighed. The microwave dinged and she pulled away. Clay’s arms felt empty, and he was scared. “Morgan.”

“Just let me grab our plates, Clay,” she answered, not turning around. “We’ll sit at the table and discuss it.” Her tone hadn’t changed. She didn’t sound hurt or pissed, yet.

They went to her dining room. Jensen’s flowers were still in the middle of the table, but neither one mentioned them. They sat across from one another, and Morgan waited.

“I did sleep with Aisha.” Morgan nodded, Roque had told her as much. “It happened after Roque brought my flag back.” She put her fork down, and waited. “You’d seen we were alive. You saw ME. And you didn’t approach. You didn’t make contact, Morgan.” She could hear the hurt in his voice. “It was petty, and shitty, and caused FAR more fucking issues than we needed.” She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest, his shirt mocking him. “I had sex with Aisha because I was pissed at you.”

Morgan squinted at him. “That would work for the first time.” She was watching his face. Watching it dawn on him that Roque or someone had told ALL. “What about when Jens got shot?”

Clay swallowed so hard she could see the bob of his Adam’s apple. “That time?” Another nod from Morgan. “That was pure fucking stupidity.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and laughed. “That about sums up most of your taste in women, Clay.” She took her fork back in hand, and twirled her pasta. He was staring at her, waiting for the fallout clearly. “What?” She asked, taking a bite.

He squinted at her face. She looked strangely at peace. Weirdly easy with his confession. Why? “You’re just going to eat?”

She chewed and swallowed her bite. “You should too, it’s better when it’s warm.” She gestured at his own plate.

Clay was confused and a little scared. “Why are you being so calm?” He picked up his own fork and cut a bite.

Morgan laughed, and shook her head. “If I get pissed off about every woman you’ve screwed, or enticed into thinking you’re going to screw them, then I’m going to spend this entire relationship needing anger management, Clay.” She kept eating.

“You’re telling me that Captain Morgan Dean is going to go bygones about this?” He asked, taking a bite.

She smiled. “Absolutely, Clay.” Her eyes twinkled and he nearly choked at her next words. “Because if she makes a move toward me, our team, or God fucking forbid you? I’ll kill her and make sure her body’s never fucking found.”

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 13

I finished my paperwork about an hour after I’d given Clay his farewell gift, and I wasn’t surprised to see none of the fantastic fiery five were in the cafe when I left my office.  Checking in with Keli, who was about to leave for the day, making sure that Erin had everything under control and that the pastry case was being kept looking aesthetically pleasing, I was about to take the extra cash to the back to prepare the daily deposit when a voice broke into my concentration.

“Little Charlotte Ramble, is that you?”  Looking up, I felt the urge to scream.  Seriously?  Standing in front of the register, looking far too put together to make me feel comfortable, was one of Walter’s closest friends.  Shit.

I managed to swallow a sigh that was building up as long suffering, and plastered my generic customer service smile on my face.  “Alex Xavier,” I took a glance around him trying to see if his twin Matthew was hiding nearby.  Where there was one, usually there were two.  “When did you get back in town?”  Honest to God, was this the year from Hell?  

He smiled, and I knew that there were some idiotic women who found his type strangely irresistible.  Weird, because to me he looked like he put more effort into his image than I had the fucking patience to do for myself.  And his brother was the same way, identical down to their toe nail length I’d bet.  

“I wanted to come see how the investigation into the arson of my building was coming along.”  His building?  FUCK.  “I’ve learned that you weren’t home that evening, strange, since rumor has it you aren’t exactly the social butterfly, Charlotte.”  Don’t roll your eyes, I told myself, don’t do it.

I really fucking hoped that my smile hadn’t slipped.  “Not a lot of dating opportunities on the ground, Alex.  A girl has to take the offers when they come.”  Sure, Charlotte, build up the fact that you’re a dating dud.  “I didn’t know you owned that building.”  

Alex’s smile had stayed put, fucker.  “Well, Matt and I owned it, but now it’s a complete loss.”  He fixed the black glove on his left hand, and I wanted to ask who brought the Michael Jackson look back, but kept myself in check.  “Are you absolutely certain that you saw nothing, that you haven’t seen any new suspicious people?” 

“I am positive I didn’t see anything.”  I didn’t break eye contact, I didn’t flinch or fidget.  “As for a complete loss, surely you had insurance.”  Not mentioning new people at all.  

“Insurance that is held up by an arson investigation,” aside from the adjustment to his glove he didn’t show any distress, and the glove was no doubt simply out of its perfect placement.  “Charlotte, I’m sure you know how it is, since Davey and George have you keeping this place up and running.”  

“I hadn’t even considered that,” non-committal, not budging.  “I really wish I had a way to help you out, but I’m positive you wouldn’t want me to LIE to the police so the insurance pays out.”  

“Of course not.”  He scoffed.  “I think that you may know more than you think, after all, this is THE spot for coffee and I’ve heard great things about the pastries.”

I raised an eyebrow and wondered who was buttering up my image.  “Would you care for a cup?  I’ll even toss in a sweet treat of your choosing.”  He said nothing, simply studied me.  

“Perhaps another time,” Alex let out a long suffering sigh, I knew it well since I had been holding back my own for weeks now.  “If your memory-”

“The police will be the first to know,” I assured him, but he stopped me and handed me a plane white business card with a phone number on it.  

“I think I want to be the first to know,” without another word, he walked away.

What the literal hell?

I didn’t have any more visitors surprise me for the rest of the day.  And I’d also never felt like I couldn’t wait for a day to end with so much fucking yearning.  Clay and the others off to who knew where, my dad popping in like he did it every fucking day, and then Alex offering me his weird minimalist card.  Seriously, I couldn’t remember a time that I was so fucking happy to say goodbye to my employees, lock the damn door, and go upstairs to take the longest hottest fucking bath that my skin could stand.  

What’s that saying?  There’s a calm before the storm?  Well, I was pretty fucking certain that the storm had started, and I was already tired of the rain.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 18

One good thing about living above the shop is that technically I never have to LEAVE my work and home.  Sure grocery shopping had to happen eventually, but if I didn’t mind, I could make due with pastries and take out.  I might admit to being a tad more jumpy than usual, after locking up after Todd and Rachel, after turning off the lights, and walking upstairs to my apartment.  What person, logically, wouldn’t be after hearing from Clay that MAX could consider using them as bait?  

When the soft knock, almost as known to me as his voice now, came to my outer door I started to open it, but Clay admonished me from the other side, holding the door shut.  “Look out the window, Char.”  I complied, letting him see me roll my eyes at him through the glass.  He was shaking his head when he opened the door.  “Do you think that if MAX is watching the apartment, they aren’t learning my routines?”  I sighed and let him pull me into his arms.  “Is it worth it?”

I tilted my head back to look up at him in confusion.  “Is what worth it?”  

“Me.”  He offered, looking down at me with tight eyes.  “Charlotte, am I worth the fear and the danger?”  My heart was pounding at the thought of him NOT being near me.

Eyes wide, I stared up at him as I tried to make sense of the question, and prayed that my heart would slow down.  “Are you saying you don’t think I’m-”

“Oh shit,” his arms tightened around me, cradling my head to his chest.  “No, Char, that’s not what I was-”  He groaned and kissed my head.  “Fuck.  You’re worth it, you are, I just don’t want to put all this bullshit on your shoulders.”

I sighed into his chest.  “You’re worth it too, Clay.”  My voice was muffled, but his arms tightened letting me know he heard me.  “I just don’t know what to expect.”

We talked, really talked that evening.  Clay wanted to know if the shop, or my apartment had any type of security system he hadn’t noticed.  When I told him they didn’t, he said that would be rectified by morning.  He pulled out his phone and told Jensen what was needed, smiling when he assured him that he could take care of it after his date.  

“So he did manage to call Carrie?”  I asked, once Clay signed off and told Jensen to come upstairs to be let into the shop from my apartment.  His eyes met mine with a twinkle and his smile made my heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.  “Good, Carrie’s a good-” but then his lips touched mine and I stopped talking.  

“Jensen’s busy for a few hours,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding down my arms to land on my hips.  “So the security system is on hold.  I have Cougar perched nearby watching to be sure that we’re safe for now.”  Cougar, I thought, trying to force my mind away from how his long fingers were wrapping around my hips, was ‘Charles’.  “That means-” He pulled and I was straddling him.  “We have time to-”  It was my turn to cut him off, my mouth licking into his.  

We didn’t make it to my bed, the need for one another was too great.  Our clothes were tossed around the room, and as we lay pressed together on my couch, skin on skin, I felt much calmer than I had when I first got upstairs.  Sex, I guessed, looking down at Clay and correcting my thought to sex WITH Clay could relax me better than a hot bath.  

The knock came and I glanced up with shock at how dark it had grown.  Damn it, I really had relaxed.  “Let me,” he shifted me so I was laying on the sofa, pulling the throw blanket over my naked body with a smile, he looked around trying to find his underwear.

“By the stove,” I offered, thinking I’d tossed them in that general direction.  “Or maybe-”

“The top of the fridge?”  He laughed, and I heard him pulling them on.  “The living room looks like a tornado of clothes, Char.”  He was walking toward the door, and I listened as he said something quietly, and the sound of the curtain being moved.  “Hey.”  The door opened and I heard Jensen’s voice, along with Carrie’s.  “You must be Carrie.”  

I sat up, careful of the blanket, and grinned over the back of the sofa.  “Hey!”  I waved and my smile grew at the blush that was burning Jensen’s face.  “I wasn’t expecting multiple visitors.”  A shrug, and the blanket started to slip.  “Shit.”  

“Sorry to interrupt,” Carrie’s eyes were shining, and her lips were quirking with barely held back laughter.  “We’ll just-” “Yeah,” Jensen snapped out of the utter embarrassment he seemed to be hit with seeing me barely covered on the sofa with his boss in his underwear answering the door for him.  “We’ll head down and start in the shop.”  He nearly ran into the door that led downstairs, but Carrie’s hand on the knob helped him avoid disaster.  “We’ll knock when we’re-”  Carrie pulled him through the door with a giggle and I shot a look at Clay.

“That boy,” he shook his head with a laugh, carefully locking the door leading to the outside and coming back to the couch.  “I swear, I’d think he was a fucking virgin, but Cougar swears that he isn’t.”  

“I think Carrie will make sure he isn’t, after tonight, I mean.”  Clay’s eyes met mine and I felt my stomach flip.  “Want to make sure I’m not?”  

He pressed me back onto the sofa and I laughed into his mouth as he reminded me that he knew for certain that I crossed that bridge some time ago.  

When Jensen and Carrie came back upstairs after HOURS downstairs, I nearly burst out laughing.  Jensen’s jeans weren’t fully zipped, he had a smudge of Carrie’s lipstick peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and I was pretty sure that his glasses were still slightly foggy.  Biting my lip, wearing my pajamas after a few more virginity checks by Clay, I offered Carrie and him something to drink.

Carrie and I moved to the kitchen area, while Clay conferred with Jensen and gave him a gentle nudge to zip his damn pants up.  “So?”  I asked Carrie, our backs to the two hot fucking men working on securing my apartment.  

“He’s,” she bit her lip.  “Damn.”  It came out a whisper and a sigh.  My smile grew.  “I mean, DAMN.”  I chuckled and felt the heat of Clay, wearing his pants but no shirt, against my back.  

“What’s so funny?”  His voice, always so damn deep, vibrated through me down to my toes.  

“Not a DAMN thing,” I offered, forcing a giggle out of Carrie.  “Girl talk, you know, like guy talk without the cock?”  

That made Clay laugh, and I leaned back into his embrace as Carrie took Jensen a glass and stood with him while he worked.  “She likes him,” he sounded surprised and I glanced up at him.  

“Have you actually seen Jensen through the eyes of a woman?”  He raised an eyebrow, so I went on.  “First of all, there’s his body.  I mean, hello buffman.”  I could tell that Clay had started looking at Jensen as I spoke.  “Then that smile?”  Which Carrie coaxed easily out of him as he worked and they chatted.  “If you can get him to smile, past all the fucking awkward dork, he’s dangerous to women’s brain function.”  I studied my friend and Jensen.  “He’s sweet, and silly.”  Clay’s arms were tightening around me as I spoke.  “So yeah, Jensen is likeable, Clay.”  

“And me?”  It was quiet, but I heard and felt it.  “Am I likeable?”  

I turned in his arms to him and look up at his face.  “Oh, Franklin Clay, you are far more than fucking likeable.”  He smiled and leaned down to kiss me.  “And once my security system is up and running, I just might show you how much more.” 

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 17

Jensen came in with his laptop and a tad bit more confidence than usual.  Keli looked like she was itching to help him lose it, so I stepped in front of her to act as interference.  

“Hey,” I offered with a bright smile.  “From the look on your face, I think you heard about the bread delivery from Carrie.”  His smile matched mine and Keli hip checked me to hand Jensen his coffee.  

“Yeah,” he moved out of the way, since another regular had stepped up behind him and Keli was looking impatient.  I walked with him to his ‘usual table’.  “Clay mentioned something about take-out.” 

I had a slip of paper with Carrie’s cell number on it, which I’d called to make sure I could give to him.  I could have sworn that I heard her eyes roll when I asked, and she basically threatened my fucking life if I didn’t pass it along.  Apparently she’d written it on the bread bag, but I missed it.  

“Here,” I handed it to him and watched as his eyes widened.  “Carrie would murder me if I don’t pass that along.  She’ll also maim me if you don’t use it.”  I warned, but my smile lessened the effect.  “She’s known me forever, she knew that you and I weren’t-”

“Clay would have killed ME,” he replied, tucking the paper into his pocket.  I raised an eyebrow, since Clay and I had barely spoken before Jensen and I went out to dinner.  “We’ve been travelling together for long enough I could tell.”  I bit my lip.  “Trust me, Charlotte, Clay is-” he stopped talking and buried his head in his laptop.  “Can you stay there, unless you think the twins would come speak to you, then could you-”  

I hadn’t heard the bell warning that anyone new had come in, but I knew that they must be close.  “I hope you enjoy your coffee,” I said, and in a breath and told him to add his hoodie to his ball cap and maybe lose his glasses.

I’d turned away, and was speaking to a few of the other regulars who were sprinkled among the tables, taking note that Jensen’s table was tucked away with plenty of cover.  Good.  The bell dingled and I turned to offer my usual greeting, wanting to smack the Xavier twin who entered with my father.  

Black glove, that was Alex.  “Welcome to the Little Drip,” I managed through sheer force of will to not sound like I was contemplating throwing bags of beans at their fucking heads.  “Alex.” I tilted my head and ignored the sperm donor who provided part of my genetic make-up.  “Did you decide to take me up on my offer of a cup of coffee and a pastry?”

Alex’s smile was slimy and reptilian, which was strange since I was fairly certain no one else saw it.  “Actually, Walter and I were coming by to see how the removal of the rubble that constitutes my former property was going.”  I waited, since I had no fucking dog in that particular fight, or at least I was pretending I didn’t.  “It’s almost cleared.”

“Not sure what the proper salutation is for that,” giving a look that I hoped mimicked me trying to find it, I sighed.  “Congratulations?”  

“I think you could do better than that,” Walter offered, and I continued to ignore him.  “Charlotte.”  Silence.  “You’re being childish.”  

“Mr. Xavier,” I offered, smiling in what I hoped was a loaded look of contempt for the both of them.  “I am incredibly sorry for you loss.  A building of that distinction,” read ugly, “and whatever was inside of it,” seriously, what the fuck did you have there, “the loss of such a magnitude must be devastating.  For that, you have my sympathies.  Since you are not interested in a beverage or a pastry, I don’t quite know what else I could possibly offer at this point, so if you don’t mind-”  

“Franklin Clay,” Walter muttered, and I didn’t flinch.  “That’s who I saw outside your office, isn’t it, Charlotte?” 

“Who?” I asked, glancing at my father.  “You saw a customer who had a question, Walter, I’m fairly certain I don’t know what his name was, but if you insist-”

“So he wasn’t going into your apartment last night?”  Fuck me running with a rusty fucking pitchfork.  “And then leaving through that door-” he pointed at the entrance of the shop, “this morning?”  Damn it all to fucking hell.

“People who come and go from MY business is really none of YOURS,” I was looking at Alex, since he seemed to have all the intel on the comings and goings.  “Whomever this Franklin Clay person is, I’m not sure why it matters.”  

“He’s a,” I could see a vein emerge in Alex’s head and started praying of an aneurysm.  “He’s cost me a great deal of problems, Charlotte.”  

“Then again, I’ll offer you my thoughts and prayers,” I turned my back to the two of them, giving a parting shot as I went.  “I have a feeling you’ll be needing them.”

They left, not buying anything, not speaking to me again and I felt like I might have actually fucking managed to NOT blow anything.  Keli made me have doubts when she handed me a bottle of my favorite juice and told me I should take a break and do some paperwork.  Confused, but thinking that I probably had gone pale, I took her advice.

When I got inside my office, I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin.  Clay was perched on my desk, and he smiled while I got my heartbeat and pulse under control.  

“Fuck,” I breathed, leaning against the closed door.  “I have so many fucking questions that I don’t know where to start.”  

“So one half of MAX made me,” he offered, making my eyebrows raise.  “Jensen has an earbud.  I don’t let my men out without the ability to keep in touch.  Especially,” he stood and closed the distance between us to pull me into his arms.  “When it puts you in the middle.”  His breath was fanning my topknot.  “I should keep my distance, MAX is-”

“Dangerous?”  I tilted my head back to look up at him.  “I never liked the twins, and it has nothing to do with them being my biological sperm donor’s best friends.  There’s something not quite-” I stopped and shook my head.  “Alex came in to let me know that he knew, and because he knows about you and me, he knew I’d find a way to tell you.”  I could tell that Clay had gotten there already.  “You’re all in danger.”  I didn’t want to even think about what kind of danger, not after what he’d told me about their past.  “Do you honestly think I’d be safer if you weren’t with me?”  

“No,” he sighed, and touched my cheek.  “No, I don’t think you’d be safer.  They’d use you as bait.”  I could tell that he thought that was a best case scenario and I felt a tug of fear.  “I’ll have to regroup with the others.”  Another sigh, this time shared.  “I’ll see you later, Char.”  He pulled back reluctantly, and then reconsidered and kissed me breathless.  “You’ll be fine.”  I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me or himself.

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 16

Clay wanted to take me out to dinner, but I knew that the twins, or at least one of them was sniffing around town, so I convinced him that we should order in.  And by ‘convinced’ I said we should and his eyes went dark, he licked his lips, and I knew I won.  

We had Enzo’s.  And I saw that they’d gone wild with the garlic bread.  I was laughing when I opened the warmer bag that held it and Clay shot me a weird look.  “Sorry, this is the restaurant that Jensen took me to.”  He waited and I rolled my eyes.  “The owner’s daughter probably thinks he’s the one who I’m sharing with, since this is her way of flirting.”  

“With bread?”  He took a bite and his eyes closed around the flavor.  “Shit, yeah, this is flirting.”  I laughed, and his eyes met mine.  “What?”  

“If Jensen needs a date, Carrie’s more than willing, trust me.”  She knew me, knew that I wouldn’t even want this much bread as leftovers.  This was clearly a ‘remember me’ flirtation.  “I mean, he’s still growing, right?  So extra bread would help.”  He shook his head.  “Jensen needs laid, he is throwing off enough pheromones that I’m shocked animal control hasn’t been called.”  

“As long as you’re not taking care of his needs, I’ll pass his chances with the bread girl on to him.”  Dinner was good.  Enzo’s food was ALWAYS good.  Clay groaned, his entire serving gone, and a good dent was made in the garlic bread too.  Leaning back into the sofa, he smiled at me.  “I think I’m going to be fucking useless for dessert, Char, that food’s made me a sloth.”  

My mouth dropped open in mock shock.  Putting the lid on the leftovers from my own meal and making sure the rest of the bread was secured in its bag, I put them away and tossed the trash from Clay’s.  “No dessert?”  I asked, dropping back onto the sofa beside him, forcing a pout onto my lips I looked up at him from under my eyelashes.  He shook his head and pulled me closer.  “But I really REALLY like dessert, sir.”  

Chuckling he kissed my forehead.  “I think you have a sweet tooth, Charlotte.”  I nodded, and could feel his lips curl into a smile against my skin.  Sighing dramatically, he tilted my head up so he could look into my eyes.  “It has been HOURS since we were in your office-”

And then I was over his shoulder and he was stalking to the bedroom.  “Can I call you by your rank, sir?”  That earned me a tiny swat on my behind and I grinned as I bounced.  “That wasn’t a yes or no, sir.”  

Lowering me to my bed, Clay’s eyes were twinkling as he looked down at me.  “Char, you can call me anything you want to call me, if you can form words after I’m through with you that is.”  I was reaching for him as he moved over me and I wanted to test that promise for all I was worth.

We were wrapped together in my bed, darkness acting as another blanket, and I was grinning so wide that I was shocked the hint of light from the street lights wasn't bouncing off my teeth like a lighthouse beacon.  Clay’s arms were around me, his fingers tracing my skin as we both wound down for sleep.  Sighing into his touch, even as I snuggled into his chest, I felt content.  

“Goodnight, Charlotte,” his voice was raspy, because while he managed to help short circuit my brain, he’d become more vocal to make up for it.  “I can’t wait for breakfast.”  

Kissing his chest with a giggle, “sweet dreams,” I whispered.  Breakfast and dessert, I thought, as sleep pulled me under, were my favorite meals when Clay was around.  

Morning came, and with it another shower and company while I baked.  After breakfast, bent over the stool that he’d sat on while watching me create the pastries that would line the display case in the cafe, I kissed him goodbye and he left with a promise of more.  More dinners, more dessert, more. 

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 15

I didn’t question why Clay wanted to know what the Xavier twins looked like.  I assumed he wanted to know what they looked like since he had torched their building and knowing how to pick them out of a crowd would help keep him and the others from jail time.  

“Dark curly hair, kind of metrosexual in that way that some men get mani/pedis and are more picky than women, linen suits, one wears a black glove, the other a white one?”  I was trying to recall what I might be missing.  “I’ve heard that some people find them attractive.”  I shrugged, not much help, but I could point them out if they were nearby.  

“Some people?”  He raised his eyebrow at me.  “Not you?”

I scrunched up my nose at the thought of it.  “I prefer more,” I moved closer to where he was sitting in the visitor’s chair, as I got within touching distance, he pulled me onto his lap.  “Ruggedly handsome men who don’t mind getting a little dirty.”  His hands were sliding up my back and I smiled as I leaned in to kiss him.  Our lips, then tongues met and I sighed into the feeling.  I pulled back enough to speak.  “Men whose voices sound bedroom deep at any time during the day,” another kiss.  Another slight break.  “Men who have dark hair, stubble, and-”  He practically growled when he took over for the kiss I was withholding from him.  My fingers were tightly clenching the lapels of his jacket and I fought against ripping it from him again.  His mouth left mine and began kissing down my neck.  “Clay?” I breathed and he hummed against my skin.  “We can’t.”  Another growl, this time with a groan added in for good measure.  “Not right now.”  I felt the tease of his teeth on my neck and swallowed hard against the burning lust that was rushing through me.  “Later, I swear.”  

Clay kissed and sucked, he even nibbled a little, trying to wear down my resistance, but I knew that I couldn’t neglect my work forever.  Even if he made the idea very fucking tempting.  “Fine,” he grumbled, pulling away so I could see his face.  “If you INSIST on waiting,” his eyes moved from mine to my lips.  “Just one more-”  the kiss he took this time was slow and soft.  Tasting me, savoring me and I knew if he kept going I’d give in.  I told myself that I was thankful he stopped.  That work called to me, and I was sure he needed to consult his group.  Like a flash I remembered something that got overwhelmed every time we touched.

“Clay?”  His eyes were locked with mine again.  “What’s your real name?”

Clay left my office promising that we’d talk about who he really was later that evening.  I believed him, because I could see the war waged in his eyes that my question had brought on.  Another lingering kiss at the door, and then he left with a longing look and a sigh.  

Sitting at my desk, thinking that I could go through bills and other menial tasks before the end of the day, I wondered why Clay and the others were using aliases.  

When I was ready to lock up for the day, I tried very hard not to show how upset I was that Clay wasn’t in the cafe.  Forcing a smile on my face as I said goodnight to Erin and Rachel, I told them I’d see them the next day and turned the lock.  I turned off the lights downstairs and went through the door leading to my apartment and trudged upstairs.  I was thinking that Clay might have ran off because I’d asked for his real name, and I wondered why I wasn’t resigned to the fact that he may have scuttled off wanting to keep his real identity secret and feeling that my questions were too inconvenient to handle.

I’d tugged off my shirt and was working on my pants when the familiar quiet knock that he used on my office door was given at my apartment door.  Forcing myself to walk carefully to the door, without rushing, I looked through the small window to make sure it was him before opening it.  

“You always answer the door without your shirt on, Char?”  His smile had me shaking my head.  “I had to run some things by my group, that's why I came by the outside entrance.”  Must have known I’d wondered.  

“I always throw off my work clothes when I get home,” I offered, as his arms wrapped around my bare skin.  “And I peeked to see who knocked before I opened the door.”  His lips met mine and I was highly tempted to finish undressing and forget about his promise, but shook it off.  When he pulled back to stare down at me, I told him so.  “I think you made me a promise.”  He sighed, and I knew a part of him wanted to put it off.  I also knew that he could make me forget how to do simple things like count, so I wasn’t going to give in this time.  

“Could you at least put on a shirt before I start?”  I raised an eyebrow.  “You’re too fucking tempting in just the lace covering you.”  I grinned, really?  

He was licking his lips and I realized that if he was tempted by me shirtless, then he would be pulling out the stops to divert me from my goal.  Sighing I told him to take a seat and I walked into my bedroom to grab a t-shirt.  Once it was on, I shucked off my pants and replaced them with a pair of sleep shorts.  Far more comfortable, I pulled my hair free from the knot I kept it up in during work and slid my fingers through the mass to release the pressure on the top of my head.  I came out to find him on the sofa, and took a moment to appreciate how relaxed he looked.  And strangely he looked like he belonged in my apartment.  

“Should I sit in the chair?”  I asked, as his eyes took the full tour of my body, from toes to loose hair.  “I’d hate to keep you from keeping your promise.”  

He shook his head and patted the sofa next to him.  “I think I can manage to stay on topic for awhile with you next to me.”  

I sat next to him, and he still deemed me too far away.  Pulling me so I was curled close to him, his arm around my shoulder, the fingers of his other hand linking with mine he took a breath and began telling me just who he was.  

It was a lot to take in, and I’d be lying if I said that my head wasn’t spinning when he finished.  I was working through it, all of it as he held me.  

“I’ll understand if you don’t-” he stopped, and I felt his tension in the way his body stilled at whatever he was thinking.  “I know that what I’ve said isn’t easy to digest.”  

“Do you think that this Max person is here?”  I looked up at him and waited.  When he nodded, I took a moment.  “You know, Matthew and Alexander Xavier sound identical as well as look the same.”  His eyes were on mine as I went on.  “‘MAX’ could be an acronym. M from Matthew, A from Alex, and X from Xavier.”  He nodded again, clearly having figured that out from what I’d told him in my office.  “Is that why you set fire to their building?”  

His sigh made his breath fan across my face.  “We didn’t plan on the building burning down.  He wasn’t there when we went in, our lookouts were here, and they nearly missed the arsonist.  The person who died, actually.”  I must have looked confused because he kept going.  “We had intel that Max owned the building and might be using it as his base of operations.  We’d done surveillance on it, but wanted to go in when we thought no one was inside.  It was nearly a fucking death trap, but the asshole who set the fire, well it didn’t end as well for him as it did for us.”  

“If I’d known you thought the Xaviers were operating out of the building, I could have told you they weren’t.”  He looked surprised.  “I may not have known they owned the building, but I do know that they barely come back to their hometown.  I can’t tell you the last time I’d seen the two of them before the building burned.”  

He looked thoughtful as his tension started to relax.  Since I hadn’t kicked him out, I think he knew was safe with me, for now.  “I hate to ask you, but-”

“Don’t tell anyone that you’re supposed to be dead?”  A smirk played on my lips.  “So I shouldn’t shout out ‘take me harder, Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay!’?  I mean it is a mouthful-”  and then, he made sure my mouth was very full as I choked back a laugh.