He Dumped Me at Our Rehearsal Dinner, So a Man Twice My Age Took Me Home novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Closing Time

I kissed him before the ice hit the dock.

The bag landed with a thump.

I had both hands fisted in his white shirt and my back against a piling, and his mouth was hot and hungry on mine.

He tasted of coffee.

I made a noise into his mouth, and he answered it with one low in his chest.

Then he stopped, with his lips on my jaw, and lifted his head.

"Hold on," he said.

"What? No. Why?"

"Listen."

Inside the shack, behind the dark windows, something was rattling.

It was a hard, irregular clatter, and it had been going since four that afternoon.

"That's your walk-in," Brendan said. "The compressor's failing."

"Frankie says it's been doing that since August."

"It'll quit by morning, and you'll lose every oyster you've got."

I stared at him.

"You are kidding," I said.

"Give me a minute."

I unlocked the back door with my hands shaking, and he went into the dark kitchen and found the light switch without looking.

I watched him from the doorway.

He rolled his sleeves to the elbow, opened the cooler door and crouched at the back of the unit.

He took the panel off with a butter knife from the drawer.

He did the whole job left-handed, with his big scarred fingers moving quickly and surely in the narrow space.

There was a smear of grease along his forearm, and the muscle there worked every time he turned his wrist.

The rattle stopped.

Then it started again, softer, and then it settled into a steady hum.

He stood up and wiped his hands on a rag.

"It needs a new capacitor," he said. "That'll hold you till Tuesday."

I walked across the kitchen and pulled him by the belt.

"Wash your hands first," I said.

"I will."

"Fast."

He did it at the steel sink under the strip light, without turning his back to me.

I stood and watched him with my skin gone tight.

Then he dried his hands, and I took them and put them on my waist.

"Brendan," I said.

"Yes, Belle," he said.

"I want to do something for you."

"You don't have to do anything."

"I know," I said. "That's why."

I went down on my knees on the cold tile.

I had done this with Whit a few times, politely, to be nice.

I had never once wanted to.

I wanted to now, so much that my hands wouldn't stay still.

I undid his belt, and the button, and the zip, and I pushed his trousers and shorts down his thighs.

He was already hard, thick and heavy, standing out at me with a vein along the underside.

I wrapped both hands around him and he sucked in a breath.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked up.

The strip light made hollows of his cheekbones, and his eyes were black.

"Good girl," he said, very softly. "Go on."

I took the head into my mouth.

He was salty and warm, and I licked slowly round the crown, and then I took him deeper.

His hand came down into my hair, not pulling, just there, his fingers spread against the back of my skull.

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