CHAPTER 3

I locked the front door to the sound of my cell chirping on the table. I grabbed it. “Message? There is no—oh, shit!” I placed it to my ear. “Hello?”

A deep, rich laugh rumbled down the phone. “Hi to you, too.”

Warmth spreaded through me at those four tiny words, simple but strong, and I smiled. “Hi.”

“How much wine did you drink?”

“Not nearly as much as you think but more than we should have.” I padded through to my bedroom. “You okay?”

“Better now I’m talking to my bitch,” Ivan said, laughing quietly.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I climbed beneath my covers and snuggled down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby girl. How are you?”

“Cold.”

“Why are you cold?”

“I might have forgotten to pay my electric bill. I have to do it tomorrow.”

He laughed. “Dammit, Brenda. How do you forget that stuff?”

“I just… I forgot. It’s like you forgetting to pick your socks off the floor. Or put the toilet seat down.”

“That’s because I’m a male, not because I’m flighty. Leaving the toilet seat up is a territorial thing.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll make a note to ignore your territorial stake in my bathroom next time I fall down the fucking toilet.”

“You do that.” So much laughter was in his voice. Bastard.

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking this conversation would be much more fun if I were there to shut you up.”

“I’m thinking I agree. Depending on your method of shutting me up, of course.”

“I can’t tell you in advance. It’s impulsive. You know that.”

“No, I’m the impulsive one in this relationship. You’re the planner one.”

“I like hearing you say that.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “What? That you’re a planner?”

“Don’t be difficult, you awkward bitch. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, yes. The relationship part. The thing that makes me your official bitch. I should get that on a badge. ‘Ivan Sands’s Bitch.’”

“I can arrange for one to go on your next birthday card if you’d like,” he quipped.

“You’re about five months too late for that, honey.” I grinned. “Perhaps I should just get a shirt printed.”

“You should. And you should wear it all the time.”

“Sheesh. Honey, if you get any more territorial, you’ll be pissing on my legs.”

“If my cock is that close to your legs, it won’t be peeing on you. It’ll be between them and cumming inside you. Just so that’s clear.” His voice took on a husky quality that made me shiver.

'Yikes. Okay with me…'

“Aren’t you supposed to be all romantic now that we’re in a relationship?” I asked, holding back my laughter.

“What, do you want me to send flowers and shit?”

“Flowers are nice. Handcuffs are nicer.”

“Then I’ll send you a bunch of flowers secured by a pair of handcuffs.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. Goodnight, Brenda.”

The line blinked dead. I stared at the screen dumbly.

'Why do I believe he would?'

I rubbed the lingering sleep from my eyes as I parked my car outside the bar. The new bar. Aaron’s bar.

Kind of my bar.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that, in twelve days, the bar would be ready to open and I’d be the guy—er, gal—in charge. The only thing I’d ever really been in charge of before was my freakin’ cat, and considering his lack of canned food, he’d argue that I do a pretty crappy job.

I paused in the middle of the sidewalk and set a reminder to go to the store and get Angus some food. And food for me because my cupboards were seriously skinny.

Tucking my phone in the pocket of my sweater, I walked into the bar, now named Indulgence. Not much had changed since Aaron brought me a few days ago. There was still dust everywhere despite the use of dust sheets, and I had still given a bright yellow hard-hat before I could go more than five steps.

At least there were a million black marble tiles stacked in the corner ready to be laid on the floor.

There were no tables, no curtains, no bar, but there was flooring.

Reassuring.

I wanderes around for a bit, aimlessly taking in what was going on. I was getting ready to leave when one of the builders holding a floor plan waved for my attention. I made my way through tools and various construction items toward him.

“Yes?”

“Are you Brenda?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

He visibly relaxed. “Great. Miss, we have a problem with the bar.”

No, you don’t. “What is it?”

He placed the floor plan out on a stack of wood that would eventually become the stairs and pointed to the area where it met the edge of the bar. “Because of the poor construction in the upper level, we have to bring the stairs out by another two feet.” He ran his finger down the seating opposite the bar. “This will mean that you can’t have seats here and it’ll thin your walkway space from the seating area to the dance floor.”

I blinkes at the plans for a moment. “Give me a second.” I walked away from him and pulled out my phone to dial the number for Aaron’s office.

“Hello. Aaron Sands’s office?”

“Hi, Zippy. This is Brenda. Is Aaron around?”

“He’s just about to go to a meeting. Is it urgent?”

“It’s pretty important, yeah.”

“Just a sec.”

I heard a rustle as she moved the phone then a low rumble of voices. Seconds later, Aaron came on the line.

“What can I do for you, Brenda?”

I explained everything the builder just said to me, but he cut me off halfway through.

“Shit. Okay, look. I can’t be late for this meeting. Just do what you think is best, even if it means overriding the plans, all right?”

“Uh”—shit—“sure.”

The line blinked dead. I closed my eyes and muttered a few choice words. I did not sign up for this.

“Okay,” I breathe, rejoining the builder and running my eyes over the plans. “Can you move the bar?”

“I guess… To here or here.”

“Then the dance floor would be here, correct?” I circled the area at the bottom of the stairs.