Page 2 of Falling for You (Balsam Cliffs #2)

I’m standing behind the bar in Rebels Brewery, my baby, trying to remember how I got roped into hosting the town’s Valentine’s Day dance as happy couples fill my space.

Because currently, all I’m seeing is my best friend’s little sister in a dress that exposes every curve of her body. A body that I know all too well, every curve and dip imprinted on my brain. A body that isn’t mine anymore.

Of course, following behind is her brother and my best friend, Hunter Keaton. Along with her four other brothers who are also friends of mine, good friends. Guilt slams into me for the millionth time since Emma and I started… whatever it was we had.

They approach a table directly in my line of sight.

Fuck. I can’t watch her in that tight-ass dress all night.

Either my true feelings for her are going to show in front of Hunter, or I’ll end up in jail when I beat the shit out of all the undeserving guys falling at her feet, hoping for a chance at what I know is underneath the dress.

Emma seeks me out behind the bar with her eyes, and I’m staring right at her when she finds me.

She smiles that seductive smile. I know damn well what it means, and why she’s here in that dress.

I give her a curt shake of my head, letting her know I’m still firmly in the belief that we need to end what we shared.

Even if I can’t quite convince myself of the same thing.

She narrows her eyes, and flips me off before turning away and choosing to sit with her back to me. I don’t blame her for being angry. I panicked and ended everything between us too soon out of fear.

I inhale deeply, wondering how I’m supposed to get through the rest of the night just as another guy approaches her.

If the fling or friends-with-benefits deal we had was with anyone else, I wouldn’t care this much. But ever since I saw Emma Keaton down in the cove last year, nothing has been the same.

I stupidly agreed to her secret friends-with-benefits deal, sneaking in and out of her room at her family’s inn without being seen by her brothers, her slipping in and out of my office, my cabin, my brew room. You name it we were there and sneaking out of it.

But it was more than the sex. It was the laughs we shared, the dreams for our futures at the inn and the brewery, and the texts with flirty banter that never stopped. Then I ruined it.

One morning when I was sneaking out of the inn, walking back to my car at the brewery, I ran into her brother, Wyatt.

I had my black hoodie pulled down low over my face, and I was already walking down the road when he drove by me.

Thank God it was winter and my clothes cover the sleeves of tattoos or he would have for sure known it was me.

That was the day I told her we needed to end things. I didn’t tell her that part of the reason was because my heart was already getting in too deep with her, and it seems like she was just in it for the good time.

I swat at the fucking red streamer falling down across my bar as my eyes track her to the dance floor.

Guys are practically falling in front of her for a chance.

Just like I knew they would. Multiple guys, the whole damn time.

My teeth are about to crack from clenching my jaw.

None of those assholes deserve the right to be with her.

She deserves someone to worship her. That still isn’t me since we were sneaking around in dark hallways because I’m too chickenshit to tell her brother.

The other guys never bothered me before when I knew she’d end up writhing under my body on top of my desk. Her dancing with other men was our foreplay. She’d get me so damn jealous that when everyone was gone I had a need deep in my bones to claim her body as mine. Even if just for the night.

I’ve never been more thankful for Tiff trying to make Wyatt jealous.

Wyatt is the town playboy. Enjoying the tourists while they’re here, but one night he made the mistake of enjoying Tiff, a local.

She doesn’t like to be told no, so now she harasses all the Keaton brothers whenever they come into my brewery.

Tonight she’s set her sights on Hunter, trying to make his brother jealous, except he doesn’t give a shit and will be thankful her attention is elsewhere.

I’m thankful Hunter is distracted a little from my eyes being glued to his baby sister.

Most of the Keaton men are here for a tourist on a girl’s trip to celebrate Galentine’s Day. I don’t know who started that, but I definitely cater to it. All the pink drinks, and fruity beer draw them in by the dozens.

Hunter finally extricates himself from Tiff and comes over to the bar.

I get his current favorite, my cherry wheat ale I brew for Valentine’s Day.

My favorite thing about Hunter is he’s always up for a new brew that I’m experimenting with.

And his brother Gunnar, who tests them with his regulars at his bar in New Hampshire.

“She’s getting worse, man. I might have to move.” He rolls his eyes and takes the beer I slide down the bar.

“She’s harmless,” I laugh.

“Yeah, tell me that when she’s trying to wrap her body around yours instead of mine.”

“Ah, but I’m not an illustrious Keaton. I don’t do it for her.” My eye catches on Emma, again.

This time some asshole who I’ve kicked out of this bar multiple times, has her back to his chest, and he’s running his hand down her body.

Hunter’s eyes follow mine and see exactly what I’m seeing. “I know why I want to tear that guy’s head off, but you’ve been looking at Em like that all night. You’re usually her champion for getting us to back off. What’s the deal?”

This time his stare is directed at me. And it’s true. I used to be her champion, because it was me she came home to in the dark of night for orgasms.

“Look at her! How the fuck did you let her out of the house looking like that? Have you not seen the assholes falling at her feet tonight? That particular asshole has been kicked out of here no less than six times, and arrested more!”

At this exact moment, Liam stomps over and rips the guy’s hand off her. “See. You can chill, man. We’ve got this under control.”

I scoff, “They were already too close. Liam was too late.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you have a thing for Ems.” He laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of me having a thing for his baby sister, a sister who is seven years younger than me.

If only he knew the truth, he’d be across this bar beating my ass.

And this whole conversation is a stark reminder of why I ended things. Being with Emma means losing all my friends, including my best friend since Kindergarten. Along with my pride. Because if she told me this was more, more than orgasms, I’d blow up my life in a second to have her in it.

I have to watch Emma for another torturous two hours before she finally gets tired of her brothers interfering and leaves the bar, thankfully alone.

But it doesn’t stop me from kicking out the handsy asshole.

The same handsy asshole from earlier when I was talking to Hunter.

He’s used to it, but he’ll be back after he licks his wounds in a couple weeks.

I flash the lights before leaving them on, signaling last call. Most people take that as their hint to get out. My bartenders make the last few drinks before closing down.

“Kitchen’s clean,” Clark says.

Clark was my most surprising hire when I opened.

As a kid he always scared the shit out of me.

A massive dude that looked like Paul Bunyan, and had an attitude that matched.

But now in his older age, I discovered that his hidden talent is cooking.

He makes the best food out of all the surrounding towns.

People come just for him sometimes and not my beer.

“Thanks Clark. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow, son.” Even though I’m his boss he still treats me like a kid. But I can’t blame him at his age watching me grow up and now working for me. I don’t actually monitor him much. He’s more of a partner than an employee. I trust him implicitly to run my kitchen.

When my bartenders have all the chairs up on the tables I send them home. I like to handle the closing on my own at the end of the night. I play my favorite playlist over the speakers and bust out the remaining cleaning.

I’m behind the bar lifting up all the mats to bring them outside to spray off when my skin prickles, that can only mean one thing.

Emma came back.

I look up to see her sauntering across the floor to where I am.

“Hey, Rome.” She leans her hip against the end of the bar.

“Ems. What are you doing here?”

She pouts, “You don’t want to see me?”

I walk by her bringing the mats out to the back room. “It’s not that. You know I love to see you. But things aren’t the same anymore, remember?”

She points her finger into her chest, “I remember that,” —she points her finger into my chest this time— “you are the one who made that decision without so much as asking my opinion. Had you asked me, I would have continued to choose the orgasms.”

Fuck. I love giving this woman orgasms, and I’d love to be able to make that choice too. But I can’t.

She comes over to me, leaning her body into mine.

“Ems. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Just one more time.” She unzips my pants and reaches in to grip my cock.

As much as it kills me I remove her hand. “We can’t.”

Her body goes rigid, and her nostrils flare. “Fuck you, Rome.”

She turns on her heel and with more flare than before she storms out of my brewery once more.

This time she doesn’t come back. Even though I wait like a fool.