More Than Rum (The Maple Leaf Series Book 3) (10 page)

“Let’s both go left, okay?”
Hope finally said.

“On three.”

“One, two, three,” Hope
counted.

She stepped to the left as did
he and lo and behold, they successfully traded places. Trouble was, his arm had
brushed up against her soft, cream-colored sweater and all his nerve endings
rejoiced. Obviously, he was certifiable, because nobody got that turned on by
an accidental touch. It wasn’t even skin-to-skin for crying out loud.

Maybe it wasn’t only the touch
that was doing it. Hope’s jeans molded to her phenomenal body and her brown
boots screamed out their sexiness. And that cinnamon fragrance. Hot damn. What
was a man to do but get all revved up inside?

“See ya,” Hope said as she shut
the restroom door in his face.

See ya?

Adam blinked several times, but
the wood door was still the only thing staring back at him. This could only
mean one of two things. Option one? Hope was truly over what had happened—or
not happened—last night. Option two? She was pissed as hell. He didn’t like
either of these situations, but knew he’d be better off getting out of that bar
than sticking around to puzzle things out.

Reconciled to that plan of
action—his
only
plan of action—Adam grabbed his jacket, his hat, and his
toolbox and half ran out of the backroom.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jake said
as he held up his hands to stop Adam.

“Out of my way, old man.” He
slapped his cap on his head and eyed the exit.

“I sign your paycheck, kid.”
Jake didn’t move. Instead he braced his feet shoulder-width apart as if gearing
up to be a human shield.

“Keep it. I’ve got to get out
of here.”

“Did you hang my shelf?”

“Yep.” Again Adam attempted to
skirt around Jake, but the dude moved like the wind.

“Wait a second. Let me get you
a drink to thank you for your services.” Jake gestured to the bar where a
laptop rested on the counter, Hope’s jacket draped over the back of one of the
stools.

“Man, it’s…” Adam looked at the
clock. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. A little early for drinking, isn’t
it?”

“Maybe.” Jake shrugged. “But
you look as if you could use a drink.”

Ain’t that the truth?

“I’ll have one when I get
home.” He had to get to the door. Hope would be done in the restroom any minute.
He couldn’t be in the same room with her. He couldn’t.

“Drinkin’ alone is pathetic.
That’s why I built this place.” Jake threw his arms out to encompass the bar.
“So I’d never have to drink alone.”

The guy had a point.

“One drink,” Adam said, “then
I’m out of here.”

“Deal.”

Jake jogged to the bar and
poured Adam a beer from the tap. He slid the full mug toward Adam. “Sit.”

Like an obedient dog, Adam
lowered to a stool at the end of the bar—one far away from Hope’s things. That
didn’t stop him from thinking about sitting next to her, breathing the same air
as her, imagining her naked as she’d been in his bedroom last frigging night.

Get a grip.

His hands surrounded the cold
mug of beer in front of him, but that wasn’t what those hands wanted to grip.
They wanted something softer. Something feminine. Something that was coming out
from the backroom right now with a look on her face that said,
Oh, shit.
You’re still here.

Adam took a gulp of his beer,
trying his best to appear casual and aloof, but he couldn’t keep his left leg
still. His booted foot bounced his entire leg around as it rested on the bottom
rung of the barstool. He slid his left hand from this thigh to his knee and
clamped on, but he had to admit defeat. His body needed some way to manage the combination
of nervous energy, embarrassment, guilt, and sexual tension. He probably should
be lucky the only thing bouncing was his leg.

“Why don’t you come to my house
later on today, Jake?” Hope rested her hands on her jacket, no doubt ready to
throw it on and bolt from the bar. She obviously didn’t want to see Adam any
more than he wanted to see her.

Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t
want
to see her. He couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather see. Even with a
slightly clenched jaw and a general stiffness to her movements, she was
breathtaking. Sure, her shoulders were nearly touching her ears as she pretended
his presence didn’t bother her, but clearly it did. She wouldn’t look at him.
She hadn’t stopped to stand anywhere near him.

She closed a restroom door
in my face.

How many indications did he
need? Still, something kept him rooted to that stool amidst a shaking leg and
an all-over body sweat.

“I can’t go to your house,
darlin’.” Jake grabbed a dishrag and wiped the spotless counter.

“And why not?” Hope leaned over
the bar and put her hand atop Jake’s, stopping his motion.

“Your mother will be there.”
Jake wriggled his hand free and continued wiping out of Hope’s reach.

“That’s the point, Jake.” She
pulled out the stool with her jacket on it and sat.

Adam couldn’t decide if this
was good news or not. Either she’d decided she could handle ignoring him or
maybe… just maybe… she didn’t mind being in the same room with him.

“I’m too old for the silliness
involved in courtin’ a woman,” Jake said.

Adam nearly choked on his
mouthful of beer. “Courting?”

Hope shot him a glare laced
with arsenic. “Yes, courting. It’s what a gentleman would call it.”

As in Adam Rouse is
not
a gentleman.

Hell, he never claimed to be
one. She’d been misinformed. Her own fault for setting expectations so high.

She turned her attention back
to Jake. “I told you my mother is interested. How much more of a guarantee do
you need?”

Jake shrugged and twisted the
rag in his hands, making some water squeegee out onto his shirt. He jumped back
and almost cleared a row of wineglasses right off the back counter.

“I don’t know. Somethin’ in
writin’ perhaps?” He offered up a sheepish smile and Hope’s lovely brown eyes
went all soft and mushy.

How was it that an old man had
a better effect on her than he did?

“Relationships are about risk.
You’ve got to dive in with both feet or you’ll be left standing on the diving
board
for-ev-er
.” She turned her gaze on Adam and soft and mushy were
gone. Long gone. Sharp and cold had taken their place.

And yet, Adam still got lost in
those deep pools, noting how honey-colored flecks broke up the brown. Had her
lips always been that kissable too?

Finish your beer and leave,
man.

He took a final sip and stood.
He walked behind the bar, washed his mug, and returned it to its place under
the bar. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on the smooth wooden surface
of the bar and said, “Maybe you’d better be sure what you’re diving into.”

Hope’s eyes narrowed, but she
didn’t reply.

Adam felt her gaze on him as he
patted Jake on the back, put on his jacket, collected his toolbox, and grabbed
the chair he was taking home. “I’ll get started on these as soon as I finish my
current project.” He wiggled the chair.  

“Sure. No problem. Thanks.”
Jake gave him a wave, but the man angled his head toward Hope as if to say,
Where
are you going, Adam? You could have her if you’d try harder.

“See you tomorrow night, Jake,”
Adam said. “Hope.”

“Adam.” She mimicked his tone,
and he should have found that childish, but he didn’t. Everything Hope Stannard
did was adorable.

He made it all the way to the
front where he juggled the chair and his toolbox in an attempt to open the door.
Apparently juggling was not on his short list of skills. The toolbox clattered
to the floor and tools scattered like balls on a pool table after a solid
break.

“Fuck.”

“Oh, so you do know that word?”
Somehow Hope was standing over him as he reached for his screwdrivers. “For
future reference, it’s a verb too. An action word. You know? Something you
do.
”

Adam looked past her, but Jake
was nowhere.

“He had to accept a delivery in
the back,” Hope said. “We’re alone out here. Don’t freak out.”

“Okay, enough with the digs,
Hope.” He threw tools into the box so they clanked loud enough and he wouldn’t
be able to hear her or the derision in her voice.

She waited until he had to take
a few steps to get his hammer. “Are you sure? Because I was awake all last
night just thinking of snarky comments. I’ve got a million of them.” She nudged
some of his runaway tools over to him with her booted foot.

Was she helping him or trying
to get him to hurry the hell up?

“You weren’t the only one awake
all last night,” he mumbled as he fit the upper tray of the toolbox into place.
He had to reorganize the lower tools first to get the box to close and was
losing patience by the second.

“Well, that proves we could
have been awake together and doing something fun. A lot of fun.”

He finally got the damn box
closed and set it next to the chair. “I know that. God, do you think I would
have said no if the answer could have been yes?”

“What the hell does that
question even mean, Adam?” Her hands went to her hips, telling him winning this
skirmish was impossible. Better to retreat now.

He bent to pick up the toolbox,
but Hope stepped into his way. “I tried to convince myself that you turning me
down last night didn’t bother me, but it does. I don’t throw myself at anybody
who happens by. I threw myself at you. I didn’t expect to get thrown back. Can
you give me one good reason why you did?”

One reason? Hell, he had more
than one.

Why did Adam have to be so
sexy, so tall, so full of irresistible masculine energy? Hope was impressed by
her ability to speak to him without wrenching his jacket off and everything
else he wore. The feel of his toned chest and abs was crystal clear to her hands.
Would it always be that way when she looked at him? Would she always see past
his clothes to his beautiful body? Did it make her a pig that she wanted him naked
so badly though she hadn’t even gotten a real look at him? His room had been
too dark last night, but her hands remembered.

Adam’s silence told her he
wasn’t going to give her any reasons for his no last night. He stood there,
looking past her with those blank hazel eyes as if he were getting yelled at by
a drill sergeant and preparing to follow orders.

Hmmm…

What if that was what he was
doing? What if he was resorting to military training to deal with her
interrogation? What if he saw her question as an attack of some kind? Maybe
getting up into his face wasn’t the way to get answers from him. Maybe that
strategy brought painful memories to the surface.

Maybe she was a jerk.

“I have to go,” Adam finally
said.

“Me too,” she said slowly. “I’m
sorry.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. It just slipped out.
She turned to go back to her laptop and bury herself in website design.

“Sorry?” Adam grabbed her
forearm before she could get away. “For what? I’m the asshole here.”

Hope shook her head. “You’re
not an asshole, Adam. I… I shouldn’t push you to give me reasons for turning me
down. You turned me down. It’s your right to do so. I can leave it alone.”

Besides, I’m the asshole
instead.

She tried to back up a couple
of steps, but he tightened his grip on her arm. “What changed your mind?” He
squinted at her from under the bill of his cap.

“You don’t have to get all
suspicious. I’m not up to anything. I don’t play games. I’m willing to...” She
searched for words he’d relate to. “Willing to admit defeat.”

She put her free hand over his
on her forearm and gently pried it off. She held on for a few seconds, liking
the feel of his big rough hand in hers, wanting both of those big rough hands
on her body.

Oh, well.

She’d have to find other big
rough hands. As soon as that thought popped into her head though, she knew
other big rough hands would never be right. Something about Adam, even though
he’d said no, called to her. Maybe it was the fact that he
had
said no
that made her want him so fiercely.

You’re sick, Stannard.

She wanted to be the one who found
the crack in his armor. She wanted to wiggle inside his fortress. She wanted
him to trust her with his secrets, whatever they were.

“You’re really going to give
up?” Adam asked, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles in a way that made her
insides quiver.

“If that’s what you want. Yes.”
She wished her voice wasn’t so shaky, so soft.

“What if I change my mind?” He
tugged her closer as her eyes looked into his. He smelled of sawdust, wood
glue, and polyurethane, which should have given her a headache. Instead, his
scent made her want to throw herself at him. Again.

No, no, no. Don’t do it,
girl.

“Do you plan on changing your
mind?” She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said yes.

“I don’t plan on doing anything
anymore. Waste of time. Plans get blown to bits, even ones made by the most
strategic leaders.” He pulled on her hand again, drawing her closer. “I guess
acting on instinct might be a better course of action for me now.”

Before Hope could think of
anything to say, Adam turned his ball cap backward so the bill was out of the
way. He lowered his head and caught her lips with his. He started out gently, a
few cautious nips, but that was all it took for a full blaze to erupt between
them. When his arms came around her back, she slid her hands up his chest and
over his shoulders. Clasping her hands at the back of his neck, Hope deepened
the kiss.

He didn’t stop her.

In fact, Adam moved them both
to the wall beside the front doors and backed her up against it. His body
pressed against her. Hope loved everything about that.

Everything.

A low rumble sounded in his
throat, and her legs almost failed to hold her upright. Adam seemed to
understand, because he moved his arms to a more supportive embrace with a
little extra squeeze in it.

Hope moved her hands to burrow
under his jacket so she could feel the muscles in his back, feel the hardness
of his shoulder blades as he held her. How could he think they weren’t a good
match?

He doesn’t think that.

Clearly. A man didn’t kiss a
woman the way Adam was kissing her right now if he thought there was nothing
between them.

They had something. Something
pretty intoxicating.

The trick was to get him to
relax with her. To make him see he didn’t have to be afraid of getting close to
her. To get him to understand she wouldn’t hurt him; perhaps she could even help
him with those secrets he guarded so fiercely.

They kissed for a few more
glorious moments then the engine of the delivery truck out back roared to life,
meaning Jake would be coming around soon. Adam stopped kissing her for a moment,
but leaned back in, dropping light pecks on her lips before sliding his tongue
past her parted lips and seeking more.

A blissful sound escaped from
Hope’s throat as she ran her tongue along his, tasting him more fully, deciding
Adam Rouse was her new favorite food. Ice cream, chocolate—hell, even Sage’s
phenomenal maple peanut butter cookies or Lily’s outstanding pancakes—couldn’t
compete with him. She wanted an all-Adam diet from now on.

“Dang it,” Jake said from the
other side of the tavern and Hope froze as Adam ended the kiss, licking his
lips so seductively she almost didn’t give a shit if Jake was there or not.
“Did Hope leave?”

“He can’t see me,” Hope
whispered, using Adam’s body as a shield.

Adam laughed, and his lips
became even more lethal turned up at the corners like that. “No, but he’s going
to figure it out, because your stuff is still at the bar.”

“Right. Damn.” Hope rested her
forehead against Adam’s chest as he ran a hand over her hair, his fingers
gently massaging.

“I’m going to step out of the
way now, okay?” he asked.

Hope nodded as she straightened
her sweater and ran a hand through her hair. Nothing she could do about her
puffy lips or no-doubt-red cheeks.

Adam fixed the bill of his cap
and stared at her for a few extra seconds. Extra seconds that stoked the fire
he’d lit inside her. He moved from in front of Hope and Jake stopped
mid-stride. “Oh, there you are.” He rubbed his bearded jaw. “Well, that worked
better than expected.”

“You knew those chairs weren’t
worth fixing, didn’t you, Jake?” Adam folded his arms across his chest. “And
hanging a shelf is not above your skill level either, is it?”

Hope laughed. “Hanging a shelf?
Jake built this entire tavern himself.”

“Yeah, but I’m old now. Better
to enlist the help of a strappin’ young man, don’t you think, Hope?”

“Depends on what you need help
with, I suppose.” She looked at Adam, knowing exactly what she needed
help
with and how he could definitely assist. “And you brought me here under false
pretenses, old man.” She poked Jake in the chest.

“Maybe. Are you sorry I did?”
He raised a bushy gray eyebrow.

“Don’t get overconfident. I
still think you’re a big fat chicken.”

“I figure if I can’t help
myself out in the love department, maybe I can help you two stop dancin’ ’round
each other and get to it.”

“And this is yet another reason
why you’d be perfect for my mother. She’s not above meddling either.” Hope
wagged a finger at Jake.

“Why don’t you bring your
mother in here one night?” Adam asked. “That way it would be on Jake’s turf.
Maybe he’d be less chicken then.”

“You’re callin’
me
chicken?”

Adam held up his hands. “Okay,
okay. Let’s play nice.”

“Looks as if you were playin’
very nicely with Hope over there.” Jake pointed to the wall by the doors.

Hope decided that wall had now
become one of her favorite spots. Just looking at it made her crave Adam’s
touch, his kiss, all over again. She wasn’t going to be stupid this time
though. Sure, he’d kissed her senseless, but she knew he could change his mind
in a flash. Whatever darkness plagued him could rear its ugly head and shut her
out again. She’d play it cool. She wouldn’t press him, but she wouldn’t hang on
to false hope either. She would not wait forever.  

Instead, she’d do what was best
for both of them and take charge.

“Jake is right,” she said. “We
did play very nicely over there. Have dinner with me tonight and let’s try
playing nicely some more.”

Adam drew in a deep breath, and
Hope prepared herself for a negative response. Another rejection was going to
hurt, especially in front of an audience, but if she didn’t at least try to
break into Adam’s heart, she’d never be able to move on. She’d always wonder.

“Dinner. Okay.” Uncertainty
laced each word, but Adam smiled warmly at her.

“Come here and I’ll cook you
both somethin’ special myself,” Jake said.

“No celery,” Adam and Hope said
at the same time.

“Got it.” Jake gave them a
thumbs up even if his eyes said they were a little nuts.

Quite possibly they were a lot
nuts. Either way, Hope was having dinner with Adam tonight. Maybe she’d even
get dessert this time. 

****

After sanding Diana’s table and
applying the first coat of polyurethane, Adam headed up to his apartment to
work out. He had to do something to release the pent-up energy whipping around inside
his body after kissing Hope at the tavern. He couldn’t explain why he’d done
that, but shit, he was glad he did. He especially liked knowing he’d caused her
legs to get weak. Maybe he did have something to offer her. Maybe Wendie had been
right about him living his life for the guys who didn’t make it. Being with
Hope would certainly be living. Good living.

 He finished his workout, chugged
the contents of a water bottle, and did a few stretches in the living room
while watching snow flurries through the windows. He decided to bring in some
wood for his stove. Women liked roaring fires on cold winter nights, didn’t
they? He wanted to get tonight with Hope right.

Because he was done getting it
wrong.

New page. New leaf. New path.
Whatever metaphor worked. He didn’t care. What he did care about was showing
Hope how sorry he was for jerking her around, turning her down, and generally
acting like a huge fuck-up when it came to her.

“No more.”

Tonight, he would make her see
he was capable of handling an adult relationship. Hopefully, an intimate one,
because he wanted to touch her more than anything. Kissing her at Black Wolf
earlier today had been like drinking sunshine and getting warmed from the
inside out. That warmth quickly grew to an all-consuming heat that flared him
back to life.

And that was it really. He.
Was. Alive. He couldn’t say that about members of his squad—and his mind
wouldn’t let him forget that—but he still had air in
his
lungs.
His
heart still beat in his chest. He had all
his
limbs. He’d gotten off
easy with a measly ringing in his ear and a few scars. It was time he
celebrated the fact that he hadn’t died in that raid gone horribly wrong. It
was time he lived for himself, for his fallen squad members.

Hope saw something good in him
and it was time to explore that good. He’d been good once. Before. Maybe he
could find that again and even be more good. If anyone could help him, Hope
could. Her name said it all.

Adam spent the rest of the day
taking measurements of the chair he took from the tavern. Jake may have been
using the broken furniture to get him to the bar with Hope, but the guy actually
did need six new chairs. Diana’s piece wasn’t dry enough for a second coat of
polyurethane, so he focused on the chairs. It’d been a while since he’d used
his lathe, so he fired it up and turned some test pieces, trying to get the
right shape to match the spokes and legs on Jake’s chairs.

Before he knew it, the time to
clean up and meet Hope was upon him. Funny, while working in the shop, he
hadn’t had dark thoughts. Was it because he was enjoying using the lathe or was
it because the prospect of spending an evening with Hope Stannard appealed to
him?

Appeals to me or scares me?

There was no reason to be
scared. Dating Hope was nothing like being out on the battlefield in
Afghanistan. No one was looking to blow him up in Danton, Vermont. He wasn’t
responsible for a squad of other soldiers. He was just a guy taking a lady out
to dinner.

Simple.

On his way up the stairs to his
apartment he read a text from Sage.
Because you’re Orion’s buddy, I’m
helping you. Hurt my sister, however, and I’ll hurt you.

 She went on to outline Hope’s
favorite flowers, music, books, movies, color, alcohol, animals, day of the
week, season of the year, ice cream flavor, and dozens more. She noted that her
sister was a morning person, liked snowshoeing, hiking, and was a basketball
champion in high school. Sage even included a picture of Hope wearing her
basketball uniform, holding a gigantic trophy. She’d captioned it,
Hope,
Master of the Hoop.

Oh, he would be bringing this
picture up somehow tonight.

Adam read the rest of Sage’s
notes, and by the time he was done, he was armed with conversation topics and a
few surprises for Hope. Those big brown eyes of hers would be soft and mushy
when they looked at him tonight.