Page 2 of The Spice Is Nice

Not a tentative first kiss, but a full-lipped, demanding one.

He went still for a second. I made a small sound against his mouth, begging—please, just play along—and he seemed to understand when his free hand came to my waist, not grabbing, just settling there against my bare skin like his calloused palm had been waiting for exactly that spot.

Of all days to wear a short cropped blouse over a longflowing skirt, baring my midriff—my skin tingled where he touched. And holy hell, he kissed me back, warm and welcoming, accepting my tongue. He tasted of beer and sweet champagne wedding cake, and somehow the combination worked.

His scent surrounded me, clean and leathery, bergamot and pine. His other hand left his bottle on the bar and landed on the small of my back, his thumb caressing in place. More tingles, more sensations, more of everything on overload.

The entire Sapphire Saloon disappeared. The music, the crowd, the neon lights, and the weight of Seth Brewster’s eyes on my back. All of it gone. Just the heat from Colt’s hands on me and his mouth against mine and the absolutely terrifying realization that I did not want to stop kissing him.

If this was the way friends kissed in Colt’s world, then why the hell did it take us so long to try it?

But no. That wasn’t the reason I came onto him.

I pulled back, my chest heaving. His blue-green eyes shimmered in the light; every fleck of color in them held a question he was too polite to ask out loud.

“I’m sorry. I just needed help,” I breathed.

“Happy to help you anytime if it means more kisses like that, Wylde,” he whispered, always using my last name, as if calling each other by our first names might negate our friendship. His hands hadn’t moved off my skin yet.

Behind me, Seth cleared his throat. Colt eyed him over my shoulder.

“Who is that?” He asked.

“My ex. Play along. Please, Calhoun? For me?”

His hand tightened on my waist, enough to assure me. Everyone in Forest Grove knew I’d had a rough ex, and Colt had probably heard the gossip mill too. Nobody knew the details, though, not even my sisters, and I intended to keep it that way.

“He bothering you?”

“He’s here. That’s enough to bother me.”

“Ivy, a word,” Seth commanded. But I didn’t answer to him anymore. I turned to face him, with Colt at my back, both of his hands repositioning to my waist in a show of fake possession. Seth’s eyes flicked quickly down there and back up. “So that’s how it is? You forgot who you belonged to?”

“I belong to myself, and definitely not to you,” I spat back.

Ash suddenly appeared at the edge of our conversation, leaving his bride behind, like he sensed trouble. I watched his expression go from curious to granite in about half a second; no love lost between the Brewster family and the ranch.

“I don’t recall your name on my wedding invitations,” Ash shouted, his voice carrying his usual authority, the one he used effectively as foreman of the ranch. He glanced at his men; some ex-military communication passed between them that didn’t require words. Knox straightened by our side, and the ranch hands, too, all standing on alert, ready to protect me at his command if needed.

Somehow over the past couple of years, the Wylde sisters and the men of the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch had become like a family. Like we had several brothers to watch over us. And if ever there was a day to show it…

As if working in a pack, in unison, they all took a few steps closer to Seth.

His face shifted, and he held up both hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. At least he was smart enough to know he was outnumbered. “Whoa. Only came here for a beer. Not looking for trouble.”

“This is a private function,” Smitty, the club owner, yelled from behind the bar.

“Fine. I’m only in town to pay my respects to Dad now that I’m paroled. Don’t plan to stay in this shit hole any longer than I have to,” Seth conceded and scowled at me, giving me one last glance over his shoulder before the door swung shut behind him.

Ash nodded at the guys, as if giving an order to stand down, and it was over. Everyone exhaled. He went back to dancing with Willow and Ro. The guys returned to their beers at the bar, and the Sapphire kept right on humming like nothing had happened.

“You okay now?” Colt asked, leaning toward my ear from behind.

Shaking head to toe, I could only pray Seth was telling the truth and getting the hell out of here. I needed air and to clear my head before the facade I’d built over the last few years crumbled like tissue paper.

Colt foundme ten minutes later in the storage room behind the bar. I needed a minute to breathe without anaudience, and this was the only door that didn’t lead outside in case Seth might still be lingering somewhere.

I sat on an overturned crate between shelves of liquor bottles, my hands pressed flat against my thighs to stop them from trembling. The bass from the music pulsed through the wall behind me. The room smelled like old wood and spilled bourbon. I swallowed deep breaths trying to calm down.