⚠️ Sexual Content

Two feet of fresh snow, slippery roads, and frigid temperatures were supposed to keep the public in the safety of their own homes. Black Friday at Mulligan's was proving otherwise. The meteorologist's looped forecast had been playing in the background of my home while I listened to the restaurant fill below. As much as we needed the income of a day like today, I had no desire to leave the apartment.

I scanned the room, looking for another dirty dish, a lost article of clothing for the laundry, or some junk mail in need of being thrown into the already emptied trash. Useless. The place was as tidy as it had ever been. With an entire night filled with nightmares that left me with limited sleep and overthinking what had gone down in Sloan's kitchen yesterday, I had made myself useful by making the apartment spotless. Now, instead of avoiding sleep, I was avoiding the restaurant.

Two unneeded scenarios were awaiting me downstairs—neither being the crowd of shoppers that were looking to the restaurant as an escape from the day's nasty weather. One was my brother giving me shit about not attending Thanksgiving. The guilt trip was going to be laid on thick for missing a family holiday. I'd spent the day with Sloan... and that was the other problem.

I had rules, and I had broken not just one but multiple.

"Never the same girl twice." My head shook, muttering while taking a Clorox wipe to the stainless counters. "Never a student. Never an employee."

The only rule I kept on lock yesterday was no kissing. No kissing was important. That shit led to feelings, and feelings were off the table. I'd never make that mistake again. Feelings don't stop after the other person breaks your heart. They just get stronger when you can't have what you want. Employee and student were more than enough to put my head back on straight. Sloan was a widow. Had it even been a year since she'd lost her husband?

I wanted to know more about Steve. In fact, much of the night was spent wondering about his relationship with Sloan. They were spouses, but ones that didn't marry for ordinary circumstances. What if they were just pushed into something that was inevitable? She clearly loved him. Did Steve feel as strongly about Sloan as I once did about Shelby? Did he know ways to make her smile on her bad days? Did he know all the ways to piss her off? Did he enjoy her cooking? Were they playful? Did they make love after fighting? Did Steve enjoy the way Sloan's bangs always freed themselves and blocked her from seeing, and how cute she looked as she tried to blow them out of her face?

The only thing that kept me from scrubbing my way from the countertops to the floor was a knock at the door. I stopped, with eyes moving toward the tapping. It was a rare occurrence—most people didn't know there was an apartment above the restaurant. The staff feared me enough to mind their business and stay downstairs. Mikah couldn't be bothered to move his feet that far from the bar when he could send a text or call.

"Ollie," Shelby said from behind the door. "It's me."

I sighed, tossing the wipe to the trash. It missed completely and fell a good foot in front of the bin. To open the door or to not open the door, that was now the question. On payroll days, I loved seeing Shelby. I wanted to see her as much as possible, but it never failed to make me hurt just as badly. I already wanted to fall into old habits and scold her for driving here in a snowstorm. I knew her well, though. She'd likely been up since four in the morning, planning a day of shopping with her mom. They'd have maps and plans for what stores to shop. By now, I knew they had probably finished their Christmas shopping, and it wasn't even close to noon. Christmas gifts first, then break for coffee and breakfast, then spend the afternoon shopping for themselves. Shelby wouldn't stop until every bit of open credit was used. In the old days, my credit cards were also fair game. Shelby loved shopping, some days more than she loved me.

"Ollie..."

"Yeah, yeah." I moved to the door.

After unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door, there stood my ex, wearing a pale purple, Canada Goose coat with light-colored fur around the hood. It sparkled with snowflakes that had melted since coming indoors. Her long blonde hair was off to one side and braided. With one hand holding two coffees, the other held a large envelope.

"Hi." Her pink-lipped smile grew.

My stomach cartwheeled. I wanted to enjoy this. I wanted this to be about us, but I knew better. Opening the door wider, I offered an unspoken invite into my home, leaving Shelby to close the door after entering and me once again looking for a way to put my hands to work in the kitchen.

"Wow." Shelby followed me in, glancing around the kitchen and living areas. She placed one coffee in front of me and held one for herself, dropping the folder to the countertop. "You've done a lot with this place. It's stunning."

I nodded, tucking my hands into the pockets of my black trousers. The last time Shelby had seen this apartment, it was storage. Years and years of paperwork tossed into boxes and hoarded by my dad and grandfather. It was nothing but a crumbling shit box I was practically forced into. I had to agree though, the last few years and a lot of money later, the place was suitable as a bachelor pad. At least until I could escape from all things Mulligan.

Shelby sipped her coffee, giving herself a brief tour of the two main spacious rooms that she had access to.

"You're not sick." She spun around and unzipped her coat. She took it upon herself to hang it on the free stool before taking the one beside it.

I should have known.

"Not today, no."

"You weren't yesterday either."

"I was, actually." I rocked on my heels. "I didn't realize I needed to specify with a diagnosis. I had a hangover."

"Have you been drinking a lot?"

I laughed loud. An alcoholic, I was not. She should know better than to even think it. I didn't owe her any sort of explanation why I had been drinking. She assumed that I was drinking alone, and that was not the case.

"Are you here to lecture me on missing another holiday?" I quizzed. "I'm really not in the mood for it, and I'm sure Mikah is waiting to scold me about breaking my mother's heart over a meal. Can we just wrap this up? We both know you shouldn't be up here."

Shelby shifted on her stool, visibly uncomfortable. "I can go where I want. And yes, that was part of the reason for my visit. I don't believe that the holiday was bugging you, anyway."

My eyes narrowed, with my head shaking for her to let it go.

"You look exhausted," she continued.

"That tends to happen with lack of sleep." I picked up the cup in front of me, not bothering to blow on it first. The burn to my tongue was needed to prevent me from saying something I would later regret. "So, thanks for the coffee," I tipped the cup towards her, "but let's get to the other reason you are here. What's in the folder?"

"Sloan Smith..."

Hot coffee sprayed from my mouth, having just taken a sip as the one name I expected never to come from Shelby's lips dropped from it. So much for my earlier cleaning. Droplets now covered not only me, but some of the floor, the counter, and the folder beneath Shelby's palm.

"Are you okay?" Shelby's eyes widened.

"It was hot," I said, defensive. I picked up a rag from beside the sink and swiped my mouth. "What about Sloan?"

"She's been here long enough to qualify for her benefits, but I'm having trouble with the insurance company."

Fuck, I thought, setting down the paper cup and willing myself not to squeeze it.

"She listed herself as single, but they say that's not the case. I wanted to talk to you before I spoke to her. I don't' know her and thought you could introduce us."

I reached for the envelope, taking it right out from the hold Shelby had on it. "I'll take care of it."

I was sure never to schedule payroll days on days that Sloan worked. The two had never met, and I was sure as hell keeping it that way.

"You don't have to." She stood from her place at the counter. "It's my job. I just haven't ever had issues with this before. I probably should introduce myself to staff that don't know me, anyway."

"Shelby, I said I've got it," I said again with a heightened tone. The folder was tossed behind me to another counter and out of her reach.

Frowning, she exhaled and picked up her coat, hugging it against her stomach. She took a few steps towards me. I was already feeling like complete shit about my outburst. I just wasn't expecting the girl who was on my mind all night to come out of the mouth of the girl who was on my mind all the other times. Shelby lifted a hand to hold my cheek as I looked anywhere but at the eyes I loved. Instead, I focused on a cast-iron pot that was hanging on the wall behind her, wishing I didn't enjoy her touch.

"I know you," she whispered, and unlike me, kept her calm. "You are not okay. The Oliver I know would have never hurt his mom by missing a family holiday like that."

I swallowed hard. The sound of the restaurant beneath us was only getting louder, and I wished I could be in that kitchen instead of right here, right now. But again, Shelby was touching me for the first time in years.

"I know when you are overworked. And that's not it. I know when you and Mikah are at each other's throats, and again, that's not it. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I pulled back, away from the feeling I craved.

"Please?" she asked again. "Dinner. You and me."

"Your boyfriend won't like that." My head shook.

"I don't see where it's any of his business if I have dinner with a friend who is having a hard time. It's just dinner, Ollie. You and me. We go somewhere private and you tell me what's bothering you. Tonight? We will go to that place you like down the road. The one with the pastrami you love so much. We should talk about us, anyway. We never did."

It wasn't until the last two sentences that my heart raced. I looked up at her, meeting her eyes, not speaking a word. Both of us knew that my silence was a yes. I didn't need to talk about anything with her other than about what went wrong. About how I'd wanted to fix it. We both made mistakes, and I wanted to make mine right if she did too.

"I know it's busy down there. So, how about eleven? That place will still be open, right?"

I nodded.

"Okay." She smiled again, this time biting at her lip. "Eleven."

>>

After a quick shower and a much-needed change of clothes—because of the others being saturated in coffee—I made a call to the insurance company and was promised coverage for Sloan. I knew she'd likely answered single on her form to hide Steve, but they were one step ahead of her. If they weren't questioning her before, they might have been now. I assured the representative that this employee was, in fact, widowed, and she had misread the question.

As I descended the stairs to the boisterous establishment below, I did a quick glance to the messages on my phone. There was a voicemail from Mikah telling me to get my ass into the kitchen. There were also two messages from Kit and one from my mother—none that went in my favor. Everything from the restaurant, my private life, and even the job at the school was thrown back into my face as being a priority over my family. The phone didn't stop chiming as I walked through the sea of busy tables to get to the kitchen. The thought of how many messages I would have by the end of this shift had me hoping that my dinner with Shelby could free my mind of it.

My phone buzzed with another message from Mikah.

What was happening? Was this pick on Ollie day? Was there a family newsletter that went out saying any baggage you have with Oliver Mulligan can be tossed in his face on what was apparently going to be the busiest day of the year? Missing a holiday was not the end of the world. I was positive that everyone had a much better time than they would have if I'd been there. It was for the best.

Thankfully, I could avoid Mikah. The bar was insanely busy for it being so early in the day. I made a dash for the safety of the kitchen, finding it was a mistake. A petite brunette, one I'd been fantasizing about all morning, collided her chest right into mine.

"Oof." Sloan groaned, with her hand lying on my chest for support.

"Jesus, sorry!" I reached out to steady her.

"My fault." Shyly, her hands quickly retreated. "Wasn't paying attention."

Servers were diving around us from the left and from the right while we stood eyeing each other, embarrassed. It was apparent that yesterday was on both of our minds, and there was no way to make this less awkward. Who was going to say what we were thinking first?

"We should—"

"Can we—"

"Talk!" Sloan's head bobbed to agree. "Yes."

Seeming to be on the same page, we rushed across the frantic kitchen, knowing we were in limited time. The staff needed help, and soon. The alley behind Mulligan's was the closest private space we could get to.

Slapped with brisk air and continued snowfall, we both began rubbing our own exposed arms for warmth. Maybe this wasn't the best spot for a talk, or maybe it would help hurry it.

Sloan began pacing, kicking fresh snow as she did, which almost made me want to laugh if it wasn't such a weird time for it.

"You're my teacher," Sloan said, starting our conversation by arguing with herself and using a lot of hand movements. She wasn't looking up, but only at her soaked feet.

"Yep," I agreed.

"And my employer..."

"Correct." It was as if she was reciting my own rules back to me.

"We can't do this again." There were continued hand movements until they finally fell to her hips. "We made this mistake once."

My head cocked. "Not a mistake, but continue..."

Now she looked up, eyes wide. We discussed this before. As far as a one-night-stand went, we did nothing wrong. We didn't know of our impending professional relationship. However, doing that again last night would have been different. I made her feel shitty about it once and now knew differently.

"Yeah. Let's just agree that last night was just..."

"It doesn't need a word," I said. "Nothing happened. We stopped. Let's just proceed as we normally would."

"Yes." Sloan exhaled and did a few jumps for warmth. It knocked her bangs free from the red bandana meant to hold them back. "Good plan."

Great. I swallowed, trying to ignore her as she blew the bangs out of her face. We were in agreement. I opened the door back to the restaurant, motioning for her to enter first. The warmth of the kitchen was more than inviting. Sloan rushed in, going straight for a sink to wash her hands. After pulling a white apron from the hook beside the door and tossing the loop of fabric over my head, I joined her there.

"I'll start the truffle fries," Sloan announced, trying to break the tension. "I've never done salmon. So, that's all yours."

"Got it."

I reached for the soap, but what I latched onto was not that. Sloan's hand now rested in mine. She had reached for it too, and now the touch of her soft skin was a pure rush of endorphins—just as it had been last night. And just like last night, my head flooded with all thoughts of Sloan. How gorgeous she was naked, how I loved the way her thighs wrapped around my face. My entire morning of doing anything and everything to not crave her was up in smoke. I could tell myself a million times over again why fucking her a second time was a mistake, but it didn't stop me from wanting it.

I wasn't letting go, even though my head was telling me to do just that. But Sloan wasn't pulling hers back either. I glided my thumb across hers, just meeting her longing stare for a moment before a clattering of pans hitting stainless countertops sent both pairs of wet hands in opposite directions. Without looking back at the girl beside me, I went for a different sink to remove myself from a situation that we had just agreed was a terrible idea.

Nothing happened, I told myself, scrubbing my hands as if they were soaked in pig shit. We did not just have a goddamn moment.

By the time I was finished, Sloan was already scrubbing potatoes. It was good that she had already mastered the truffle fries. The kitchen was becoming hectic. Orders were coming through fast, and normally this would have me in my zone. I was made for days like this. Fast pace, beautiful creations, barking orders at my staff to keep everything flowing smoothly. Not today. All my mind could think about was sex. Not just any sex—the mind-blowing night of sex I had shared with Sloan Smith.

"Focus," I told myself under my breath.

I dashed for the spice cabinet, but with little room left in the place to move, it felt like navigating a maze. And even though I was avoiding only one person in the crowded space, kitchen chaos led me directly behind Sloan—close enough to smell her sweet shampoo.

"Behind you, Chef," Mick said as his hip bumped against mine.

The minor collision had me taking a step forward when there was no space to do so. My groin hit Sloan's ass, and the most erotic gasp I had ever heard fell from her lips. It was our own personal version of heaven and hell. I froze, and when Mick slid past my back again, I was knocked just far enough that I needed to clutch her hip to steady me—and fuck if that didn't feel good.

Our night together and every single memory I was trying to avoid was now front and center in my mind. Not just what happened that night, or Thanksgiving, but what I wanted to happen right now if we were alone. I was now stuck with fantasies of bending her over right here and taking what I desperately wanted.

"Sorry," I muttered, dropping my hold on her for the second time today. I was quick to excuse myself, now having enough space to do so. I needed to be alone, and now.

Panicked, I dove into the freezer, shutting the door just enough that the team couldn't see me. Once I knew I was for sure alone, I massaged my aching cock through my pants with many heavy sighs. I was hard as stone, with no time for a cold shower. This freezer was going to have to do. I needed to calm the fuck down.

Hard to do with constant reminders of the best fuck of your life.

She's depressed, I mentally scolded myself. A widow. Screwing again would be a terrible idea. She needed that last time. Doing it again would not be the same. Plus, you're meeting Shelby tonight for dinner.

But that sound she made when we collided...

It was a moan. It was a sexy, horny, fuck-me-now gasp. And I wanted to hear it again. It was the same gasp she made when she felt my cock inside of her for the first time, and it practically drove me over the edge as soon as she made it.

I leaned my arms onto a shelf and placed my head atop them. The cold wasn't helping drop my erect cock, and I needed to think of something that would.

"Dead puppies," I whispered, pressing my eyes shut tight. "Forrest fires... burned food... literally any song by Miley Cyrus..."

Nothing. Stiff as steel.

"My ex leaving me... the second Thor movie," I continued, adjusting myself. "Sloan's mouth sucking me until I filled it..."

My cock twitched against my palm. This time it was me who gasped.

"I'm backed up out here, Chef!" Todd's voice was more than unwelcome.