It was seven minutes past two in the morning when Sugar eased her car into an empty parking space in front of The Salty Marine. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she stared at The Salty Marine through her windshield, a war of indecision brewing inside of her. She could either walk her ass in there and talk to him about what the hell happened in the hallway at her restaurant or drive her ass home and pretend like the man she was fucking didn’t help her beat the shit out of her ex-husband. In the end, she decided to get out of the car as she saw Gizzard walk out as if he were about to lock up the entrance doors.

“Well, I’ll be,” Gizzard said with a grin.

She smiled back at the man. “Hi, Gizzard.”

“If you’re lookin’ for the Big Man, he’s inside,” Gizzard said as he opened the entrance door for her to slip inside. “He’ll sure be happy to see you.”

“Thanks, Gizzard,” Sugar said as she accepted his kind gesture by walking into the restaurant.

“My pleasure, milady,” Gizzard returned with a gentleman bow and a playful wink before he shut the door and locked it like he had originally intended. They waved goodbye to each other through the door’s glass before Gizzard walked to his truck, hopped inside, and drove off.

Sugar crossed her arms over her chest as she walked through the darkened ‘hole in the wall’ restaurant. Light illuminated from the kitchen entrance doors behind the bar and she made her way to them, pushing through the doors to step inside the brightened space. At the back of the kitchen was the manager’s office with a door wide open. Her high heels clicked against the tile floor as she moved across the kitchen to the door.

“Gizz, get the hell out of my restaurant and go home. Give that damn dog of yours his heart medicine before he has a heart attack,” Chef ordered from the depths of his office. “And yes, I like the dog more than I like you.”

Sugar bit her bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

Chef was on his office computer, looking at gorgeous interior shots of luxury cabins with a thoughtful expression. He didn’t notice her arrival as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Do you like the dog more than me too,” she asked curiously. Chef swiftly shifted his attention away from his computer and locked eyes with her. A subtle look of pleasant surprise eased onto his face before he settled back into being the confident man that he was.

A slight grin tugged onto his lips. “I think you and I are far past liking each other, don’t you think?”

“I plead the fifth,” she replied teasingly.

“If I had known this was an interrogation, I would’ve brought my handcuffs,” he returned, his grin widening a little.

Sugar entered his office and eased down into a chair in front of his desk. “I’ll remember to RSVP next time.”

They eyed each other for a long moment. Unspoken things they wanted to say felt palpable. To break eye contact, she gazed down at her legs and crossed one over the other, smoothing out her turquoise sheath dress.

“We need to talk about what happened in that hallway, Chef,” she said after clearing her throat.

He leaned back in his office chair. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

She avoided the question and instead replied, “It was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“He used to lay his hands on you, didn’t he?”

The question made her heart stop. A tiny gasp escaped her lips. The emotions that rippled across her face betrayed her, but in a panic, Sugar decided to play dumb.

She smiled weakly. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I saw the look on your face when he touched your arm to escort you out of the dining area,” Chef stated. “It was a look of fear.”

Sugar casted her eyes away, fixating her attention on a framed picture of Chef’s daughter no more than eleven or twelve dressed in a beautiful gown playing the piano at a recital. Immediately, she got up and went to the picture admiring it while avoiding the reality that she had dug herself into a hole with coming here.

Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “You taught your daughter the piano?”

“No, but she was fascinated by it when she was a little bitty thang. She always wanted me to play Clair de Lune. She sit in my lap and fall asleep listenin’. She was about six when she asked if I could teach her, but I had to go on tour. Alicia put her in piano classes to keep her mind off me while I was away,” Chef replied. “Melina struggled with me being away.”

“She was a daddy’s girl?” Sugar asked, a tiny smile on her lips.

“Through n’ through,” Chef replied. “I spoiled her rotten much to Alicia’s dismay.”

“Why did you and Alicia get a divorce?”

“You gotta meet me halfway, honey. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Sugar closed her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nostrils before she swirled slowly on her heels to face him. “Only if I get to pick my poison.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Chef said.

She avoided his eyes as she made her way out of his office and through the kitchen before ending up behind the bar. Chef turned on the lights to illuminate the bar shelves. She crossed her arms over her chest as she gazed at the wide selection. She plucked a bottle of vodka off an upper shelf.

She shook the bottle at him. “You in or are you more of a beer kind of guy?”

“I’m definitely in, honey,” Chef assured as he watched her in slight amusement. She moved past him and ended up on the other side of the bar. She used a bar stool for leverage as she hopped onto the high bar counter.

She unscrewed the cap and took a deep sip before scrunching her face and coughing as the liquor’s burn coated her throat harshly.

“Keep drinkin’ like that and you’ll end up in an alcohol-induced coma,” Chef chuckled.

She past him the bottle.

“Lance almost put me in a coma once,” she admitted, watching his handsome bearded face to gauge his reaction. The humor drained from his eyes and he nodded at her to continue. She looked away from him and drew invisible shapes into the bar counter surface.

“There was a lavish Christmas party at Albert’s mansion. They had this gorgeous grand piano that his wonderful wife Karen always played at the party to get everyone in high spirits, but she passed away from breast cancer a few months prior. Albert wanted to listen to Winter Wonderland, his wife’s favorite song, and Lance volunteered me as a pawn to get in Albert’s good graces, but I didn’t feel right doing it. Helping Lance exploit Albert’s sorrow to get a leg up at his job,” Sugar said as she stared off into the distance, reminiscing about that night. “I told Albert that I wouldn’t do the song any justice because Karen did it so beautifully. Albert understood, but Lance took it as an act of defiance. So, when we got home. He backhanded me so hard, I hit my head against the wall and passed out. I was knocked out cold for nearly a day. He didn’t even bother taking me to the hospital, but he was ‘kind’ enough to tuck me into bed.”

She shook her head, sniffling at the memory. “So, to answer your question from earlier. Yes, he used to abuse me.”

Sugar glanced over her shoulder and admitted, “And yes, it did feel good taking back something he stole from me.”

Chef took a good gulp from the vodka before he passed it back to her. “I enjoyed watchin’ you beat the shit out of him. It was sexy as all get out.”

A bright burst of laughter bubbled from her lips and she shot him a bashful glance. “Shut up, Chef,” she said as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a sip.

“I love a woman who knows how to get rough,” he returned with a smirk. “As a matter of fact, that’s how I met my ex-wife.”

Sugar blinked in surprise as she gave him back the bottle. “Your ex-wife roughed you up?”

“Well,” Chef began with a chuckle, “I was stationed in Kentucky and few of the boys in my squad was feelin’ mighty lonely. So, they dragged me to this seedy ass bar that was a local waterin’ hole. All I wanted was a pint or two and be on my way, but there was this gorgeous redhead at the bar turnin’ heads. She was tryin’ to enjoy her drink, but she kept gettin’ hit on. Well, one bastard just couldn’t take a hint and she threw a drink in his face before she hightailed out of there. He followed her and I followed after him. Before he could even try somethin’ stupid, she punched him square in the face and beat the hell out of him like he stole somethin’ right in the parkin’ lot. I decided to step in and made the mistake of approaching her from behind and she elbowed me in the face in retaliation.”

Sugar clasped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing.

“She got me pretty good too. Gave me a bloody nose. She felt bad once she realized that I was only tryin’ to help. She took me back into the bar’s bathroom and cleaned my face up. Shoved a wad of bathroom tissue into one of my nostrils and asked me if I wanted to get a case of shitty beer at a gas station and hang out. She parked her car underneath a bridge and we drunk every bottle then we,” he trailed off with a grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Wow, you two didn’t waste any time,” Sugar replied with a smile and rolled her eyes.

“We were young and drunk,” he said, “but after that night, I knew I wanted her to be my wife. We got married three months later.”

“Lance was my first,” Sugar said, “and our first time together was on our wedding night. We were nineteen and couldn’t afford anything luxurious. So, we spent our honeymoon at a beautiful Victorian bed and breakfast just outside of town. I was so nervous. Lance managed to smuggle a bottle of champagne into our suitcase and I had my first taste of alcohol that night. The champagne helped a lot. He was so sweet and gentle with me…He was so different back then.”

She bit down onto her bottom lip as memories of Lance making love to her for the first time fluttered into her head. She extended her hand for the vodka bottle, wanting to wash away the memories before she got too sentimental—before she forgot how much of a monster Lance was now. Chef willingly gave it to her and Sugar took a deeper gulp this time around, letting the warm burn slither down her throat and course through her veins. Her head was much lightheaded now.

“Why did you two divorce,” she then asked.

“My job,” he said. “I was so close to retirement, but the war was in full swing and I had a job to do. The tours started to add up. Eighteen months here, twenty-four months there. Alicia was raisin’ teenaged Melina by herself and Melina just couldn’t handle me bein’ away.”

His voice had grown more somber as he spoke. “She got so depressed. I came back stateside with the promise of stayin’ there permanently, but they sent me back. She tried to commit suicide after that, but it wasn’t successful. Alicia had to commit her into a mental hospital and she had to deal with that all by herself. That was the final nail in the coffin for our marriage. Her having to watch our daughter’s mental health deteriorate because of me…”

Sugar passed him the bottle as a token of sympathy—understanding.

“You did the best you could, Miles,” she whispered.

“If that were true, my daughter wouldn’t have committed suicide at nineteen years old,” he said as he eyed the bottle in discontent, his deep voice heavy with a terrible concoction of sorrow, guilt, and regret. “She’d be a twenty-four-year-old young woman right now. Hell, she could’ve been married right now and I could’ve had beautiful grandkids.”

She jumped slightly as he placed the bottle onto the bar counter a little too hard. He ran his fingers through his pepper-and-salt hair, shaking his head. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.”

“Chef, I shouldn’t’ve asked. I am so sor—”

“Stop apologizin’, Sugar,” Chef said angry emotional tone, slamming his fist down onto the bar counter. “Stop apologizin’ and blamin’ yourself for other people’s problems. Just like you blamed yourself every single time your fucked-up ex put his hands on you. Just stop it!”

A pained look rippled across her face. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

She hopped down quickly and landed with a stumble, but she caught herself and marched towards the entrance door.

“Shit,” Chef cursed and departed swiftly from behind the bar counter to go after her. “Wait. Sugar, wait. Wait, dammit.” 

He carefully took a hold of her forearm before she could reach the door. “I got outta hand, honey. I shouldn’t’ve talked to you like that.”

Sugar wrenched her arm from his grasp and snapped at him, “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have!”

He closed in on her, cupping her face with his calloused tattooed hands. He hunched his back to get his face at her level. “I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart. Truly, Sugar. Please, don’t go. Thinkin’ about Melina and what could’ve been always fucks with my head. I told you before I’ve got a lot of scars. Some of them are old, some of them are healing, and some just won’t close. My daughter’s suicide is a scar that heals and opens over and over again for me. Bear with me,” he asked pleadingly, his gray eyes twinkling with a hint of desperation. “I can’t fuck this up. I refuse to fuck this up. You’re too much of a good thang and I’d be slow in the head if I let you walk out that door.”

His words were medicine to her heart—to her soul.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted huskily as he planted light kisses on her lips in between his apologies as he backed her into the glass door. “Take my apology, honey. Please.”

A pure aura of genuine authenticity that poured out of him as he pleaded for her forgiveness.

Mesmerized, Sugar nodded her head. “Yes, I forgive you, Miles.”

Finally, he captured her lips in a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue inside of her mouth to get a taste of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the passionate kiss he was dishing out to her, but she leaned head back to break it so she could catch her breath. He put his mouth to better use as he kissed across her cheek, along her jawline, and down her neck. Sugar squeezed her eyes shut and moaned aloud, gripping the nape of his neck.

“Miles,” she whispered breathlessly to get his attention.

“I love it when you say my fuckin’ name,” he growled into the crook of her neck before he bit a patch of sensitive flesh and drew it into his mouth with hard sucking.

“Miles,” she said in a tone two notches above a whisper to get his attention once more before she moaned loudly and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he trailed his lips back up her neck and latched his mouth onto her earlobe. “We need to stop.”

They needed to stop before she let he fuck her against the entrance door of his restaurant.

“I’m operating on three hours of sleep,” she told him. “I need to go home.”

“Then take me with you,” Chef breathed against her ear.

“You know what would happen if I let you in,” Sugar said, which earned her a husky chuckle.

“Plus, I have breakfast with my sisters. I need all the rest I can get,” she replied. “Don’t be alarmed if your ears start burning. They’re going to interrogate me about you.”

Chef pulled back to gaze down at her face. “You fit to drive yourself?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Sugar said with a weak smile.

“Good ‘cause I’m gonna follow you in my car.”

Sugar’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s not necessary.”

“I wanna to make sure you get home safe,” he said. “Let me do this.”

Sugar rolled her eyes and sighed heavily in defeat. “Fine.”

About ten minutes later, she was driving through the streets with Chef’s car at her tail. It was a struggle to keep from continuously glancing at her rearview mirror, but she did a fairly good job. Eventually, she eased to a stop in her driveway and got out of her car with her purse on her shoulder. She sashayed over to Chef’s car parked at the curb. The tinted window to the front passenger seat rolled down and she leaned into the open window.

“Thank you for escorting me home.”

“My pleasure.”

“Well, now that I’m home safe and sound, you are free to leave,” she said.

“I’ll leave once you’re inside the house,” Chef stated.

Sugar arched a delicate eyebrow. “Why?”

“’Cause you’ve got a glorious backside and I want to watch it as you walk away,” Chef replied with a wink.

Sugar snorted out a shocked laughter at his response. “You followed me all the way home to be a voyeuristic pervert?”

“Half-truth,” he admitted with a slight grin before he glanced around the neighborhood, scanning the surrounding area as if he were keeping watch for someone. Sugar cocked her head to the side as she watched him before the realization hit her.

“You followed me home because of Lance, didn’t you?”

“Your ex-husband doesn’t seem like the kind of bastard to take an ass-whoopin’ with grace,” Chef admitted, “and I’ll be damned if I let him do some tactical surprise attack on you.”

A genuine smile of appreciation spread across her lips. It was small, but it was there.

“Thank you, Chef,” she said.

“No need to thank me,” Chef returned. “Now, get inside and get some rest, but walk real slow up the driveway so I have ample enough time to admire from here I am.”

Sugar rolled her eyes. “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

Chef lifted an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Could be, but maybe for another time.”

“Don’t tease me like that, Sugar,” he said, a slightly disappointed look on his face.

“Good night, Chef,” she said.

“Night, darlin’,” he returned.

Sugar turned away from his car and walked up the driveway extra slow just like Chef requested. She shook her head slowly as she laughed to herself, glancing over her shoulder every so often to see if he was watching and enjoying what he saw. Once she got to her front door, she unlocked it and stepped inside. She kicked off her high heels and began her journey down the hallway to undress and get ready for bed.

Before she even reached her bedroom door, she heard three solid knocks on her front door. She arched an eyebrow at the sound and returned to the foyer. She rose to the tips of her toes to check the peephole. It was Chef.

She opened the door and asked politely, “Did I not walk slow enough for you? Are you filing a complaint?”

He shot her a charming smile. “While I’ll admit you could’ve walked a little slower, I’m here on a different matter.”

“And that is?”

Chef jiggled a set of keys in front of her. “You left these in my car when you were talkin’ to me.”

“Uh, that’s very interesting because I would’ve needed those to get into my house and yet I have a similar set of keys that got me into my house just fine,” Sugar replied, deciding to play his little game. “Unless, those aren’t my keys and this is some kind of ploy to trick me into letting you into my house.”

Chef took an innocent gander at the keys. “Well, I’ll be damned. These are my keys,” he replied. “I apologize for the mix-up.”

“Apology accepted,” Sugar said, fighting back a smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mister Thibodeau?”

He cleared his throat and coughed a little.

“Well, I am mighty thirsty,” he replied, giving her his best scratchy dry voice, “and also a nice place to sleep would be wonderful too.”

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

“It’s very late. I live very far away and I’m quite tired,” he reasoned slyly. “Now, you wouldn’t forgive yourself if I fell asleep while drivin’ and ended up with my car wrapped around a tree. Now, would you?”

“I suppose,” she agreed.

She widened the door and allowed him entry.

“Thank you for your kindness and generosity,” Chef stated as he sauntered into the darkened depths of her home. She closed the door and locked it.

“I’ll get you something to drink for your dry throat,” she announced as she began to walk towards the kitchen, but Chef caught her forearm and brought her backside against his frontside.

“That’s quite alright,” he assured, his voice miraculously back to normal. “I suppose I wasn’t as thirsty as I thought.”

She laughed a little.

He placed his hands on her hips and slid them upward before his fingers found her sheath dress’s side zipper. “You need any help undressin’ and gettin’ ready for bed?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer as he unzipped it.

“Chef, I really need some sleep,” she whispered.

“Intimacy doesn’t only entail sex, darlin’,” he said. “I just wanna fall asleep and wake up to you is all, but first I gotta get you out of this dress.”

He undressed her in the foyer and carried her to her bedroom like she was his bride. He laid her carefully onto the bed before he undressed himself down his underwear and climbed into the bed beside her. Chef rested on his back while Sugar was pressed against his side with her cheek on his chest and her ear near his heart.

Sliding her eyelids shut, she drifted asleep to the side of his heartbeat while her own heart struggled with the reality that it was going to belong to him sooner than later.

Damn, she was in trouble.