Continuation of "Right Place, Right Time" by Mary Calmes

The inn had appeared on The Travel Channel and we got a really nice write up in Sunset Magazine and Architectural Digest. We had a killer website that a friend of mine designed and maintained for me and the historical society was working on me to get the inn registered. Apparently between me keeping the original structure from the 1800s and the renovations that I had made, it was pretty. And it was pretty… and quaint and lovely and adorable and everything else you wanted to say but it was NOT in San Francisco and I could NOT go dancing until dawn and bring home a different stranger every night. I knew everybody and everybody knew me. I got crap if I didn’t go to the Winter Carnival or the Summer Jamboree or the Autumn Bourbon Festival or the Spring Cotillion. I needed to get out but I was trapped in hell where everyone liked me, stopped me on the street to say hello and knew my business.
What no one understood was that I was still young, I was only twenty-eight, and I still had clubbing to do and drinking and drugs and sex…lots and lots of sex. I needed to get laid. It had been nearly two months from the last guy I had picked up and gone home with. I was ready to make my pilgrimage back to the city now that my getaway had been foiled.
Stalking out of my office, I put up my hand as several members of my staff tried to talk to me on my way to the restaurant. When I made it to the archway that led out onto the patio, I heard the "yoo-hoo" that only an older southern belle can make. Mrs. Yolanda Barnes, the mayor’s wife, was waving at me. I moved fast and then stood over her table like the angel of death.
“Oh Fallon my love there you are,” she said, taking my hand, and patting it. “Ladies you all remember Mr. Fallon Stone.”
I got lots of smiles and several leering looks from the younger women. “You’re evil,” I assured her, squatting down beside my chair.
Her hand trailed through my hair, tucking a long piece behind my ear. “My goodness Fallon this is just like gold silk.”
“Quit….changing….the subject,” I said through gritted teeth. “I told you about the sale and you panicked. Did you think the new owners wouldn’t let the Garden Club meet here?”
Her eyes met my gaze and held it. “You listen to me, anyone but you has this inn and it’s no longer darling, it’s no longer dear, it’s a business and it has no place in this town. I will never let you out of here without a fight young man, do you understand me?”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. When I tried to stand up her hand tightened on my shoulder.
“Your inn fits Fallon. The Dark Horse is part of our community and whether you like it or not you’re stuck here.”
“I could just close it and leave.”
“Really,” she smiled evilly, “with what money would you leave?”
“I have savings you witch.”
She lifted her eyebrows, smiling at me. “All you need is a fella, I’ll find you one.”
Oh good God no.
She turned her head, tapping her cheek for me.
I leaned in and kissed her and her hand caressed my face, her fingers running along the line of my jaw.
“I adore you,” she simpered, smiling up at me as I rose over her.
“You’re impossible,” I said as I turned away.
“Oh look,” one of the women said from behind me, “the back is just as good as the front.”
“Yep, ya got a great ass,” Gwen told me as she caught up with me seconds later. “All of you is absolutely mouth-watering delicious.”
“Go away,” I told her. “I’ve gotta go sign paychecks.”
“That reminds me, Davis called and he said that he wants to see you tomorrow about setting up our 401K plans.”
I grunted as I turned down the hall. Unfortunately, she slipped in front of me so I almost knocked her down. “What,” I snapped at her, at the end of my rope after a very long, very disappointing day.
“You’re setting up 401K plans for us,” she started to well up, her face scrunching. “God Fallon how amazing are you?”
I reached out and grabbed her, yanking her into my arms and holding her tight. Instantly she wrapped herself around me. I was always surprised at how fast women could mold their bodies to mine and the deep purr of contentment that accompanied it. “Just because I’m trying to haul ass out of here does not mean that I don’t intend to take care of you guys. This is me.”
“I know,” she trembled, burying her face in my shoulder. “That’s why we want to keep you.”
I couldn’t win. I would drive to Louisville the following day to see my accountant and see if maybe he knew a lawyer I could talk to. I knew that Henry Freeman, the only lawyer in town, would not help me out at all with my land problem. His wife had been sitting at the table with the mayor’s wife. But Davis Cartwright might me be able to find me someone outside of the circle of hell who could look over all my paperwork and find the loophole I needed to sell my inn and the land it sat on. There had to be a way to get out.

Two


Obviously I was reaping some very serious karma for something I had done in my previous life.
“Thanks man,” the roommate said nervously, forcing a smile, “this is really decent of you.”
“I couldn’t just leave him there.”
The smile turned sheepish. “You could have but you didn’t because you’re obviously a nice guy. Most people wouldn’t have helped out a stranger.”
But I had no choice. I could not leave a man who was falling down drunk all alone. I had to help him home and dump him in his bed. It was the only thing to do.
Normally when I was attacked out at a dance club I got my hands on the other guy at the same time he got his on me but it had been an ambush more than a grope session. Standing at the bar earlier in the evening I had felt the hand sliding across my abdomen but had missed the fingers sliding through my hair until my head was yanked sharply back and a warm hand was flattened against my abdomen. In seconds the hand had slipped up under my t-shirt and was plastered to my stomach while the other hand was curled around my throat, lips pressed behind my ear, licking, nibbling, sucking and finally kissing. Down the side of my neck the lips trailed as the other hand slid over my belt buckle down to my groin, cupping my awakened cock through a layer or denim.
“Jesus you smell good,” the deep husky voice informed me. “I bet you taste good too.”
I chuckled. “My name’s Fallon,” I told the man having his way with me. “What’s yours?”
“Nope…can’t…gettin’ married,” he said, his hands tightening on me, his tongue sliding over the whorl of my earlobe. “I just wanted to see before that.”
Interesting. He was getting married, and I was guessing not to a man. And yet there he was in a gay bar on a Sunday night. His life was probably going to be all kinds of fun. The roaming hands brought my attention back to him. “You better run home my friend.”
He inhaled me. “I watched you all night long...ever since I came in...I never once stopped.” Gently he bumped my jaw with his forehead, giving me no choice but to tilt my head sideways. Well, no choice if I wanted him to stay close to me and really, even without benefit of seeing the man’s face, the strong hands clutching at me were nice. I didn’t want him to take his hands off me. When he licked up the side of my neck stopping behind my ear where his mouth settled and sucked. I had to anchor myself to the bar. Who kissed strangers like that?
“You smell like clothes dried in the sun.”
What was with the wistful quality in his voice and why did I care?
“Your skin…” He trailed off, nuzzling under the open collar of my dress shirt, his lips wet and hot on the side of my neck.
I was melting right there in his arms and since I had no hope of the interlude leading to anything else, I had to get away. When he swayed, I had my chance. “Are you okay?” I asked as I turned in his loosened grip to face him. Narrowed cobalt blue eyes zoned in and locked on my lips. He caught his breath.

From "Right Place, Right Time" © 2009 Mary Calmes (Stay Tuned for More!)