Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(3)
Author: Emma Hart

He sticks his tail in the air. Fuck you too, cat.

I lock the front door to the sound of my cell chirping on the table. I grab it. “Message? There is no—oh, shit!” I bring it to my ear. “Hello?”

A deep, rich laugh rumbles down the phone. “Hi to you, too.”

Warmth spreads through me at those four tiny words, simple but strong, and I smile. “Hi.”

“How much wine did you drink?”

“Not nearly as much as you think but more than we should have.” I pad through to my bedroom. “You okay?”

“Better now I’m talking to my bitch,” Tyler says, laughing quietly.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I climb beneath my covers and snuggle down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby girl. How are you?”

“Cold.”

“Why are you cold?”

“I might have forgotten to pay my electric bill. I have to do it tomorrow.”

He laughs. “Dammit, Liv. How do you forget that stuff?”

“I just… I forgot. It’s like you forgetting to pick your socks off the floor. Or put the toilet seat down.”

“That’s because I’m a male, not because I’m flighty. Leaving the toilet seat up is a territorial thing.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll make a note to ignore your territorial stake in my bathroom next time I fall down the fucking toilet.”

“You do that.” So much laughter is in his voice. Bastard.

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking this conversation would be much more fun if I were there to shut you up.”

“I’m thinking I agree. Depending on your method of shutting me up, of course.”

“I can’t tell you in advance. It’s impulsive. You know that.”

“No, I’m the impulsive one in this relationship. You’re the planner one.”

“I like hearing you say that.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “What? That you’re a planner?”

“Don’t be difficult, you awkward bitch. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, yes. The relationship part. The thing that makes me your official bitch. I should get that on a badge. ‘Tyler Stone’s Bitch.’”

“I can arrange for one to go on your next birthday card if you’d like,” he quips.

“You’re about five months too late for that, honey.” I grin. “Perhaps I should just get a shirt printed.”

“You should. And you should wear it all the time.”

“Sheesh. Honey, if you get any more territorial, you’ll be pissing on my legs.”

“If my cock is that close to your legs, it won’t be peeing on you. It’ll be between them and coming inside you. Just so that’s clear.” His voice takes on a husky quality that makes me shiver.

Yikes. Okay with me…

“Aren’t you supposed to be all romantic now that we’re in a relationship?” I ask, holding back my laughter.

“What, do you want me to send flowers and shit?”

“Flowers are nice. Handcuffs are nicer.”

“Then I’ll send you a bunch of flowers secured by a pair of handcuffs.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. Goodnight, Liv.”

The line goes dead. I stare at the screen dumbly.

Why do I believe he would?

I rub the lingering sleep from my eyes as I park my car outside the bar. The new bar. Aaron’s bar.

Kind of my bar.

It’s an odd feeling, knowing that, in twelve days, the bar will be ready to open and I’ll be the guy—er, gal—in charge. The only thing I’ve ever really been in charge of before is my freakin’ cat, and considering his lack of canned food, he’d argue that I do a pretty crappy job.

I pause in the middle of the sidewalk and set a reminder to go to the store and get Angus some food. And food for me because my cupboards are seriously skinny right now.

Tucking my phone in the pocket of my sweater, I walk into the bar, now named Indulgence. Not much has changed since Aaron brought me here a few days ago. There’s still dust everywhere despite the use of dust sheets, and I’m still given a bright yellow hard-hat before I can go more than five steps.

At least there are a million black marble tiles stacked in the corner ready to be laid on the floor.

There are no tables, no curtains, no bar, but there’s flooring.

Reassuring.

I wander around for a bit, aimlessly taking in what’s going on. I’m getting ready to leave when one of the builders holding a floor plan waves for my attention. I make my way through tools and various construction items toward him.

“Yes?”

“Are you Liv Warren?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

He visibly relaxes. “Great. Miss, we have a problem with the bar.”

No, you don’t. “What is it?”

He sets the floor plan out on a stack of wood that will eventually become the stairs and points to the area where it meets the edge of the bar. “Because of the poor construction in the upper level, we have to bring the stairs out by another two feet.” He runs his finger down the seating opposite the bar. “This will mean that you can’t have seats here and it’ll thin your walkway space from the seating area to the dance floor.”

I blink at the plans for a moment. “Give me a second.” I walk away from him and pull out my phone to dial the number for Aaron’s office.

“Hello. Aaron Stone’s office?”

“Hi, Dottie. This is Liv. Is Aaron around?”

“He’s just about to go to a meeting. Is it urgent?”

“It’s pretty important, yeah.”

“Just a sec.”

I hear a rustle as she moves the phone then a low rumble of voices. Seconds later, Aaron comes on the line.

“What can I do for you, Liv?”

I explain everything the builder just said to me, but he cuts me off halfway through.

“Shit. Okay, look. I can’t be late for this meeting. Just do what you think is best, even if it means overriding the plans, all right?”

“Uh”—shit—“sure.”

The line goes dead. I close my eyes and mutter a few choice words. I did not sign up for this.

“Okay,” I breathe, rejoining the builder and running my eyes over the plans. “Can you move the bar?”

“I guess… To here or here.”

“Then the dance floor would be here, correct?” I circle the area at the bottom of the stairs.