Sweetheart

A Firecracker Bonus Short

🧨

Dan

I was in no mood to be friendly tonight.

I tended to be gruff as a general rule—I’d never been big on small talk, and I wasn’t any good at the charmy-smarmy smile-and-wink stuff other folks seemed to pull off so effortlessly—but usually, I made an effort when I was tending bar at the Tavern since it was kind of in my job description.

Tonight, though, with my boss, Flynn, and my regular coworkers all off doing couple-things with their partners or date-y things with their dates while I handled the crowd of leaf-peepers and kept Flynn’s crew of brand-new servers in line, I was feeling, as my friend Alden would say, “extra salty.”

So it should come as no surprise to anyone that when the good-looking stranger sat down at the bar directly across from me and started in on the sweet talk, I wasn’t having it.

“Beautiful night outside,” he offered as if I gave a single shit, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the door like I wasn’t sure where outside was.

I busied myself washing a cocktail shaker and pretended I couldn’t hear him.

“It’s so cool and crisp now that the sun’s gone down,” he went on in a dreamy sort of voice. “And there’s a great big harvest moon up in the sky, making the whole town look all silvery gold.”

Silvery gold? What kind of fucked-up Crayolas had this guy’s parents been buying?

I glanced at the two ladies on the other end of the bar to see if they were ready for refills, but they were still working on their previous round.

The guy didn’t seem to notice I was ignoring him or maybe didn’t care. “When I was walking over here earlier, a breeze blew in off the water and stirred all the leaves on the trees so they came spiraling down in this magical, colorful shower.” He sighed happily.

Magical? Was he for real?

Tourists, I scoffed mentally. I set the shaker on the drying rack and grabbed a rag to wipe off the rings under the ladies’ cocktail glasses before replacing the napkins under their drinks.

“I think autumn is the best part of living in New England. Don’t you?”

I bit back a growl, driven beyond the limits of my salt-endurance. “No,” I said shortly. “No, I do not. And do you know why?”

I finally looked up at the man, who stared at me like he was a startled deer and I was a pair of headlights. He was around my age, I guessed. Midtwenties, maybe a little older. But with his shiny chestnut hair, smooth cheeks, and wide, brown eyes, he could have passed for far younger. Frankly, he could have passed for one of the woodland creatures in a Disney movie. Bambi, maybe. Or Bambi’s even-more-innocent boyfriend.

The man shook his head. “No, why?”

“Because as soon as the leaves start to fall,” I informed him, leaning a hand on the bar and getting into his space, “it’s all over. First, there’s one or two sporting color, and it’s cute, I guess. It’s still nice out—warm enough to be on the water or to go for a hike on a whim. People start injecting pumpkin spice into every damn thing, the whole world smells like applesauce. But then the leaves keep falling. They’re all over the yard. They litter the street and make the sidewalks slippery when it rains—because it will rain,” I said ominously. “It always does. And then, before you know it, every tree withers to the skeletal remains of its summer glory, the weather turns so cold your balls’ll fall off if you even think of hiking without a ton of gear, the snow starts to fall in dump truck loads, and you’re stuck inside with nothing to do for about a hundred years until spring comes. That’s why.”

That was the most words I’d strung together in months, and I hoped he was suitably impressed.

“O-oh.” The man’s wide eyes went even wider, and he swallowed hard. “Wow, that’s… wow.”

Shit. Way to be an asshole, Dan. No wonder you can’t get a date. You just made Bambi’s Sweetheart sad.

I backed off immediately. “Look, I’m sorry—” I began.

The guy shook his head, cutting off my lame apology. “That sounds amazing.”

“It does?” I demanded.

He smiled at me—no warning, no nothing—just turned on a whole-face grin, complete with a sexy dimple that immediately shot the temperature inside the Tavern from September chill to July heat wave and made my lonely dick perk up. “I think lying around the house with nothing to do for months sounds… pretty epic, honestly. I’m very, very good at laying around.”

I blinked at him, then blinked some more while trying to get the blood in my head to start pumping north instead of south so I could process his words. Once I finally managed it, though, I was assaulted by images of this sweetheart practicing his laying around while fully naked on the rug in front of my fireplace, which didn’t help my erection situation in the slightest.

A strangled coughing sound emerged from my throat, and I finally managed to look away. “Drink,” I said desperately, trying not to look at his adorable dimple.

I wasn’t sure if I was asking for one or offering one, but Sweetheart didn’t seem to notice that I’d lost my powers of speech.

“Yeah, for sure! I’d love to try a mead since that’s what this place is known for.” He glanced at the chalkboard menu above my head, gnawing his lower lip as he read through the many varietals like his future hung in the balance. At length, he shook his head. “I can’t decide. What do you think?”

I think you should stop chewing that lip and let me kiss it for you instead.

The thought was like a record scratch in my head. I didn’t do casual sex very often, and I sure as fuck didn’t do casual sex with the tourists who flocked to Flynn Honeycutt’s bar.

Hell, if I were being honest, I hadn’t been doing sex at all in recent months, thanks to the short-lived, one-sided crush I’d developed on Flynn earlier in the summer… and the subsequent crash and burn when my uptight boss had finally admitted he’d been in love with his childhood rival, JT Wellbridge, since the dawn of time.

And my sex-free state was not going to change tonight.

Sweetheart tilted his head at me like he was waiting for something, and I suddenly remembered he’d asked a question.

About mead. At the Tavern. Where I worked.

Head out of your boxers, Dan.

I cleared my throat, but the words still came out sandpaper rough. “Depends what you like, I guess.” I shrugged.

“I like lots of things,” Sweetheart assured me. “I’m easy.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, his cheeks turned pink.

“I-I mean, easy to please,” he corrected, then slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sweet Jesus. I’m making it worse.”

I chuckled.

This man had clearly been sent by the casual-sex gods to tempt me out of my shit mood, and it was getting harder to remember why I’d sworn off tourists. He was making an effort, and I had to admit it felt good. It felt good to be wanted by someone, to be noticed by someone who continued to make an effort despite me putting forth my best fuck-off vibes.

Seeing him blush was the highlight of my entire month.

“Making what worse?” I asked innocently. “My night is suddenly looking up.”

Sweetheart snorted, and I shot him a wink.

“How about Honeybridge Sunshine?” I turned to begin pulling him a pint. “If you don’t like that, we’ll try something else.”

“Thanks,” he said when I set the mead in front of him. “Eventually I’ll try all of them, but I’m new in town.”

“Yep, I figured. You here for the weekend?”

“For this weekend and the foreseeable future. I bought a little house on the lake off Gunter Road.”

Not a tourist?

My heart rate kicked up several notches at this information, and I ran a hand over my beard. “Pretty area. So… what brought you to Honeybridge?”

Sweetheart gave me a dimpled grin sexy enough to shoot a tiny dart through my chest. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t go on and on about loving autumn, huh?”

The quick bite of humor was enough to make me laugh out loud. The sound came out rusty, like I hadn’t used those muscles in a long minute.

“Nah, that’s only part of it. I decided I really hated living in the city, and I wanted some peace and quiet.” He lifted one slim shoulder. “Not to mention this area is great for sailing.”

I blinked. The man was interested in boats? I fucking loved sailing.

I opened my mouth to ask a follow-up question, but then he took a sip of his mead and let out a soft moan of pleasure, and my brain was filled with nothing but white noise.

At that exact moment, one of the new servers came over with a drink order, and while part of me wanted to bite her head off at the interruption, I was also glad for the chance to pull pints and regroup for a second. I was already so hard my cock was being strangled by my jeans. If Sweetheart got any more attractive, I was going to have a situation the Honeybridge gossip guild would feast on for years.

Slow your roll, Dan.

Once I’d filled the order, I turned back to the handsome stranger who’d turned my whole evening on its head. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know everything. More than anything, I wanted to see that megawatt smile again.

I figured I should probably ask the man his name, but Sweetheart suited him perfectly. 

“Tell me, what kind of job do you have that you could simply pick up and move to Honeybridge?”

“Ooof. I don’t know if I should tell you that,” he said solemnly. He sipped at the mead and closed his eyes in bliss again.

“Really.” A small, silly smile kept making my lips quirk despite my best efforts. “Is it a secret?”

“Nope. It’s just…” He bit that poor lip again, leaned toward me over the bar, and glanced up at me from beneath his eyelashes. “I was kinda hoping to get you interested in me, and if I tell you, you’ll write me off as the most boring person you’ve ever met.”

There’s no way, I wanted to tell him. I cannot remember the last time anyone made me feel like this. Like they were put in exactly the right place at the right time and made especially for me.

I knew better than to say that out loud, though. 

Instead, I lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “My brother is an accountant, and his wife is an auditor. Top that.”

The man laughed again, treating me to another one of those killer dimple smiles, and I felt my muscles slowly relax. He was really fucking easy to talk to.

Part of me wanted to second-guess the whole thing—since when did sunshiny, kind morsels of sexiness with a good sense of humor appear in this bar? Since never—but the man’s magic kept pulling me in. There was not a damn thing about him that I didn’t find absolutely fascinating and desirable—

“I write training materials for medical records software.”

I barked out a laugh. “Oh, fuck, seriously? Okay, Sweetheart, you win. That’s awful.”

He stared at me for a long moment, grinning wildly, then seemed to recall himself to our conversation. “Yeah, my career is not exactly what I dreamed of as a child,” he agreed, eyes dancing. He took the last sip of his mead and set the glass down. “But I’m really good at it. I dare you to try and make diagnostic code data entry sound fun.”

“I wouldn’t even try.” I grabbed the glass and immediately went to refill it. I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “That can’t be the only way you spend your days.”

“No. I told you, my true love is sailing, hence my move to Honeybridge. I restore antique catboats,” he said, like he was confessing to something rather than saying the one thing that could have made him even more outrageously sexy to me. “That’s a single-mast sailboat with a—”

“I know what a catboat is,” I interrupted. “I have a Wenaumet Kitten. I just had to pull it out of the water last weekend.”

“Seriously?” Sweetheart’s mouth opened, and his brown eyes shone. “Oh, man. No wonder you’re down on the change of seasons. But if you get into restoring them, then you have something to look forward to this winter when you can’t be on the water,” he advised. “That was my plan, seeing as I don’t know a single soul in town.”

“You know me now,” I reminded him before realizing he didn’t actually know me. “And, ah, my name is Dan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dan.” His eyes met mine intently and softened with an expression I didn’t dare name in case I jinxed myself but which made my red blood cells start doing a two-step they’d never done before.

I looked away, suddenly nervous. “I could introduce you around, if you wanted. Flynn—the owner of the bar—he knows everyone in town, and I swear they all pass through here once a week.”

Sweetheart watched me move behind the bar as I closed out the two ladies’ ticket and cleaned up their glasses.

“What about you?” he asked softly when I came closer to him again. “Do you know everyone, too?”

I could tell he was asking something different. He was asking if I was available. And for him… I very much was.

“I haven’t been in town that long either,” I admitted, meeting his eyes. “Not long enough to settle down or anything.”

He nodded. Then he quickly downed the remainder of his mead, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Thank you for the mead. It’s delicious.” He pulled out his wallet and placed a few bills on the bar. But before I even had a chance to register the overwhelming disappointment of this man leaving without me, he spoke again. “Would you like to come over later, after you close? It’ll be too dark for me to show you my dock and the workshop, but I could—”

“Yeah,” I blurted in a gruff voice, shocking both of us. My heart skidded in my chest. He was sexy. He was kind. He wanted me. And with just a few minutes’ conversation, he’d made the whole world seem warmer and brighter. Summer in human form. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.” He reached across the bar to pull a pen out of my apron and scribbled his address and phone number on a cocktail napkin. His dark eyes met mine as he slowly slid the pen back into my pocket. “Don’t change your mind.” He slid off the barstool and walked away.

I glanced down at the paper in my hand. Below his number and address, he’d written the word Sweetheart and underlined it twice.

I swallowed and shook my head, silently wondering how this casual encounter had turned out to be so much more than I anticipated… and where it would go from here.

🧨

Clay

Tonight at the Tavern was not the first time I’d noticed Dan.

Three weeks ago, on my first night in Honeybridge, I’d run to Bixby’s Market to get some groceries for my new place. It had been pouring rain outside, and I’d been huddled inside my hooded raincoat, wondering if the weather was trying to confirm my parents’ opinion that I’d made a giant mistake. Who gives up a perfectly lovely apartment near his family, moves to a town in the middle of nowhere where he doesn’t know a single soul, and buys a house on a whim, Clay?

After a long day of hauling all my belongings by myself in the rain, I’d started to think the answer was someone far more confident than me. The whole experience had taken a toll.

But then I’d gotten in the checkout line with my purchases… and Dan had been there.

He was a little taller than me but stockier, with a head of dark hair, a beard, and a plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows to reveal forearms so perfectly formed I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. If anyone had asked me, prior to that moment, what my type was, I’d have told them I didn’t have one because I wasn’t that particular… but it turned out I did, and there he was.

And it wasn’t just the look of him that had gotten me, either. It was his… everything. His sardonic smile and his casual stance, his restless energy and his strength.

He’d filled his basket with single-guy food—instant oatmeal, bananas, protein powder, sandwich fixings, two frozen meals, and a six-pack of craft beer—but when he’d plunked down the basket and the cashier had asked for ID, Dan had gotten adorably flustered.

“Brendan, you know who I am. You order mead from me at the Tavern every Saturday afternoon. I couldn’t sell alcohol if I weren’t legal,” he’d said, patting his pockets. “Dammit. I don’t have my ID or my wallet. I always pay with my phone.”

“No ID, no beer,” the young man had said flatly. “I don’t make the rules, Dan.”

Dan had bristled in frustration, but just when I’d expected him to lose his temper, he’d rolled his eyes and thrown his hands up. “Fine, then. Keep the damn beer. And for the record, I’m twenty-nine. Jesus.”

Without letting myself think about it too much, I’d pulled out my own ID and tried handing it to the cashier. “I’ll pay for the beer.”

Dan had barely glanced at me over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed pink. “No, thanks. I don’t have any cash on me to pay you back for it. Besides, if they won’t sell it to me, I don’t want it.” He’d nodded firmly at Brendan, paid for the rest of his groceries without another word, and then strode out.

I’d stared after him for a long minute, and I’d smiled, appreciating the confidence that radiated off him. He wasn’t embarrassed, wasn’t apologetic, and hadn’t stuck around to argue the point or ask for a manager. He’d simply set a boundary and stuck to it the same way I had when I’d finally told my family I was leaving Boston and building myself a new life in Honeybridge.

I’d only been in town for a few hours, and I’d already felt like I was in the right place. Somehow, this stranger in the market had made me feel empowered to be myself.

“Sir? Excuse me? Sir.” Brendan had waved a hand in front of my face and nodded at my basket. “You gonna buy that stuff?”

“Sorry,” I’d said, feeling my cheeks go hot as I handed over my credit card. “I’ll take the beer, too,” I’d added impulsively.

After that encounter, I’d been low-key obsessed with tracking Dan down just so I could see him again. But I was way too shy to seek him out like some kind of creeper. Instead, I’d tried to forget him…

And I’d succeeded. For three very long, very solitary weeks, while the beer had languished in my fridge, untouched.

Then, tonight, I hadn’t been able to take it anymore.

I’d told myself I wasn’t going to the Tavern to seek Dan out but because a man had to eat, and the chef at the Tavern was legendary. I’d told myself it was pure coincidence that the only available seat at the bar was right across from where Dan was standing.

The truth was I’d been drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and the lessons I’d learned from my move to Maine were nudging me insistently. Be bold. Be empowered. Reach out for what you want.

Shockingly enough, I’d gotten it. Dan was heading over in just a few moments. He’d called me Sweetheart.

I was trying not to attach too much importance to that, but as I waited by the fire in my cozy living room, I couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at my lips, remembering how it felt to be the focus of Dan’s attention earlier. I wanted the man so damn badly, and I’d come up with a laundry list of things I wanted to do with him. 

Despite the fact that I’d been waiting for him, it was still a shock when I was torn out of my fantasies by the sound of the front door opening, and I startled hard. “Holy shit. You’re here!”

Dan shut the door and took two steps toward me until he stood on the rug in front of the hearth, bathed in the fire glow.

“Why d’you look so surprised?” The words came out as a sexy growl. “You invited me. Didn’t you?”

“Definitely. But I guess part of me wondered if you’d rethink,” I admitted. “You seemed like you were having a bad day.”

He was wearing a clean shirt, wash-worn flannel hugging his body over tight-fitting jeans. When he tentatively reached out a hand to me, our eyes locked. “The night got better when you showed up,” he said simply. “And I wanted you too much to rethink anything.”

I grinned and took the hand he offered, letting him pull me to my feet. When our fingers twined, my heart began pounding frantically. This was actually happening.

“Thank fuck.” I grinned. “Because I’ve wanted you ever since we met at Bixby’s Market.”

Dan frowned, and a little crinkle appeared between his eyes, confirming my suspicion that he hadn’t remembered our first meeting. “The market?”

Reach out for what you want.

I laughed softly and sat back down, pulling him close until he stood between my open legs. His eyes flashed with heat that made me feel powerful.

“You got carded for beer,” I reminded him, running my hands up under his shirt to the warm skin of his stomach and sides because I couldn’t stand not touching him.

His cheeks flushed above his beard. “That was you? You had your hood pulled up…” He shook his head. “God, how embarrassing. You saw me losing my shit.”

I smiled up at him. “You and I remember that a lot differently. I thought you were amazing.”

I lifted the front of his shirt and pressed a grateful kiss to his bare stomach, right above his belly button.

He sucked in a breath and lifted his hands to tangle in my hair. “Not really. Brendan likes to fuck with me ever since I turned him down one night at the Tavern.”

I nodded. I could see how that would make someone upset. If Dan rejected me now, I’d probably cry. “Why’d you turn him down?” I whispered against his stomach, absorbing his shiver into my body.

Dan seemed to be having a hard time thinking, let alone speaking… and I relished the idea that he was as turned on as I was. Reaching out for what I wanted was far, far easier when I knew it was what Dan wanted, too.

“Brendan… he didn’t do it for me,” Dan managed.

“Is that right?” I moved my fingers up to brush against his nipples without taking my eyes off his. “And what does do it for you?”

“Apparently, relentless positivity,” he said with the barest hint of a teasing grin. He reached out to brush a thumb against the edge of my lips. “Autumn enthusiasts with gorgeous smiles and big brown eyes. And a fucking dimple. The dimple definitely does it for me.”

Thank fuck. Giddy relief coursed through me, and I smiled wider.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “You know, I’ve been calling you Sweetheart in my head all night.” His grin went lopsided, and my stomach swooped. “I should probably know your real name. You didn’t tell me at the Tavern.”

My cheeks heated. Oh. Right. “Clay. My name’s Clay.”

“Clay,” he repeated, stroking my cheek like he was committing it to memory.

I swallowed hard, my senses overwhelmed by his nearness, and I admitted, “But I kinda like it when you call me Sweetheart.”

A tiny laugh escaped him. “That’s more than fine with me.”

I licked the happy trail that led down to his waistband. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for three weeks. And then earlier tonight… you didn’t seem interested at first—”

“Oh, I was interested,” he said in a rough voice. “A little too fucking interested.”

“You didn’t notice me,” I teased.

“A stranger who walked into my bar and started talking about leaves and moonbeams?” He snorted. “I noticed.”

“You didn’t seem particularly friendly.”

Dan stepped closer, and I noticed his dick was filling out the front of his jeans beautifully. “Not friendly,” he said in a rough voice. “And sometimes I bite.”

I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper before sliding his pants and underwear down to reveal a perfect cock and heavy balls. “I’m okay with biting,” I admitted in a low voice, leaning forward to inhale the scent of him.

Dan leaned down and took my face in both of his hands. “I’m so fucking hot for you I feel like laughing. How did I get lucky enough to get picked up by someone so incredibly sexy while I was in the worst mood tonight? I was an ass to you. I’m sorry.”

Then he kissed me, and it felt like one of those moments where time itself sucks in a shocked breath while the world resets itself. He tasted sweet and soft, hesitant for a brief moment until time did its funky dance and the kiss turned hungry.

I grabbed him and pulled him closer, kissing him harder and deeper as if this was my one shot at the man. I really hoped it wasn’t. I needed more of him.

The noises he made were unexpected and lit my fire in ways I’d never imagined. I’d expected to lure Dan back here for sex. Have a night of connection, hot sex, and possibly make a new friend in town. But this? This was magnetic, overwhelming.

Addictive.

“Come to my bed,” I said, yanking at the rest of his clothes and shoes until he was naked. I stood and continued kissing him as I backed him toward my bedroom and nudged him down onto my bed. “Stay right there.”

I wanted to look at him while I undressed. If I took my eyes off him, I was afraid he’d disappear. This was all way too good to be true.

“Will you fuck me?” he asked breathlessly.

My cock was strangled in my jeans. I fought my clothes off as fast as I could without tripping myself and falling dick-first onto the poor man.

“Is that what you want?”

I was enthusiastically vers, but I rarely topped. Most guys seemed to expect me to bottom. I loved that Dan didn’t.

Dan nodded and took a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do. And I want to suck you off. And I want to fuck you, too. But…”

I pulled the last of my clothes off and climbed on top of him, dropping open-mouthed kisses everywhere my lips could reach. “But what?”

He suddenly looked shy. “But I want to kiss you first. Again. More.”

I moved up until our noses were brushing against each other. As slowly as I could, I teased him with my lips and the tip of my tongue until his breathing stuttered.

“You’re going to change everything, aren’t you?” he whispered against the side of my face.

I smiled before taking his earlobe into my mouth and sucking long and slowly.

“I’m sure as hell going to try. If you’ll let me.”

He turned his face and met my lips with his.

Somehow, with Dan here in my bed, in my arms, I knew that Honeybridge, Maine, finally felt like home.

And I was ready to settle in for the long haul.

🧨

We hope you enjoyed the Firecracker Bonus short, Sweetheart! Up next in the Honeybridge series is Mr. Important, an age-gap, boss/employee story that will set your fingers on fire as you turn each page…