Pure Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Shayla Black
Authors: Shayla Black
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bowl of sugar and a cinnamon roll, as always. She watched him doctor his coffee with somewhere north of a half dozen teaspoons of sugar.
“You know too much sugar is bad for you.” She grinned. Every day, they gave one another a hard time about something. She usually let him win.
He waved her away, his old black hand gnarled with arthritis now. “When you’re my age, you feel like you’ve defied death for years. Bring it on, I say.”
Bristol laughed. “Well, if I had your metabolism and didn’t have to worry about the size of my hips, I’d probably say the same thing.”
“You’re a pretty thing. When is some smart man going to scoop you up?”
“Maybe marriage isn’t for me.” She shrugged. “I mean, I already struggle to do my own laundry. The thought of doing someone else’s is awful.”
“I married Mildred because my mama told me it was time to look after myself and I didn’t know the first thing about cooking.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but Bristol let him talk. “Well, I know she fed you since you made it all these years.”
“Yeah, but not a day has gone by since I lost my wife that I haven’t wished I’d married her sooner so I could have spent more time with her. God rest her soul.”
Bristol’s heart fluttered. Mr. Jones’s longing made her wistful for something more. Her time with Jamie had probably contributed to that, too. She really had to stop romanticizing the man. One more nice gesture on his part and she’d probably fall head over heels. Once he figured it out, he’d likely wonder what the hell was wrong with her.
“I know she would say the same if she could be with us,” Bristol said softly and took his hand.
The old man closed his eyes and gave her a squeeze. “Find your someone while you’re young enough to build a whole lot of years together and share the love. Houses and jobs come and go. But there’s nothing better than having someone who’s your home.”
She gave him a smile, trying not to tear up and show him her sadness. But every word he’d said called to her heart’s deepest desire. Her grandmother had once told her that she was meant to be married. But instead of baking for her husband and kids, she did so for the townsfolk. She mothered a cat. More often than not, she spent her intimate time with a vibrator.
Bristol wanted more. The insidious thought crept in that she wanted Jamie.
Nodding at the old man, she gave his hand one last squeeze before she turned away, taking an unnecessary trek to wipe off the counter next to the display case. It gave her a good reason to bow her head and collect herself.
“I would, but none of the guys of my generation are as handsome or as fabulous as you.”
“You’ll find someone. You’re too sweet to be alone.” He grinned. “And some smart fella who can’t cook for himself is going to treasure you.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” She winked as he rose slowly from his chair, left some money on the table, grabbed his cane, and made his way out the door.
Mr. Jones had given her food for thought. She wasn’t that woman who couldn’t be complete without a man. She didn’t hate the life she’d built for herself. She wasn’t old-fashioned, and she certainly had aspirations of her own. But Bristol couldn’t deny she’d like to be a wife and mother.
Someday.
With a sigh, she headed back into the kitchen and worked her way through the majority of the morning customers. One of the new schoolteachers came in for a dozen cookies for her hardworking students as the end of the school year approached. A few stay-at-home moms popped in for coffee and veggie omelets on their way to yoga. The guys from the drugstore down the street came to snag an assortment of goodies for their post-lunch treat. When she looked up again, it was nearly eleven a.m. She’d have another lull before her few lunch customers came in, so she hustled to toss together a few salads and sandwiches for the display case.
The
“You know too much sugar is bad for you.” She grinned. Every day, they gave one another a hard time about something. She usually let him win.
He waved her away, his old black hand gnarled with arthritis now. “When you’re my age, you feel like you’ve defied death for years. Bring it on, I say.”
Bristol laughed. “Well, if I had your metabolism and didn’t have to worry about the size of my hips, I’d probably say the same thing.”
“You’re a pretty thing. When is some smart man going to scoop you up?”
“Maybe marriage isn’t for me.” She shrugged. “I mean, I already struggle to do my own laundry. The thought of doing someone else’s is awful.”
“I married Mildred because my mama told me it was time to look after myself and I didn’t know the first thing about cooking.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but Bristol let him talk. “Well, I know she fed you since you made it all these years.”
“Yeah, but not a day has gone by since I lost my wife that I haven’t wished I’d married her sooner so I could have spent more time with her. God rest her soul.”
Bristol’s heart fluttered. Mr. Jones’s longing made her wistful for something more. Her time with Jamie had probably contributed to that, too. She really had to stop romanticizing the man. One more nice gesture on his part and she’d probably fall head over heels. Once he figured it out, he’d likely wonder what the hell was wrong with her.
“I know she would say the same if she could be with us,” Bristol said softly and took his hand.
The old man closed his eyes and gave her a squeeze. “Find your someone while you’re young enough to build a whole lot of years together and share the love. Houses and jobs come and go. But there’s nothing better than having someone who’s your home.”
She gave him a smile, trying not to tear up and show him her sadness. But every word he’d said called to her heart’s deepest desire. Her grandmother had once told her that she was meant to be married. But instead of baking for her husband and kids, she did so for the townsfolk. She mothered a cat. More often than not, she spent her intimate time with a vibrator.
Bristol wanted more. The insidious thought crept in that she wanted Jamie.
Nodding at the old man, she gave his hand one last squeeze before she turned away, taking an unnecessary trek to wipe off the counter next to the display case. It gave her a good reason to bow her head and collect herself.
“I would, but none of the guys of my generation are as handsome or as fabulous as you.”
“You’ll find someone. You’re too sweet to be alone.” He grinned. “And some smart fella who can’t cook for himself is going to treasure you.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” She winked as he rose slowly from his chair, left some money on the table, grabbed his cane, and made his way out the door.
Mr. Jones had given her food for thought. She wasn’t that woman who couldn’t be complete without a man. She didn’t hate the life she’d built for herself. She wasn’t old-fashioned, and she certainly had aspirations of her own. But Bristol couldn’t deny she’d like to be a wife and mother.
Someday.
With a sigh, she headed back into the kitchen and worked her way through the majority of the morning customers. One of the new schoolteachers came in for a dozen cookies for her hardworking students as the end of the school year approached. A few stay-at-home moms popped in for coffee and veggie omelets on their way to yoga. The guys from the drugstore down the street came to snag an assortment of goodies for their post-lunch treat. When she looked up again, it was nearly eleven a.m. She’d have another lull before her few lunch customers came in, so she hustled to toss together a few salads and sandwiches for the display case.
The
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