Last Call by Alannah Lynne

drew in a deep breath. However, rather than calming
her jumbled nerves, the smell of new car, warm leather, and hot
Gavin stirred her inner turmoil into an increased state of
agitation.
    When Ed showed up tonight, she would throttle
him. First, for letting her run out of coffee. Secondly, for
embarrassing her—again—over Mr. Hot Shot.
    “Back home?” Gavin asked, climbing behind the
wheel.
    “Yep.” She studied his profile as he put his
sunglasses on, then steered out of the lot. “Why did you lie about
your business?”
    The muscle in his jaw worked as he clenched
his teeth together. After a long time of thinking about the simple
question, he blew out a breath and said, “I didn't want to upset
them. It wouldn't be prudent to spill the beans before we're ready
to break ground.”
    “That was smart, because if your project
depends on me selling, you won’t be breaking ground.” Okay, that
sounded bitchier than she’d intended, but the coffee hadn’t kicked
in yet and she wanted to make sure he understood. She. Wasn’t.
Selling.
    Ever.
    He didn’t respond, and they rode the rest of
the way to the Blackout in silence. Gavin pulled into the same spot
and put the car in park, but left the motor idling as he stared at
the building in front of them. “You would make enough from the sale
of this building to open another bar anywhere you wanted.”
    Well, shit. He hadn’t understood. She grabbed
her bag and climbed out of the car. Before slamming the door shut,
she said, “Thanks for the ride.”
    The car’s engine died and Gavin was hot on
her heels as she rounded the back of the building and climbed the
stairs. “Sunny, just listen to what I have to say. I’ll even let
you name your price.”
    Ha! Wonder what he’d say if she told him ten
million dollars. She must have completely lost her mind, though,
because she didn’t think she’d sell for even that ridiculous
amount.
    She stopped and turned to face off with him.
“This is more than a bar, Gavin. This is our home. There are some
things money can’t buy. Roots. A solid foundation. Friends.” She
bit her lip to stop the tirade and took a deep breath. “Robby and I
poured our hearts and souls into this place. It’s not for sale. And
I refuse to continue this discussion any further.”
    Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she
pushed through the kitchen door, then fought the urge to slam it in
his face. Figuring he still wasn’t ready to give up, she tore a
chunk out of the brown paper bag, grabbed a Sharpie, and in huge,
clearly legible letters wrote: NOT FOR SALE!
    He’d followed her into the kitchen and was
standing by the door, hands stuffed into his front pockets,
watching her. She held the note up to his face and said, “Read it
out loud.”
    Gavin looked at the note, then pinched the
bridge of his nose and pressed his lips together. She got the
distinct impression he was trying not to laugh.
    When he didn’t answer, she rattled the paper
under his nose. He shook his head and, holding back most of his
laughter, said, “Not for sale.”
    “Good. One more time. With feeling.”
    This time, laughter filled his words as he
said, “Not for sale.”
    “Okay.” She pressed the paper to his chest
and waited for him to take hold before letting go. “We clear
now?”
    He didn’t reply, but as she turned her back
on him to unpack the bag, she heard the paper methodically
crinkling, like he was folding it. Good, maybe he’d keep it to take
back to his boss as her final offer.
    She needed a cigarette in the worst way.
Rather than caving—only because she didn’t have any—she grabbed a
butterscotch Dum-Dum and popped it in her mouth.
    “What’s with the suckers?”
    “I used Dum-Dum's to quit smoking. Now I
can't quit the damn suckers.” She jammed the coffee into the
cabinet and refilled the dangerously low sucker jar. Running out of
coffee had been bad. Running out of Dum-Dums would spell disaster.
Moving around him to throw the empty