Chapter 1
Sex on the Beach
Mason
“You
want Sex on the Beach?”
“I
beg your pardon?” Her large, dark eyes focused on my face as she glanced up
from the glowing screen of her cell phone.
I
grinned. “The drink, not actual…you know. Sex on the Beach is today’s
two-for-one special.” I motioned toward the framed chalkboard hanging on the
wall with the daily special neatly printed in fluorescent colors.
“Oh.”
Her lips curved into a smile once she realized she’d misunderstood me, not that
I wouldn’t be willing to give her both, the drink and the sex. There weren’t
any beaches in Tennessee, but hell, I’d be willing to drive over to the coast.
“Sure,” she agreed.
It
was early yet, and there weren’t many people sitting at the bar. I clicked my
tongue and pointed at her. “Be right back with the best Sex on the Beach you
ever had.”
Moving
over to the liquor, I filled a glass with ice and poured in all the
ingredients, resulting in a drink the color of a sunset. I added a lemon wedge
on the edge of the glass, tossed in a maraschino cherry, and poked in a straw.
I
set the glass in front of her, and her plump red lips encircled the straw as I
patiently waited on the verdict.
Pushing
silken tresses the color of dark chocolate over her shoulder, she straightened
on her stool. “You’re right. That is the best Sex on the Beach I ever had.”
A
victorious smirk shot across my face.
“It’s
also the only one I’ve ever had,” she added, looking way too smug as she cut
her eyes at me.
I
shrugged a shoulder. “Still counts.”
Moving
down the bar, I picked up an empty glass, wiped the bar clean, and stuffed a not-too-shabby
tip in my pocket. Spanky Dewberry, my manager as well as the owner of Spanky’s,
came out of his office and walked briskly toward me. He was a short man with a
wide girth. As he strode down the main aisle that separated two sections of
tables and approached the bar, I waved. “Hey, Spanky, what’s going on?”
He
smoothed a wrinkled hand over the shiny bald spot on the top of his head and
combed his fingers through the white tufts of hair that sprang out on the lower
half of his scalp. “I see you’ve met Lexi.”
I
pointed to the only patron sitting at the bar. “This is Lexi?”
Upon
hearing her name, she stood and held out her hand. “Lexi Swafford.”
I
shook her hand, noticing that it was soft and warm. “Mason Cambridge. Nice to
meet you, Lexi.”
“Likewise.”
Her pouty lips curved into another smile, and her straight white teeth
contrasted dramatically against her deep red lips.
She
turned to the owner. “Your bartender was just trying to convince me that he
could give me the best Sex on the Beach I ever had.”
“He
tries to convince all the ladies of that, but they ain’t buying what he’s
selling.”
“Spanky,”
I protested in mock horror, “how can you do that to me? Besides, she’s already
admitted that I did give her the best Sex on the Beach she’s ever had.”
“Only
because I have nothing to compare it to,” she interjected, holding her finger
in the air.
Spanky chortled as he leaned against the bar.
“Y’all can work it out later. Lexi’s gonna help out with the bar, so I need you
to teach her everything you know about bartending.”
“Oh.”
I was a little surprised, not that he asked me to train her because I trained
all the bartenders and bar backs, but I hadn’t realized he was hiring. “You got
it.”
He
turned to Lexi. “You can start as soon as you finish your drink, or you can
wait until tomorrow. Your call.”
“I’ve
got nothing better to do. May as well start tonight.”
“If
y’all need anything, holler. I’m going back to the office.” He waddled away.
“Oh, and the drink’s on the house,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thank
you!” Lexi called, taking another sip.
“She’s
in good hands, Spanky.”
He
waved an acknowledgement without turning around.
“So,”
I drawled out, turning my attention back to Lexi, “it looks like it’s me and
you tonight.”
“You
didn’t know when you crawled out of bed this afternoon it was going to be your
lucky day, did you?” Her sexy lips smirked.
“No.
First, Sex on the Beach, and now I have someone to scrub the floors and haul
the ice. I think I’m in love.”
“Again?”
a male voice asked.
We
both looked up as one of Spanky’s regular patrons grabbed a seat a couple of
stools down.
“Hey,
bud, what’s going on?” I leaned over and bumped fists with him before turning
to Lexi. “Lexi, this is James Hawkins. Everybody calls him Hawk.”
“Hi,
Hawk.” She shook his hand.
“Lexi.”
He nodded a greeting.
“Hawk’s
a firefighter here in the great city of Creekview. So if you ever catch a
skillet full of bacon on fire and accidentally throw a pitcher of water on it, he
can help you out.”
“And
you’re speaking from experience?” Lexi asked me, her daintily plucked eyebrows
arched in question.
Hawk
chuckled. “Let’s just say there’s a reason Spanky doesn’t let him in the
kitchen.”
“Yeah,
he doesn’t want to waste my winning personality on chicken fingers and cheese
sticks.” I picked up a coaster, tossed it in the air with a spin, and let it
land on the bar in front of Hawk. “You want your usual?”
“Yep.
You know me.”
I
grabbed two bottles of beer, positioned the cap of one bottle just below the
other, and slammed one bottle down on the bar to pop the cap off the other.
“You are pretty predictable.” I set the open bottle of beer on the coaster in
front of Hawk.
“How’d
you do that?” Lexi sat up a little straighter as she took notice, her brow
furrowed.
“Oh,
no.” I waved my hand at her. “If you want to know my secrets, you have to share
yours.”
“Your
secrets aren’t that interesting.”
“Then
why do you want to know them?” Amused, I awaited her answer, but she abandoned
her question and went back to sipping her drink.
When
she didn’t take the bait, I turned my attention back to Hawk. “So how many cats
have you rescued this week?” I asked, propping my arms against the bar.
“No
cats, which is a good thing since I’m highly allergic to them. It’s actually
been pretty quiet. Put out a brush fire and responded to a few wrecks, none of
them too serious.” He took a long swig of his beer.
“So
basically you’ve been watching movies and working out?”
“Pretty
much. I’ve been off the last couple of days, but it’s back to work tomorrow.
Got a bunch of kindergarteners coming by for a tour.”
I
laughed at the thought of Hawk being overwhelmed by dozens of kids asking a
million questions. “You better prepare yourself,” I warned. “Why is the fire
truck red? Can I drive it? Why is a fire hot? How do you fill your truck up
with water?”
Hawk
took another swig and set his beer on the coaster. “Or my personal favorite: My
mom said she wants to date a fireman. Will you go out with her?”
“A
kid actually said that?” Lexi asked.
“Oh,
yeah. They have no filters.”
“Well,
what did his mom look like?” I asked.
“I
don’t know, but based on the kid….” He scrunched his face.
“So
what you’re trying to say is he was one of the ugliest kids you’ve ever seen?”
I asked.
“That
wasn’t exactly what I was trying to say, but it would be an accurate
statement.”
“That’s
mean,” Lexi admonished us.
I
pointed to Hawk as I looked at Lexi and shook my head. “It’s not like he told
the kid he was ugly.”
She
frowned. “Guys are so….”
“Oh,
like you’ve never seen an ugly kid.” I spotted other customers walking toward
the bar, and I grabbed a couple of coasters and spun them in their direction. “Ladies,
how are y’all today?”
“We’re
fine, Mason. You?”
“The
only way I could be any better would be if I’s on that side of the bar having a
drink with you two lovelies.”
After
serving their drinks and ordering their food, I walked back over to Lexi.
“I’m
almost finished,” she assured me. She took another sip. “I rarely drink, so I
didn’t want to drink it too fast.”
“Rarely
drink? And you want to be a bartender?”
“Drinking’s
not a requirement,” she shot back.
Hawk
drained the rest of his beer as he stood, pushing the stool back with his
movement. “Lexi, when it comes to Mason, you’ve got to give as good as you
get.” He set his empty bottle down and fished money from his pocket. “Keep the
change.” He nodded at me, and then pivoted around and faced Lexi. “Guess I’ll
see you around?”
“I’ll
be here.” She gave him a smile and watched as he walked out of the bar.
“You
ready?” I asked, drawing her attention back to me.
“I’m
ready.”
When
she entered the bar area, I admired her tight-fitting jeans and her snug
jersey-style tee shirt. I went over some of the bar back duties, like washing
glasses, cleaning the bar, restocking items, and replenishing garnishes.
“So
how long have you been bartending?” she asked as she sliced lemons.
“For
about six years. Spanky gave me a job as a bar back when I was eighteen. After
a few months, he let me start bartending.”
“How
did you know that’s what you wanted to do?”
I
glanced at her profile as she concentrated on the lemons. Her dark hair was
pushed behind her shoulders, and her softly rounded cheeks made her seem young,
though I imagined that she was probably older than she looked.
“It’s
not that I wanted to do it.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I just needed a job, and
over the years, I’ve figured out what people want. So I give it to them, and
they give me a good tip.”
“And
what do they want?” Her hands stilled, and she studied my face as she waited on
my answer.
“Most
of them just want someone to talk to, somebody that they can tell how their day
went or talk about their problems. Basically, they just want someone who will
listen.
“If
they’re with someone else and they’re in deep conversation, then they may want
nothing more than someone who can give them service when they need it and get
their drinks right. I like to keep things interesting by adding a little flair
like the trick with opening the bottles.
“When
you’ve done it long enough, you get a feel for how to treat each customer, and of
course, we have a lot of regulars, so that takes the guesswork out of it once
you get to know them. The bottom line is they have to leave feeling better than
they did when they got here, and I don’t mean from the alcohol.”
She
went back to cutting lemons. “So you have to know how to read people?”
“You
definitely have to be a people person if you want to make good tips. If you
come in here scowling because you’ve had a crappy day, you’re gonna drag them
down with you, which will definitely affect your tips.”
Business
picked up, and I trained Lexi on as many things as I could. Since Sex on the
Beach was our daily special, I taught her how to make one, and every time one
was ordered, I let her fix it. We were pretty busy for a Thursday night, and by
the time we closed and got everything cleaned and stocked, we were both
exhausted.
“My
feet are killing me,” Lexi complained as she sat down at the bar. “If I had to
carry one more bucket of ice….”
I
plopped her share of the tips down on the counter. “You have to look at it like
this: the more ice you carry, the more tips you’re making.”
“It’s
hard to remember that when the pain is so intense it’s shooting up my legs.”
I
sat on the stool beside her. “Give me your foot.”
“What?
Why?” She shook her head. “There’s no way I’m giving you my foot.”
“Why?
Does it stink?”
She
smacked me playfully on the arm. “No, it doesn’t stink.”
“You
have ugly feet? Crooked toes? Warts?”
“No!”
I
patted my leg, motioning for her to lift her foot and rest it on my thigh.
“Fine,”
she said, finally obeying, “but I’m keeping my socks on.” I untied her shoe and
removed it, letting it drop to the floor. She wore black socks with pink polka
dots, and I cradled her small foot in my hands as my thumbs stroked the bottom
of her foot, working small circles over the surface.
She
moaned in delight. “That feels so good.”
“So
you still want to be a bartender?”
“I
never wanted to be a bartender.”
“Spanky
kidnapped you, tossed you over his shoulder, and forced you to work for him?”
“Of
course not.”
I
waited for her to elaborate, but instead, she closed her eyes, enjoying the
massage. “Ow,” she screeched, jerking her foot and laughing. “That’s the best
kind of hurt.”
I
lightened my hold and grinned as she relaxed her foot again. “Not the best kind,” I countered.
“Is
that why you do well in tips?”
“Is
what why?”
“Because
you flirt and charm the ladies?”
I
chuckled, amused by her assessment. “I told you that you have to be a people
person to do this job well.”
She
switched feet, and I removed her other shoe and massaged her foot. She groaned
as I worked the pain out.
“Maybe
you should’ve been a massage therapist,” she said with her eyes closed.
Her
comment amused me. She wasn’t the first woman to tell me that I was good with
my hands. “So do you live around here?”
“I
used to. My father was transferred when I was twelve. I always told myself that
I would move back one day. I just graduated from college a few months ago, so
here I am.”
I
stopped stroking her foot and glared at her like she was crazy. “You graduated
from college and you came here to get a job as a bartender?”
“Not
exactly.”
She
wouldn’t be at the bar long. Nobody spent all that time and money going to
college, so that they could bust their ass serving people behind a bar.
“How
long have you been back?”
“I
just rolled into town today.”
“You
already got a place to live?”
“No.
I’m staying at the hotel down the street until I can find something.” She
straightened up and pulled her foot out of my lap.
Standing,
I retrieved her shoes and handed them to her.
“I
tried to find a one-bedroom apartment before I came, but I didn’t have any
luck. I thought it might be easier once I got here.”
“Housing
around here is a little tight right now. They opened that new customer service
center on the edge of town. The place is huge, which is good because they’ve
brought a lot of new jobs to Creekview. The downside?”
“They’re
attracting people to the city and housing is being snatched up like free beer
at a frat party?”
“Exactly,
which is good for the bartending business.”
“But
bad for someone who’s just rolled into town hunting an apartment.”
“They’re
building some new apartments near the customer service center, but I don’t
think they’ll be ready for a few more months. You can probably call them, though,
and get yourself added to their waiting list.”
“They
have a waiting list?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice as she
realized getting an apartment might not be as easy as she thought.
“That’s
what I hear from my customers, and believe me, I hear just about everything
here: who’s sleeping with who, who got in a knock-down drag-out, who filed for
divorce, etcetera, etcetera. Gossip spreads faster than the warmth from a swig
of whiskey.”
“I’ll
have to check it out in the morning.”
“You
know, I just happen to be looking for a roommate. If you want to stay with me
while you find a place or while you wait on one of those new apartments, you’re
welcome to. The rent’ll be cheap, and I might even throw in a foot massage here
and there.”
“A
foot massage, huh?” She cocked her head in thought. “That’s mighty tempting.”
“It’s
just a thought.” I scanned the bar one more time to make sure everything was in
perfect order.
“I’ll
keep that in mind.” She stood up, and we both scooted our stools up to the bar.
Fishing
my cell phone out of my pocket, I asked her for her number, dialing it as she
told me. It started ringing. “Now, you’ve got my number. Call me if you want to
move in.”
“Thanks.”
“Let
me tell Spanky we’re leaving, and I’ll walk you to your car.”
I
walked briskly toward the office, knocked on the door, and popped my head in.
“Hey, Spanky, I’m fixing to walk Lexi out. You ready to leave?”
“You
kids go on. I’m going to stay a little while longer.” He took his glasses off
and laid them on the desk. Then, he leaned back and folded his arms behind his
head, his chair squeaking with the movement.
“Okay
then. See you later.”
“See
ya.”
I met Lexi back at the bar and walked her to
her car in the dimly lit parking lot. “See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,
Mason.”
“For
what? Sex on the Beach?”
“It
wasn’t very good, but I do appreciate your effort.”
I
chuckled at her unexpected response. “Ouch.” I playfully pushed her shoulder. “You
know it’s okay to admit you like being on the beach with me,” I teased.
“Are
you one of those guys?” she asked.
“I
don’t know who those guys are, but I
can guarantee you that I’m not one of them.”
She
grunted. “We’ll see about that.”
The
only thing I knew as well as bartending was women. I studied her face. Her eyes
were concealed by shadows, and I wondered what guy had broken her heart.
Clenching
my jaw, I slightly shook my head as a realization hit me.
I
probably was one of those guys.
Devil’s
Handshake
Lexi
My
alarm went off promptly at eight o’clock. I’d wanted to take a steaming bath
when I’d gotten back to the room last night, but since the room’s cleanliness
wasn’t quite up to par for me, I’d opted for a shower, instead. After settling
into bed, I’d propped my computer across my lap and searched online for the
apartment complex Mason had mentioned. The idea of being in a brand new place
that hadn’t been occupied previously appealed to the OCD side of me.
After
making a quick phone call, I arranged an appointment with the apartment manager
for a walk-through of the model apartment. I showered and dressed, and then I
packed my things and checked out of the hotel. An hour and a half later, I
pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked in front of a modular building the
complex was using as a makeshift office.
An
attractive woman greeted me from behind a desk, her gray roots marring her
well-groomed appearance. Upon seeing me, she pasted on a bright smile and
rushed around the desk as if a celebrity had just sashayed into her little
corner of the world.
“You
must be Lexi,” she said, making the handshake last a little longer than normal.
“I
am.”
“I’m
Lisa. I talked to you on the phone. So you’re interested in the one-bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Follow
me.” She exited the office and navigated her spiked heels carefully through the
large gravels until we crossed the parking lot and walked through the main
entrance of the apartment building. A small lobby neared completion, and we
turned into a hallway, passing unpainted sheetrock.
Approaching
the first door, she wrapped her hand around the doorknob and paused. “All the
floor plans for the one-bedrooms are identical. I think you’ll find it spacious
and comfortable.” She pushed the door open, and I followed her into a decent
sized living room.
I
listened to her as she moved from room to room, touting all the benefits. The
apartment was more than adequate, even though I would have preferred a few
upgrades, such as granite. Following her back to the office, she pulled out a
drawing of the finished complex and pointed out the clubhouse and pool.
“How
long before it’s finished?” If it wasn’t too long, then the wait would be a
minor inconvenience in exchange for an apartment that had never been occupied.
“About
four months.” She sat ramrod straight in her black suit, her hands clasped
together, resting on the desk. “Would you like to complete an application?
We’re filling up fast.”
My
decision was already made. “Yes.”
Shuffling
through one of her desk drawers, she pulled out the form and pushed it across
the desk. She grabbed a pen from a black ceramic coffee cup, clicked the top,
and handed it to me.
“I’ll
go ahead and add you to the waiting list. Once your application is approved,
I’ll notify you, and if you like, we can give you updates via text or email.
Just mark your preference on the application.”
The
form was fairly brief, which I appreciated. I quickly filled it out and passed
it back to her.
She
handed me a business card. “I’ll give you a call either today or tomorrow and
let you know whether it’s been approved. If you have any questions in the
meantime, give me a call.”
“I
will. Thank you.” I shook her hand and left.
I
had some time to kill before my shift started at Spanky’s. I’d been thinking
about Mason’s offer to room with him until my apartment was ready, and while it
would be a bit awkward, it seemed like the easiest solution.
Pulling
over into a strip mall parking lot, I grabbed my cell phone, took a deep
breath, and dialed his number.
The
phone rang several times, and I had decided he wasn’t going to answer when I
finally heard his hoarse whisper over the speaker. “Yeah.”
“Mason?”
I could tell I had woken him.
“Yes?”
“Sorry
to bother you. It’s Lexi.”
“Lexi,
hey,” he said, his voice perking up.
“Are
you still looking for a roommate?”
“I
am. You need a place?”
“I
went and looked at that apartment complex you told me about yesterday, and I’m
on their waiting list. They said it would be about four months. You care if I
stay there until my apartment’s ready?”
“Not
at all. When do you want to move in?”
“Would
now be too soon?”
He
chuckled gruffly. We quickly agreed on the price, and he gave me directions to
his apartment.
Ten
minutes later, I knocked on his front door. When he pulled it open, the first
thing I noticed was his bare chest, nicely muscled with a sinuous tribal tattoo
that flowed over his left shoulder and down his arm and the side of his torso. Despite
his disheveled appearance, he was still devilishly handsome. He ran his long
fingers through his silky hair, and it fell back into place, brushing against
his shoulders. An endearing grin shot across his face, and dimples softened his
angular cheeks.
“You
move fast, don’t ya, love?”
I
smiled, unable to stop my perusal from dipping to the V lines that disappeared
into low-riding jeans. “Being homeless is an amazing incentive.”
He
held his hand out, and I shook it. “Congratulations, we’re now officially
roommates.” Opening the door wider, he waved me in. “Welcome home.”
I
started to pick up my suitcase, but he stopped me. “I’ll get that.”
“Thank
you.” Waltzing into the apartment, I looked around. It was fairly nice in an
extremely masculine way. The walls were bare, but the furniture was stylish,
even if it was coated in a light layer of dust. A bar separated the kitchen
from the living room, and an assortment of liquor bottles filled the top of the
refrigerator.
“Your
bedroom’s across the hall from mine. It’s an en suite. Do you have furniture?”
I
followed him down the hall, his bare feet silent against the carpet. “No, I’ll
have to buy some.”
“There’s
a furniture store about a mile from here. They have a decent selection, and the
prices aren’t too bad.”
Mason
entered my bedroom and set down my suitcase. He motioned toward a door.
“Bathroom’s in there. You’ve seen the living room and the kitchen. There’s a
half bath in the hallway, and a washer and dryer just off the kitchen. Feel
free to look around. I’m going back to bed. I can still catch a nap before my
shift.”
“Thank
you, Mason. I appreciate this.”
“No
problem.”
He
went to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaving me the freedom to
explore. The bathroom was simple but clean, the closet spacious. I went to the
kitchen and poked around in the cabinets, which only had the bare minimum, a few
canned goods and some crackers. The refrigerator was stocked with beer, a
carton of eggs, condiments, assorted juices, a lemon, and miscellaneous
sandwich stuff. An outdated loaf of bread lay on the counter.
Picking
up random bottles of liquor from the top of the fridge, I read the labels,
amazed at his vast selection of rum, vodka, whiskey, tequila, and the list went
on and on.
The
washer and dryer were tucked in a closet, a row of nearly-empty wire shelves
over them. I found a small utility closet beside them, which held an iron and
ironing board, a broom, a vacuum cleaner, a mop, and a bucket.
With
plenty of time before my shift started, I decided to check out the furniture
store. I found it easily, and Mason’s assessment had been accurate.
I
quickly decided on a sleigh bed in deep mahogany with a matching dresser and
nightstand. After selecting a lamp, I paid for the furniture and set up
delivery for the following day.
Pleased
with my selection and glad to have that task crossed off my list, I went back
to the apartment and realized that I didn’t have a key. I knocked on the door,
hoping that Mason was awake by now.
He
pulled the door open almost instantly, and I was a little disappointed that he
was wearing a shirt this time. “My bad.” He pulled a loose key out of his
pocket. “I forgot to give you this.”
He
dropped the key in my palm, and I immediately put it on the ring with my car
keys.
“Guess
I’m official now.” I entered the apartment, and he closed the door behind us.
“I
was fixing to make myself a drink,” he called from behind me. “Want me to show
you how while I’m doing it?”
“You
drink before you go to work?” I asked, surprised.
“It’s
just one drink, and if we split it, it won’t even be that much alcohol. Come on.”
He passed me and went to the kitchen.
Interested
in seeing what he was concocting, I trailed along and leaned against the
kitchen counter as he started grabbing the appropriate ingredients.
He
explained each step as he made it, and when he finished, he poured us each some
in a glass of ice. “Normally, it’d be garnished with a lime wedge, but I’m a
little short on limes at the moment.”
The
drink was an odd mixture of sweet and tart. “What’s it called?”
“Devil’s
Handshake.” He turned and began putting all the ingredients up. “You like it?”
he asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah,
it’s smooth, isn’t it?” I took another drink, wanting to associate the flavor
and texture with the name of the drink.
“That’s
the egg white. Although, when we’re making drinks at Spanky’s, we use powdered
egg whites, so we don’t have to worry about salmonella.”
“How
many drinks do you know how to make?”
He
turned and shot me a grin. “A bunch.”
“Do
you ever mess any up?”
He
cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, looking at me as if I were insane.
“No, I never mess any up. I pride myself on delivering the best damn drink
possible.”
“Like
your Sex on the Beach?”
“Exactly.”
He
drained the rest of his drink in one long gulp.
“You
want to ride to work with me?” I asked.
“I
would,” he answered with a lopsided grin, “but I have a date tonight.”
“Oh.”
He
put his glass in the sink. “And don’t wait up for me.”
“I
wasn’t planning on it.”
“See
you at work.”
He
left the kitchen, and I sipped my drink until I had finished most of it.
Pouring the rest out, I loaded our dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off
the counter before heading to my room.
I
unzipped my suitcase. After hanging up my clothes and neatly arranging my extra
pairs of shoes in the closet, I unpacked my makeup in the bathroom. As the time
for my shift approached, I finished getting ready and drove the short distance
to work.
When
I arrived, Mason was already behind the bar, charming customers and whipping up
drinks. I had a few minutes before my shift started, so I took a seat at one of
the small, empty tables in the dining area and watched him.
Since
it was Friday, patrons lined up along the bar, talking and laughing and
ordering quite a few drinks. Their eyes focused on Mason as he tossed bottles
behind his back, catching them in the opposite hand. He twirled tins and spun
bottles, and I quickly found myself mesmerized by him. He was more than just a
bartender. He was an entertainer, and the patrons loved him. No wonder Spanky
spoke so highly of him.
When
it was time for my shift to start, I immediately began stocking. My muscles
were sore from carrying buckets of ice the previous day, but the bar was
buzzing with activity, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
The
daily special was draft beer, and Mason put me to work filling icy mugs while
he handled the cocktails. While I wiped the counter, I heard shouts and
whistles coming from the customers. I turned to see Mason with a row of glasses
lined up on the bar. He had several tins stacked into each other and poured
five different shots at the same time, the liquid landing in the glasses in a
rainbow of colors.
Transfixed,
I stared at him. Having spent four years in college, I’d been to my share of
bars and parties, but I’d never seen anyone do that little trick. When he
finished, the buxom blondes sitting in front of him clapped voraciously. They
loved him.
When
my shift was over and Mason delivered my part of the tips, I quickly crammed
the money in my purse and left. My feet ached, and knowing that my furniture
would be delivered mid-morning the next day, I wanted to get some sleep.
Back
at my apartment, I took a hot shower, helped myself to a throw blanket and a
pillow from the couch, and curled up on the floor of my bedroom.
Sleep
came pretty easily, and in a matter of minutes, all conscious thought slipped
into nothingness.
When
I heard a thump in the middle of the night, my eyes flew open. I lay still,
breathing quietly while I waited to see if I heard it again.
A
muffled string of slurred expletives drifted down the hall. I jumped to my feet
and listened at the door—more mumbling. Grabbing my robe from the closet, I
wrapped it around me, tied the belt, and peeked out my bedroom door.
“Shit,”
Mason muttered, followed by another thump.
I
opened the door wider and ventured into the hallway, walking toward the source
of the noise. The apartment was pitch-black, so approaching the end of the
hall, I groped the wall, searching for the light switch.
Finally,
my fingers found it, and I flipped it on about the same time that Mason plowed
into me. His arm wrapped around my waist, though I wasn’t sure whether he was
trying to steady me, him, or both of us. The strong scent of alcohol hung heavy
in the air.
“Dammit,”
he whispered as he stumbled forward, tried to straighten up, and fell backwards
instead, bringing me with him as we landed on the floor in another thud.
I
could feel my breasts pressed against his hard, muscular chest as his arm still
held me firmly against him. His head was tossed back, his chin jutting in the
air, a deep rumble of laughter reverberating through his torso.
He
lifted his head and looked at me, his lips still curled into a grin. His eyes
were the color of whiskey, which, considering he reeked of alcohol, seemed
fitting. “Sorry, roomie,” he slurred. “What was your name again?”
“Lexi,”
I ground out between clenched teeth as I scrambled to get off him.
He
released a cry of pain.
Realizing
that I’d accidentally kneed him in the groin, a flood of heat exploded in my
chest and torpedoed up my face. “Sorry,” I mumbled, relieved when my knees firmly
hit the floor and I could push myself to my feet.
He
attempted to raise himself up on his elbows, failing miserably.
I
maneuvered behind him, slipping my hands beneath his arms, and tried to give
him enough leverage to sit up.
It
worked.
“Can
you stand?” If not, then he’d just have to sleep in the hallway.
After
a lot of fumbling and with my grip firmly on his arm, he finally stood.
“You
didn’t drive, did you?”
“No.
I never drink and drive. My friend owns a caxi tab.” He stumbled a few steps.
“A caxi tab.” He shuffled forward again. “A caxi….”
“A
taxi cab,” I supplied, gripping his arm tightly.
“Yeah.”
He pointed his finger in the air. “One of those.”
I
pushed his door open and flipped on the light. With his arm draped across my
shoulders, we staggered into his bedroom. He lurched across the floor and fell
onto his unmade bed. Relieved to be free of his weight, I straightened and
swept my eyes across the room. It was sparsely furnished with a bed and a chest
of drawers. Some change, a photo, and an empty glass sat on a small table,
which served as a nightstand. “You okay?” I asked, turning my attention back to
him.
“I’m
good.” He never opened his eyes, but a slight wave of his hand seemed to motion
to me that I could leave. My eyes turned back to the photo, and letting my
curiosity outweigh my discretion, I walked over and picked it up. A beautiful
girl looked at me, her smile wide and her mouth slightly parted as if she were
laughing. Mason hugged her to him, his profile facing the camera as he gazed at
her.
Realizing
I was invading his privacy, I quickly put the photo down and walked toward the
bedroom door.
“Lexi?”
I
didn’t know whether I was more surprised that he said my name or that he
actually remembered it. I turned back to him. “Yes?”
He
opened his eyes and smiled, a flash of dimples in his cheeks. “You remember how
to make a Devil’s Handshake?”
I
hoped he wasn’t about to order one. I didn’t know how much he had drunk while
he was out, but the last thing he needed was more alcohol. “I think so.”
“Good.
Tomorrow, you can look forward to a Sloe Comfortable Screw.”
I
assumed that was the name of another drink. As I watched the roguish grin
spread across his handsome face, I realized that I’d shaken hands with the
devil today, but it had nothing to do with an alcoholic beverage.
