The Whiskey Effect: A Small-Town Standalone Romantic Comedy

by J. W. Ashley

  “No,” she admits, and I shake my head even though she can’t see it. Lena has always been the more modest of the two of us, and she definitely doesn’t give herself enough credit. She’s gorgeous, and I specifically packed that red dress when I left for Montana so I could leave it with her.

  “Go try it on. I’ll wait.”

  There’s some shuffling, and I push to my feet, grabbing my bag and carrying it into my bedroom, phone still propped up next to my ear. I set my suitcase down on my floral duvet before turning and heading back out into the kitchen.

  I’m just grabbing a bottle of water when there’s more movement in my ear, and Lena sighs into the phone.

  “Admittedly, there’s more to the dress than I thought.”

  “See, I told you I wouldn’t let you go out looking like a skank. Now finish getting ready, and send me a pic when you’re done.”

  “Okay.” The line goes dead, and I take a swig of water, leaning up against my cabinets and staring out at the empty space that’s been my home for seven years.

  For the last month, I’d been with someone every single day. Whether it was Lena and Becca or Leo, someone was always there. And for the first time ever, I hate the quiet. The silence might as well be deafening.

  My throat tightens and burns, the threat of tears as they well up in my eyes. Shutting my eyes tightly, I take a deep breath then another. I’m not going to cry over this. I can’t. And what scares me the most about all of this is it’s not my best friend living a state away that’s got me upset.

  No, my current state is caused by a man who should have only been a fling.

  My phone buzzes, so I pull it out of the pocket of my sweater and smile at the picture Lena sends me. She looks stunning, and Graham is going to eat his heart out when he sees her. Which was my plan all along.

  Setting my water on the counter, I head for my bathroom and strip down quickly, climbing into the hot spray of my shower. As I wash away the grime from my flight home, my thoughts drift back to Leo.

  Back to the way he made me feel, the intense passion we shared for what felt like years rather than days.

  Jordan Davis’ “Made That Way” plays, and I grin like a crazy person as I practically jump from the shower to grab my phone. Leo’s image pops up on my screen. I slide the green button to the right, accepting his FaceTime call, and am greeted by his soft grin.

  “Hadn’t expected to hear from you,” I say as I use one hand to grab a towel and half-wrap it around myself before shutting off the shower.

  “You in the shower?”

  “I was.”

  “Shit, sorry. You can call me back.”

  “No, I was done.” I step over to my bed and climb onto the soft mattress, propping myself up against the white, tufted headboard. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just lying here in bed, alone, wishing like hell I had a sexy redhead with me.”

  I laugh. “I miss you too, Leo.”

  “I mean, any redhead will do.”

  Rolling my eyes at his shit attempt at a joke, I shake my head. “There’s no replacement for me, my friend.”

  “True.”

  Silence stretches around me once more, the air pregnant with things better left unsaid. We both knew what we were getting into. “So, how was your day?”

  “Honestly, it was shit. Graham was pissy for most of it.”

  I smile. Good. “About Jackson and Lena?”

  “Pretty much. You do realize that Jackson is an asshole, right?”

  “He doesn’t have to be perfect. Lena just deserves a little fun.”

  Leo makes a noise that’s half-agreement, half-on-the-fence. “What are your plans for tonight?”

  “Well, I’m planning on putting on some clothes...” I trail off as his eyes light with interest.

  “Oh? That’s a shame.”

  “A shame?”

  “You covered up.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks so I tilt my phone down to give Leo a nice shot of my cleavage sticking out over the top of my towel.

  He groans, the sexy sound spurring my arousal.

  I’ve never been one for phone sex. Mainly because I’ve never had a relationship last longer than a weekend, but suddenly I’m intrigued at the idea of driving Leo wild from afar. The idea is far too enticing to let go.

  “You’re killing me, Red.”

  “Am I? You asked me what I was planning on doing tonight. I’m only answering your question.”

  “What else?” Voice tight, I can tell he’s hanging on to my every word, and the image of this strong man at my mercy—it’s arousing as fuck.

  Dropping my voice, I close my eyes and lean my head back further as I slowly undo the top of the towel, letting it pool at my waist so Leo gets an eyeful of my bare breasts. “Well, I’ll probably have some wine while I give myself a massage. I’m a little sore from all the extracurricular activities of the past month.”

  “Fuck.”

  I tilt the phone back up to see his face. I can see the strain in the set of his jaw, the darkness of his gaze as he watches me. He’s shirtless, hair still wet from the shower, and I want nothing more than to be beside him, on top of him, beneath him.

  Hell, I’d settle for just near him at this point.

  And that terrifies me.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, Red.”

  “You’re pretty hot yourself.”

  He goes silent, and for a brief moment, the two of us are just sitting in complete quiet, staring at each other through the camera of our phones. Never, in my entire life, have I felt this kind of connection with another person.

  And even as I know I’m going to have to sever it, I hate the thought.

  “I know I shouldn’t say it,” Leo says, his voice a deep grumble. “But I really fucking miss you, Red.”

  I grin as my stomach clenches. “I miss you too. I have to go, though. Lots of unpacking to do.” Quickly, I pull up the towel and get off my bed.

  Leo nods in understanding. “When are you coming back?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” I say. It’s the truth, and part of me wants him to ask me to come back now while the other is petrified that he will.

  “Well, I’ll see you then, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Bye, Leo.”

  “Bye, Claudia.”

  14

  Dream Leo Nookie

  Two steaming to-go lattes in hand, I step up to the door of my mom’s floral shop. Propping one between my elbow and side, I use my now free hand to dig out my key and unlock the front door. It shuts quietly behind me, so I turn the lock and shove my key back into my pocket before grabbing the latte that feels like lava against my side despite the coffee sleeve.

  As I make my way up the stairs to her private residence, I can’t keep my thoughts off Leo. I dreamt of him last night, can you believe it? Me. The queen of no strings. Dreamt of a man.

  And it wasn’t even a sex dream. We were having a picnic much like we did up on the mountaintop my first week in Montana. I mean, my brain could have at least given me a little dream Leo nookie.

  Shoving open the door, it takes my brain a moment too long to realize what I’ve just walked in on. A man—completely naked—jumps off my mom, and she squeals, grasping at her comforter to cover her body.

  “Claudia!” she yells, and I shut my eyes tightly, turning and running into the doorjamb. The cups collapse, and I’m doused with burning liquid.

  “Son of a bitch! Ahhh! Sorry!” I drop the cups and step into the hall, shutting the door behind me as I hold my now stained and drenched shirt away from my hot skin.

  I hear scrambling drifting out through the door along with the sound of muttered voices. The combination is enough to take my mind off my probably first-degree burns and put them on the fact that I just walked in on my mom having sex.

  Laughter bubbles in my chest at the mental image of a stranger’s ass bolting to the bathroom. Bracing myself against the wall, I feel the laughter hit me full force, my eyes watering
so much I can barely see when my mom steps out into the hall dressed in a robe.

  She takes one look at me and has to cover her mouth with a shaking hand. “You could have knocked,” she scolds, but there’s no heat in it.

  “I didn’t think you’d be having crazy monkey sex this early in the morning.”

  My mom’s cheeks flush. “It wasn’t crazy monkey sex,” she defends.

  Straightening, I clear my throat. “So, who is he?”

  She blushes again, and I can see the beginnings of what I like to call insta-love forming. I hate it, but my mom loves love. In all forms. She’s had her heart broken a lot for it, but that doesn’t keep me from envying her ability to stay positive when most of the fish in the sea are actually sharks looking for chum.

  “His name is Roger, and I really like him.”

  “I could see that. Where did you meet him?”

  She looks away and mumbles something under her breath.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  Turning back to me, she turns so red that her complexion nearly matches the color of her bright hair. “He teaches the art class I’m taking.”

  I purposely overplay my reaction and gasp, covering my mouth with a hand like I’m a proper Southern woman and this is a scandal. “You’re sleeping with your teacher! Hypocrite, you always told me that was bad.”

  My mom playfully smacks my arm. “Oh, hush. He’s special,” she says wistfully as she glances back at the door. “I’ve been seeing him for three months.”

  “Three months? Why didn’t you tell me?” I’m hurt. I try not to be, but my mom and I tell each other everything.

  “I’ve had a lot of ‘he’s the one’ moments over the years, and just once, I wanted to know for sure before I told you. He makes me happy,” she adds just as the door opens and a now-dressed, handsome man with greying hair stands behind her.

  “Sorry about that. I’m Roger.” He holds out a hand, and I take it, watching the easy way he places his other hand on my mom’s shoulder. He likes her too—I can see it.

  But the cynical side of me wonders how long that like will last before it burns out. Because it almost always does on one side or the other.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Claudia, the daughter.”

  He smiles, showing a row of white teeth. Strong jaw and sharp features make up a handsome face, and I can see why my mom was drawn to him. Add to that combination the bright green eyes, Roger is a striking man.

  “How are your burns?” he asks, gesturing to my soaked shirt.

  I look down at the browning stain on what was once my favorite pale green shirt. “I’ll survive. I just came to get Tony. So, if I can grab him, I’ll be on my way, and you can get back to whatever it is you two crazy kids are calling it these days.”

  Roger chuckles and moves inside my mom’s apartment. Another point for him. Most men would try to bail after being caught having sex with someone’s mom. I know because as much as I hate to admit it, it’s happened one other time. Maybe I should start knocking.

  Tony hops down from the window and pads over to me, rubbing against me as I drop to my knees. “Hey, boy! I missed you too.” I lean down, and he nuzzles me. I’ve always joked that he is more like a dog than a cat. His mannerisms are much sweeter compared to some of the cats I’ve been around in the past.

  My mom sets his carrier down beside me, and I open the door, putting him inside before straightening. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re welcome.” She leans in and kisses my cheek as I hoist Tony up. He meows, not caring for the confined space, and I hold it against my chest.

  Since she bought a new litter pan and litter, I at least don’t have to worry about hauling that around in the cab. Which also makes for a quick exit.

  “Call me later?” I ask, and my mom nods.

  “Will do. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Bye, Roger. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  I step into the hall and hear my mom bark out a laugh as soon as the door is shut behind me. Smiling, I make my way back down to the street, Tony in tow.

  Claudia

  Computer bright before me, I stare at the website I’m designing. Something is off, but I can’t quite decide what I think it is. Leaning forward, I adjust the font one more time, going with something more Serif. It looks better, but still not quite right.

  The restaurant I’m designing it for is based out of a small town in Maine. A woman a couple of years younger than me is taking over her grandmother's Italian place and wants a full redesign on the site.

  I push to my feet and saunter into my kitchen to grab a fresh cup of coffee. I know that if I continue to sit there staring at it, it’s not going to do me a damn bit of good. Fresh eyes are always better.

  Quickly, I fill the water canister on the back of my coffee machine before putting fresh grounds in the reusable filter and placing my mug beneath the spout. After pressing the quick brew button, I step back and stretch, rolling my shoulders and groaning with relief when they pop.

  The clock on the microwave tells me I’ve been at it for three hours and have been working solid since I got back from my mom’s shop. Working always helps get me out of my head, though what I desperately want to do is sketch.

  My pad sits on the counter where I left it after getting up this morning, my pencil beside it. Lifting it, I stare at Leo’s handsome face, the result of my still sleepy dream-brain. I drew him quickly, so the sketch is rough, but I managed to capture the light in his eyes, the happiness as he looked over at me that afternoon on the mountaintop.

  His face is angled toward the side of the paper, a soft smile on his lips. I hate the way it makes me feel, knowing he’s not with me.

  The tightness of my chest that makes me want to cry.

  My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my haze, and I lift it quickly when I see Lena’s name pop up.

  “Hey, how was your night?”

  “Awful,” Lena says quickly, and I straighten, setting my pad back on the counter.

  “What do you mean awful?”

  “Becca got sick.”

  “I know. Graham called me.” He was half-panicked when he’d called last night, unsure what he was going to do with her being sick. I had no damn clue, but I spent the better part of the night worried about her.

  “Well, he called me, and Jackson was pissed that I was ending the date early.”

  “What do you mean pissed?”

  “As in, I walked home. Well, part of the way, Midge picked me up.”

  Rage bubbles inside me at the thought of Lena walking alone on the side of a street. “Are you fucking kidding me? He made you walk?”

  Lena huffs. “It was either that, or I let him finish the date.”

  “But your daughter needed you!”

  “I know. Basically, he’s a class A asshole.”

  “I have half a mind to come out and kick his pathetic ass.”

  Lena chuckles into the phone. “That’s not even why I called.”

  “Did something else happen? How’s Becca?”

  “She’s fine. It’s Graham.”

  “What happened?”

  “He asked me if I wanted to take Becca out to his place and stay for the weekend.”

  I grin. “Are you going?”

  “Of course I’m going. Becca is thrilled. He told her this morning.”

  “Oh? He spent the night?”

  “No, he came back this morning and had coffee with me then told Becca before he left to go get things ready.”

  “How long do you have to get ready?”

  “A couple of hours? I don’t know. What in the hell am I going to do alone with him for an entire weekend?”

  The exasperation in my friend’s voice is amusing. She and Graham are still crazy about each other. I knew it. “I can think of a few things.”

  “You and I both know that’s off the table.”

  “Is it really, though?”

  “Y
es. I’ve been doing some thinking, and—”

  “Uh oh,” I reply with a laugh. Lena is always in her own head. The two weeks with Graham when Becca was conceived was the first time I saw my friend throw caution to the wind and do what she wanted. Before then, her years with Alejandro were all about him and what he wanted. “That rarely bodes well for anyone.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. But seriously, I think Graham has a point.”

  “About what?”

  “About him and me. At this point, things would just be far too complicated.”

  “Stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Overthinking. Just go for the weekend and have a good time, whatever happens will happen.” My words spark an idea for myself, but I shove it to the side as I finish trying to calm the worry that’s bound to send my friend into a spiral if left unchecked. “Besides, it will be good for Becca to see her dad’s house too and a good segue for if she ever wants to sleep over there.”

  Lena goes silent, and I know she’s freaking out over the idea of Becca staying the night away from her. But I’m not one to pull punches, and it’s a reality Lena may need to face one day. “Stop panicking,” I tell her. “I can feel it all the way over here. He is her father, Lena. At some point, she’s going to want to stay over there.”

  “We didn’t talk about that. I don’t—”

  I sigh. “Listen. Rebecca is just as much his as she is yours, I understand it’s not something you want to hear, but the fact that you’ve had her for so long alone isn’t on him. That’s on you, and sharing her is something you are going to have to get used to.”

  Lena’s silent a moment before she takes a deep breath.

  “You done?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Okay, so stop overthinking. Everything is going to be absolutely fine. Graham is great. He’s crazy about Becca, and I think he’s a bit crazy over you too so just go with it and have fun.”

  My coffee maker beeps, so I stroll over and swing open the basket holder, dumping the grounds into the trash can.

  “I need to get going. He should be here in about fifteen minutes, and I still have to get my crap together.”