Phoenix (The Colton Cousins Book 1)

by Rebecca Rennick

  When I finally return my wandering gaze back to his face, he’s glowering at me. Seemingly trying to figure me out—his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. Standing like a chiseled Greek God in front of me, he’s not ashamed at all that he is almost completely naked in front of a woman he doesn’t know.

  “You know my rule, Beau. No women stay in this house who aren’t family.” He says plainly, but I swear I see a tick in his jaw as he speaks. Worse—he doesn’t turn his attention to Beau but keeps staring at me. What is this guy’s deal?

  “Well, since she isn’t some bar bunny trying to get into your pants, I thought it would be okay.”

  Speak for yourself. I most definitely would want to get into his pants if that’s an option, but it doesn’t look like he’s very interested in the idea.

  “She just got here. Give her a few minutes.” Nix says with a sly grin on his lips.

  Okay, maybe he is interested in the idea.

  “Well, you’re awfully sure of yourself.” My mouth says once again without my permission. My hands land on my hips as I shift my weight to one foot. Provoking him to respond. It’s a natural stance for me. I can’t help it.

  “Yes. I am.”

  Okay, I swear he just flexed when he said that. I am not complaining, but if there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s douchey self-centered, egotistical asshats who think they’re God’s gift to women.

  “So, you just expect every woman who meets you to fall for you?”

  “No. But they usually want to fall onto my dick.”

  “It’s a wonder any woman would want to stay the night after discovering your charming personality.” Fluttering my eyelashes, I put on my sweetest and most sardonic voice.

  “Sweet thing, it’s because of my charming personality that I have to pry them off my dick with a crowbar.” He rubs his hand over the contours of his lower abs and that V, his fingertips running temptingly along the deep ridge grazing the edges of his underwear. Emphasizing his words.

  Did he just refer to me as sweet thing?

  “Like I said, charming.”

  We glare at each other—each challenging the other to continue on with this tête-à-tête we have going.

  “As entertaining as this is, perhaps we should leave you to get dressed. I still have to show Clover her room. I just wanted to introduce you two. Now I have, so we’re gonna go.” Beau lightly grabs my elbow and leads me out of Nix’s bedroom. I keep my eyes on Nix until I turn to give him my back as we exit the room. Nix doesn’t move as we leave.

  The man has already infuriated me and aroused me in the span of five minutes. I don’t know if I want to slap him or fuck him. Maybe both. Possibly at the same time. Now there’s a thought.

  “Is he always so…”

  “Charming?” Beau offers, and we both giggle.

  “He’s really not all that bad. A giant smart ass, yes—but he’s also very loyal and protective of the family. He’s not the best at other types of relationships, though.”

  “So, he’s a ladies’ man?”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  “Well, I think I can handle mister smart-ass-man-whore.” I give him a reassuring smile to let him know it doesn’t bother me. Mr. Sassy Muscles is nothing. I’ve had to deal with perv managers, dealers that tried to get me to pay with sex, and doctors that thought I was too stupid to understand what was happening with my mother’s cancer. A little sarcasm and wordplay from a man-whore barely blips on my radar of inappropriate or challenging.

  “You’re going to give that boy a run for his money, aren’t you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say in a sweet as sugar voice thickening my sometimes there, sometimes not there Southern accent. I picked it up from all the places we lived in the South. I can’t really control it, and I like to confuse people who are trying to figure out where I’m from. We laugh some more, Beau liking the idea of me rousing his cousin.

  At the end of the hall, I’m led into a room situated in the front corner of the house, allowing it to have two walls of windows letting in the soft evening light. The house is east facing, so in the morning, I’ll be getting warm morning sunshine.

  It’s minimally furnished with a large queen-size bed, two nightstands, a large dresser, and a very comfy-looking chaise in the corner with all the windows. There’s an ensuite bathroom with a standing shower and garden tub that I fully plan on taking advantage of. As well as a walk-in closet that is large enough to be another bedroom. I’ll never have enough clothes to fill the closet. I don’t even think I have enough clothes to fill the dresser.

  My suitcase and backpack are set on the white comforter of the bed. Everything in this house—besides the art—is either grey, black, or white. Except for the chaise in the room that is a rich royal blue velvet. Do they not believe in color?

  “Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take you to the bar to meet Uncle Faust. I’ve already spoken with him about it.”

  “Sounds good. Anything I should know before going?”

  “Faust loves confidence. Be confident in whatever you do. But also, be polite and respectful. And don’t be shy. We don’t have room for shy at the bar.”

  “Okay, I think I got it.” Exhaling deeply as I plop down onto the bed. It’s soft and inviting, and I can’t wait to sleep in it.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.” He places a hand on my shoulder encouragingly. I hope he’s right because if not, then all my plans for my new life will crumble before I can even start to build them.

  Chapter 5

  Clover

  T hankfully, Nix is nowhere to be seen this morning. I have my interview with Faust today, and I’m nervous as it is. Dealing with his attitude, muscles, and sexiness would just throw me off. He left late last night, and I have no idea if he even came home.

  Arriving at the bar, I discover it’s empty as we enter. Taking this quiet moment, I look around the spacious room. Classic and industrial aesthetic with exposed brick walls, stainless steel, and dark hardwood covers everything. The stools and booths are upholstered with soft black leather. They look well worn but not tattered. Meaning they get used by plenty of patrons, but they take good care of their fixtures and furnishings. They take pride in the appearance of the bar. This is no dive bar, no siree, Bob.

  Thank fuck. I dressed in the nicest clothes I own that aren’t prudish—dark blue skinny jeans paired with a silky black blouse and my black platform combat style boots that reach my mid-calf—the only pair of heeled shoes I own. Height is very important in a job like this. Especially when I’ll have to be looking over the top of a bar. To top off my look, I wear a long silver chain with a silver heart pendant dangling at the end. You can’t tell from looking at it, but inside the heart is a small amount of my mother’s ashes. I had it made after her death and always wear it when I need her close. Today I need her, and I need her to bring me luck meeting Beau’s Uncle.

  After entering, Beau tells me to take a seat at the bar while he goes to find his Uncle. I do as he asks, but barely perch on the edge of the barstool. I don’t want to appear lazy or uninterested. Plus, I have so much adrenaline buzzing through my veins I could run a marathon and not break a sweat. It only takes him a minute before they emerge from a back office and make their way toward me.

  The man following Beau is another giant of a man. This family must have Hulk genes or something. Looking about the height of Nix and appearing to only be in his mid to late forties. I know, though, thanks to Beau, that he is actually fifty-five. This family is blessed when it comes to their looks. His age is only evident in the smile lines on his face and the greying at his temples. There’s a speckle more throughout his clean-cut dark brown hair—bright hazel eyes, similar to Nix’s focus directly on me. Even at fifty-five, his body is still hard with muscle. I see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his dress shirt. I’m starting to see a trend within this family. Tall, muscular, attractive, and tattooed. M
y kind of people.

  Faust extends his hand toward me as he approaches and introduces himself.

  “I’m Faust Colton, and you must be Clover Jones.” His voice deep and with a slight Southern accent. I take his large hand—my smaller one engulfed. His grip is firm, and I return it as best I can. It’s warm and callused—the hand of a working man.

  “Yes, I am. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

  Faust takes the seat next to me, and Beau sits at a table not too far away.

  “So, Beau tells me you’re a bartender in need of a job.”

  “I was training to be a bartender at my last job before leaving Mississippi.” Might as well be honest and upfront with him about my training and experience. Lying only makes things worse. I don’t want to brag about being some great bartender just to suck the first time I get behind the bar.

  “And how far did you get in your training?”

  “I almost finished.”

  “Great. Hop on behind that bar and show me what you got.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I wasn’t expecting him to put me behind the bar right away, but it’s not completely unexpected. Literally hopping off the stool, I walk as tall as possible, circling behind the bar. Taking a stabilizing breath before entering the long narrow space. It’s neat, organized, and very clean—everything shiny and gleaming. This is the nicest bar I’ve ever been behind. Stopping directly across from Faust, who now faces me directly, I look him directly in the eye and don’t flinch.

  “All right, Mr. Colton, what can I get for you today?”

  He taps his finger on the bar before answering. “How about an old-fashioned?”

  “As you wish.”

  Perusing the bar, I get my bearings on where everything is located. Finding the glasses, I choose a lowball. Rotating the smooth glass in my fingers, I place it on the spill mat on the bar. Turning, I survey the liquor shelf, then I remember my training and turn back to Faust.

  “Would you like a specific bourbon for your old-fashioned?” He grins. That’s good.

  “Top shelf, please.” Is his response with a small grin.

  So that’s why he’s smiling. He wants to see how I manage to reach the top shelf at my short height. Little does he know; I know the answer to his riddle. I decide to play along, turning to face the large, tall wall behind me. First looking up to the top shelf, then looking from side to side, acting like I’m trying to find a ladder or stool to help me out. However, I’m not looking for a way to reach the literal top shelf. I’m looking for - that. The lower shelf where all bartenders stash a bottle of all the top-shelf liquors to allow for quick and easy access.

  Behind a bottle of well vodka, I find the top-shelf bourbon. Returning to my prep area with the bourbon in hand, I notice Faust’s smile is larger now. So, I continue with a genuine smile plastered on my face. It’s always important to wear a smile when working in any customer service position. Your tip often depends on it.

  I pour the bourbon, stir in the simple syrup and bitters. Dropping in large ice cubes before topping it with an orange slice and a cherry. Setting it down in front of him on a bar napkin with a smile and a little more confidence in my stance.

  “This is where I would tell you the price and ask if that were all I could do for you. But since I don’t know what you charge…”

  Before he responds to my statement, he takes a sip of his drink. It’s perfect, and I know it.

  “Not bad.—and we charge ten dollars for an old-fashioned.”

  “That’ll be ten dollars, please.” I stick out my hand and wait. The other hand on my hip, eyes waiting. No one drinks for free. Made that mistake once, never again.

  “You expect me to pay in my own bar?” He chuckles, but his eyes are bright and filled with amusement.

  “Mama always said, never drink in your own bar. If you wanna drink, you gotta pay.” Wiggling my extended fingers, I continue to wait for payment. Showing my backbone and resolve in the process. His chuckle is low and throaty as he pulls out his wallet and hands me a twenty-dollar bill.

  “Keep the change.” He offers.

  Finding the cash register, I realize it’s a newer touchpoint system. Shit. I didn’t think about what I would do with the money once I got it. I can’t open the register without a card a code. Instead, I do the next best thing and drop the twenty into the tip jar on the back bar.

  Faust continues to sip his drink when I return to him but stay behind the bar.

  “How old are you again?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “And you’re single?”

  “What does my relationship status have to do with anything?” Dammit, I spoke without thinking again. You should have just answered the question, Clover.

  “Jealous boyfriends don’t mix well here.”

  “Oh! No problem there, I’m free as a bird, sir.”

  “Perfect. There’s just one more thing.” Pausing, he clears his throat and sits up tall. The smile sliding off his lips as he becomes serious again.

  “Beau told you about our family business. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Things can sometimes get a little…unpleasant. Under the bar to your right.” He gestures with the incline of his head to where he wants me to look.

  When I do, I find the wooden handle of some sort of gun mounted directly under the prep bar. Reaching, I feel the smooth handle and pull. When I lift my hand, I find I’m holding a short-muzzled double-barrel shotgun. It’s beautiful—smooth polished wooden handle with delicate filigree engraved along its side. I can’t help but admire its violent beauty. Firearms are not new to me. Mom made sure I could protect myself and took me to the shooting range on many occasions. Not going to lie. I got a little obsessed and did a lot of research online about different types of guns. I never got to handle a gun like this before, but it functions the same as many other models.

  Shifting my eyes to Faust, I see he’s watching me expectantly. Waiting. I know what he wants, and I will not disappoint.

  First, I check to see if it’s loaded. Popping the barrels open, seeing it is, in fact, fully loaded with two cartridges. One in each barrel. I lock it closed again. Bringing the gun up, I rest it on my left forearm that I use as a guide to hold it steady. Since it’s a single-handed weapon and I’m a small girl, this makes it easier to control. I make sure to keep the barrel pointed away from Faust as I line it up and take a look down the sights.

  Satisfied with the gun and its weight, I know it’ll be no problem for me to handle in a sticky situation. Leaning it on my right shoulder, I keep hold of the handle with my finger off the trigger. Turning to face Faust again, my free hand finding its way to my hip. I really hope I look like a badass right now because that would be awesome. I’m still nervous, and I hope this is what he was looking for. Beau said not to be shy and be confident. So I am. Did he like it, or was it too much?

  “I like her.” He throws over his shoulder to Beau, who’s smiling from ear to ear.

  “You’re hired. You start tonight. Beau will make sure you get your uniform and will also be your trainer.”

  Oh my God, I can’t believe it. He likes me. Beau was right. I almost jump up and down with joy, but I restrain myself. I don’t, however, restrain the big-toothed grin that takes over my face. Putting the gun in its place, I turn back to face Faust Colton, my new boss.

  “I look forward to it, sir.”

  Chapter 6

  Phoenix

  G reat, just fucking great. Beau finally brings someone home, and it’s not a boyfriend like I expected, but a new roommate. One that just had to be a tiny spitfire redhead that made my dick do a little happy dance the first time I got a good look at her. Long thick red hair perfect for grabbing, big bright blue eyes that went wide as she inspected my naked body. Her gaze was like fire and that smart mouth of hers, a mouth I would gladly like wrapped around my cock.

  That can’t happen, not if she’s living with us. That would just be too much to deal with. So,
I’ve been doing my damndest to avoid her, at least for now. Until I can get my cock under control and he doesn’t try to jump out of my pants at the sight of the little minx. I’ve been successful for three days, which wasn’t hard because I’ve been so busy, and I think it’s getting better. Until I picture her plump pink lips sliding down my shaft, and now I’m hard again. Fuck. This is why I don’t like chicks staying in the house—too much temptation and too many complications.

  Thank fuck tonight is my night off, so I can go to the bar, find a nice piece of ass, and fuck her out of my system. Once I get laid, I’m sure I’ll go back to normal. I don’t want her specifically; I just want a woman. That’s all. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past three days, and I’m sticking to it.

  I step out of my closet and slide on a black V-neck t-shirt. It fits snuggly against my body. The jeans I zip up are a worn, faded dark blue and are tight around my thighs. The belt is genuine leather with a simple black metal buckle. I’m not much into fashion, but I know how to look good.

  Before I head out of my room, I wonder if Clover is still at home. It’s three in the afternoon, so if she has any normal job, she should be there now. Right? Yeah, of course. She’s not home, and I’m not thinking of how she sleeps only twenty feet away from me. Does she wear skimpy little silk nighties to bed or thin cotton shorts? I bet she’s a simple cotton shorts kind of girl. She doesn’t seem the type for fancy pajamas. Dammit, Nix, stop thinking about Clover, her pajamas, and her being sprawled in her bed. Maybe she sleeps in the nude. That is my personal favorite. Stop it, Nix, just get on with your day. Don’t think about her anymore. Think about the hotties you’re going to meet at the bar tonight. It’s Friday night, and there’s going to be plenty to choose from.

  Lacing up my boots, I slide my wallet and phone in my pockets, along with a few condoms for good measure.

  Downstairs, I head to the kitchen to make something to eat before heading out. I have an appointment at the tattoo shop before going to the bar later tonight. I stop in my tracks when I see the fridge door open and someone standing behind it. I can’t tell who it is from this angle, so I wait. A small, slender female hand reaches around and grabs the handle. Shit, it’s Clover. Sweet, creamy white legs step back, and she’s wearing the tiniest Daisy Dukes I’ve ever seen. She knows exactly how to make her legs look much longer than they actually are, creating height with large, heeled lace-up boots.