by Rachel Lacey
“I already did,” Josie told her. “But they wildly disagree on which one I should pick, so I’m counting on you to be the tiebreaker.”
“Which one do you like best?” Eve hedged as she knelt and lifted Blanche. The kitten wriggled in her hands, blue eyes wide, belly round with milk.
“Well, I like all of them, obviously.”
“Mm.” Eve set the kitten down and walked to the counter, resting her palms against it as she looked at the row of glasses in front of her. “Do you want to tell me what’s in them first?”
“Nope. Just try them and let me know what you think.”
“All right.” Eve lifted the first glass. It contained an amber liquid and had a vaguely spicy scent. She sipped, feeling the burn of whiskey down her esophagus. “Strong.”
“Too strong?” Josie asked, watching her closely.
“Maybe.” She lifted the next glass, giving it a gentle shake. The liquid inside was a milky white, swirling like smoke inside the glass. “Pretty.”
Josie smiled.
Eve sipped, tasting mint and lemons ahead of the warmth of liquor. It was light and refreshing but also packed a punch. “I like it.”
Josie clapped her hands together, looking pleased.
The third glass contained a pink drink that was so sweet, it made Eve’s cheeks hurt. Next up was a clear concoction that she couldn’t identify but didn’t like. The last glass contained a liquid with a purplish hue. She sipped, tasting rum and something fruity. “This one’s good,” she said. “Sweet, but not too sweet.”
“Which one’s your favorite?” Josie asked.
She went back for another sip of the minty drink. “It’s a tie between this one and that last one. Sour and sweet. I like them both.”
“That one was Adam’s favorite, and Kaia liked the pomegranate one at the end.”
“I haven’t helped much, then.” Eve looked up and met her eyes as liquor warmed her stomach and blurred her inhibitions.
“Just pick one.”
She took another sip of both drinks. “Actually, I think you should add them both to your drink menu, and maybe that whiskey one too, but tone it back a bit.”
“You think?”
“They’re all good and very different from each other.” She lifted the sour drink and swirled it again, watching it spin like smoke. “Have you named them?”
Josie shook her head, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Want suggestions?”
“Absolutely.” She leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap.
Eve lifted the purple drink, picturing the bar’s new lavender logo and décor. “This one has got to be The Dragonfly.”
“Wow, yeah,” Josie said. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Done.”
“And this one…” Eve gave the sour drink another swirl. “When I hold it up to the light, it reminds me of clouds passing by the moon. I’d call it Midnight in Manhattan.”
“I love it,” Josie whispered.
Eve downed the rest of the drink and plunked the glass on the counter, leaning forward. “Rumor has it, if you drink one at midnight, you’ll fall in love before the end of the year.”
“What?” Josie’s brows wrinkled adorably. “You just made that up.”
“Of course I did. But people love that stuff. Put it on the menu. I bet you’ll have customers lining up at midnight to drink one. It’s just marketing.”
“Okay,” Josie said, eyes twinkling dangerously. “So are you going to fall in love?”
“It’s not midnight,” she said with a wink.
“It’s midnight somewhere.” Josie lifted the whiskey drink. “And this one?”
“Whiskey Kiss.”
Josie’s eyes widened as she set down the glass. “Damn, you’re good at this. Done, done, and done.”
“All right, then.” She gripped the counter in front of her. The alcohol was definitely going to her head, because all she could think about was…
Josie leaned forward, hands cupping Eve’s cheeks as she brought their lips together. Yes. Eve exhaled in relief as Josie kissed her. This was what she needed, what she’d been needing all week. Her whole body relaxed as she slid her tongue into the welcome heat of Josie’s mouth, tasting a mixture of the same flavors she’d sampled from each glass on the counter.
Maybe they were drunk, or maybe they just needed this kiss. She pushed the glasses to the side and moved closer, belly pressed against the counter. Josie scooted forward to meet her, legs wrapping around Eve’s waist, enveloping her in the warmth of her body.
“Man, that Whiskey Kiss really works.” Josie’s hands were in her hair, tugging gently as she brought their mouths back together.
“Mm.”
“You taste better than all my drinks combined,” Josie murmured into her mouth, and Eve moaned, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, unable to get her close enough to satisfy the need clawing inside her. “I want—”
“Shh,” she whispered, silencing Josie with a kiss. She slid her hands beneath Josie’s T-shirt, fingers skimming over each notch of her vertebrae, eliciting a shiver from Josie.
There was a desperation to the kiss as Eve tried to absorb every moment of pleasure she possibly could before reality stepped in and she had to force them to stop. But they were already kissing. That line had already been crossed, so there was no real harm in prolonging the moment just a little bit. Not when it felt this good. And God, it felt so good.
Josie wiggled in her arms, settling herself closer, hips pressed against Eve’s, intimate enough to ignite a fire between her thighs, throbbing in time with her frantic pulse, but not intimate enough to offer any satisfaction.
She closed her eyes, just feeling…Josie’s heels on her ass, her breasts pressed against Eve’s, their chests heaving in an alternating pattern that seemed to have them breathing into each other, bodies synced in a rhythm as intoxicating as the liquor buzzing through her system.
This. Yes. More.
Josie’s hands slid down her back, nails scraping gently against her skin over her blouse, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms and a needy gasp to escape her throat.
“You like that,” Josie whispered, dragging her nails down to the waistband of Eve’s pants.
“Yes,” she whispered, hips jerking against Josie’s as the aching need in her core intensified.
“How important is that contract?” Josie asked, fingers tracing circles over Eve’s skin, distracting enough that she almost missed the question, but…dammit.
She pressed her forehead against Josie’s, panting for breath as she attempted to restore some reason into her sex-addled brain. “Important.”
“Some rules are made to be broken.”
“Not this one.” She lifted her head, steadying her breath.
“But it’s okay to kiss me?” Josie cocked her head to the side, smiling so widely, her dimples showed, a lock of turquoise-tipped hair hanging over her left eye. Her lips were swollen and glossy, cheeks flushed, and she looked so adorable, so fucking sexy, Eve could hardly believe she wasn’t already dragging her toward the bedroom.
“I didn’t mean to do that either,” she admitted. “I signed a contract with the network, but Do Over is an extension of my business, and I hold myself to my own standards of conduct, none of which involve sleeping with clients.”
“In that case, I may have to fire you on Friday after taping wraps,” Josie said, making no move to let her go.
“That might be hasty.” Eve made no effort to let go of her either. “From where I’m standing, you need as much of my help as you can get.”
“No arguments here,” Josie said. “But I also need you.”
Eve forced herself to step back. Josie’s big orange cat came out of nowhere, darting between her feet, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a deliberate effort to trip her. She stumbled, her head swimming with a combination of alcohol and arousal. “I should go.”
The cat glared at her, standing besi
de the door as if he agreed with her decision.
“Okay.” Josie hopped down beside her, leaning forward to place another quick kiss against her lips. “Thanks for helping me pick my signature drinks.”
“You’re welcome. Email me tomorrow with all the details so I can have the drink menus printed up.”
Josie nodded. “Will do.”
“Good night.” And before she could do anything else she’d regret later, she turned and walked out the door.
Josie felt like she’d swallowed a swarm of butterflies. Maybe dragonflies, given the circumstances? Or bees, because there was a definite sting somewhere deep inside her belly as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Not Swanson’s. It was gone, just another piece of her past. She swallowed the pang of nostalgia that had risen in her throat. She was about to see Dragonfly for the first time, and she could hardly breathe.
A cameraman descended the stairs ahead of her, recording every emotion that crossed her face. Would the video capture the shake of her hands? The sheen of tears in her eyes? She resisted the urge to press a hand against her belly.
The cameraman walked backward down the hallway, leading her into the bar. Josie followed, pulse quickening as she stepped over the threshold. She looked around, breath caught in her throat. Swanson’s wood-paneled walls had been stripped and refinished, painted a pale gray with aqua undertones and offset by the brick wall behind the bar. The prints she and Eve had picked out hung on the wall opposite the bar, matted a deep lilac to match the new Dragonfly logo. Overhead, strings of white lights ringed the room, making everything seem to glow in their warm light.
“What do you think?”
She turned at the sound of Eve’s voice, spotting her at the far end of the bar, and now she understood why Eve had insisted on keeping things professional—or at least semiprofessional—between them until after filming wrapped. Because just the sight of her knocked the air from Josie’s lungs, and it was a good thing she was already breathless from seeing Dragonfly, because hopefully it masked her reaction to Eve from the cameras. “I…I love it.”
Eve smiled, a wide, approving smile, the kind she only used when the cameras were rolling. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Josie preferred the small, genuine smiles she’d received in private, but right now, she didn’t much care. She spun, taking it all in, not even trying to contain her excitement, because that was what the Do Over team wanted for their episode, after all. They wanted to see a happy customer, and right now, she was very, very happy.
“It’s warmer than I had expected, and it feels so modern.” She blinked back the tears hazing her vision. “I think my dad would have loved it.”
“I’m sure he would have.”
“I mean, he never would have done anything like this in a million years. There wasn’t a trendy bone in his body. This place isn’t him. It’s me. But he’d love seeing me here, now that it’s mine…if that makes sense.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And it doesn’t really make sense, since it’s only mine because he died.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Eve said smoothly.
“It’s just…wow, I can’t quite believe this is the same place.” She walked slowly through the room, taking in the new furniture, the freshly polished floor, the sleek track lighting overhead. Nothing about it felt like the building she’d grown up in.
This space might occupy the same street address, but it was a different bar. Out of nowhere, a rush of sadness washed over her, and she wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek. She might have felt embarrassed or tried to hide it, but she knew the show loved when business owners got emotional. They wanted to see her tears.
She looked over at Eve, surprised and yet not surprised by the calm air of professional detachment she wore like an extra layer of clothing. Josie wasn’t hurt by it, though, because she knew that this was simply how Eve acted on camera. It was the reason Josie had been so intimidated by her when they’d first met.
Somewhere beneath that cool exterior, though, Eve stored all the warmth and passion she’d shared last night in Josie’s arms, bodies pressed together and gasping for breath. Josie looked away, forcing her attention back to the bar before her feelings showed on her face.
“That should do it,” the director called, and all around the room, red lights blinked off as the cameras stopped recording. “Break for five while we set up for the next shot.”
Josie exhaled, slow and deep, resting her hands against the bar. It was new too, a lighter-colored wood, sleek and glossy beneath her fingers.
“You did well,” Eve said, coming to stand beside her.
“Thanks. It helped that I didn’t have to fake my reaction. I really do love it.”
“Are you sure?” Eve asked quietly.
Josie nodded as fresh tears spilled over her cheeks, betraying her words. “I just need a minute.”
She turned away and went down the hall to her office. She dropped into the chair behind her desk and rested her face in her hands, gasping past the urge to cry. Even her office felt different. A hint of Eve’s perfume lingered in the air, and when Josie lifted her head, Eve’s laptop sat in front of her on the desk.
“Josie.”
She looked up to see Eve standing in the doorway. “I’m okay, really.”
“You don’t like it?” Eve asked, and Josie couldn’t tell if she was imagining something tender behind her neutral tone.
“I do. I love Dragonfly, but I miss Swanson’s too. It’s just…an adjustment, that’s all.”
“Okay,” Eve said from her position in the doorway.
“Come in and close the door,” Josie said.
Eve stiffened, jaw clenching, and Josie had to fight the urge to laugh. Oh, how she wanted to kiss that prim look right off her face, but that wasn’t even what she’d had in mind when she made her request. After a moment, Eve shut the door.
Josie stood and walked over to her, pulling her in for a quick hug that she knew Eve would never tolerate in public. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Dragonfly is perfectly me. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
“Oh,” Eve breathed, eyes locking on Josie’s.
“I just had to grieve Swanson’s for a minute, but that doesn’t mean I have regrets, because I don’t.”
“Okay.”
Josie stepped back, opening the door before she gave in and kissed her. “Why are they setting up for a second shot?”
“Because I have something else to show you.” Eve gestured for Josie to follow her into the hallway. A black sheet hung over the opposite wall. Josie had noticed it peripherally on her way into the bar, thinking it was an odd decorative choice, but now she realized it was concealing something.
She gulped as Eve stood beside her. The camera crew assembled around them, red lights blinking on as the director counted them down. Josie inhaled, looking to Eve for guidance.
“We saved a little piece of Swanson’s for you,” Eve said in her TV host voice as she reached out and gave the curtain a solid yank. It fluttered to the floor, revealing framed photos and news clippings spanning the hallway from one end to the other, above a solid wood panel that was as familiar as her own skin.
“Oh,” Josie whispered, stepping forward to run her fingers over its well-worn surface. “The old bar top.”
“Yes,” Eve said, sounding pleased.
“And my family…” Josie’s eyes welled with fresh tears as she took in the photos. Starting at the far end of the hall, she saw her grandparents—young and in love—as they first opened Swanson’s. The photos progressed to show her parents, her father standing proudly behind the bar, and baby Josie in her mother’s arms beside him. Here and there, newspaper headlines announced Swanson’s various accolades. At the end was a photo of Josie and her father behind the bar, taken a few weeks before he died.
“You told me once that dragonflies symbolize transformation,” Eve said. “And this wall represents Swanson’s evolution into Dragonfly.”
“Eve, this
is…it’s perfect.”
“You have a lot of history in this building,” Eve said.
Josie nodded, blinking to clear her vision. “I do.”
“And a lot more history to make.”
“Cut,” the director called, and again the red lights went out. The camera crew went through the door that led to the rooftop, leaving Josie and Eve alone in the hallway.
“Okay?” Eve asked.
“Better than okay,” Josie told her. “I was struggling a little with saying goodbye to Swanson’s, but this makes it a lot easier.” She touched the old bar top again.
“I hoped it might,” Eve said, leading the way to the stairs.
They filmed a short sequence on the rooftop, which had been cleaned up and furnished with a variety of seating, from bar-height tables to cozy couches. Afterward, Josie retreated to her office. She sank into the chair behind her desk and sat there, head in her hands, until the click of Eve’s heels announced her arrival. Josie looked up. “What now?”
“Now, we get ready for the grand opening.” Eve sat across from her, spinning the laptop to face her.
And so they went over every detail together, from local media coverage to the drink menu. Later that afternoon, Josie trained her new bartenders. On weekends, Adam would be with her at the main bar and her new hire, Elizabeth, would work the rooftop bar. During the week, the rooftop would be closed and another new hire, Lauren, would tend bar with Josie downstairs.
She tested out her new delivery agreement with the Italian restaurant next door and ordered food for the whole staff, including the Do Over crew. Eve sat at a table with two of the cameramen, keeping a professional distance. In between bouts of laughter at Adam’s nonstop jokes, Josie found herself thinking about what her life would be like after the grand opening tomorrow. A bar with a full staff, a bar that hopefully brought in enough income to keep her afloat.
The freedom to ask Eve out on a proper date.
Where would they go? Appearance would suggest she should take Eve somewhere fancy, somewhere she could wear one of her sleek dresses and they could order a bottle of champagne and sit at a table for two with a little decorative candle in between them. But Josie also entertained a fantasy that involved her and Eve crammed into one of the booths at Bertie’s Tavern, sharing burgers and beer and making out on the cracked vinyl seat.
