by Portia Moore
A weaker man would have fallen for it on day three, but I’m determined to stand firm.
“Make sure the produce is good for today, Cassie,” I say, turning my back on her. “And fresh silverware needs to be rolled. The closer didn’t do it last night.” I know the closer was her, but I don’t say so. I don’t have the energy for a confrontation this morning. “We’ve only got about fifteen minutes before the doors open. Make sure the daiquiri machines are ready to go too. Yesterday we went through half our stock in a couple of hours. Aiden will make sure the new shipment of mixes are unpacked and in the freezer.”
“I’ll do what now?” Aiden’s curly-haired mop pokes around the door before his face does—the kid is badly in need of a haircut. “Aww, man, don’t make me go in the freezer. I wore shorts today.”
“It’s over a hundred degrees out and one hundred percent humidity,” I point out. “If I didn’t have my own job to do, I’d spend the whole damn day in the freezer.”
Aiden sticks his lower lip out, and as he passes by me, I catch a whiff of weed, as expected. “Spray some cologne on,” I tell him as he walks by, and he glances at me nervously, but relaxes when he sees my expression. I know he doesn’t give a shit about the cold freezer, he just doesn’t want to haul boxes. But I’ve got my own work to do.
Cassie goes to the back to get the lemons and limes and comes back out with a handful, looking at me quizzically. “There’s a guy out back who says he wants to see you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s his name?”
She shrugs. “He didn’t say. He’s older. Kind of hot.” Her eyes light up a little, and I roll mine. “Fine,” I say. “Get those cut up. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I already know who’s standing out back before I get there. Only one older guy that I know makes girls walk around with that expression on their face.
Clearly, Miami isn’t far enough away to not have to deal with my family.
Jackson is leaning against the side of his rented Maserati, sunglasses on, his hair ruffled by the ocean breeze. He looks casual, cool, and crisp as a cucumber despite the sweltering heat. I’m acutely aware of my sticky appearance.
“What are you doing here?” I ask without preamble.
“In Miami, or at this bar?” Jackson lifts his sunglasses, looking at me with the same blue eyes that I recognize in my own face.
“Either. Both.”
“I have business in Miami. And a little pleasure,” he says easily. “And I’m here at the bar to see you, Son. You left New York pretty abruptly.”
I respect and admire my dad for many things, but his marriage is not one of them, and I cringe at what he means by pleasure. I always looked to my stepdad for the blueprint on being a good husband because he treats Mom like a goddess. It’s how I tried to treat Holly, and maybe I came up short since it has all gone down in a ball of flames. But I never cheated on her and wouldn’t.
“I left because I needed some space,” I say tightly.
“Space from us? Your family? You just quit your job, Son. A job that I gave you, that paid more than any bartending job ever will. You called and said you quit, and that you weren’t coming back, and then I find out that you’re working nights serving drinks, and living in some shithole in Long Island. You could have come to stay with Cassandra and me. You could have stayed with Tiffany. Either of us would have been glad to have you. But you just cut us out.”
“And what was I supposed to do?” I burst out, looking at him angrily. “I’m your son, as you keep pointing out. Your son. And you haven’t had my back through any of this. You and Tiffany both sided with Holly during the divorce. She’s not your family, I am. And yet, I’m the bad guy somehow, even after what she did! How can you defend that?”
“I’m not defending her, Son. But marriage is something you fight for. The two of you could have tried counseling, therapy. Found what made you love each other again, found a balance between family and her career. With some guidance—”
“She had an abortion and lied about it! She would have always lied about it if I hadn’t found out. You don’t know what it was like. You don’t know the nights I stayed up crying with her, the nights I sat in the room that was supposed to be the nursery and grieved for all the memories we were supposed to make there. You don’t know how I sold or gave away every baby thing we had bought so that she wouldn’t have to look at it or deal with it, because I believed she had miscarried and I wanted to protect her. I loved her. But she didn’t love me, or our child. She just loves herself and her accomplishments. So yes, I divorced her, rather than sit through therapy sessions and do worksheets and try to find some common ground. She betrayed me. There’s nothing left after that.”
“Marriages come back from betrayal all of the time. You don’t just give up on
marriage—”
“Like you and Cassandra?” My voice is cutting, slicing thickly through the hot air between us.
“This isn’t about me. Your sister…”
“Tiffany took Holly’s side, too. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“They’ve been best friends since high school. She’s in an impossible spot, Alex, caught between her brother and her friend.”
“I don’t see how any of you think this is forgivable.”
“We want you to be happy, Son. You walked out on everything. You’re having some kind of…breakdown or something. We just want you to come home, to get back to your life.”
“I don’t need any of that to be happy. This is my life now. My own life that I’m in control of.” I can see the unhappiness in my father’s eyes, and I know all of this is out of love for me. I know he’s telling the truth when he says that he wants me to be happy, and he probably does think I’m having some sort of breakdown and hell, maybe I am, but it’s on my terms.
He sighs, disappointment etched in his face, and I hate this. I love my dad, and the one bright spot working at his firm was the deeper connection that it forged between us. The days at the office, the business lunches, the traveling to conferences, the family dinners at my house and his, the weekends at the Hamptons—we were closer than ever before. So much so that I drifted away from my other family, my mom and stepdad, for a while. But in the end, they were the most supportive of all. They never questioned my decisions. They were horrified by what Holly had done and backed me up about getting divorced. So the wedge between them is fixed, but now I’m left with an ocean-sized rift between me and Jackson’s side of the family, and I have no idea how to cross it. I have no idea if I even want to.
“I have to get back to work,” I say flatly, looking away from him. “I don’t think Cassie can hold down the fort for long.”
“I’m always here for you, Son. You know how to reach me.” The look in my father’s eyes breaks my heart, but I can’t go back to being who he wants me to be. I still need space from all of them.
I turn away without another word and walk back into the bar.
The bar’s busy but not busy enough to keep me from turning the conversation over and over in my head, trying to think of how it could have gone differently, if I could somehow be in the wrong. But I keep coming back to their defense of Holly. He should be on my side, always.
I’m about to tell Aidan I’m going to take a break, go on the beach and clear my mind, when the door opens, and I see her.
She’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. Hell, the most beautiful. She’s average height, wearing light denim shorts and an aqua blue bikini top under a sheer white shirt made of a material so fine and thin it looks as if it would rip at the slightest touch. Her night-black hair is loose around her shoulders, slightly frizzy from the heat and humidity, and her tanned skin shimmers. She comes closer, and I smell coconuts.
Or maybe that’s just the daiquiri mix.
Shit, her eyes are the most gorgeous blue I’ve ever seen, and I manage somehow not to look below them to scope out the figure that I saw the minute she came in the door—perfect breasts,
a narrow waist, and hips that a man could grab onto for dear life. She’s taking a seat at the bar, and I walk towards her as if drawn by a magnet, my heart pounding in my chest.
I don’t think any woman has ever made me feel like this at first sight. It takes everything in me to push the feeling down, clear my throat, and try to do the same to my head. I remind myself that women are a distraction I don’t need—and this one definitely is.
“What can I get you, beautiful?” I ask with my usual careless charm, laying it on as thickly as I do with all of the girls. They all eat it up, and my good genes, coupled with my natural ability to flirt as easily as I breathe, make the bars I work at good money. It doesn’t mean anything to me, though. I forget about them as soon as they sign their bill. And it needs to be the same for this girl, whoever she is.
She’s staring at me as if mesmerized. I laugh as if I weren’t doing the same a few minutes ago when she walked in. “What do you recommend?” she asks, propping her chin on one hand as she glances down at the menu.
“You can’t go wrong with the fish tacos,” I say, and I lean forward as if I’m going to whisper a secret in her ear. “Anything else here will give you the runs tonight.”
There. That ought to break the spell, I think, as I wink at her. Nothing like a good shit joke to break up some sexual tension. But she laughs, and the sound is musical. She smells like coconuts, and I can see from how close I am that her skin is shiny with suntan oil. It looks soft, and I want to reach out and touch her arm.
“Let’s go with those, then,” she says, and her blue eyes meet mine, locking with my gaze. My heart skips a beat.
I’m just horny. It’s been me and my hand for a long time, buddy. Maybe it’s time to break that streak. But not with her; this girl is trouble, I can tell. But it doesn’t stop me from flirting with her, and the way she’s flirting back is intoxicating.
“Can I make you something special to drink with it? Your taste buds will never be the same again.” I smile at her, and she grins back, but it’s a little shaky. Her tongue darts out, moistening her lower lip, and I feel something in my stomach tighten. Too much more of this, and I’m not going to be able to come out from around the bar. These cargo shorts don’t hide many sins.
“How can I turn that down?” she laughs, and I’m about to tell her that she can’t when a busty redhead whose shirt has gotten progressively lower since she’s come into my bar whistles at me. “Hey, lover boy!” she yells.
The brunette sitting in front of me grins. “Better get going, lover boy.”
I wince, but turn away, putting in her order before going over to find out what the redhead wants. It’s another round of shots for her table, which she leans unnecessarily close to tell me about, and by the time I get back to the bar, the girl sitting there is on her phone.
It’s for the best.
I mix up a drink for her, one of my specialties, and hand it over as she hangs up the phone. She takes a sip as I wait, and the look that passes over her face is pure bliss. It makes me feel a rush of lust, all the blood shooting straight down into my groin because all I can think about is that if one of my drinks can make her look like that, what would she look like if I…
“What do you think?” I ask, clearing my throat and trying to distract myself before I embarrass us both.
“I’ve had better.” She winks at me.
Fuck. That wink did it. I’m entirely hard now. I grit my teeth, mentally telling myself down, boy as I touch my chest in mock horror. “I’ll just have to do better next time,” I say, as if there will be a next time. As if I’ll see this girl again.
“You know it was amazing,” she says, and her lips are red now from the drink, pursed around the straw in a way that’s doing nothing for my current condition.
“I’ll check on you in a minute,” I manage, and dart into the back room. When I’m sufficiently composed, I make the rounds with my other customers, trying not to think about her. But I can’t help but look over at her every few minutes, wondering if I’ll catch her eyes on me, wondering if she’ll want another drink, wondering what her name is. What she’s doing here. If she’ll be here again.
All things I shouldn’t care about.
And then she raises her hand for the check, and I feel disappointment slide down my chest as I carry it over.
“You’re not leaving me already?” I say, my voice dripping with manufactured sadness, but it’s not all fake. I wish she’d stay. There’s that walk on the beach I was thinking of earlier…
The last thing I need is a date. Or any distraction that comes in the form of a female.
“I didn’t realize I was here with you,” she banters right back, and I love it. It’s been so long since I’ve had fun with a woman—real, genuine fun. I don’t remember the last time with Holly that wasn’t tears, arguments, or screaming. “Besides, you have such a fan club,” she adds, gesturing around the room.
“Just customers.” I shrug with my most charming grin.
“I bet.” She pulls out her debit card, and suddenly I want to do something nice for her. So that she’ll remember me, yes, but also because she’s made me feel good again for the first time in a long time. In the space of less than an hour, I’ve felt emotions that haven’t surfaced in what has felt like forever.
“It’s on me,” I say. Her eyes widen and she looks amused.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because this wasn’t a date.” She smiles at me, her lashes fluttering slightly. My mouth goes dry.
“It could be if you tell me when you’re free.” The words shock me the second they’re out of my mouth. I didn’t intend to ask her on a date; in fact, I’ve been telling myself all afternoon to do the exact opposite. But it’s out in the open now, hovering between us, and I can’t deny that I want her to say yes.
“I can’t, I’m sorry,” she says, and I think I hear real disappointment in her voice. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. “I’m sort of here with someone,” she explains, and now the disappointment is mine. Stupid, I tell myself. Of course she’s here with someone. No girl who looks like her and has a personality on top of it is single.
“Lucky guy,” I say flatly. She tries to hand me the card again, but I shake my head.
“Who says it’s a guy?” she teases, and that jolt of lust comes back. Oh, that’s all I need, the picture of this gorgeous girl with another woman. My dick is going to rip the fabric of my shorts if she keeps it up.
“Thank you,” she says, getting up and reaching for her purse. She puts a twenty on the bar. “For your tip, then,” she sings, and I quickly cover her hand with mine before I can stop myself.
“I just want your name,” I say.
Jesus, Alex, give up already. I don’t need this! But I can’t keep myself from looking at her, hoping she’ll tell me. Less than an hour with this girl, and I’m lost.
She hesitates. I wonder what she’s thinking. Probably that I’m a charmer with a string of girls, new notches in my bedpost every night. Maybe that I use this same routine on every cute girl I come in contact with, that she’s just like any other.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
“Madison,” she says finally, a slow smile spreading across her face. In this second, I think I have a chance until she slips her hand from underneath mine. She backs away slowly as if she’s second-guessing herself.
“Until next time,” I tell her, letting her know to come back, that I’ll be here, this doesn’t have to be it. When I see a wistful smile on her face, I know this is it. Whatever lucky guy she’s with doesn’t have to worry about me, and I like her even more for it. I watch her slowly making her way to the exit, and I have to stop myself from jumping over the bar, but I have to say something else.
“Hey,” I call out, feeling like an idiot. She turns around wearing a whimsical, playful expression.
“You got my heart…can I get it back?” By this time, all eyes in the bar are on us, and
I can see her cheeks are tinged pink. I know I've screwed up any chance of a tip from the redhead's table, but this is worth it.
“Cheesy?” I ask her, and her amused smile spreads into a beautiful one that stops my heart.
“Yeah, but you pull it off,” she says with a giggle, and then blows me a fucking kiss. I throw my hand up to catch it and put it in my pocket.
Madison. She just reminded me that there may be more to life just yet.
Madison. It’s not a name I’ll forget anytime soon.
Chapter 1
The day before…
Alex
“So, you guys aren’t going to be able to make the wedding?” I glance between my mom and stepfather, feeling more than disappointed. I haven’t gotten to see them as much as I’d like to these days, between the craziness of work and the whirlwind of events leading up to the wedding. I’ve been looking forward to getting to see them for the weekend at the resort.
My mom shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry, this flu has sidelined John, and I think I might be coming down with it.” My brow creases. “And I don’t think I’m up to navigating Jackson’s family for the weekend, especially not without John.”
“That’s fair. Tiffany will miss seeing you, though.” Throughout the years of co-parenting birthday parties and school events and weekends back and forth with the two families, Tiffany had always liked hanging around my mom. It had irritated me when I was a kid, but as we got older, it turned into something I appreciated—the fact that everyone in the family seemed to care about each other. Until the falling out over my first marriage, of course.
“I know. We feel so bad, but I’ve already let Tiffany know that as soon as they’re back from their honeymoon, we’d love to have dinner in their lovely home.”
I nod, glad that I don’t have to tell Tiffany the bad news.
Which brings me to the next thing that I’d wanted to tell my parents after the wedding. I’d planned to tell them with Madison, but the stomach flu she’d had was still bothering her. Now that I think about it, maybe something is going around.
