“I dunno, Mom. You’d have to let your hair grow long to be Troi.”
“Well, never mind then. I’d go nuts.” Josie ruffled at her ear-length strands.
When Carson snickered, she grinned. It seemed she’d been forgiven for being an unreasonable mom. Then again, her boy rarely held a grudge.
After watching Kirk, McCoy, and Spock argue onscreen, she asked, “Which one of those would you want to be?”
Crunching on a chip, he considered. “Kirk gets all the fun stuff, but Mr. Spock is a lot smarter. More like me, so I’d be him, I guess.”
Poor Dr. McCoy wasn’t even in the running. “Good choice. I prefer the smart ones, too.”
“But all the women want to be with the captain.”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Not her. Captain Kirk was a dawg, a player. Besides, Josie didn’t want any man, no matter how smart. She had a child—and how would Carson react if she started dating? Talk about complicating life. Even ignoring the truth that lust didn’t magically transform into a loving, happy ever after, there was the fact that a man wouldn’t want to take on a child who wasn’t his.
Or even a child who was.
After wolfing down a sandwich, Josie dressed for work. Black pants, white button-up shirt, black vest, ugly bow tie. Her bartending uniform.
She shook her head ruefully. Serving drinks wasn’t the job she’d dreamed about while growing up. She’d planned on college with an English or history major.
Life could sure mess with a girl’s plans.
But tending bar paid fairly well, and she enjoyed the work. Even better, the night hours left her time to do what she loved best—write books.
“Carson, grab your homework. Time to go to Oma’s. And do remember to help her with the dishes after you eat.” She ignored his usual grumbles at having to leave his show. Thank God for Oma. Ever since Josie’s great-aunt had returned from overseas years ago, she’d babysat Carson. When Josie bartended, Carson would spend the night at his great-great-aunt’s place. The two adored each other, but as a moody pre-teen, he was obligated to complain.
Smiling, Josie handed her son his sweatshirt. The night air was cool. Here in Florida, that only meant adding a hoodie at night. In Texas, she’d have needed a heavier coat.
Before getting in her car, Josie kept an eye on her boy as he trudged past the biker’s half of the duplex to the half where Oma lived. As Carson went inside, Oma leaned out the door and waved.
Josie blew her a kiss, got into her car, and made a mental note to warn Oma about keeping Carson away from the biker.
* * * * *
That night, after pulling her car into the driveway, Josie sat in the dark and seethed. Not fair. Maybe she should do one of those FML Facebook posts. Fuck-My-Life sure sounded appropriate. Sheesh, had she accidentally annoyed one of the gods in Asgard or something? Was Loki, the god of mischief, following her around and messing up her life?
How many things could go wrong this month? Carson’s worsening attitude. Oma’s sprained ankle. Uzuri turning over her lease to a biker of all things.
And now her boss at The Highland Whisky Lounge had fired her.
Josie saw the clock on the car dashboard and scowled. Not even nine o’clock. Her boss had sent her home before she’d even worked a couple of hours. He’d tried to justify the firing by stating her work was unsatisfactory, which was such a lie. In her three years there, she’d earned glowing evaluations. Raises. The clientele and serving staff liked her.
However, as Josie’d been leaving, the head barmaid had pulled her aside for a talk. The real reason Josie’d been dismissed had nothing to do with her work—and wasn’t one she could fight. Nepotism. Looked like she’d be job-hunting tomorrow.
“Loki, if you’re the one messing with my life, I’m going to kick your ass,” she muttered. She got out and noticed three cars parked in front of her new neighbor’s duplex. Apparently, Holt had more biker friends to entertain.
Maybe she’d kick his ass, too.
As Josie reached her front door, someone else—Uzuri—parked in front of Holt’s place. It was a shame she’d moved out of the duplex. Last summer and fall, Josie’d enjoyed their occasional conversations.
Before Josie could call a greeting, Holt strolled out the front door. “Zuri.”
“Hey, Holt!” Uzuri hurried across the lawn, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. With black hair, brown skin, dancing brown eyes, and in a beautifully tailored ivory suit, she was a decided contrast to Holt with his light hair and eyes, golden tanned skin, and ripped, faded clothing. To be honest, both of them were gorgeous.
Actually… As she regarded Holt’s golden good looks, Josie laughed silently. No wonder she had Loki and Asgard on her brain. Her neighbor looked just like Thor, right down to the studly body, long blond hair, and I-can-deal-out-a-world-of-hurt saunter.
Whew. She needed to reserve her imagination for her writing and not let it loose in real life. Turning, she unlocked her front door.
“Hey, hey, Josie!”
Josie turned to see Uzuri run across the lawn. How could anyone run so gracefully in high heels? That was just wrong. “Uzuri, how are you?”
Uzuri gave her a happy hug. “I was so sorry to hear about Mrs. Avery’s fall, only I didn’t hear about it until we were out of town and in Colorado of all places when there wasn’t anything I could do to help. How is she? Do you need any help? Holt said you and Carson are living here now. Are you finished moving in? How is Carson doing?”
“Was I supposed to understand all that?” Josie laughed. “Let’s see… Thank you, and I hope you had a good time. Oma’s doing well. No need for help. All our stuff is here now—still mostly in boxes. Carson likes the neighborhood.”
“You followed what I said? Girl, I don’t even remember what I asked. Damn, you’re impressive.”
“I am. How are you?” Josie held Uzuri at arm’s length to check her over. “Hey, you look really good…and happy. I’m sorry you left here though.” It would have been great to be closer to Uzuri; instead, she got the thunder-god-biker as a neighbor. “Did you move to somewhere awesome?”
“Ah, in a way.” Uzuri’s lips curved. “I fell in love with a couple of guys and live with them now.”
Josie blinked. “Uh. Two men?”
“Mmmhmm. They’re inside.” Uzuri took her hand. “You should come in and meet them. Where’s Carson?”
“He’s spending the night at Oma’s.” As he always did when she worked. A glance at the duplex lights showed he and Oma had gone to bed.
“Perfect. Come on.” Uzuri pulled her toward Holt’s front door. “You’re in your bartender outfit. Aren’t you home awfully early?”
“I’m not working. I mean, I lost my job.”
“What?” Uzuri gasped.
“Yes. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good company right now.” And she sure wasn’t going to Holt’s place. Josie planted her feet.
“What happened? You’re the best bartender I’ve ever seen.”
Josie’s eyes stung with tears at the sweet reassurance. She must’ve been more shaken than she thought. “It seems being good at something doesn’t always help. My boss tried to say I wasn’t doing the work, but the head barmaid told me the real reason I was let go. His niece finished a weeklong bartending class and wanted my job.”
“What a scumbag.” Uzuri shook her head. “He’s stupid, too. An inexperienced bartender won’t do well in The Highlands.”
“Probably not.” The clientele was older, sophisticated, and very particular about how their drinks were made. “Then again, if she’s cute and fun, maybe she’ll do very well.”
“Doubtful. I’ve been in your bar, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Uzuri and a gang of her girlfriends had visited about three months before. They’d ordered samplers of the bar food, worked their way through a ton of drinks, and had a noisily wonderful time. “I thought I was going to have to demand all y’all’s car keys. But then I saw your ch
auffeurs waiting.”
Several of the women’s men had taken over a nearby table, perfectly content to sip drinks and watch their ladies get plastered. Every time the females burst into laughter, the men would exchange pleased smiles. It had been heartwarmingly sweet.
Uzuri laughed. “It’s really nice to have our own private taxi service. We’re pretty spoiled.”
“You really are.” Josie eyed her. “And you have two drivers of your own?”
“I do.” Uzuri didn’t release her grip on Josie’s hand. “You don’t want to sit at home and stew about your jerk of a boss. Come and meet my guys, and let me serve you a drink for a change.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Uzuri, you don’t live here anymore. You’re not supposed to invite people to—”
“My house is her house.” Holt’s voice drifted through the night, as dark and smooth as black velvet.
Josie stiffened and saw him still standing at his front door.
A corner of his mouth rose…and his eyes stayed cool. “If you haven’t learned yet, Zuri rarely loses an argument.”
When he gestured toward the front door, Josie capitulated and followed Uzuri inside. In the entry, she stopped to look around.
Blue tile flooring opened into a living room filled with a slate gray sectional, massive flat-screen television, and black marble-topped end tables. A beautiful abstract painting in metallic blues and grays hung over a filled bookcase. Clean and contemporary. Not the biker pigsty she’d expected at all. Where was the clutter of beer cans, takeout meals, and stinky socks?
Bad Josie. How had she fallen into the mistake of stereotyping someone by his appearance?
“Everyone’s on the back patio.” Holt led the way to the rear of the house.
Taking Josie’s hand again, Uzuri tugged her through the kitchen and out the back door. Contemporary black-finish solar lights circled the patio. The soft light revealed three men who rose when Josie and Uzuri walked out.
“Josie,” Uzuri said. “Let me introduce my guys. This is Max Drago. He’s a police detective.”
Josie nodded at him. “It’s good to meet you.”
Over six feet tall, the hard-faced man had penetrating blue eyes that took her in quickly. “And you.”
Uzuri put her arm around an even taller man. “This is Max’s cousin, Alastair Drago. He’s a pediatrician.”
He wore his hair short, and a perfectly trimmed beard outlined his strong jaw. His brown face was a shade darker than Uzuri’s, setting off his disconcertingly light hazel eyes. “It’s good to make your acquaintance, Josie.” He offered his hand, and she blinked at the distinct British accent.
“I’m pleased to meet you both.” Josie shook his hand. “I love seeing Uzuri looking so happy.”
Smiles appeared on both men’s faces.
“That’s our job,” Max told her, and he looked quite serious.
Standing between her two men, Uzuri gestured to the third man. “Josie Collier, this is um…Zachary Grayson. He’s a psychologist.”
Josie frowned. Uzuri had sounded rather uncertain over the introduction; admittedly, the man was intimidating. He was older, lean and fit, his black hair silvered at the sides. Like Alastair, he wore tailored pants and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“I’m pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand, and as they shook, he held her gaze. “In fact, I believe I’ve seen you before. Perhaps at The Highlands?”
She blinked and realized he’d been one of the men waiting for Uzuri’s girl-party to end. “Yes. Your lady was the pretty blonde?”
“Yes. The very intoxicated pretty blonde. She giggled all the way home.” His smile showed he wasn’t put out in the least.
“They did have fun.” So much that she’d been a bit envious.
He still had her hand in his, and before she could react, he’d seated her in the chair he’d been using.
“But this is—”
“Your seat now,” he said firmly.
“Holt, put that chair down,” Alastair said in a clipped voice.
Holt was carrying out a chair from the kitchen.
Making tsking sounds, Max took the chair and placed it beside Josie.
“Nothing like being surrounded by mother hens.” Holt’s wry smile indicated he wasn’t truly upset. “Josie, wine, beer, or water?”
“A beer would be wonderful.”
“A lady after my own heart.” After bringing her a beer, he sat down beside Alastair and asked about their vacation.
Zachary took the chair beside Josie. After taking a sip of his drink, he spoke quietly, “You looked quite comfortable behind the bar at the Highlands. What is it like being a female bartender? Are you treated differently from a male?”
Trust a psychologist to ask an interesting question. “Hmm. Not really. In the past, perhaps there was more of a difference. The change is probably more noticeable for male bartenders. Their female customers are now as”—she probably shouldn’t say obnoxious—“aggressive as my male customers.”
“One of my bartender buddies often complains about how often he’s getting groped these days.” The low smoky sound of Holt’s chuckle sent a shiver over her.
“There’s progress. We now have equal opportunity groping.” Max shook his head. “Male or female, touching without permission is sexual assault.”
That’s right; the man was in law enforcement. No wonder he looked so tough.
“True enough.” She smiled at him. “Smart bartenders quickly master the ancient art of the side-step.”
Zachary considered her. “Aside from serving excellent drinks and dodging straying hands, are there any particular bartending objectives you set for yourself?”
Another unusual question. She rolled the bottle of beer between her hands, trying to find the right words. “Speed, since no one should have to wait long for a drink. Courtesy, of course. But also, beyond the alcohol, to be there to…I guess…just listen, especially to the ones who don’t have someone with them.”
She realized the other conversations had stopped.
“You treat single customers differently than people with dates?” Holt asked.
“Dates or friends.” She bit her lip. “Some people who drink alone come in merely to be around others. Some need a person to listen to them or to laugh at their jokes or just…see them.” She often had customers during the quiet hours who’d come in to sit at the bar and share their day.
“You see that as part of your job?” Zachary asked quietly.
“Not every bartender does. I do.” Or did. Who knew where her next job would be? She looked down, saw her bow tie, pulled it off, and stuffed it in her pocket.
“At least you won’t have to wear that ugly bow tie any longer.” Uzuri said to Zachary, “Z, would you believe her stupid boss fired her? The guy’s niece is fresh out of bartending school with no experience whatsoever, and he gave her Josie’s hours.”
“Indeed.”
“At The Highlands?” Holt frowned. “The girl is in for a rough time.”
Her neighbor was correct. Despite years of experience—and a superior memory—Josie had struggled for her first few weeks. “My boss thinks he’s doing her a favor.”
“Will you wait until she fails or go in search of a new position?” Alastair asked.
“I’ll be searching. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.” Actually, job-hunting might not be easy. She only worked part-time and had certain…standards…as to where she’d work. She smiled. “I’d rather hear about how you two met Uzuri.”
“Ah, well.” Uzuri shifted her feet.
Josie brightened. Sounded like there was a story here…
Max said, “I met her at a party where a couple was celebrating the adoption of two young boys. Zuri didn’t like me at all.”
“You were pushy.” Uzuri sniffed. “You both were. Are.”
Alastair’s grin was wide. “Quite correct.”
Josie watched them banter. How wonderful that Uzuri had found a man�
�men—who were so amazing. But a party introduction shouldn’t make Uzuri embarrassed. “How did you meet Alastair?”
Uzuri’s skin darkened with a flush.
Josie grinned. There it was.
Zachary said easily, “I believe a friend of mine saw Uzuri’s interest in Alastair and introduced them.” The amusement in his gaze showed he knew why Josie asked.
When Uzuri let out a relieved sigh, Josie pointed at her. “Just you wait. I’ll get you alone without all this protection and worm the real story out of you.”
“You can try, snoopy-pants,” Uzuri said, and a giggle escaped.
Oh, I will. “I better get on home.” Josie rose and set her beer on the table. Somehow, she’d downed it all—and now had a nice buzzing in her veins. She leaned down to hug Uzuri. “I’m glad I got to see you.”
“Me too.”
Josie smiled at Uzuri’s two men. “It was wonderful to meet you both.” She looked at Holt. He was nicer than she’d thought and had good friends. But she still didn’t want her boy around a biker. Her voice cooled slightly. “Holt, thank you for the beer.”
His expression closed off. “Any time.”
Zachary rose to his feet. “I also need to return home. Holt, I’m pleased to see you recuperating so well. You are missed.”
“Good to hear, Z. And no worries about scheduling. I’ll be back next weekend.”
Z, huh? That was a unique kind of nickname.
“Excellent.” The man looked at the Drago cousins.
Max lifted his glass. “We’re on Saturday, Z. See you then.”
Z’s gaze turned to Josie. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
“There’s no need.”
“Of course there is.” He lifted an eyebrow and motioned for her to precede him.
Well, okay then. It seems she had an escort. Here was a man accustomed to providing old-fashioned chivalry—and a man not accustomed to being refused.
To the chorus of goodbyes, she headed out, and Z strolled beside her the short distance to her house next door. In the quiet neighborhood, the ocean breeze rustled the palms that lined the curb.
Beneath the Scars Page 3
