by Talty, Jen
He drew in his lips, scrunching his face. “Not only am I not Irish, but I also can’t stand that shit.”
“How about shepherd’s pie?” Her green eyes danced against her porcelain-like skin. He’d never seen anything so intoxicating. Hell, he’d never seen a redhead with green eyes in his life.
“What the heck is that?” he asked.
“Layer of mashed potatoes, corn, ground beef.”
“How about I get a bacon cheeseburger, loaded, and chili fries.”
“I had you pegged for a baby back rib kind of man.”
“I’m a pretty simple guy.”
“All right, simple guy. This bartender has to know why your parents named you after a bottle of whiskey.”
“In part because my last name is Whiskey.”
“Ha, ha.” She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No way is your name Johnnie Walker Whiskey.”
He pulled out his driver’s license and dropped it on the counter. “See for yourself.”
She glanced between him and the counter, leaning forward. “Holy shit. Do you have any siblings?”
He leaned back and laughed. “I have two brothers and a sister. All named after whiskey.”
“I’ve got to hear those.” She leaned over the counter with an attentive smile.
He made sure his gaze never left her pretty eyes, even if he did notice the soft mounds pushing up out of her top.
“Jack Daniel’s, with the apostrophe, but we call him JD. My other brother is Jim Beam.”
“I take it he’s JB?”
“Smart girl. I like that,” he said.
“So, what’s your sister’s name?”
“Georgia Moon and we call her by her full name.”
“I bet she hates that,” Kitty said, her big sea-colored eyes luring him in like a rope around a cattle horn.
“Not sure what she hates more, the name or having three older and very protective brothers.”
“That would suck too.”
“Your turn.” He knew she’d have to stop talking to him soon, as there were other people seated at the bar, but hot damn, if he wasn’t having the best time. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.
“The day I was born, my parents were putting names in a hat at the hospital. One for girls and one for boys. But before my father could finish writing one of his favorites, I decided to enter the world so when asked what my name was, my dad reached into the hat and pulled out the one he hadn’t finished.”
“Why didn’t they give you the name he’d meant to write.”
“Because they both liked calling me their little kitten, so that’s where Kitty came from.”
“What was the name supposed to be?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “They have never told me. I even threatened to run away if they didn’t, but they are more stubborn than me.”
That statement reminded him of how young she had to be. “How long have you been bartending?”
“I’ve been at this job for three years.”
“You don’t look like you could be legal for the last three years.” Shut the fuck up. Christ. Ever since the breakup with Bella, JW avoided bars. Partly because the press hounded him and always managed to snap a picture of him that made him look like an ass. But also, he either tended to either shoot his mouth off and end up in a fight, or he’d say stupid shit.
Like now.
“I appreciate the compliment, but I’ve been over the legal age to drink for a little over six years.” She pushed back from the counter.
He quickly did the math.
Still younger than his cut-off.
He mentally sucker-punched himself in the gut. Didn’t matter how smart and adorable this chick was, he’d rather spend the rest of his life with his right hand than take a risk on a woman again.
“I’ve got other customers to attend to. If you need anything, just holler. Your food will be up in about ten minutes or so.”
“Thanks, Kitty.”
“My pleasure.”
Thankfully, she gracefully backed away, and he concentrated his attention on the baseball game. Not that he watched baseball or even knew anything about the sport, but it was something to focus his mind and eyes on.
That was until she brought him his food. Not only did the food smell like a little piece of hamburger heaven, but the presentation with the fluffy bun off to the side, cheese melting over a hunk of meat, and fries doused in a chili sauce made his stomach roll over and beg.
“Another beer?” she asked.
He nodded as he greedily dug into his dinner. The last thing he’d had to eat was peanuts on the plane, and they weren’t that good. “And how about some recommendations on things to do.”
“Did you come alone?” she asked, her long fingers curling over the lever as she pulled it back. Something in the front of the pub caught her attention, and the beer spilled out as she overfilled the glass. “Fuck,” she muttered, wiping off her hand.
He glanced over his shoulder. A tall, slender man wearing a pink button-down shirt entered the pub.
What was it with city men wearing pink?
The man pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head as he scanned the room.
Kitty shoved a foamy beer in front of JW. “I can’t believe he showed his face here,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“My ex-husband.”
Chapter Three
“He doesn’t look like your type.”
“He’s not,” Kitty said, her heart hammering in her chest like a machine gun, only partly caused by her ex showing up without warning.
JW had her stomach in knots from the second he sat down at her bar. She’d always had a thing for bad boys. The guy with a scruffy, unshaven face, but not out of control. Just wild. Hair a little messy. Mystery lurking behind brooding eyes. She always called it the ‘rugged look.’ Her father called it the ‘stay away from him’ look.
“How old is he?” JW cleared his throat. “I’m sorry; that was rude.”
“He’s almost forty, and yeah, I look like I’m twelve.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” JW tipped his hat and smiled. “How’d you end up with a guy like him?”
“I was a twenty-year-old waitress at a country club. I was young and naive, and Preston can be charming when he wants to be.”
JW arched a brow. “Preston? That sounds very country club preppy.”
She let out a short laugh. “You have no idea.”
“Are you friendly with your ex?”
“We haven’t spoken in over a year, but he’s been trying to get a hold of me.”
Typically, she didn’t discuss her personal life with strangers, or customers, but something about the tall, sexy man sitting in front of her made her feel safe. Comfortable.
Probably a bad idea since she’d been so wrong about Preston.
“Looks like he’s coming this way,” JW said, popping a French fry in his mouth. “Give me a code word if you need help.”
“It’s going to be him who needs assistance.” She watched as Preston waved to three men before gliding between the tables, heading right in her direction.
“You work here?” Preston wedged himself next to JW, who didn’t look thrilled to be nudged with an elbow and no apology.
“There’s nothing wrong with having a job,” she said, biting her tongue.
“But a bartender? At a pub? You can do better than that. I thought you always wanted to be a teacher. What happened to that dream?” he asked with a slight smirk that she wished she could smack right off his face.
“I’m in school working toward that.” She didn’t owe Preston an explanation, but she wasn’t about to stand there and let him belittle her any longer. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work,” she said, planting her hands firmly on her hips.
“What time do you get off?” He had the nerve to smile at her as if their crossing paths was a regular everyday occurrence. “We need to talk.”
“My silence toward your phone calls and texts should tell you I don’t feel the same way.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sexy cowboy look her ex up and down. Part of her had enjoyed the light banter JW had provided, and he’d be the perfect kind of man to toss in Preston’s face.
“I think I deserve five minutes of your time, considering we were once married.”
“Say your piece,” she muttered. Preston could be persistent, and the last thing she wanted was for him to bother her or her family.
“I don’t want to do it here. Have coffee with me.”
“She’s busy,” JW said casually as he wiped his hands on his napkin, tossing it on the plate.
Preston craned his neck. “Excuse me? Who the hell are you?”
“A friend,” Kitty interjected, not wanting a pounding of the chest situation. “Look, Preston, we have nothing left to say to each other.”
“A lot has changed.” Preston leaned over the counter.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Preston told her she was a rat leaving a sinking ship when she’d asked for a divorce. He’d go between that and begging her to stay, telling her it would all work itself out, that all she had to do was trust him. “Now that I’m back on my feet, I was thinking—”
“Nothing good comes out of you thinking.”
“You still have a razor-sharp tongue,” he said, shaking his head with a stupid smile. “I see that your brother is here. I’d like to talk with him too about—”
“You need to stay away from my family and me.”
“I can make things easier on you financially.” He curled his slimy, dirty fingers around her wrist.
JW cleared his throat. “I don’t think the lady wants your hands on her.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Preston said with a clipped tone, glaring.
She took the opportunity to yank her hand free.
Swiveling the barstool, JW folded his arms across his chest. His massive muscles flexed. “Touch her again, and you’ll care, alright.”
“Who the hell does this guy think he is?” Preston asked.
“Her date for the evening.” JW arched a brow.
Narrowing her eyes, she glared at JW. The last thing she needed was for Preston to go off halfcocked and end up in a brawl.
Then again, she might enjoy watching JW pound the shit out of Preston.
“You’re going out with this—”
She interrupted Preston. “We’re friends,” she said behind gritted teeth.
“Well, tell your friend, this is none of his business.” Preston turned his back to JW. “When we divorced, you refused any settlement. Let me give you one now.” When she’d first met Preston, he’d given her family money and opportunity, but throughout their marriage, he used that simple fact to control her.
“I don’t need your money, nor do I want it or the strings that come with it.”
“Why do you have to be so pigheaded? I’m just trying to be a stand-up guy and do the right thing by my ex-wife.” Preston shook his head. “My start-up is looking for good, smart people right now. I want to hire your brother. That wouldn’t be a handout, now would it?” Preston stiffened his spine, shoving his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels like a proud peacock ruffling its feathers.
“He’s got a job.” She smiled as wickedly as she could. “With Emerson Industries.”
Preston’s mouth dropped open at the news her brother was working for the man who turned Preston into the federal government.
She bit down on the inside of her mouth. That was way too much fun.
Preston drew his lips into a tight line. He hated being dismissed by anyone. “You still know how to crush a man’s heart.” He turned on his heels.
She watched him glide across the floor like a graceful figure skater, stopping at a couple of tables to shake hands with a couple of men she’d never seen before.
“Never seen a divorced man offer his ex-wife money before,” JW said.
“It’s an offer from the devil.” There was absolutely nothing she could do about Preston spending time in McCurdy’s Restaurant. “And while I appreciate that you were only trying to help with the date comment, it only made matters worse.”
“I apologize. Mind if I ask how long you and he were married and why you got divorced?” JW asked as he raised his beer, bringing the glass to his full lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp. His playful eyes had turned guarded.
“Couple of years and he was arrested for embezzlement.” She nodded to one of the patrons waving his drink. “I’ll be right back.” Why she felt the need to qualify her departure or why she was compelled to continue her conversation with JW was a thought she chose not to ponder too hard.
She made her way up and down, refilling her customers’ drinks, keeping one eye on her ex and the other on the sexy cowboy who had been flirting with her without it feeling like he was trying to pick her up. She felt the corners of her mouth tug upward—what a freaking name.
Johnnie Walker Whiskey.
She snagged the signature bottle, holding it up, catching his gaze.
“One more,” he said with a drawl, though he wasn’t Southern, not at all.
“I’m sorry I was short with you. My ex brings out the worst in me,” she said.
“We all have someone in our past that does that.”
“What kind of a last name is Whiskey, anyway?”
“Long story short, my great-great-grandfather changed our name from Whisken to Whiskey by accident when he signed his name as an immigrant, and the officer wrote it as a Y, not an N. He just never bothered to correct it.”
JW had a husky voice, and he enunciated every syllable like an educated man, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He was the polar opposite of Preston with his five o’clock shadow and dark, brooding eyes. JW had broad, thick shoulders and massive biceps. He also came off as the strong, silent type who didn’t do small talk well, where Preston filled every silent pause in a conversation.
“Is your dad named after a whiskey?”
“The entire family. My dad’s name was Elijah Craig, and his brother is Evan Williams. I’ve got cousins named George Dickel, Henry McKenna, James Oliver, and Virginia Black. My aunt Ezra Brooks started naming her kids after drinks, so we’ve got Margarita and Cosmo.”
“That’s crazy; you know that, right?”
He nodded. “Not that I’m going to have kids or anything, but me and my siblings decided to stop the madness.”
“Are you an uncle yet?” She glanced out into the dining room, eyeing her ex and a few of his buddies from the country club that she vaguely remembered. Preston had always kept her wrapped in this protective bubble, wanting to shield her from the shallow assholes who judged them. She seriously wondered why Preston had ever married her. When she asked the question during the divorce, he said that he honestly loved her.
Maybe he did.
But he sure as hell hadn’t trusted her with the truth, and that was a deal breaker.
“Not yet and not anytime soon since none of us are in a serious relationship.”
She cleared his empty plate, wiping down the counter. “Take it from a divorcee; relationships are overrated.”
“Cheers to that.”
“It was nice meeting you, JW. My shift is about over for the night. Can I get you anything else?”
“Just the check and a list of places to go check out?”
“Right. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be back with a list.” She slipped his check into a glass, sliding it across the counter.
“Here.” JW held out the check with a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“That’s way too big of a tip,” she said, staring at the hot cowboy. She didn’t know if she should be insulted or not.
“I’m going to leave it all on the counter, so either it goes in your pocket, or the other bartender’s. The choice is yours.”
“Thank you.” She went to the register, ringing up his check befo
re ducking into the back room to collect her things. She’d split the tip, but she didn’t need to do that in front of the customer. After clocking out, she said her goodbyes to her brother and made her way to the patron side of the bar, but JW wasn’t standing there.
Well, that was rude after she’d gone to the trouble of making a list.
She glanced around the room, letting out a sigh of relief when she spied him coming out of the restroom, holding that damn hat in his hand. He nodded in her direction, pointing to the front door.
Dorinda smiled as if she’d won the lottery. Boy, was she going to be disappointed when she found out her attempt at fixing Kitty up with the hot stranger had been foiled.
“So, I take it Kitty took more than good care of you,” Dorinda said.
“She sure did.” JW tipped his hat.
A flutter of excitement crawled up Kitty’s body. She tried to banish the feeling before it made her cheeks flush with desire she hadn’t experienced in a few years. Even her hands got clammy, which hadn’t happened since the first time she had to open a wine bottle in front of Preston and his entire family.
“Here’s a list of some things to do in Baltimore that I promised you. I’m sure there are a ton more things to do, but it will give you a good start.” She placed the piece of notebook paper in his palm.
He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. His warm lips sent a wave of lust across her skin. “Do you like ice cream?” he asked as he shoved the list in his back pocket.
“She loves ice cream,” Dorinda chimed in.
She swallowed. “You seem like a nice guy, but I don’t date my customers.”
“I’m not asking for a date, just to share some ice cream. I saw a nice little dessert shop down the street.” He pointed in the direction of Haller’s Treats, which was only a few blocks from her house.
“That’s our favorite little spot.”
“I really should get home.” Kitty glanced over her shoulder.
Preston leaned back in his chair with a scowl. Pissing him off had never been a good idea. But she wasn’t his wife anymore. She owed him nothing, and she certainly didn’t have to answer to him anymore.
Dorinda leaned in. “Put your hand on this tall cowboy’s arm and go get ice cream. If nothing else, it will put that ex-husband of yours in his place.”
