On the Rocks
Copyright © 2019 Isabel Lucero
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Published by Isabel Lucero
Cover Design by Robin Harper at Wicked by Design
Formatting by Stacey Blake at Champagne Book Design
Edited by Kay Springsteen
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Epilogue
Books By Isabel Lucero
Acknowledgements
About the Author
“You break up with your boyfriend for me yet?” I ask London as she wiggles into the barstool across from me.
She purses her pink lips and tilts her head. “Sorry to disappoint,” she answers, placing her wallet down in front of her. “You know what I want.”
I smirk at her. “You know what I want, too.”
She rolls her eyes, but a smile plays on her lips. Her head turns toward the stage where the band is setting up.
“New band?”
“Yep,” I answer, pulling the Johnnie Walker bottle out and then pouring it over ice. “They’re pretty good.”
“Gonna be hard to fill the last band’s shoes,” she says, raising her brows at me.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I’d say so. But we can’t keep doing karaoke every Saturday night. It’s been months of that shit, and the last thing I want to hear is a bunch of drunk asses getting up there and screaming the wrong lyrics into the mic.” I slide her glass over to her. “Black Label. On the rocks.”
“Thanks, Royce.”
I give her a nod and quick smile before moving down a few seats and serving another customer.
It’s only six-thirty, so it’s not too busy yet. The place usually starts filling up around nine, and it doesn’t slow down until about one.
Gaspar is a small town and it isn’t really known for its nightlife, but we get plenty of business throughout the week, regardless. In fact, we’re probably the number one place people choose to spend their time after work or on the weekends.
“Same thing, Jim?” I ask one of our regulars.
“You bet,” he answers, knocking on the wood before going back to a conversation with his co-worker, Craig.
Because I’ve lived in Gaspar my whole twenty-seven years of life, I know most everyone who comes in here. Craig and Jim always come in after work on Wednesdays, and most Saturdays and Sundays.
I pour him a Jack and Coke, heavy on the Jack, and place it on one of our King’s Tavern napkins.
“Craig, buddy. What are you talking about? The Bengals are way better than the Browns!”
“No they’re not,” Craig scoffs. “A Bud Light, Royce.”
I grab a pint glass and begin filling it up, still listening to their conversation.
“What?” Jim exclaims dramatically, his hand slapping against his forehead. “We lead the overall series fifty to forty-one.”
Craig waves his hand through the air, dismissing the stats.
I place his beer in front of him. “Good luck.”
“You’re not gonna help me out here?” Craig asks, gesturing to Jim before sliding me his credit card.
“Sorry, man. I’m staying out of this one.” I leave them to their arguing and start their tab before I go back to London.
“Need me to fill you up?” I ask, my lips pulling up on one side.
“Why does everything you say sound dirty?” she asks, running her dainty pointer finger around the rim of the glass.
“Maybe you have a dirty mind. I’m just asking if you need a refill.”
“You could just ask if I need a refill, and not if I need you to fill me up while you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, leaning onto my forearms in front of her. My tongue briefly slides across my bottom lip as my eyes drop to her mouth.
London attempts to keep a serious face as I stare into her light blue eyes, but she falters after several seconds and dismisses me with a laugh. “You know what you’re doing,” she utters, taking a sip from her drink.
I stand up straight, raising my arms in surrender. “Hey, I’m just making sure my customers are satisfied. It’s part of the job.”
“Mmhhmm,” she murmurs. “I’ve seen you in action. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“What do you mean you’ve seen me in action?” I ask, leaning my hip against the bar.
“Oh please,” she says with a laugh, pushing her long, blond hair behind her shoulder. “Everybody in here knows you hook up with some rando who laughs too hard at your jokes, which aren’t even that funny, by the way.”
“Rando? And what do you mean I’m not funny? Remember that joke I told you about how French fries weren’t first made in France, but in Greece. You laughed!”
“I chuckled, maybe. But that was only because an eight-year-old had just told me the same joke the day before.”
“Ouch,” I say, placing a hand over my heart.
She laughs and shakes her head at me. “Anyway, you don’t need lame ass jokes. Just ask them if they want to sleep with you. I’m sure that’s all it’ll take.”
“Oh really?” I ask, placing my chin in my hand as I lean over the bar again. “And why is that? Because I’m the most attractive man in all of Gaspar?”
She rolls her eyes. “And the cockiest.”
“But the most attractive too,
right?”
“Anyway,” she sings, changing the subject and gazing at her phone. “Midge should be here soon.”
“Oh good. I like Midge. She gets you drunk and makes you dance.”
“Oh shush. That was only like three times.”
I look down the bar and notice Chad’s taking care of a couple new people who walked in.
“Well, maybe tonight will be four.”
“Don’t count on it. It’ll be an early night for me. Got plans for tomorrow morning.”
I don’t bother asking about them, because I’m sure it involves her boyfriend, Hunter. I’ve seen him once. He had to come pick London up when she got absolutely shit-faced, which was one of the nights Midge got her drunk and on the dance floor. But I’ve never talked to Hunter. He doesn’t join her when she visits the bar, and I’ve never thought to ask why.
I point at the glass she has clutched in both hands. “You sure you don’t need a refill?” I ask.
She grins. “I’m gonna babysit this one for a while.”
“All right. I’ll come check on ya later.”
I end up getting sucked into Craig and Jim’s fight while I’m at their end of the bar, but when I serve Curtis his Hennessy I tell him about the Bengals vs Browns argument knowing he’s from Pennsylvania, and a Steeler’s fan.
“Hold up, guys. The Browns ain’t better than anyone,” Curtis pipes in, moving over a seat to get closer to them.
“Oh, here we go,” Craig responds, taking a drink.
I chuckle as I slip away, making my way to the other side of the bar.
About a half hour later, I spot Midge taking a seat next to London, so I saunter over to take her order.
“Hey, Midge. What can I get ya this time?” She wants a new drink every time she’s here. She’s not a creature of habit like most drinkers.
“A tequila sunrise sounds good. Thanks, Royce.”
“You got it.”
I pull the orange juice from the fridge under the bar, grab the tequila and grenadine, and place them in front of me.
“So, Royce. How’s your brother?” She rests her cheek in her palm, her head tilting to the side as she stares up at me with a smile.
“Which one?” I ask, pouring the tequila and orange juice over ice.
“Any of them. Who’s single?”
I laugh. “All of us are single except Cillian.”
After I stir the two ingredients, I slowly pour the grenadine inside the edge of the glass, observing the red syrup settle at the bottom. I plop a cherry on top and put an orange slice on the rim before sliding it over.
“The Kingston brothers,” Midge sighs, grabbing the glass. “Everyone wants a piece of one of you boys.”
“Not everyone,” I state, glancing at London. Midge laughs as London once again rolls her eyes.
“Hunter’s not a bad guy,” Midge says.
“Oh, God,” I mutter in disgust. “If anyone ever describes me as not a bad guy I want you to shoot me in the face. What a terrible way to be described.”
“Hunter is kind, generous, and thoughtful,” London defends.
Not really a better description, but okay.
“Anyway,” Midge interrupts. “Merrick. How is he?”
“Not the one you should be interested in since he just left.”
“I know. Damn. I should’ve put the moves on him a while back. Now I’m gonna miss out on the good life. How about Elijah?”
“Probably too old for you.”
“He’s what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-five.”
“That’s not too old for me, plus I love his sexy professor vibe.”
I scrunch my face up. “Well, Elijah and Cillian will be by later.”
“I’ll be sure to say hi,” Midge says with a grin, tucking her short black hair behind her ear.
“London? Need me to…” I stop myself and just gesture to the glass.
“Yes, please.”
After I give London another drink, I go busy myself with a group of girls who’ve approached the bar. Two are pretty hot, but neither have anything on London.
When London first walked into the bar, my dick twitched, wanting to say hello immediately. She strutted in wearing a black shirt tucked into a white skirt with a white blazer to match. Her long legs were on display, showing off a slight tan, and her black heels click-clacked across the hardwood floor as she made her way to me. Her blond hair fell well past her shoulders in waves, and all I could think was that she didn’t belong in this small town. She belonged in Hollywood or on a runway. More importantly, she belonged in my bed.
However, that was also the day I found out she was off limits. Hunter called her shortly after she settled in in front of me, and I heard enough to know she wasn’t single.
So, while I still like to flirt with her, I mainly focus on the people who are available.
“Hey ladies. How can I serve you?” I flirt.
“Service me?” One of them asks, flirting back. “I can think of some ways.”
I throw her a smile and take her order first. She orders a Long Island iced tea, two of the other ones get margaritas, and the last one orders water since she’s the designated driver.
“You guys here to check out the band?” I ask.
“They are,” the flirty one states. “I’m here to check out the bartender.”
Midge and London’s high-pitched cackle floats across the room.
“Is that right?” I slide the drink across the bar, allowing my hand to linger for the briefest moment. “You hear something about me?”
Her tongue snakes out and runs across her top lip. “Maybe.”
Small town means big gossip. I’ve had my fair share of women, so I don’t doubt they tell a friend, and that friend tells a friend, so word gets around.
“Must’ve been good.”
Once I get the other girls’ their drinks and gather their money, they wander off, leaving their friend to me.
“Oh, it was good.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Olive,” she answers, batting her long, dark lashes at me.
“Well, Olive. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Royce.”
“I know who you are,” she states, before sinking her teeth into her plump bottom lip.
I take my time to look study her as she ogles me. She’s got a pair of black, skinny jeans on, a white top that shows an inch or two of her flat stomach, and her perky tits look like they want to bust out of the tight shirt. Her big brown eyes pin me in place, waiting for my response.
“I’ll be here all night, darlin’. If you’re willing to wait around for me.”
She nods her head. “Okay.”
“Okay, then,” I say, giving her a parting wink.
“Just that easy, huh?” Craig says.
“What can I say?” I remark with a shrug.
“Did you tell her one of your hilarious jokes?” London inquires as I walk past her.
“I didn’t. You think I should?”
“Pretty sure you already got that in the bag,” Midge giggles. “Or bed.”
“Well, London told me all I needed to do was ask them to sleep with me. You know, since I’m the most attractive man in this town.”
Midge’s eyebrows shoot up right before she gapes at London. “That’s what you said?”
London scoffs. “Definitely didn’t say he was the most attractive man in town. I said he was the cockiest.”
I shrug. “I heard what I heard.”
“You are pretty good-looking,” Midge admits, giving me a once over. “You and your brothers definitely have the top four spots sewn up. I’m not sure in which order I’d rank you, though.”
“Well, for the sake of my ego, and since you’re right in front of me, please say I’m number one.”
“Oh whatever. Get back to work,” she jokes, throwing her cherry stem at me.
I glance at my watch and notice it’s almost nine. The band is about to get on stage soon, so it’s time
to get things ready.
“Well, ladies. Time to see how these new guys measure up.”
I adjust the lighting, making it even darker throughout the room, while lighting the stage up. I cut off the music that’s already blaring through the surround sound and head to the stage to introduce the new band.
“All right, people. It’s time to introduce an up-and-coming band. They have big shoes to fill, but let’s give ‘em a shot, okay? Welcome to the stage, The Remington Six.”
As I make my way back to the bar, Olive stops me by grabbing my forearm. I chat with her for a minute before getting back to work, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that London was watching me the whole time.
“I see you.”
Startled, I shift in my seat to find Midge watching me intently with her dark brown eyes. “And I see you.”
She smirks. “Nice try. I saw you eye fucking the shit out of Royce just now.”
“Hardly. He was making an announcement on stage. Everyone was paying attention to him.”
“Not everyone had lustful eyes.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re crazy. Royce is cute, but I have Hunter.”
“First of all, a puppy is cute. Royce is sexy. Don’t even act. And Hunter is nice, but you can’t deny the Kingston boys struck gold in the looks department.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
Midge laughs at me. “That boy wants you something serious.”
“He wants to bang me. Once. You know that’s all he does, right? One-night stands.”
She lifts a shoulder like she’d accept a one-night stand from a Kingston brother no problem. I just recognize that if I were single and gave into Royce and all his cocky charm, I’d want more. I know I would. I’m not stupid. But he’s not about that. Why sleep with him and have shit become awkward when I want to come have a drink? No thanks. I’ll keep our relationship like it is. Flirty but innocent.
Truth is, the day I met Royce, my jaw dropped. I don’t mean that metaphorically. It actually dropped. It wasn’t wide like a blow-up doll, but my lips separated and I gawked for a few seconds before gathering my wits about me.
I didn’t grow up in Gaspar, and when I moved here at seventeen, I was homeschooled for my remaining year of high school. So, I didn’t grow up with the Kingston brothers, but from what I’ve gathered since living here, they’re a big deal. They’re admired by every woman in town, and even some men. They’ve done fundraisers in town—the carwash was a huge hit. Two words. Shirtless. Wet. That money went to the local animal shelter, but they’re always doing something to help others. So, they aren’t assholes, and not only are they easy on the eyes, they’re pretty easy to like.
On the Rocks (Kingston Brothers Book 1) Page 1
