by Kenner, J.
"No, Mike's great." Cam slid a Scotch in front of Reece. "Sharp, quick, hard worker. He went off the clock about an hour ago, though. So you just missed him."
"Tyree shortened his shift?"
Cam shrugged. "Guess so. Was he supposed to be on until closing?"
"Yeah." Reece frowned. "He was. Tyree say why he cut him loose?"
"No, but don't sweat it. Your cousin's fitting right in. Probably just because it's Sunday and slow." He made a face. "And since Tyree followed him out, guess who's closing for the first time alone."
"So you're in the hot seat, huh? " Reece tried to sound casual. He was standing behind Megan's stool, but now he moved to lean against the bar, hoping his casual posture suggested that he wasn't worried at all. He was, but he didn't want Cam to realize it. Tyree didn't leave employees to close on their own. Not until he'd spent weeks training them.
"I told him I want the weekend assistant manager position. I'm guessing this is his way of seeing how I work under pressure."
"Probably," Reece agreed half-heartedly. "What did he say?"
"Honestly, not much. He took a call in the office, told Mike he could head home, then about fifteen minutes later said he needed to take off, too, and that I was the man for the night."
"Trouble?" Megan asked.
"No. Just chatting up my boy," Reece said, surprised at how casual his voice sounded. Because the scenario had trouble printed all over it. He just wasn't sure what kind of trouble.
He focused again on Cam. "What about the waitstaff?" Normally, Tiffany would be in the main bar taking care of the customers who sat at tables. "He didn't send them home, too, did he?"
"Oh, no," Cam said. "Tiffany and Aly are scheduled to be on until closing, and they're in the back with—"
But his last words were drowned out by a high-pitched squeal of "You're here!" and Reece looked up to find Jenna Montgomery—the woman he craved—barreling across the room and flinging herself into his arms.
Chapter Two
"I didn't think I'd see you until tomorrow." Excitement laced Jenna's voice, and she clung to him with gleeful ferocity. Her arms tightened around his neck, and her legs—strong from years of cycling the Austin hills—captured his waist with a vise-grip. "What a fabulous surprise!"
When she'd launched herself at him—her long, ginger hair flying behind her—he'd stumbled backward from the force of her enthusiasm, locking his arms around her in reflex. Now he continued to hold her tight, relishing this delicious, stolen moment with her curves pressed soft against him and her heartbeat reverberating through him. She was close enough that he could count her freckles, and her breath was intoxicating, smelling of lime and Corona and rum. Just like it had that night.
"Loaded Coronas," he murmured, his body tightening with the memory of that other time when he'd held her close and breathed that heady scent.
"Cam made me one." She loosened her grip, and all he had to do was let go so that she could slip out of his arms. It should have been easy. Instead, it felt as though he were holding a live wire, sparking all the wild and heated impulses he'd worked so hard to suppress.
She started to squirm, obviously intending to slide down his body, basically using him like a stripper pole. Not that Jenna would think of it that way. To her, she was just getting back on her feet. But in the process, she'd undoubtedly feel the evidence of the dangerous direction his mind was wandering.
That, he thought, would be a very bad thing.
So, with a heroic effort, he closed his hands around her waist and eased her to the ground, keeping enough distance between them that there was no contact between her body and his crotch.
"In fact," she continued, as if there'd been no gap at all in the conversation, "I think Cam needs to make me another." She winked at Reece, her green eyes twinkling. "They really are amazing."
"Amazing," he repeated, his eyes narrowing with both amusement and mock reprobation. "I seem to remember you telling me they were sneaky, dangerous drinks, and that I was an evil genius for thinking them up in the first place."
One shoulder lifted in a casual shrug as she headed toward the bar where Cameron was pouring the neck off of a fresh Corona before filling the space with rum. She wore her shoulder-length hair parted in the middle, and it fell like sheets of fire around her shoulders. "They are, and you are, and they're still damn delicious," Jenna announced. "Besides, my flight was horrible. I deserve this." She took the finished drink from Cam, pulled a long swallow, and made the kind of satisfied noise a man likes to hear from a woman in bed.
Reece shifted again, trying to dissuade his cock from leaping to attention, then felt a wash of metaphorical cold water splash over him when Megan came up beside him, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I'm guessing this is the friend who flew in tonight?"
"This is indeed," Jenna said, thrusting her hand out to Megan. "I'm Jenna. And I'm guessing you're the reason my so-called best friend blew me off?"
From down the bar, Reece heard Griff stifle a laugh. He rolled his eyes and scowled at Jenna. "Come on, Jen. You know I—"
But Jenna held up her hand, cutting him off. "I'm teasing. Brent's perfectly capable of picking me up. And it looks like you had other plans, anyway," she added, eyeing Megan with what appeared to be approval before taking another long sip.
His gut tightened. He wanted to tell her that Megan was a great girl, but she wasn't his girl. Right then, that seemed to be the most important thing in the world.
Fortunately, he recognized the asinine impulse for what it was, and shifted the topic entirely. "Speaking of Brent, where is he?"
Jenna started to turn, probably to find Brent and call him over. But before she answered, Megan gasped.
"Jenna?" Her voice rose with incredulity. "Oh my gosh, I thought you looked familiar. You organized the Kempinski wedding, right?"
For a moment, Jenna looked baffled, then her eyes widened. "Makeup Megan! What on earth are you doing in Austin? For that matter, why are you slumming with that one?" She hooked her thumb toward Reece, her voice teasing.
"Makeup Megan?" Reece repeated. "What the hell?"
"She's a makeup artist." Jenna looked from Megan to Reece. "Didn't you know?"
Megan's lips twitched as she took Reece's hand. "Let's just say that we're still getting to know each other."
Jenna's brows rose as she faced Reece. She looked amused. Reece wasn't sharing the emotion. "We met in LA," she said. "Megan did some work for my first and only event for the evil Company That Shall Not Be Named," Jenna explained, then finished off her drink.
"Oh, you got caught up in that crap?” Megan asked. “I'm so sorry."
Cam had slid out from under the bar to settle the check of the two customers sitting at a table. Now they were walking out the door, and he was splitting the cash they'd left on the table between the till and the tip jar. "What crap?" he asked, after raising a hand and telling them to have a good night. "What happened?"
"A long, sad story," Jenna said, climbing up onto a stool. She pushed the empty Corona bottle toward Cam. "I think we need another round of these before I dredge it all up. And before we all turn into pumpkins at closing."
Cam looked to Reece, who shrugged. "So long as she's buying and not driving, I won't say no to a customer. As to the long, sad story, though..."
Jenna shrugged. "Okay, fine. It's not that long. Asshole company lured me to LA with promises of great opportunities. They went bankrupt. I couldn't find another decent job since I don't have the experience I expected to get from the Evil Bastards Who Must Be Cursed. Then my landlord tells me I have to move because he's selling the building. And to top it off, my car dies, and it would cost more to fix it than I happen to have in my meager little bank account." She made a face. "So I sold it for basically nothing, used the money for a plane ticket, then turned tail and ran—or, rather, flew—home to my friends and family. End of sob story." She tilted her head to look at Megan. "What about you? How'd you end up in Austin?"
"My
story's neither long nor interesting," she said. "I fell for the wrong guy. Boom. The end."
"Not this guy, I hope." Jenna narrowed her eyes at Reece. "'Cause I can smack him down if you need me to."
"I don't know him well enough yet to identify his faults," Megan said, and from down the bar, Reece heard Griff laugh again. "But what I need to know right now is what's in these things?" She snatched up one of the Loaded Coronas that Cam had lined up on the bar.
"Try it," Reece urged, grateful she'd derailed the direction of the conversation. Jenna tended to play matchmaker, and Reece and Brent were her favorite victims. Before, it hadn't bothered him. Now, he couldn't stand the thought of Jenna pushing him toward anyone.
"They're my own invention," he told Megan, grabbing a bottle for himself before settling down on one of the barstools. "And they've become a favorite on the bar menu. You want one, Griff?" he called down to the end of the bar. "On the house."
"No thanks," Griff said, turning his head just a bit, but keeping his face in shadows. "I'm good."
Reece almost argued. He happened to know that Griff loved the things. Which meant he'd already had too much of something else to drink, or he didn't want Megan to see the scars that marred the right side of his face and body. Considering Griff habitually had only one bourbon and then a steady stream of club soda when he came to the bar to work, Reece's money was on the latter.
Griff had moved to Austin almost two years ago, and he and Reece had hit it off. The circle of friends had quickly widened to include Brent and Jenna and Tyree. Now, most everyone who worked at The Fix knew about his scars and didn't blink. But that didn't extend to strangers, and although Reece was confident Megan wouldn't flinch, he wasn't inclined to force Griff out of his comfort zone.
"They're dangerous," Jenna was telling Megan when Reece tuned back into the conversation. "Pace yourself."
"Rum, Corona, salted lime," Reece retorted. "What's dangerous about that?"
"They're too tasty. As you damn well know." She settled back on her stool, rotating it until she was facing him. Then she casually lifted one foot and propped it up on the seat of his barstool—which placed it right between his legs. She wore wedge-style sandals that showed off her polished toenails, and he had to call on every ounce of mental fortitude to concentrate on what she was saying and ignore the fantasies about what she could do with those wildly sexy feet.
"I got wasted on these things," she continued. "It was the night before I moved to LA, and I was so nervous I kept slamming them back, and then—" She cut herself off with a shrug.
"And then what?" Cam asked, leaning forward.
"Beats me. I passed completely out." Jenna smiled and batted her eyes. "He swears he didn't take advantage of me, but you never know..."
"For Christ's sake, Jenna," Reece snapped. "Why the hell would you even say—"
"Sorry, sorry!" She held up her hands in apology, then aimed a thin smile at Megan. "I was teasing. Reece would never do anything like that. Certainly not with me—I mean, he thinks of me like a sister—but not with anyone, either. He's one of the good ones."
"I believe you," Megan said, her tender expression reminding him of why taking her home tonight had seemed like a good idea.
He gently pushed Jenna's foot down, then stood up. "I think it's time to get back on track. Cam, Tyree took you through the closing procedure, right?"
"Um, not really. I told you. He just kind of left."
Reece's concern, which had begun to dwindle during the banter with Jenna and Megan, ramped up again. "You're telling me that Tyree—the owner of this bar and the only manager on the premises then—just walked out, leaving a bartender who's never closed before without any instructions on what to do?"
Cam hunched his shoulders, looking younger than his twenty-four years. "Um, pretty much."
Reece told himself to stay chill. This wasn't a crisis yet. "Where did you say Aly and Tiffany were?" he asked, referring to two of the wait staff.
"They're in the back doing prep," Jenna said. "I was talking with them when I heard you come in."
"Brent's back there, too?" Reece couldn't believe he hadn't asked earlier. But he'd been so thrilled to see Jenna—and so concerned about Tyree—that he hadn't wondered where the hell Brent had got off to.
"Brent went into the office to check on something right after he and Jen got here," Cam said as he started to wipe down the bar. He looked calmer now that he had a solid answer to a question. "Then about half an hour ago he rushed out. Didn't say where he was going. Just that he had to check on something, but..." He trailed off with a shrug. "Jenna says he's her ride, so I figure he'll be back soon. He knows we're closing."
The alarm bells that had been softly tolling in Reece's head started to clang. First Tyree, then Brent. And considering Brent was in charge of the bar's security, if he was seeing trouble, then Reece felt justified in worrying.
Not that he could do anything about it at the moment. Best to just slide into his job and make sure everything outstanding was taken care off. "Right, then. Cam, you go ahead and start going through your usual end-of-shift checklist. Griffin, are you heading out, or are you going to stay and finish up?"
Griff tapped his notebook with his pen. "Just a little longer if that's okay, then I'll get out of your hair."
"No rush," Reece assured him, then turned to Jenna. "Will you go let Aly and Tiffany know that I'll be back. But they should finish up their prep, let Cam know when they're done, then clock out. If I'm not back, I'll see them both on their next shift."
"Sure, but what do you mean back? Where are you going?"
"I'm going to take Megan home. Sorry tonight turned crazy," he continued, shifting his attention to Megan. "I only thought we'd grab a drink and check in on my cousin. I didn't expect ... well, any of this."
"Not a problem." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Really."
He swallowed, then noticed Jenna watching him. Not with her usual effervescent expression. Now she seemed pensive—and he couldn't help but wonder what question she was trying to work out.
"Right." He cleared his throat. "Back in a bit," he said to Cam and Jenna. "Ready?" he added, turning to Megan.
"Sure, but I live at the Railyard," she said, referring to a condominium complex just a few blocks over on Fourth Street. "If you need to work, I can get there on my own."
"At two in the morning? Screw that. I'll drive you."
He thought she might argue, but all she did was offer him her arm. They'd just taken a step toward the exit when the door flew open, and Brent burst inside, his expression tight, his hands clenched, and his brown eyes blazing with restrained fury.
"What's the matt—" Reece began, but Brent cut him off with a curt, "We need to talk."
"I'll just walk home," Megan said, pulling her arm free and smiling gently. "Honestly, I'll be fine. I do it all the time."
"No." Reece held up a finger, signaling Brent to wait for one second as he focused on Megan. "Why don't you—"
"I'll see her home," Griff said firmly. He stood up and crossed to Megan, close enough so that she couldn't miss the scars hidden in the shadow of his hood. "My car's parked over by the Railyard, and it's time for me to get going anyway." He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Assuming that's okay with you?"
"Yeah, fine by me," she said, without the slightest hesitation. She glanced at Reece. "He's your friend, right? Because my mother warned me against talking to strangers."
"Griffin Draper," Griff said. "And yeah, Reece claims me." He thrust out his right hand, also covered with scars, and Reece couldn't help but think he was testing her. Since she shook it, he assumed that she'd passed.
"Thanks, Griff." Reece patted his friend on the back. "Appreciate it."
"Tonight was fun," Megan said to Reece, rising up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his cheek. "We'll have another drink soon?"
"Hell, yeah," he said, forcing himself not to look at Jenna. And at the same time reminding himself tha
t this was good. This was what he needed. A woman in his life for a little fun, a little sex. A woman who was good in bed and easy-going in the world.
A woman who held no expectations and had no agenda and no interest in getting involved.
Most important, a woman who wasn't Jenna.
"Cam, lock the door and finish up," Brent ordered, the moment they disappeared around the corner. He pointed to Reece. "And you meet me in the office. We need to talk."
"This is about Tyree, I assume?" Reece said, as soon as Jenna shut the door behind them. Brent hadn't invited her specifically, but they'd fallen back into old habits, and the three of them were a team. "What the hell's going on?"
"Is it Elijah?" Jenna asked, referring to Tyree's sixteen-year-old son. His mom—Tyree's wife—had been killed in a car wreck seven years before, and they'd both had a hard time of it for a while. But as far as Reece knew, they were both doing better, and Eli was thriving in school.
Brent pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's the bar," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "He's on the verge of losing this entire damn place."
Chapter Three
"What the hell?" Jenna lowered herself into one of the two guest chairs, because her knees had just been knocked out from under her. "Losing The Fix? How is that even possible?"
Beside her, Reece ran his hand over his shaved head, his mouth curving down into a frown. He'd decided to shave his thick black hair right before she'd moved from Austin to LA eight months ago. In fact, one of the last things Jenna remembered from the drunken night before she'd left for LA was rubbing her hand over his scalp, then telling him she had to kiss it for luck.
To him, she was sure, the caress was innocent.
To her, it delved into decadent fantasies about what might happen if he tilted his face up so that her kiss fell on his lips instead of his head. And her imagination had generated some serious heat.
Not that she'd ever get close enough to that fire to truly feel the burn. That was a fire that had to stay locked away tight in the realm of fantasy.
