Taming My Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

She smiled at the young waiter, who had been sweetly stealing glances at her since they’d arrived. In fact, she’d noticed several men looking at her. She felt special wearing the gorgeous Leather and Lace outfit, and those appreciative looks made her feel beautiful, too. But Jace hadn’t missed those ogling men either. He’d shut down nearly every one of them with harsh glares. She wondered how he could pull off being possessive and standoffish at the same time, and she was more than confused by it.

  “Come back and see us again,” the waiter said, stealing another glance at Dixie before walking away.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jace said sharply as he pushed to his feet. His hand landed on her back like she was his as he guided her toward the doors.

  “Why are you acting so weird?” she asked as they stepped through the doors and onto the sidewalk.

  “It’s been a long day. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  Dixie stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Bullshit. I thought we had a great day. You were happy with the shoot, and I loved doing it. You sure seemed to enjoy my appetizer, and you just treated me to a delicious dinner at a nice restaurant. So why are you acting like someone pissed on your motorcycle?”

  “I told you. I’ve got shit on my mind.”

  She sighed and started walking down the sidewalk at a quicker pace. The sights and sounds of the city were vibrant and loud, but the tension rolling off Jace as he fell into step beside her nearly drowned them out.

  “Where are you going?” he asked curtly.

  “It’s New York City. There must be a bar on every corner. I need a drink.”

  He took her by the arm and turned her around, walking in the opposite direction. “NightCaps—my buddy’s bar—is this way.”

  “Perfect.”

  He held on to her arm the whole way to NightCaps, which thankfully was busy enough to be a great distraction from whatever was yanking Jace’s chain.

  Dixie headed straight for the bar, weaving around men wearing dress shirts and ties and women wearing fancy blouses with professional skirts and dresses, so different from the clientele at Whiskey Bro’s. She leaned on the bar, and the bartender turned from where he was mixing drinks. “Hey, handsome. Can I get a bottle of your best tequila and two shot glasses?”

  The bartender cocked a grin and said, “You bet.”

  “Make it a bottle of tequila and a bottle of your best whiskey,” Jace said as he came to her side. That big hand of his pressed against her back again.

  “Jace! Hey, man, good to see you.” The bartender walked over and shook Jace’s hand, eyeing Dixie. “I guess this is your beautiful lady?”

  “I’m Dixie, and I’m nobody’s lady,” she said with a smirk.

  Jace’s jaw muscles bunched again. “Dixie, this is my buddy Dylan Bad. Dixie’s the new face of Silver-Stone.”

  Dylan winked at Dixie and said, “Nice to meet you. It looks like all those months this guy spent looking for the right model finally paid off. Congratulations.”

  “I’m not a model, but thank you,” she said.

  “Let me get you those drinks. Nice ink, by the way.” Dylan motioned toward Dixie’s arms, and then he went to fill their order.

  “He seems nice,” Dixie said.

  “He’s happily married to a wonderful woman,” Jace said, his eyes skirting over the people around them.

  “I don’t want to fuck him. I was merely mentioning that you had a nice friend.”

  Dylan put the bottles and glasses on the bar. He reached for a salt rimmer, and Dixie said, “No salt, thanks.”

  “Lemons or limes?” Dylan asked.

  “Limes would be stellar,” Dixie said. “Thank you.”

  He reached under the bar and placed a bowl of sliced limes beside the bottles. “The corner table in the back was being held for my brother and his wife, but they canceled a few minutes ago. Grab it if you’d like some privacy.”

  “Thank you.” Dixie grabbed the tequila, the bowl of limes, and a shot glass, and headed for the table, leaving Jace to trail after her with the other shot glass and the whiskey. She was determined to break through the wall he was erecting, even if it had to happen one drink at a time.

  She slid into the semicircular corner booth and turned over the RESERVED sign. Jace slid in beside her, his big body crowding her.

  She put space between them and said, “You have to earn the right to sit that close to me.”

  “I thought I did that last night.” He opened the bottle of tequila and filled her glass.

  She scoffed. “Does that usually work for you? Dole out a few orgasms and you get anything else you want?”

  He scowled as he filled his glass with whiskey.

  “No response? Well, I can see this is going to be a fun game.”

  “Game?” he asked.

  “Shots for secrets. Cheers.” She clinked her glass with his and they downed their shots. She bit into a slice of lime and licked her lips, enjoying the way his eyes followed her tongue.

  He refilled their glasses and said, “What are the rules of this game?”

  “There’s only one rule. Honesty. We ask each other questions, and after answering, the person who asked the question takes a shot. If you don’t answer, you take the shot. Pretty simple concept, even for a knotted-up guy like you. You in, Stone?”

  He cracked the first grin of the evening since they’d left the warehouse, and it was a devious one. His eyes took a slow stroll down her chest, and when he finally made it back up to her face, she could practically hear his dirty thoughts as he said, “How can I resist learning your secrets? I’m in, Dixie, and I hope to be even deeper into you after learning those secrets.”

  Her traitorous body celebrated, but she managed to keep a straight face, unwilling to make things that easy for him, and said, “Good luck with that.”

  “Ready?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’ll go first. Why are you being so weird tonight?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he gritted his teeth.

  “I can see this is going to be a boring game.” She pushed his glass closer to him and said, “Last chance. What’s up with the hot-and-cold treatment?”

  He downed his shot.

  “I never pegged you for a chickenshit,” Dixie said, but in truth, she hadn’t expected him to answer that question right out of the gate. She just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  He refilled his glass. “My turn. Why’d you really agree to do the shoot? Was it to screw with your brothers or something else?”

  “Both.” She nodded at his glass and said, “Drink up.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “The hell I didn’t. If you wanted details, you shouldn’t have given me options. Now, drink up, Stone. I’m getting bored.”

  He did the shot, and as he filled his glass, she sifted through the questions racing around in her mind, finally landing on the one that had haunted her for years. “What did you really think of me when you first saw me at the rally with Bear? And I want details.”

  This time he didn’t hesitate. “I thought you were trouble. You had a gorgeous face, a killer body you flaunted like you knew how to use it. You swore like a sailor, refused to be ignored, and had no regard for Bear’s warnings.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to say, “Even then I knew you had the power to bring me to my knees.”

  Holy shit. That was so much more than she’d hoped. She grabbed her glass and did the shot, needing the burn to calm her racing heart. “Why did you keep your distance?”

  He sat back, leisurely draping his arm over the back of the bench, and said, “I don’t think that’s how the game works. One question, one answer.”

  Damn him.

  “My turn,” he said as he filled her glass. “Were you a virgin when we first met?”

  She felt her cheeks flame, shocked that he’d asked such a personal question. But she had nothing to hide. “Yes.”

  The surprise in his eyes bothered her. As he drank a shot, she was te
mpted to ask him an equally intimate question, but decided to catch him off guard instead and asked, “Why did you get into the motorcycle business, and how did you pull it off?”

  “That’s two questions.”

  “Okay, then just answer the first part.”

  “Because bikes don’t break hearts.” He refilled his drink and said, “I worked at a gas station in high school and learned how to work on cars, and when I went to college, I worked for Maddox’s company, Silver Cycles. I worked my way up from the bottom, starting as a mechanic. Most nights I stayed long after everyone else left. Maddox has always been hands-on, like I am with our company. He’d see me hanging around when he was in town, and over the years he became my mentor. I started designing bikes in my spare time, and Maddox let me build a few of them on my own time, in his shop. He’s a great guy. He didn’t get into any of the legal crap or try to claim rights to whatever I designed. He said he was ‘paying it forward.’ Right before I graduated from college I showed him the design for the Stroke, the bike I still ride today. I told him my plans to get a loan and open my own company. We both knew the bike had the potential to be huge. He asked if I’d consider working for him. I was a cocky little shit back then, and I said no. The way he tells it, that was the moment he knew we were meant to be partners. But being the arrogant bastard that he is, he waited until I got turned down by several banks before asking if I wanted to partner with him. He later said I needed a dose of reality to kick my cockiness down a notch. Long story short, we partnered, and neither one of us has ever looked back.”

  “First, that’s an incredible story, and second, that was way more of an answer than I deserved, so thank you.” She hadn’t forgotten his first comment about bikes not breaking hearts, but she didn’t want to get off subject before hearing the rest of his story. “It’s amazing that he let you partner when you had no money. Didn’t you have to buy into the partnership? Usually that’s how it works.”

  “You are business minded, aren’t you?” He slid her glass across the table and said, “Maddox is one of a kind. He’s also a smart businessman. Silver Cycles had been trying to break through the glass ceiling, so to speak, but they kept falling short. He knew my designs would pay off. He advanced me the money to buy into the partnership, and I paid it off when the Stroke line rolled out.”

  “You’re a true rags-to-riches story,” she said with awe, and downed her drink.

  He filled her glass and said, “It’s never been about the money. It’s about doing what I love. If Maddox hadn’t believed in my designs, I’d have found a way to make it happen. It just might have taken me several years to do it. Now, back to your secrets. Have you always been tough as nails? Wait. I have a different question. What factors in your life besides your family made you so tough?”

  “You’re a quick study.” She’d known he would be. “I was always verbally tough. It was either that or defer to my brothers. But Bullet’s the one who made me capable of defending myself. Before he went into the military he taught me to fight, and it was a good thing he did.” She ran her finger around the rim of her glass as memories trickled in. “I know you want to know what factors other than family made me tough, but honestly, it all comes back to them. When I was young, I could be as much of a big mouth as I wanted, because nobody fucked with the Whiskeys. But when my dad suffered his stroke, with Bullet and Bones away, and just me, Bear, and my mom handling everything, I felt a little lost and angry, and there were times when everything was just overwhelming. Or maybe it was most of the time. I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve gotten into one fistfight in my life, and it was during that time. I had a lot of male friends because of the Dark Knights, but not many girlfriends. Most girls didn’t know what to make of me because I wasn’t like them, going to dances and worrying about hair and makeup. I was busting my butt to try to earn scholarships for college, working my ass off at the bar and at home to help my mom and Bear, and I didn’t have patience for any of the normal crap teenage girls cared about. One day in the cafeteria this snotty girl was mouthing off about me. She’d just moved into town and she had no idea who I really was. She knew my family owned a bar, but that was about it. Most of the girls I went to school with respected what my family did for the community enough to keep comments to themselves if they didn’t understand me or thought I was a slut. Or they’d write it on the bathroom walls.” She paused as old hurt moved through her.

  “Dix, that’s awful. Why didn’t you shut that shit down?”

  “Because I had enough on my plate, and I didn’t really care what they said.”

  “Bullshit. You had to care. That shit hurts, even when it shouldn’t.” He picked up his own glass and said, “I’d have scrubbed those walls clean for you, and then I’d have dealt with the bitches who did it. Here’s to you, Dix.”

  He downed his drink and she felt herself falling harder for him, the same way she had last night and when they’d been together in the dressing room. She knew she shouldn’t allow those feelings to take root, and she tried hard to shove them away as she finished telling her story.

  “Anyway, the girl was talking crap about how I thought I was tough and that I’d end up working at the bar forever. I’ve always been proud of my family and of the bar. I lost it, walked right up to her, and with one punch I laid her out flat on her back.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Jace said loudly, making her laugh.

  “It felt good. I remember that. But then I got suspended and my mother had to come to the school to get me. I had never felt so awful in my life. My mom had enough to worry about. We met with the principal, and I was dead silent, just waiting for my mom to let loose on me. When we got in the car, she said, ‘Was all that true?’ I admitted that it was and apologized, and she said, ‘You defended our family, and I’m proud of that, but you know how I feel about fistfights.’ I did. She hated them. She said she had to have a talk with Bear for teaching me to fight, and when I told her it was Bullet, she started to laugh. I thought maybe I’d made her so mad she had no other outlet than laughter. But then she said she finally understood what she’d heard Bullet say to me the day he left for the military, ‘Never let a bitch knock off your Whiskey crown.’”

  Jace was looking at her with a soft, curious expression.

  “Did I just ramble and not answer your question?” she asked.

  “No. You answered it completely. I was just picturing you in high school with the weight of the world on your shoulders.” He shifted closer and then stopped himself and said, “Ask me another question so I can earn a closer seat.”

  She smiled at that, because she knew it took all of his restraint not to bully his way closer. “Okay, but it’s not going to be an easy one.”

  “I like it hard,” he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

  “Then we have that in common.” She paused, letting her intended meaning sink in. The tightening of his jaw told her it had the impact she’d hoped for. “What led to your broken heart?”

  His brows slanted. She covered his hand with hers, holding his gaze. “Think carefully before you take that drink,” she said, her heart racing. She knew what she was about to say might backfire, but despite how she probably looked to Jace after what they’d done the last two evenings, she didn’t sleep around. What she was about to say was important and true. “This is the only game I’ll play, and I’d rather walk away than sleep with a stranger.”

  His lips curved up, eyes locked on her as he said, “I wasn’t going to drink it. I had just graduated from high school and started hooking up with a woman who was twenty-seven. I was six five by the time I was seventeen. I was tough. Most people mistook me as being in my early twenties. She didn’t. She had been my teacher and knew exactly how old I was.”

  “Oh my God, Jace! Was this your French teacher?”

  He grinned, lifting one shoulder.

  “You hound dog! So, what happened?”

  He laughed. “We hooked up a lot for a few weeks, always at her plac
e and always in secret. But I was full of testosterone and I was getting laid. I would have fucked her in a tree if she’d asked me to.”

  “I like your honesty.”

  He nodded, his eyes hitting his glass as he spoke. “Just fucking turned into more for me, and when I told her as much, she said she thought I understood that we were just having fun.”

  Dixie swallowed hard. Just like us. Pieces of Jace’s mysteriousness were falling into place. “She broke your heart.”

  “She said she’d never really get involved with a guy like me.” His eyes filled with pain. “That’s when I learned not to get too close and not to trust women. That’s a shitty thing to say, sitting here with you, but you wanted honesty. As fucked up as that is, it had a big impact on me. From that moment on, I focused on making myself into something. I worked hard at college and have remained emotionally distant from women.”

  “Like Bullet,” she said absently.

  “PTSD from the hot high school teacher?” he said with an amused expression. “Sure, I guess so. Like Bullet.”

  Then she wanted to be his Finlay. To earn his trust and show him just how much she believed in him. She scooted closer and said, “For what it’s worth, I wanted you before I knew you had a dollar to your name.”

  “I know, Dix. There’s something between us. It was there all those years ago, and it’s even stronger now. But that doesn’t change who I am or what I have to offer. I’m sorry if I’ve been a prick tonight. I’m dealing with a lot of shit in my head.”

  She downed another shot and said, “Another thing we have in common.”

  “Have you ever had your heart broken?”

  “We’ll see,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. “The night’s still young.”

  “I DON’T WANT to be the man who breaks your heart.”

  “I’d have to give it to you first,” she challenged with the sexy smirk he saw in his sleep.

  Jace knew she was telling stories again, but he was too selfish to walk away. He leaned closer, catching a hitch in her breath, and said, “Lying to yourself again?”

  “Maybe we both are…” She eyed his glass. “Drink up. You’ve used your question. Now it’s my turn.”