Taming My Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  DIXIE CLOSED THE accounting software program for Whiskey Bro’s Monday evening, speaking into her cell phone to her mother. “Thanks again for handling things while I was away. You were right. I really needed a break.”

  “Anytime. I heard you had a visitor at the Cape.”

  “Ugh. I told Justin and the guys if they opened their mouths they’d regret it!”

  “Calm down,” her mother said firmly. “I didn’t hear it from any of the guys. You know the girls’ club always has your back. Aunt Reba and Ginger put the kibosh on gossip where the men are concerned, but they had to call and gush about how happy they are for you. Heck, darlin’, I’d worry if they didn’t.” The girls’ club was what her mother had always called the wives of the Dark Knights, who could lock down secrets better than Fort Knox.

  “Well, maybe they shouldn’t rave too much,” Dixie grumbled. It had been a day and a half since she and Jace had said goodbye, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him.

  “Uh-oh. Talk to me.”

  Dixie sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” It was too embarrassing. She had been sure that Jace felt the same immense love for her as she felt for him, but if he had, wouldn’t he have reached out? Wouldn’t he have missed her like she missed him? Achingly so?

  “Ginger said you and Jace looked inseparable. Conroy even made a comment to her about how nice it was to see a man looking at you like you were his entire world.”

  Dixie closed her eyes, seeing exactly that look in Jace’s eyes in her mind. “He did look at me like that, but…” She bit back the rest of the truth. She’d been so upset earlier today she’d thought she was going to break down in tears—and she hated herself for feeling that way. It had been only a day and a half, not a week. She knew how busy he was, but she also knew that nobody was too busy to send a two-second text. One line was all she needed. I miss you, or even the lame text he’d sent after she left New York. Hope you got home okay would be better than radio silence.

  “Listen, Dix. You of all people know that sometimes men need to be knocked upside the head before they get things right.”

  Dixie pushed to her feet and paced the office, unwilling to rationalize for him. “Maybe so, but if a man loves me, he shouldn’t need to be knocked in the head.”

  “Oh, baby,” her mother said softly. “Jace said he loves you? That’s such a special moment. I want to hear all about it.”

  So do I…

  A burning sensation seared through Dixie’s chest, bringing a rush of sadness.

  “There’s nothing to tell. He never said he loved me.” She rubbed at the center of her chest. But he’d said so many other wonderful things, and he’d gotten a matching tattoo. Those things mattered, but she couldn’t go down this path with her mother. No matter what anyone said to her, it wouldn’t take away the sting of his not reaching out. “Mom, church starts in half an hour and the bar is packed. I’ve got to get back out there and serve.”

  Church was what they called the meetings of the Dark Knights, which took place Monday nights in the clubhouse behind the bar. Dixie’s father and brothers were already there, but some members hung around the bar until just before the meetings began.

  “You can’t drop a bomb like that and leave me hanging,” her mother complained.

  Dixie rolled her eyes, breathing deeply. It wasn’t her mother’s fault she was upset. “He acted like he loved me. I felt it. It was real, not just hopeful thinking. But now I haven’t heard from him. Maybe you’re right and he just needs to be smacked in the head, but that’s not the type of love I want. So, can we please drop it? I really appreciate you taking over for me while I was gone, and please tell Aunt Reba and Ginger that I appreciate what they’ve done to keep things under wraps.” She also appreciated Jace taking so much time off to be with her, even if it hurt to be put on the back burner. “But I have to go before Tracey gets overwhelmed.”

  After they ended the call, Dixie went into the crowded bar. Monday nights were always the most trying, and tonight she wasn’t in the mood to deal with any shit.

  “Hey, Dix. I brought some cookies Josie made for you,” Jed called from over by the pool tables, where he was hanging out with Crow, Court, and a handful of other Dark Knights.

  She walked over and said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it to her grand opening. Izzy said it was amazing and that practically the whole town turned out to celebrate.”

  “No big deal. Red told us you’d gone out of town. Finlay hung up a copy of the article Gemma wrote behind the bar.” Jed motioned toward the bar and said, “But you might want to grab those cookies. Diesel’s been eyeing them all night.”

  “Will do. Please thank Josie for me.” A tray of cookies and a quart of ice cream might take the edge off, but a bottle of liquor would do it quicker. Unfortunately, as she wound through the crowd, stopping to pick up empty bottles and take orders on the way, she knew neither of those were options at the moment.

  “Hey, hot stuff?” a shaggy-haired, clean-shaven guy she didn’t recognize called out to her as she walked by.

  She feigned what she hoped was a tip-worthy smile as she sized him up. He and the other two men he was sitting with wore dress shirts and slacks, and she wondered how they’d ended up in a biker bar. “What can I get you boys?”

  He looked at his buddies and lifted his chin, as if he were saying, Watch this. “We’re men, for starters.”

  Real men don’t need declarations was on the tip of her tongue, but she withheld that cutting remark and said, “What’ll it be?”

  “A round of Jack and Cokes.” He raked his eyes down her body, making her wish she’d worn jeans instead of the leather shorts from the Leather and Lace line. “Nice shorts. They’d look great on my bedroom floor.”

  If it were any other night, she would probably have laughed and said You wish, but her simmering anger hit the boiling point. She grabbed him by the collar, lifted him to his feet, and got right in his face, seething, “Bet your teeth would look great on the floor of this bar”—she was vaguely aware of silence descending around her and the Dark Knights closing in on them—“because that’s what’s going to happen if you make another crack like that.” She lifted her eyes to Diesel, who stepped beside the table, looming as she pushed the guy back down to his seat and released his shirt. “I’ve got this, Diesel.”

  None of her guardians retreated, which pissed her off even more.

  “I said, I’ve fucking got this,” she snapped.

  “Okay, show’s over,” Izzy said, pushing through the crowd. She took Dixie by the arm and dragged her into the office, closing the door behind them. “What the hell? Are you trying to start a rumble? Diesel damn near jumped over the bar.”

  Dixie was breathing hard, pacing the floor, too mad to speak. Izzy had cornered her earlier when she’d been lost in her own thoughts and Dixie had told her about not hearing from Jace.

  “Oh, Dixie. You still haven’t heard from him?” Izzy asked in a softer, more empathetic tone.

  Dixie shook her head.

  “Have you considered calling him?”

  “What do you think I’ve been thinking about since last night?” Her thumb had hovered over his name in her contacts so often, her thumb muscles hurt, and she’d typed dozens of texts, only to delete every single one.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just thinking about all the great sex you’re missing,” Izzy teased.

  Dixie rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I’m not this person, Iz. You know that.”

  “What I know is that you must really love him to be like this after only a day.”

  “A day and a half, and don’t say it. I know how ridiculous it is, and I hate myself for feeling like this. How did he turn me into the kind of woman I can’t stand?” She leaned back against the desk.

  “He slayed your heart one orgasm at a time. Now you’re in withdrawal, made worse because his silence has left you wondering if all those amazing things he said were real or fake.” Izzy leaned
on the desk beside her. “This is why I don’t date on a serious level. I hate wondering where I stand. It’s much easier to lay down ground rules and stick to them.”

  “We kind of did. He didn’t make any promises about calling or even seeing me. Not even when we said goodbye. He said he’d let me know when he was in Peaceful Harbor and he was sure we’d talk before then.”

  “And…?”

  Too anxious to sit still, Dixie pushed from the desk and paced. “And then he kissed the life out of me, and I drove away in a state of fucking bliss.”

  Izzy sighed. “The man really must have a magical mouth.”

  “Every part of his body is magical.”

  “Then you have only two choices. You can sit back and wait, or you can call him and tell him exactly why you’re upset.”

  “I’m not going to call him. I’m not chasing any man.”

  “Then you’d better get this shit under control, Dix, because you had every Dark Knight out there ready to tear that yuppie apart. What did that guy say to you, anyway?”

  “That my shorts would look good on his bedroom floor.”

  They both laughed.

  “Lame,” Izzy said. “But those shorts are freaking hot.”

  “Jace and Jilly designed them. Come on. I’ll try to keep my big mouth under control,” Dixie said as she pulled open the door.

  Diesel was standing there, hands on his hips, blocking the doorway. “I got rid of those guys.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Dixie snapped, trying to push past him, but it was like trying to move a house. “Can I walk past, please?”

  Diesel crossed his arms over his massive chest and said, “You’ve been uppity all night. Need me to take care of something?”

  “No. What I need is to make it through tonight without killing anyone.” Dixie squeezed past him with Izzy on her heels. “You know what’s wrong with the male gender?”

  “They’re either thinking with their dicks or they’re not thinking at all?” Izzy offered.

  She didn’t buy that Jace had only been thinking with his dick, and she sure as hell didn’t buy that the man who’d built an empire wasn’t thinking at all. The problem was, she didn’t have an answer that made sense. She was kind of hoping Izzy had one, so she came up with the best she could. “No. That they don’t come with an instruction manual.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “ARE YOU ONE hundred percent certain you want to do this?” Maddox asked as Jace signed the contract for the office and manufacturing space for their new East Coast headquarters Tuesday afternoon.

  Jace turned the pages looking for the next place he had to sign. “Hell yes. It’s for the best. I’ve already held the deal up for a week.”

  “You sure you’re not making a mistake with Dixie?” Maddox asked.

  Jace lifted his eyes, meeting Maddox’s concerned gaze. “We’ve been over this. She needs a guy who is willing to put down roots.”

  Maddox scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t get it. She’s known you forever. How can she even think…?”

  “Mad, I haven’t slept in days. If you value your life and our friendship, you won’t push me today.”

  “It’s your life, but don’t you think you should at least call her? Talk this shit out before committing to something as major as this? I can hold off the deal for another week, just in case.”

  “Hell no. I know where she stands.” Jace signed the last page and shoved the papers across the conference table. “She had my undivided attention for several days, and as unbelievably incredible as it was, it cost us enough time. What I need to do is focus, take care of business, and get all the shit done that I’ve put off for the past week, so we can move forward with the new headquarters and the launch of the Legacy and Leather and Lace lines. We’re on the cusp of life-changing transitions. We can’t afford to let anything slip through the cracks.”

  Jace’s cell phone rang, and Shea’s name flashed on the screen. He held up a finger to Maddox as he answered the call. “Hi, Shea.”

  “Hi. I’d like to go over the schedules for the in-person events. Do you have a minute?”

  He checked his watch. “I have a conference call in less than ten minutes. I reviewed the schedules yesterday and saw no issues with them. But you need to reach out to Dixie and make sure to keep her in the loop in case she has any scheduling conflicts.”

  “Will do. Also, while I have you on the line, I spoke to Jilly and we’re on for Fashion Week. Maddox told me you were dead set against the idea last week. I’m really glad you changed your mind.”

  “You know my stipulation about Dixie walking with me, Mad, and Jilly.”

  “I’m already on it. Jilly has agreed to it, and she knows you want Dixie in the sleeveless lace top with the slit in the middle and the choker collar, black miniskirt, and knee-high black leather boots. You must really love that outfit.”

  He loved Dixie in that outfit, which was why he’d chosen it as the cover of the calendar. “I do, and I want Indi to do Dixie’s hair and makeup. She did a great job last time.”

  “Jilly has her own team—”

  “I want Indi,” he said firmly. “Please make it happen.”

  Maddox tapped his watch, reminding him of their conference call with Drew Ryder, the architect handling the design of their new Boston retail space.

  “Okay, Indi it is,” she said.

  “Great. I need to go. Is there anything else?”

  “No, we’re good. Thanks. I’ll report back after I confirm with Dixie.”

  They ended the call and Maddox pushed to his feet and said, “Let’s take the call in my office. Leni has a meeting and needs the conference room.”

  Jace stood up, and Maddox offered his hand.

  “What’s this for?” Jace asked as he shook it.

  Maddox cracked a rare smile. “You’ve been a little out there, a little lost, for the past year or so. It’s good to have you back on board with your head on straight.”

  “Thanks, man. I needed that time with Dixie to figure things out and get my priorities in line.”

  “I guess so.” As they left the conference room, Maddox said, “Some people are meant for putting down roots, and some of us are meant to ride alone and follow the open road wherever it may lead.”

  Jace clapped a hand on Maddox’s back and said, “To each his own and all that crap. Time to get busy creating our next best store.”

  DIXIE SET THE empty miniature bottle of bourbon on the table next to the other two bottles she’d already drank and shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. It was Thursday evening, four and a half days since she’d said goodbye to Jace. Four and a half days since she’d held his hand, kissed his lips, or heard his voice.

  Except in her dreams, where he was front and center every night.

  After four and a half torturous days of radio silence, Dixie had cruised right past sadness to flat-out pissed. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She was angry as a cat in a river, but she was also painstakingly heartbroken. How hard was it to make one phone call or send one text? She felt like she’d stepped into heartbreak quicksand, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t find her way out. She’d spent this week refusing to believe that what she and Jace had was anything less than true love, and in the next breath she was calling herself a fucking idiot. She was a weepy mess at home and a grouchy bitch at work. But she’d kept the reasons a secret from her brothers, because the idea of them blaming Jace made her even more upset. Bear had called Izzy earlier today asking her to find out what was wrong, which was why Izzy had stormed into the auto shop, pretending like she had no idea why Dixie was upset, and demanded an ice-cream intervention.

  Now here they sat in Luscious Licks, Penny Wilson’s ice cream parlor, trying to snuff out thoughts of Jace with rich, sugary goodness and bourbon. Penny made the best homemade ice cream in all of Peaceful Harbor and was known for her array of sundaes and specials suitable for any occasion, like the Go Away Gloo
my Day and No-Good Pile of Poop sundaes and the Celebrating My Awesomeness special.

  Dixie picked up an empty bottle and wiggled it in the air. “Another bourbon please, Pen.”

  “Okay, but if anyone asks, you brought your own booze. This is way over the legal limit of liquor toppings.” Penny climbed out of her seat in the booth across from Dixie. She was a Zooey Deschanel lookalike with bright blue eyes and walnut-brown hair and looked nothing like her blond older sister, Finlay.

  “Done!” Dixie promised, shoving another spoonful of her Broken Heart Special into her mouth. The thick slab of pecan brownie smothered in several scoops of cookie-dough-chunk ice cream and topped with crushed cherries and bourbon definitely hit the spot.

  At least for the next ten minutes, which was about how long it would take her to finish it.

  The door to the shop opened, and Quincy strolled in as Penny reached into her hard knocks cabinet, where she kept miniature bottles of liquor for the sundaes that required a little more than sugar.

  “Don’t do it, Pen! You don’t need a hard-knocks bottle! I’m here for you,” Quincy teased with a cocky grin.

  “Give it up, Quincy,” Dixie said matter-of-factly. “Trust me, you don’t want to get all tangled up in a woman. Love sucks.” She stuffed more ice cream into her mouth.

  Quincy gave her a perplexed look, eyeing her enormous sundae.

  Dixie hunched over the bowl and said, “Touch my sundae and die, Gritt.”

  He chuckled. “I heard you’ve been in a mood since you came back from the Cape. What the heck happened up there? Aren’t vacations supposed to leave you totally chilled out?”

  “Leave it alone, Quin,” Penny warned as she set the bottle of bourbon down on the table beside the three empties.

  Dixie snagged the miniature bottle and tipped it up to her lips, emptying it in one gulp.

  Quincy’s eyes widened. “Damn, Dix. Is whatever’s going on the reason you’re wearing the shirt Bullet has broken up fights over when you know he’s working tonight?”

  She looked down at her black halter top with THERE AIN’T NOTHIN’ A LITTLE WHISKEY CAN’T FIX written across the front. All of the words were written in white-block letters except Whiskey, which was written in red script. The halter and skinny jeans hadn’t been her first choice of outfits that morning. She’d dressed in the same outfit she’d worn home from the photo shoot, the one Jace had shredded and then later replaced. She’d felt so close to Jace the night after the photo shoot, she’d wanted to revel in those feelings and not let hurt destroy them. But every time she looked in the mirror, she missed him even more, so she’d changed into jeans and the halter top. The top made her feel strong. Bullet’s hatred of the top made it an even better choice—she’d be forced to fight instead of weep.