Twist--A Dive Bar Novel

by Kylie Scott

“Then you need to think about taking a backseat. Let me take over and manage things for a change.”

  Audrey gasped.

  Meanwhile, Eric seemed to have frozen in his chair.

  “Christ, Dad, I’m doing the bulk of the work as it is,” said Joe. “It’s time.”

  Blood suffused Stan’s face. “That’s my business you’re talking about. The business that I built.”

  “Yeah. The one that I was meant to be a partner in, that’s what you said. Collins and Son.” Joe sat tall. “You haven’t been able to work full-time for nearly three years now. I’m not trying to kick you out, but I’m done building birdhouses and fixing squeaky doors because that’s the most you can manage. I’m sorry. But I want more.”

  “You want.” Stan’s voice seemed to almost rattle up from his chest.

  “Come on, Dad. Be reasonable.” Joe pushed his hair back from his face. “It’s time to loosen up on the reins a little. Let me take on more. You taught me well, I won’t disappoint you or tarnish the family name or something. Trust me.”

  Nothing from his father.

  “I can go out on my own, if you’d prefer.” Joe’s grip on my fingers tightened to the point of being painful, but I held on. This was what we’d talked about, losing our bad habits, fixing our lives. Finally, he was done doing whatever was easiest, what pleased other people even if it left him with little.

  Stan’s hands curled into fists. “You’d abandon me, boy, after everything I’ve done for you?”

  “Christ. You can’t have it both ways, Dad,” said Eric with a sigh. “He’s done everything he can to make you happy. To make you proud.”

  “I don’t want to hear a goddamn thing from you.” The man glowered at one and all. “Of course you’d be on his side. Too damn lazy and stupid for real work, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. So you can growl at me all you like,” said Eric, jaw set in a harsh line. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Joe. Hell, it’s about Mom too, though she’d never say it. How do you think she feels, watching you struggle, watching you work yourself into an early grave?”

  Their father turned to stare at her, seemingly out of words for once.

  “You’ve been promising her Hawaii since before I was born,” added Joe. “Can’t count all the times you two have talked about it.”

  That seemed to stop him.

  “Audrey?” asked Stan, voice hesitant.

  With a sigh, she watched him with sad eyes. “I’ll be sixty-two next year and you’re sixty-six. We’re getting old, honey. It’s not an insult, it’s a fact. And yes, I worry about you. Of course I do.”

  Eyelids blinking repetitively, Stan stepped back from the table. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

  The house sat in silence. It could have been the calm after the storm, or we might have been in the eye of it. Hard to tell.

  “I think that went pretty well.” Eric sank back in his seat, hands behind his head. “Could have done without hearing about my brother’s supposed super-penis but, other than that, not the worst Collins family gathering ever.”

  Joe snorted.

  His mother huffed out a breath, then took a long sip of beer. A healthy mouthful of the good stuff, actually. Fair enough, seemed justified.

  “Mom?” asked Eric. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she said calmly. “But none of you deserve cake.”

  * * *

  Lunch wound up rather quickly after Stan stormed out. I think Audrey was ready for a little peace and quiet.

  Joe had to work at the Dive Bar that night. I set myself up in a corner and caught up on some work on my laptop. Spinach and ricotta cannelloni and a beer were brought to my table first, followed by a five-layer chocolate cake. With my stomach so full, I had to fight off the need to nap, face flat on the table. Luckily, Eric decided they could do without Joe after ten-thirty so we returned to the hotel.

  Nothing further had been mentioned about his super-penis or my speech vaguely referring to the same.

  Surely, this was why people didn’t generally take me home to meet Mom. Not that I generally wanted anyone to. Joe Collins may or may not have been an exception; my feelings regarding him were still a big hot mess. I told Valerie about it, seeing as she was the official keeper of my secrets. The woman laughed until she cried. So much for loyalty.

  I unlocked the hotel room door and stopped cold.

  “The room is flickering,” I said, looking back over my shoulder at Joe.

  “Is it?” His smile was secretive, sneaky, even.

  “Yeah. Must have been all of those drugs I took in the sixties.”

  The bearded wonder chuckled, following me into the wonderfully mood-lit room. Tiny little fake candles sat in frosted glasses all around the place, including in the bathroom.

  “Pretty,” I said, checking out the shadows dancing across the ceiling. “You have anything to do with this?”

  “Nah.”

  I nodded, not believing him an inch.

  Bubbles filled the spa bath and a couple of beers sat in a bucket of ice at its side. On the counter sat a vase packed full of roses.

  “I really wish my other boyfriend hadn’t done this,” I said. “Makes it a bit awkward with you being here and everything.”

  Joe just stared at me.

  “What?” I smiled.

  “You just called me your boyfriend.”

  Oh shit. My mouth opened, my mind reeled. Man, was it my day for stepping in it. “Ah, I, um … oops. A labeling accident mid-joke. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

  He blinked. “Okay.”

  “Great. Phew.”

  He took hold of the bottom of my sweater, carefully peeling it up and over my head. A demure white bra awaited him below. No matching panties. What with the necessary post-conjugal sleep-in this morning, I just hadn’t been that organized. Speaking of which, “Who did you get to do all this?”

  “Lady at the front desk was happy to help.”

  “That’s nice.”

  The thing about consorting with giants, they had a habit of just putting you where they liked. Joe grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the bathroom counter, pulling off my booties and socks.

  “It’s really beautiful,” I said, reaching out to touch the petals of a rose. “Thank you.”

  “Consider yourself wooed.”

  “Got it.”

  Then I was back standing on the floor, my jeans disappearing fast. Happily, he didn’t appear to be disappointed by my lavender lace boy shorts. Hands down my bare back in a distinctly proprietorial fashion. They certainly weren’t shy.

  “Hey,” he whispered, drawing me in against him. “What you said at lunch, I appreciated it, the way you stood up for me. Next time though, let’s not talk ever, even remotely, about sex in front of my parents, okay?”

  “Right. Okay. That sounds fair enough.”

  I checked out the waiting tub again, giving it side-eyes, trying not to be nervous. It was clean and white and lovely. No blood or anything. Nothing to fear here. The past was gone.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “That I could do with some good memories in bathrooms.”

  A grunt. Luckily for him, it sounded different than his father’s. Joe’s grunt had a vibe of understanding as opposed to Stan’s grumpiness and general dissatisfaction. I could deal with Joe’s grunt just fine.

  “You going to tell me what that’s about sometime?” he asked.

  “Sometime.” Not now. I didn’t want to ruin the mood he’d gone to so much effort to create. Instead, I reached up, pressing my lips against his. Once we started kissing there could be nothing wrong. Joe’s teeth, lips, and tongue made everything right. Usually I didn’t waste a lot of time with the preliminaries. With him, however, all of it was good and worthwhile. When his hands slid into my underwear, cupping my butt cheeks, encouraging me, all was wow. Standing before him almost naked while he remained fully dressed made the power dynamic shift into his capable hand
s. I’d given it over.

  The pterodactyls in my tummy were making their presence known again. Overheating me, turning me into a weak-kneed fool. I don’t know if it was due to our closer relationship or his talented dick. Both things probably made this thing with Joe take on so much more meaning than my usual “slam, bam, thank-you man” orgasm exchanges.

  The bath might not be so deep, but I’d still be out of my depth. Never mind. My swimming skills weren’t so bad. And if they failed me, I was pretty damn sure Joe wouldn’t.

  “I know you’re a little sore,” he said, nuzzling my neck, my ear. “Thought we could soak together.”

  “Aw. Did you have a hard night last night too?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” His soft laughter was downright dirty, making a shiver run up my spine. “Plus, I got this dream of you, bare-ass naked, wearing nothing but bubbles. Had to make that happen.”

  A thrill ran right through me at his words. Goose bumps covered my arms. “You been having dirty thoughts about me, Mr. Collins?”

  “Constantly.”

  “Since when?”

  He looked away, a rosy kind of hue on his cheeks. No. Way. The man was blushing. Mixed with his wild long wavy hair and mountain man beard, it was such a surprise, pure delight.

  “I’d rather not say,” came the mumble from deep in his large, solid chest.

  “Hmm.” I rested my chin on his chest, gazing up at him. “Joe, tell me some of your non-PG-rated thoughts, please.”

  Brows scrunched up, he sighed and tucked my hair behind one of my ears. His breath warmed my neck, teeth tugging gently at my lobe. It tickled.

  “Hey.” I smiled. “Talk.”

  “Little Miss Fucking Sunshine, I’m not that original.” His nose brushed the side of my face, lips teasing my neck.

  Mouth open ever so slightly, I waited.

  “Fucking you in all sorts of ways. Different positions.” A soft breath. “Pretty much on every surface in this room. And in my truck too.”

  “Mm?”

  “Licking you all over, eating your sweet pussy.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Yeah?” His lips dragged along my jawline, hands pressing into me. “How about if I wanted to play with this gorgeous tight ass?”

  “Um.” Not being an idiot, I hesitated for only about half a second. “That could probably be arranged.”

  The man groaned, burying his face in my neck. Something was definitely filling the front of his jeans in a big way, digging into my stomach.

  “Basically,” he said, voice little more than a rumble, “with your permission, I just want to hold you down and make love to you for a good long time, watching your face as you come.”

  I pulled back, wrinkling my nose at him. “Seriously?”

  Joe just shrugged. “You asked.”

  “It’s not making love, it’s sex. And God, you and the eye contact.” My shoulders slumped, body sagging. “Why?”

  “Relax, Alex. I still want to kiss, lick, bite, and spank you. Fuck you good and hard every way I know how. A little bit of staring into each other’s eyes is not the end of the world.” He kissed me on the forehead. “If you gave yourself a chance to get used to it, you might even find you enjoy it.”

  I huffed out a breath. “Once. But only because I like you.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “Thank you. I like you too.”

  “Tomorrow for the rest?”

  “Tomorrow, when you’re not so sore.” His big hands cupped my face, angling me up for a kiss. Such a sweet man. “For now, naked covered in bubbles, sitting on my lap, drinking a beer.”

  I reached behind my back, undoing the clasp on my bra. “Can I tell you all my sexually twisted dirty thoughts too?”

  His grin was pure predator. “I’d like that.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Message sent three weeks ago:

  ME: The Man Seat. Your turn.

  HIM: Cowgirl

  ME: Doggy style

  HIM: Lap Dance

  ME: Spoon

  HIM: Shoulder holder

  ME: The handy man

  HIM: What’s that one?

  ME: Man seat, but do it on the washing machine with a good spin cycle going on.

  HIM: Holy shit. You’ve done that?

  ME: No, but I’ve always wanted to. Lack of private available washing machine. You know, I’ve heard of phone sex, but not email sex.

  HIM: Getting a little heated?

  ME: Yes. You?

  HIM: Definitely. Can’t talk now, ordering a washing machine.

  Joe had obviously fibbed about only doing a few days of work with his dad and a couple of shifts at the Dive Bar each week. It soon became apparent that the guy bordered on being a workaholic. If I hadn’t been in town, he probably would have been renovating the soon-to-be studio apartments whenever he wasn’t serving drinks downstairs. With something to prove to his father now too, I doubt I could have kept him away from the place if I tried—and I didn’t.

  No one else seemed surprised to find us there at it again come Monday.

  Joe and Andre got busy spreading sealant around, getting the kitchen and bathroom spaces ready for tiling and cabinetry installation. Andre, as the owner of the building, was every bit as committed to the renovations as Joe was. Meanwhile, I ripped out what remained of the old fittings in the last room down the hall.

  Funnily enough, destroying things continued to make me happy. A certain kind of satisfaction could be found in emptying a room of all its detritus. Clearing out the old and ushering in the new. It might have been symbolic of my life, or it might have just been my underlying violent tendencies. I don’t know.

  Despite our sleazy sex plans, we were talked into attending a nighttime gathering at Lydia and Vaughan’s. Pizza and beer were on the schedule. The happy couple lived in a bungalow not far from Joe’s folks’ place.

  On our way over, I thought about how despite my dislike of the outdoors I couldn’t get enough of all the trees in Coeur d’Alene. The greenery both blew my mind and soothed it. Seattle was great, but this was different, less crowded and more peaceful. With Joe beside me, a lot of my fears faded. But more than that, some stronger part of me woke up. Coming to this place, meeting Joe, it had all helped to wake me up.

  I loved the feeling I got, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of Joe’s passenger-side window, gazing up at the greenery and the mountains in the distance. Taking in the colors of the sky as the sun sank low. I’d been focused on being hidden, staying inside for so long. It was like I was looking out at the world for the first time in years, and the view was dazzling.

  Maybe my days of being a recluse were done.

  Lydia, the blond bombshell, opened the door and welcomed us with, “Boys are out back at the fire pit, girls inside.”

  “It’s tradition,” explained Joe, giving the nape of my neck a gentle squeeze before ambling off to be with his bros.

  “Oh.” Nervousness stirred inside me—I hadn’t spent any real time alone with his friends before. Never mind, I’d be fine. Of course I would be. “Okay.”

  “Down with penises.” A smiling Nell heckled Joe from a big old leather couch. “Boo.”

  “You’re the worst,” said Rosie. “Get outside.”

  Oddly enough, Joe seemed unperturbed. “Ladies.”

  “Let’s get you a drink,” said Lydia with a light touch on my elbow.

  I followed her through the open-style lounge and dining room, into the kitchen area, just as Joe slipped out the door. A glass door led out onto a back patio, flickering flames and the soft sounds of a couple acoustic guitars floating in from beyond. Vaughan, Andre, and Pat were already gathered outside around the fire pit.

  “Wine, beer, juice, or water?” asked Lydia.

  “Beer, thank you.”

  “Done.” She passed me a bottle from the fridge, while popping off its top.

  “Thank you.”

  We each took one of the remaining single chairs in the
lounge. After working on the renovation all day, it felt wonderful to get off my feet. “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison was playing softly on the record player. Yes, real live vinyl. These people were far cooler than me. My fingers worried the outside seam on my black jeans. All of a sudden my mind was blank. I had no idea what to say so I sipped my cold beer instead.

  Nell pouted. “I want a beer.”

  “There, there.” Rosie patted Nell’s small round stomach with a smile. “You’re having a baby. No fun for you.”

  “Meh. I don’t need that stuff. I’m high on life and pregnancy hormones. A toast,” said Nell, holding her bottle of water up high. “To new friends.”

  “Good one.” Lydia drank deep from her beer.

  “Welcome, Alex,” said Rosie.

  “Thanks.” I followed her good example. Nothing like cold craft beer to soothe a throat weary from shouting. “Is the bar closed tonight?”

  “No,” said Nell. “Eric, Boyd, Curt, and Taka are on duty tonight.”

  “We need nights off now and then,” said Lydia, curling her feet up underneath her.

  “Sanity breaks.” Rosie smiled. She was a beautiful dark-skinned woman with a head full of curls that I would have died for. Mine fell straight and boring. With Nell’s coppery-colored hair, freckles, and colorful old-style tattoos, the two women were a gorgeous sight to behold. Lazy me, I’d just chucked on jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I should have made more of an effort. These were Joe’s friends, I wanted them to think well of me.

  “Speaking of breasts,” said Nell.

  “We were speaking of breasts?” asked Lydia.

  “We are now. Mine are driving me nuts,” moaned Nell, eyeing her impressive set. The white chef’s coat was of course gone tonight, leaving a body-hugging green woolen dress. “Ever since the tit fairy visited I feel like I’m going to lose my balance and fall on my face. Accidentally gouge someone’s eye out with an escaped nipple or something. I don’t even have anyone to appreciate them.”

  With a smile, Rosie wrapped her arm around the woman’s shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “I think your tits are great.”

  “Aw, thanks,” said Nell with a certain sadness in her eyes. “At any rate, I can’t wait to return to normal after I finish feeding the baby.”