by Katie McCoy
Were all Emerson’s friends total hotties?
I made a mental note to bring Kelsey and Jenna by the bar as soon as it opened.
“Hi,” I said, raising a hand. “I’m Alex.”
The confusion dropped from his face. He put down his tools and offered me his hand.
“Sawyer,” he said.
Ah, the contractor/craftsman. “Emerson’s told me all about you,” I said, smiling.
“Likewise,” Sawyer responded, a small smile playing across his lips.
“Is he around?” I gave what I hoped was a casual glance around the room.
“Somewhere,” Sawyer said. “Though he’s probably running interference out back.”
“Interference?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“We had a few last-minute snafus,” Sawyer told me with a grimace. “We’re handling it, though.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked. My bosses had said we were all free for the day.
He gave me a long look, no doubt thinking that I wouldn’t be able to handle whatever they were fixing.
“I’m pretty capable,” I offered before he could turn me down.
“It’s not fun work,” he countered. “Your clothes might get dirty.”
I glanced down at my jeans and blouse. “I know how to use a washing machine,” I said. “Let me help.”
He shrugged. “We’ve got about a hundred glasses that weren’t covered when they finished the ceiling so they’re covered in sawdust and need to be washed by hand. There’s also five dozen chairs that need to brought in and stacked over in the corner, as well as taking inventory to make sure that we have exactly as much booze as we think we do.” He pointed at the pile of paperwork on the bar. “Take your pick.”
I rolled up my sleeves. “Show me those glasses,” I said.
There was something extremely soothing about cleaning. Maybe it was the fact that I had grown up in places that were usually filthy, and my mom and I had had to deep-clean every single apartment we ever lived in, but I found the act of cleaning to be very transformative. I was about halfway through the glasses when I heard Sawyer swearing at his paperwork at the other end of the bar.
“Problem?” I asked, drying off one of the glasses.
“It’s fine,” Sawyer grunted.
It obviously wasn’t, so I made my way over to him, peering over his shoulder. He shoved the paper towards me.
“I have no idea what this means.” He pointed at a line on the page with frustration in his voice.
I looked down at the item listed.
“Hockey Puck?” I read out loud. “Did this become a sports bar at some point?”
“Fuck no,” Sawyer growled. “And definitely not a hockey bar.”
“Not a sports fan?” I asked.
“Sure, to watch sometimes. But I’m into making things, not breaking them,” he said bluntly.
I was surprised. He was clearly a man of few words, but every single word surprised me.
“What about you?” Sawyer asked, catching me off guard. “Plan on breaking anything here?”
He was clearly asking about Emerson. It was cute. But before I could answer, the man in question appeared from the back. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and my own heart skipped a beat. He looked tired and overworked, but none of that diminished how hot he was.
He came right over and planted a smacking kiss on my lips. Right in front of Sawyer.
“How long have you been here?” he asked, taking my hand.
“Not long,” I said, pointing at the dishes. “I’ve been helping.”
“You put her to work?” Emerson asked Sawyer, sounding amused.
Sawyer just grunted and shrugged.
“I insisted,” I told him. “And now we’re trying to figure out the mystery of the Hockey Puck.”
“The beer?” Emerson asked.
“It’s the name of a beer?”
“It’s a stupid name for a beer,” Sawyer groused behind me.
“Take your complaints to Chase,” Emerson told his friend.
“What complaints?” Chase sauntered in from the back, a pint of beer in his hand.
“Hockey Puck,” Sawyer growled.
“I knew you’d hate that,” Chase grinned. “But it’s a good beer.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes and checked off the item.
“Hey, Alex,” Chase greeted me. “Did Sawyer put you to work?”
“She offered!” Sawyer objected again.
I laughed and Chase ignored him. “He’s a real slave driver, that one.”
“Fuck you guys,” Sawyer grumbled, and he got up from the bar. “I’m going to stack some chairs.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?” Emerson winked at me.
Sawyer gave him the finger, but before he could head to the back, Chase stopped him.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
Sawyer groaned. “What now?”
“Our PR person dropped the ball,” Chase told all of us. “She didn’t follow through on the VIP invitations for tomorrow night and now we don’t have anyone confirmed.”
“So?” Sawyer looked unconcerned. “Do we even need them? It’s just a bunch of Instagram wannabes.”
“Who’ll all post and tag and tell their hundred thousand followers that Rascals is the new hot bar in town,” Emerson said, sounding just as annoyed.
I laughed. I should have guessed these guys wouldn’t want to deal with the moving and schmoozing involved with PR. But luckily, I knew someone who did.
I pulled out my phone. “Leave it to me. And someone better make a good martini.”
Twenty minutes later, Kelsey was shrugging off her jacket and taking a seat at the bar, where a martini was waiting for her. She had three sets of male eyes on her as she took a sip. Kelsey always commanded that kind of attention from men—after all, she was a babe, curvy, petite, and cute, and clearly the guys had taken note. I wanted to warn them that she was all but unavailable because of her ridiculous, unrequited crush on her boss. But I was getting ahead of myself. Instead, I watched as she closed her eyes, savoring the taste of the drink. Then she smiled.
“That’s perfect,” she said, and everyone relaxed. “OK, what can I do for you gentlemen?”
“We need publicity for the opening tomorrow,” Emerson told her, laying out their current situation. “We had someone, but they fell through. Now we’ve got a big grand opening planned and need to make sure there are people lined up around the block. VIPs, if you can get them.”
Kelsey pulled out her phone. “OK, I’m sure I can find someone. Or a few people. But first, let me know what kind of vibe you’re aiming for. We have to make sure the celebrity is the right fit for you guys.”
Sawyer, Chase, and Emerson all exchanged baffled looks.
“You’re good,” Emerson said. “Our other PR person just gave us a bunch of names of famous people.”
“I didn’t know most of them,” Sawyer said, which apparently surprised no one.
“Oh no.” Kelsey looked shocked. “That wouldn’t do at all. Events like these need to have the right kind of face attached to them.”
“Totally agree,” Chase said, taking a seat next to her and winking.
The charm was turned way up, but Kelsey, as usual, was clueless to any male that wasn’t Justin, aka totally unavailable.
“Why don’t you tell me about the bar and I’ll think of some options,” Kelsey suggested, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’ll handle this,” Chase told the other guys, both of whom seemed to barely be containing an eye roll. “You were going to stack chairs, weren’t you?” he asked Sawyer, who gave him a middle finger before leaving.
“Let’s go into the office,” Chase suggested to Kelsey. “It’s quieter in there.”
She blushed as she followed him to the back.
“Maybe I should tell them to leave the door open,” Emerson said, his voice low in my ear.
I shi
vered, thinking of how much trouble the two of us had gotten into the last time we were alone in his office. I suddenly wanted to switch places with Chase and Kelsey, so that Emerson and I could be alone, instead of at the bar, cleaning glasses.
“He seems to like her,” I commented, wondering if I should warn him that barking up the Kelsey tree was a waste of time. I wish she’d drop her unrequited crush and pay attention to other guys, but it didn’t seem possible.
“Sure. Chase likes all women,” Emerson said dryly. “But he doesn’t really do the whole relationship thing.”
“Oh,” I said, my worries going out the window. “Good.”
If Chase didn’t want a relationship and Kelsey was only interested in Justin, then the two of them would be just fine.
An awkward silence surrounded us for a moment.
“I’m almost done with the glasses,” I finally said. “Shouldn’t take me much longer to finish them.”
“I can take over,” Emerson offered. “Because I’d actually love your help looking over these supplier contracts.”
I perked up. It was nerdy as hell, but I loved going over contracts. Apparently it showed on my face because Emerson laughed.
“I was hoping you’d react that way,” he said, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him for a kiss.
If he had intended it to be a short, sweet kiss, it quickly developed into something a lot hotter. Pretty soon I was pinned against the bar, Emerson’s hands on my ass. Then, someone cleared their throat behind us. We jumped apart to find a dark-haired guy standing at the end of the bar, giving us both a bemused look.
“Should I could back later?” he asked.
He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit, his hair combed in that particular way that finance guys always styled their hair, but there was a naughty twinkle in his eye that kept him from looking stuffy and uptight. It probably also helped that he was gorgeous.
“Liam,” Emerson greeted his friend.
The fourth musketeer.
“I heard you guys were in trouble and needed some help.” Liam looked around the bar. “But it seems like you have everything in hand.” He gave his friend a pointed glance.
I blushed, but Emerson just grinned.
“This is Alex,” he introduced me.
I shook Liam’s hand. “I live upstairs,” I offered, not exactly sure how to describe what was going on between Emerson and me. Dating? Hooking up? Making out whenever and wherever we could like horny teenagers?
“Nice to meet you,” Liam said, shrugging off his jacket.
“Alex is going to look over some of the supplier contracts,” Emerson told his friend. “She’s a lawyer.”
Liam looked impressed, which, combined with the pride that had been evident in Emerson’s voice, made me all warm and tingly inside.
“I’m almost a lawyer,” I corrected. “Still waiting on my bar results.”
“What can I do?” Liam asked.
Emerson tossed him a credit card. “Order us pizza,” he said. “We’re probably going to be here all night.”
An hour later, we all reconvened at the bar for food and a break. Even though everyone looked tired and a little stressed, there was nothing but smiles and laughter as we all sat down to eat.
“So how do you two know each other?” Chase asked, gesturing between Kelsey and me with a slice of one of Chicago’s best deep dish pizzas.
“College,” Kelsey said. “We were roommates.”
She then launched into an appropriately embarrassing story about how the two of us had gotten drunk off of wine coolers one night and decided to crash the open mic happening at one of the on-campus coffee shops.
“And that’s how Alex’s one-woman show ‘Law briefs are better than sex’ was born,” she finished as I put my head in my hands.
The guys roared with laughter.
“Those must have been some pretty sexy law briefs,” Liam noted.
I shook my head. “Nope, just a pretty lousy ex-boyfriend.”
All the guys winced in masculine comradery. As they did, I felt a hand on my leg. It was Emerson, his fingers flexing on my thigh. My upper thigh. My upper, upper thigh. I hoped my face wasn’t too red as my thoughts veered into extremely naughty territory.
“What about you guys?” Kelsey wanted to know. “How did you meet?”
This time it was Chase who regaled us with the story of Dante’s underground poker game.
“Completely accidentally,” he insisted, winking at Kelsey. “I am a good, stand-up citizen, who would never willingly be caught in a den of depravity.”
“Not unless there was free beer,” Liam quipped, holding up his own beer.
Chase threw a breadstick at him.
“Not unless there was good free beer,” he corrected. “Some of us have standards.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Bud Light,” Liam said, much to the obvious horror of the rest of the guys. “In the right situation.”
“There is nothing right with Bud Light,” Chase told his friend. “Nothing.”
“Snob,” Liam shot back.
“Baby palate,” Chase retorted.
Everyone broke down laughing.
“What?” Chase looked around the room, confused.
“Baby palate?” Emerson managed. “That’s your insult?”
“It’s a good one,” Chase insisted, but everyone shook their head.
It was getting late, but I could see that the guys still had a lot of work ahead of them. My own long night was catching up to me—despite the nap I had taken a few hours ago—and I couldn’t stop yawning. Kelsey looked pretty tired too, but I could tell she was having too much fun to leave.
“Tired?” Emerson leaned in, his voice low so only I could hear him.
I nodded.
“Want me to walk you to your place?” he asked, his voice full of promise.
Immediately I perked up.
“Alex had a long day,” Emerson said, standing. “I’m going to walk her home.”
Everyone exchanged looks that said they knew exactly what Emerson was talking about when he said he would “walk me home.” I was too turned on to care. We said good night, and I grabbed my things.
Emerson and I barely made it to the second floor before we were kissing in the stairwell, my fingers all over his chest, his hands on my ass. But as soon as we got to my door and I fumbled to get my keys out, Emerson pulled back.
“I can’t come in,” he said, looking more than a little disappointed.
“Why not?” I hated the slight whine in my voice, but goddammit, I was so fricking ready to sleep with him.
“There’s a ton of work that needs to be done before tomorrow,” he told me, his hand on my hip, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “And I know that once I’m inside of you, I’m not going to want to rush. I’m going to want to take my time.”
My mouth went dry.
“I guess I can wait,” I somehow managed.
“It will be worth it,” he told me. “I promise.”
“OK,” I said breathlessly.
“You’ll be at the opening tomorrow night?” he asked, his thumb slipping under my shirt and stroking my bare skin.
“Mmhmm,” I sighed, the sensation almost too much to bear.
“I’ll make sure you’re on the VIP list,” he said, dropping a kiss on the corner of my mouth before capturing my lips with his.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.
“I should go,” he said.
I didn’t want to, but I let him go. After all, there was always tomorrow night.
And good things came to those who waited.
13
Emerson
It was opening night, and everything looked amazing. Somehow, with Kelsey and Alex’s help, plus an almost-all-nighter with the guys, we managed to get the bar ready for its debut.
No one would have ever known that twelve hours previously we had no clean glasses, dust-covered
chairs, and a front door that wouldn’t stop squeaking. Thankfully, with the help and ingenuity of a great group of friends, it looked like everything was going to work out.
“There’s a line around the block,” Chase told us, coming into the bar.
It wasn’t enough to completely dissolve my nervousness, but it sure helped.
“We did it.” I looked around at my four best friends, overflowing with pride.
It was actually happening. The thing that we had worked so hard on for so long was finally coming to fruition. We had done what we said we would do, and we did it together. None of us could stop smiling—even Dante wore a rare grin as we stood in our empty bar, ready to open it to the public for the first time.
“This calls for a drink,” Liam said, pulling out a bottle of very expensive whiskey that he had apparently hidden behind the bar.
“Nice!” Chase—ever the booze snob—took the bottle from Liam and nearly poured us each a glass.
“To Rascals.” I raised my glass.
“To Rascals,” the guys echoed.
We clinked glasses and drank.
“What are we waiting for?” Chase asked, gathering our empty glasses. “Let’s get this night started!”
Two hours later, the bar was filled to capacity and there were still a line of people waiting to get in. Our wait staff was on fire, keeping everyone’s drink filled and clearing tables within seconds. Chase was behind the bar, flirting up a storm and making more drinks than I ever thought possible. The other bartenders were keeping up, but Chase was obviously in his element. I had never seen him happier.
The other guys were also doing what they did best. Sawyer was talking to a reporter about the construction of the bar—probably nerding out over all the little details that no one else had noticed. Liam was holding court in the middle of the room, charming our female guests. And Dante. Well, Dante was in the corner drinking whiskey. But he was still smiling.
All of us were. It was a good night, for sure.