Jake couldn’t even distinguish the musty scent of them anymore; the boots had blended in with the familiar odors of the bar, just another antique among many. Jake sighed. How he’d lost the two most important men in his life in as many years, he didn’t know. How he’d survived the crushing blows of those deaths was an even bigger mystery.
Satisfied with this latest addition to his makeshift memorial, Jake patted the sign, brushed his fingertips over the dog tags, then turned to find Reed and TB watching him. He immediately met the girl’s gaze, searching her eyes for any signs of sorrow.
“Stop worrying about me, Jake. The old sign looks nice there. Jake senior and Colby would love it.” TB smiled, held his gaze for a long few seconds, then pointed. “That, however, does not look nice.”
Jake followed the direction she pointed, his gaze landing on Randy passed out in a booth near the bar.
“I’ve got him,” Reed said, stepping away from TB. “He can sleep it off on my couch before the evening crowd.”
“He staying at your place again?” TB asked.
Reed laughed. “What do you think?”
“I’ll help you load him up in the truck, but I’ll drive him over to your place. Someone has to tend my bar.” Jake jumped down from the booth and strolled across the dancefloor to help Reed get Randy into his pickup, pausing to kiss TB on the top of her head. “Do I pay you to stand around, kiddo?”
She scoffed. “Oh, do you pay me?”
Jake winked, then tugged on her ponytail. “College fund.”
“What if I don’t want to go to college?”
Jake stopped, then turned back around, straight-faced. “This isn’t up for discussion. As long as you work for me and live in my home, you’ll keep your tips and I’ll keep my promise. I’m helping you save for school. End of story.”
TB’s shoulders fell. “I wish you’d stop treating me like a child.”
“You’ll thank me someday.”
TB turned around, mumbling something Jake didn’t catch as she walked away. He tilted his head, his eyebrows pulling together. What was her problem? This had been their agreement all along, the one thing Colby asked of them in his last letter, so why the sudden change?
Jake shrugged and joined Reed in the task of lifting their comatose friend. Girls had never made sense, and Colby’s kid sister was no exception.
###
Tamryn sighed as soon as Jake and Reed carried their friend out of the bar, rolling her shoulders back and forth to try to release some tension. Working for Jake was brutal.
“Stressed out, Tamryn?”
Smiling at Reed as he reentered the bar, she crossed the dancefloor and slid up onto a bar stool. “Something like that.”
“You know he’s only looking out for your best interests, right?”
Tamryn sighed. “Yeah. Right.”
“He’s hard on you for Colby.”
Tamryn nodded.
“And you know he’s an idiot not to see you.”
She looked up at him, cheeks warming.
“Colby should have put that in his letter.”
“What?”
“Something like, ‘My sister is the best thing that ever happened to you, dipshit’.”
Tamryn couldn’t fight the grin that pulled at her lips. “Thank you, Reed.”
He held her gaze, then smiled, running his hand through his short, dirty-blond hair. “I know what you need.” He disappeared through the double doors, returning a few minutes later with an unopened bulk bottle of cherries. He twisted the lid off and slid the massive jar in front of her.
She peered down at the bright red maraschinos, eyes wide and mouth watering, then frowned, pushing the air out of her lips in a raspberry. “No wonder he thinks I’m such a child.”
Reed snorted. “Having an obsession with formaldehyde doesn’t make you a child, Tamryn.”
She reached in and grabbed a long stem, then popped the fruity goodness into her mouth. She raised one finger. “One Old Fashioned, please, barkeep!” The words were muffled around a mouthful of cherries.
Reed’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Whiskey?” He set his beer back down on the counter.
Tamryn gave a curt nod. “That’s a grown-up drink, if I’ve ever heard of one.”
Reed shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. “Coming right up, sir. I mean, ma’am.”
With another nod, Tamryn shoved a few more cherries into her mouth and grinned.
Tonight’s tips were complete shit, which only fueled Tamryn’s anger toward her situation, stoking the flame of her anger toward her brother, forcing her to think of him and miss him that much more.
Which, logical or not, made her pissed off at Jake.
Anger was easier.
The bar doors flew open and Jake strolled inside—speak of the devil—his t-shirt tucked into the back of his track pants and his chest shiny with perspiration.
Oh, for the love of….
Anger was easy.
It was this other stuff that drove Tamryn crazy.
She clenched her jaw, inhaling deeply though her nose. You’ve got to be kidding me. Looking up at the ceiling, imagining beyond the building to the sky where she believed her brother watched out for her from above, probably laughing. Colby had always known of her feelings for his best friend—the source of relentless teasing, of course—and she figured this was his way of torturing her for the rest of her life the way a good brother is supposed to. “Couldn’t you have picked someone ugly to babysit me?” she whispered.
“Breathe, kid. You’re about to start sweatin’ like a whore in church.”
“Reed!” Her cheeks flushed as she met Reed’s knowing gaze.
Arms wrapped around an amplifier, Reed winked as he passed her on his way to the stage.
Tamryn shook her head and took a breath, then focused on Jake, swallowing hard as he strolled over to her, his abs taut beneath a sheen of sweat. Like every other night, his post-run ritual involved stopping in the bar for a beer before he found his way to the Johnsons’ house at the back of the building for a shower. Tamryn didn’t know if he did this to torture her specifically, and she doubted that was the case, but it sure felt that way.
This was the part of each day Tamryn most loved and loathed.
Jake stopped just a foot away from her, much too close, and his scent filled her nose. Manly, rugged, natural. Like…earth, freshly tilled, or—
Damn it all to hell, she’d forgotten to breathe through her mouth. Warmth pooled deep in her belly, her body longing for him as fervently as her heart.
“How’s the crowd tonight, kiddo?”
Tamryn licked her lips, then swallowed, opening her mouth just enough to breathe, but not so much that she looked like a total knob. “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, they’re not tipping, but—”
Jake leaned down, bending slightly to bring his bright blue eyes level with hers. “Well, that won’t do, will it?” He smiled, exposing the dimple in his right cheek. “I hear your boss keeps all of your paychecks.”
She scoffed, then forgot herself again and inhaled through her nose, his intoxicating scent curling up into her senses. Her mouth watered, and her gaze fell to his lips. If she could just kiss him once, twice, maybe she could shake the desire from her system. Maybe the reality wouldn’t measure up to the fantasy and she could move on.
Jake frowned, and Tamryn quickly brought her gaze back to meet his, heart thumping.
He tilted his head, searching her eyes.
Crap! What love-struck expression had fallen over her features this time? Tamryn quickly straightened, then turned on her heels. “Put some clothes on, old man. Nobody wants to see that.”
Jake laughed behind her, the sound followed by a loud thump as he jumped onto the small stage. “Hey, hey, everyone! Thanks for stopping by tonight…especially you, Larry. I know how you cheat on us sometimes and sneak over to Bill’s place instead.”
The few patrons chuckled as Jake called La
rry out, and Tamryn made her way to the well. “Two Bud drafts, please, Gen.”
Gennie smiled. “Mmmhmm, that man sure does wear shirtless well, don’t he?”
Tamryn glared at the night bartender who was much too distracted to notice, then looked down at her tabs, trying to focus on unclenching her jaw and not on the redhead who shared Jake’s bed far more often than Tamryn would care to admit. “Yeah, I guess so. Those Buds?”
“Sure thing, hon.”
And Gen had never been anything but nice to Tamryn, so hating her felt…wrong. Especially since she had no idea Tamryn was into Jake. It was her own fault for hiding it.
“Have I got a treat for you tonight, folks!” Jake’s loud voice boomed through the bar.
Tamryn smiled, knowing what came next. She turned to the stage, meeting Jake’s gaze, then leaned back, her elbows resting on the old wooden bar.
“What are you waiting for, kiddo?” He extended his hand, curling his fingers in invitation. “Get yer little ass up here!”
“Knock’em dead, Tamryn,” Gennie called.
Tamryn strolled to the stage, her shoulders straight and her chin up. Singing with Jake was the only time she felt his equal, the only time she could imagine he actually saw her.
On stage beside him was her favorite place to be.
Reed grabbed the guitar and joined them on stage, his agile fingers strumming the opening chords to Jake’s favorite Johnny Lee song.
Tamryn positioned herself beside Jake, allowing herself this one moment to bask in him. She took a deep breath though her nose, inhaling her favorite scent in the world, then winked at him. “Put your shirt on, Hefner.”
He leaned away from the mic, covering it with his hand, then whispered, “Am I too distracting, kiddo?”
Tamryn snorted and rolled her eyes. “Please.”
If he only knew.
I’d like to first acknowledge my critique partner-in-crime, Tamara Mataya, who has fiercely stood by my side, even while watching me beaten by the storm of my own mind more repeatedly than I care to admit. She talks me down from the ledge, guides me through indecision, and challenges me when I’m unable to challenge myself. She also edits my words, sends me cool shit, and loathes Nicholas Cage with me for solidarity’s sake. So, thank you, Tam. As always, you’re the Sloth to my Chunk, the Bowie to my Hoggle, and the dirty little pervert I had no idea I so desperately needed in my life. I would never have expected to find such an essential relationship online, but here you are. So essential. (No, this does not mean I will make-out with you.)
To the ladies of Wrahm: you’re all amazing, and I’m often in awe of so much talent in one place. So many of you have reached out to me during my times of trouble this past year, even when I’d left the group—I can’t begin to tell you what your support has meant to me. I hope this is the year that ALL of our dreams come true. (And I wish I could be with you all on a daily basis without being on Facebook. Let’s make this happen. Maybe a commune somewhere green and sunny?)
To my phenomenal publishing village: thank you, AGAIN, for all of your hard work and for bringing my passion to life. AGAIN. Tamara Mataya, you edit my words like a champ; even after you’ve read something multiple times, you’re still able to whip me—I mean, my work—into submission. (See what I did there? She writes BDSM. Get it? Whips? Submission?) Cait Greer, thank you for adding the finishing touches to each book I write, wrapping my words up into a perfect little publishing package. Michelle Johnson, thank you for always sticking through my ramblings and learning how to decipher the strange workings of my mind. You’ve nailed every cover, dressing my words in perfection. Every. Single. Time.
My treasured friends…your ongoing support is beyond words important to me. Your belief in me is often mind-blowing, and I am eternally grateful—though sometimes confused—by your love for me. Thank you for believing in me, believing in my work, and putting up with my writerly ramblings. When I’m rich and famous, drinks are on me.
Hubs, Mom, kiddo: Thank you, thank you, thank you for allowing me to continue this journey in all the ways that you do. I hope to someday pay you back for your continued—priceless—support.
And lastly, to my Uncle David—who better not be reading this erotic romance because I’d die—you are my rock, my frequent source of sanity. KICK CANCER’S ASS.
Wait. One more thing. To anyone who says writing erotica equals selling out, please just stop speaking. To anyone who has ever been told that, please don’t listen.
WRITE what you love. READ what you love. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
Fuck the haters. They can’t sit with us.
Jessalyn Jameson writes sexy, troubled love stories that break the rules and sit just outside the romance box. Jameson’s couples mess up, break up, make up…and fight their way to their HEA.
Nothing worth having comes easily—why should a happy ending be any different?
When she’s not writing, you can usually find her with a drink in hand and a far-off look in her eyes, always dreaming up her next chaotic couple. Married to the hottest guy in the room, a mother to one sassy tween and two spoiled dogs, obsessed with Supernatural (Team Dean), The Vampire Diaries (Team Damon), and Craft beer, Jessalyn is a homebody with a gypsy soul.
CHLORINE & CHAOS is the first in Jameson’s Flawed Heroes series.
Please stay tuned for Jake’s story in WHISKEY BURNED, coming late 2015.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Foreward from the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sneak Peek from WHISKEY BURNED Chapter One
Chapter Two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chlorine and Chaos Page 20