On the Rocks (Pub Fiction Book 2)

by Jones, Gillian

  “Piss off, will ya? I didn’t say shit, buddy. I didn’t think your big mouth was done talking yet, so I was waiting for your Forrest Gump ass to finish. The answer is ‘no’, for your information. Other than thinking about fucking her, I don’t stop and smile and hear music and birds and shit. I’m not you, pussyboy,” I deflect, hoping it’s convincing.

  He nods. I hate to admit it even to myself, but yeah, I know exactly what feeling he’s talking about. But I’ll just keep that shit to myself until I figure this out, because the admission even to myself scares the piss outta me.

  Ryker and I were never the type to bring girls home. My mom has never met anyone I’ve dated, not that I have ever had a steady girl, but my mom is totally off limits. Like my brother, only my future wife will ever have that privilege. If it weren’t for my mom, Pub Fiction would not be what it is today. Unlike my father, my mom is the absolute best, having believed in me enough to invest in my dream. We co-owned Pub Fiction until a year-and-a-half ago when she happily allowed me to buy her out.

  “Sure, sure, man. I ain’t buying it. You’re in deep already. I can see it. Trust me, dude, I know. Been there done that!” Ryker chortles.

  “Shut the fuck up, Ryk. I just wanna fuck her, nothing’s changed, man. I ain’t got time to spare for some steady chick in my life, so don’t be siccing mom on me. Or else I’ll tell Kat on you. Ya douche canoe.”

  He raises his hands in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. I’ll tell you right now. I’m taking fucking bets on this shit right here. I’m gonna make me some money.” He high-fives the other guys in true asshole fashion.

  “Oh, hell. I never thought I’d see the day,” quips Matty. “Could it be, both the Eddison boys are becoming men?” He laughs and I can’t stop chuckling at his feigned shock in spite of myself.

  “Sit the fuck down, Matty, before I hurt you,” I add, before tossing him a cold one from the cooler.

  There’s no way I’m comparable to Ryker. He’s just trying to win back the man card that he was forced to surrender pretty much the minute the stupid lug laid eyes on Kat Rollins. Sure, Braunwyn intrigues me, but the last thing I have time for is a complication like a steady girl in my life. Like I told her at the diner: Pub Fiction is my girl.

  Now if I could only convince my dick and my brain that were true.

  Chapter 13

  Braunwyn

  It’s official.

  I’m a full-fledged staff member at Pub Fiction. I’ve just survived the last week of my probationary shifts and lived to tell about it. I might smell like stale beer and feel like a hot mess after tonight’s shift—plus being tired beyond belief from trying to finish my school assignments and juggle Emme—but I still manage to give a little fist pump, because after weeks of training, I did it.

  Tonight I held my own working the VIP section, and it felt amazing. Levi and Luke had me shadow the girls on a few extra shifts because of my lack of experience, but also because I wanted to make sure that I was comfortable with everything I had learned over the last three weeks. The last thing I wanted to do was mess up, so I was grateful for the extra time, especially because it took a while for me to figure out the Point of Sale System as well as a few other bits and pieces, like holding down the bar and learning to work the alarm system on the nights I may have to close. Luckily, everyone’s been helpful and willing to support me along the way.

  “God, what a crazy night!” Brooke boasts, walking in the staffroom looking like I feel: her hair disheveled and eye makeup smudged from the heat of the crowd. “I’m beat. I never thought the shift was gonna end. My poor feet,” she pouts.

  “Oh, man, tell me about it. I can’t wait to get home and crawl into bed. My feet are killing me too,” I say, slipping off the super cute black-heeled booties I’d bought thinking they’d go well with the short black uniform shorts. Wrong! Super painful is more like it.

  “Listen, you did great again tonight. You’re a natural, the regulars love you already.”

  “Thanks, Brooke, that means a lot.” I rifle through my bag for a change of shoes, which I’m so sad to discover I’ve left at home. I tuck my tip money safely inside. “You weren’t kidding about the tips being crazy good, I think I made over a hundred bucks tonight,” I share, before taking my bus pass out of my wallet, placing it between my teeth, and tucking my wallet back in. I never pull my wallet out in public; I can thank Grams for that little public service safety lesson.

  “Sorry I can’t drive you home tonight, Braun. I feel awful. I wish you’d talk to Levi about driving you. I’m more than positive he lives right around you.”

  Removing the bus pass from my teeth, I place it beside me as I continue to search in vain for my sweater.

  Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?

  No sweater and no shoes. I’m going to freeze in this stupid tight ass t-shirt and short shorts. Yeah, I said “ass”. “Nah, I’m okay. Please don’t worry, I’m used to the bus. It’s a twenty-minute ride and the stop is literally right in front. It’s no big deal.” Brooke shakes her head and furrows her brows, clearly not liking my response. “Besides you’ve been my chauffeur most nights anyway, so taking the bus tonight will be like connecting with my old friends.”

  “Well, take a cab. You said yourself you made good tips tonight, so use some of that money. Plus you said your feet hurt. You’ll only hurt your feet more walking home from the stop, you’ve clearly forgotten your other shoes,” Brooke busts me as I put the killer shoes back on.

  “You’re so cute, Brooke, but please get going, I’m fine. You guys have a long drive ahead of you. Be sure to have a great time tomorrow at the baby shower. I can’t wait to see pics, Auntie Brooke,” I coo.

  I’ve yet to tell them about Emmerson, I’m not sure why—but I’m lying by omission. I haven’t told them because I need to make sure she’s protected at all times. I can’t just go around letting every new person I meet into her world. It’s hard enough for me to do that myself, because I fear any happy feelings I might be having could fall out from under me at any time. So that must be why.

  Since I started working here, Brooke and I have become fast friends. I’ve been doing an excellent job at letting my walls down bit-by-bit with Brooke. We’ve exchanged phone numbers, gone for coffee, and we’ve got plans for a girl’s night out in a couple of weeks from now. I’ve even introduced her to London, which is a huge step for me. I just hope that when she finds out about Emmerson she understands my reasons for not sharing the biggest part of my life with her right away.

  “Okay, but I’m telling you if Levi or Luke ever catch on that you’re taking the bus alone, they are gonna lose their minds up in here, up in here,” she sing-songs before blowing me a kiss and walking out the door.

  Speaking of Levi, holy Toledo, has that man been on my mind and in my space like crazy since our training day. It seems whenever I work so does he, if I’m in the storage room so is he, and I cannot lie, I kind of like the feeling I get when he’s nearby. It’s a feeling I rarely recognize, a feeling that is scarily growing into a word I don’t utter often when speaking about other humans, but for some reason I feel it growing with Levi, and that’s trust.

  More and more, I’m trusting him, and to be honest it’s freaking me out. Then there are the crazy tummy flutters the guy gives me. I swear my butterflies are so glad the hiatus is over that they’re celebrating extra hard. Tonight I think it was obvious that we definitely have a staring problem when it comes to one another. I could swear that each time I was met with one of his sexy “I just caught you looking” grins, my panties did a proverbial slip down my legs, a wee bit more with each one. Apparently my lady bits want out of hiding as well.

  Closing my locker, I grab my phone to shoot Grams a text. Not sure if she’ll get it, but it makes her feel better if she happens to still be up.

  Me: Leaving now, taking yellow heaven home tonight, Brooke was heading the other way, her sister’s baby shower is tomorrow. Was Emme good?

  Grams
: Perfect as always. OK. Be safe, hope there is some good scenery. Love ya.

  Me: My little angel. Of course she was. Love ya.

  Yeah, I’m feeling kind of happy these days. There’s a lighter weight on my shoulders, it’s nice. I might be laughing a bit more too. Walking across the pub’s dance floor to the exit, I wave goodnight to “Big John” the doorman.

  As I walk to the bus stop, even though I’m shivering and wincing as my shoes continue to bite my feet, I smile thinking about Grams’ text reply wishing me “good scenery.” If you’ve ever taken public transportation, you know exactly what she means; it can be a people watcher’s heaven. And seeing that the busses are painted bright yellow here in St. Catharines, we coined the name “yellow heaven.” Grams and I have been wishing each other “good scenery” since I was a little kid and came on the bus to visit. Oh, man, the things we’ve seen over the years. I swear the city bus can be just as bad as Walmart after midnight.

  Chapter 14

  Braunwyn

  I curse myself again for forgetting my sweater as the damp night air kisses my shoulders, causing a shiver to run down my body. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shake the chill away. Fall is most definitely here. I breathe in the fresh air as I walk, loving how it’s laced with that familiar scent of fallen leaves, making me smile at the images of carving pumpkins with Emmerson that pop into my mind.

  Looking down at my phone, I feel a bit of relief. According to the transit commission app, my bus is on time and should be here within the next fifteen minutes. As I approach the bus shelter, I decide to stand outside it where I’m fully visible—another one of Grams’ safety tips—and also because I notice two guys have already set themselves up inside it. Both appear to be drunk; they’re rowdy, speaking loudly and cussing, and from what I can see are still drinking while sitting in the shelter. I feel uncomfortable with my sudden proximity to them, and a wave of uncertainty takes root in the pit of my stomach as I feel the one guy’s eyes meet mine, then make an appreciative sweep over the rest of my body. His gaze lingers on my breasts, a lopsided grin forming at his mouth as he continues a slow perusal over the rest of me. Suddenly, standing where I am feels too close for comfort. Shit. Shit. I shuffle, my super cute heels feeling suddenly clumsy. In my Pub Fiction tank top and shorts, I’m more on display then I had realized. I attempt to subtly pull my shorts down as low as I can get them, but it makes not a lick of difference.

  God, they probably think I’m a hooker starting my shift at this hour. The bus needs to get here. I think of London always calling me “Hooker”, but now it’s even less funny. How do those women do it? They must be scared to death, the whole time they’re out on the street…

  I switch my purse to the opposite shoulder hoping that its bulkiness will hide just how tight my work shirt is. How did the nature of this outfit I’m wearing not occur to me before? Clearly I’ve been way too focused on actually learning the job at Pub Fiction, school and Little Miss to have paid any mind to the tiny uniform. I guess I’ve just been overly excited about everything to even care. And, of course, Grams and London didn’t say anything. They were most likely excited to see me letting go, figuring it was part of the new me.

  From the corner of my eye, I see gawker guy nudge his friend and nod in my direction. Great. Now they’re both staring.

  Oh, please, no. Just be leaving.

  But it looks as if they’re contemplating coming over to me; I can hear the one guy telling the other they can share. Share what I assume is me. Oh God, I think, it’s time to add learning to drive to my “new me” list. I’m just about to slide my finger over my phone to call a cab when I hear my name.

  “Braunwyn.” I hear what sounds like Levi’s voice booming from a close distance, and I jump at the gruffness behind its sound.

  Turning my head in the direction of the voice, my suspicion is confirmed as a glowering Levi has now pulled his black Mustang along the curb in front of me. I have to admit I feel my body relax with his presence, as the Creepy Twins still haven’t stopped staring and have been muttering since I got here, gearing up to make a move to talk to me. Or worse.

  “Oh, hi, there! You heading home? It’s a bit cool out but still such a beautiful night, eh?” I babble in a high tight voice, even though I’m trying to sound calm and cool (despite my idiotic statement about the weather) as I lean down to get closer to his vehicle, to him. I’m relieved to see his familiar face. My heart is beating a million beats a minute, I swear, I’m surprised that my voice sounds at all steady.

  “You need to get in my car, Braunwyn,” he seethes, and I step back, his tone taking me by surprise.

  “Excuse me? You did not just demand that I get into your car?!”

  “I sure as fuck did, baby, now get that ass of yours in here now before I come out and get you. Like fuck are you taking the bus at this hour. What the hell are you thinking?”

  No, he just didn’t. I move back, refusing to listen to him and his bossy demands. I know I’m being stubborn, but he could be a bit nicer about it. Jerk Twins be damned, I’d rather take my chances and wait for a cab. I hold my phone up, showing him the cab company’s number. “I’m just about to call for a cab. You can go, Levi. I’m fine, thank you.”

  Right at that moment, as if my luck couldn’t get any worse, a few more guys show up to join the other two. Damn it. Clearly this bunch are a herd of drunken fools, too, as they immediately start fooling around and making derogatory comments my way as they spark up a joint in the bus shelter. The smell of pot permeates the air. Great.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks, you wanna come sit here while you wait for the bus? We got lots of room for you,” howls one of them. He lets out a moan as he grabs his crotch and the other jerks all laugh. Shit. This isn’t helping my cause at all.

  “Hang up the goddamned phone, Braunwyn, and get in the fucking car. Now!”

  “Levi, you’re not my boss right now, so how about you save your commands. I don’t take orders from you off the clock,” I huff, crossing my arms in front of my chest, trying hard to stand my ground. I peek over at the shelter, seeing the guys not paying us any mind right now. See, I’m fine here. Nothing to worry about.

  Honestly, I have no idea why I’m arguing with him about this. It’s not like I’m not relieved to see him. Quite the opposite actually. I’d love nothing more than to jump in his car, to accept the offer of a ride, but I don’t want to be a burden on him. I already feel like a burden to Grams most of the time, a responsibility thrown upon her. I know she’d kill me for thinking like that, but it’s hard not to when you’ve lived like I have.

  The last thing I want is for Levi to feel he’s responsible for me, or see me as burdensome. He’s already done so much for me by giving me this job. So being a burden isn’t an option, especially one he thinks he has to deal with after a long night working at the bar. I’m sure going out of his way to drop me off is the last thing he wants to do right now. Thinking about being a deadweight only serves to piss me off even more at the whole situation. Forget this. I decide I’m going to walk back down and across to Sal’s and wait for a cab there, out of harm’s way. Surely that will make Levi happy. I mentally high five myself for my genius plan. See? I don’t need him saving me.

  Taking my eyes off the bus shelter, I’m about to turn back to face Levi’s open window to tell him my plan, when I hear him grumbling under his breath. I pause to listen, my eyes zoning in on a stray black cat lingering along the side of a building beside the bus shelter. Levi’s going on about stubborn women, and getting out of here before he lands in jail or something. After listening to his tirade, I turn and take an angry step, planning to walk around to the driver’s side to address his calling me stubborn and to share my decision to cab it home, but instead I find my face smushed up against his big hard chest once again.

  Oh, hello, old friend. It’s been too long.

  Gasping at our closeness, I inhale, taking in his sandalwood and laundry detergent smell.

  “E
nough is enough, Scrappy. Go get in my car. Now. Before I pick you the hell up and carry you,” he states authoritatively, his patience with me clearly having worn thin.

  I don’t move. I stand my ground, crossing my arms over my chest even more tightly in defiance. I silently glare, willing him to try.

  “For fuck sakes,” Levi whispers urgently, “just please let me take you home, Braun.” He glances at the guys behind me. “I can’t leave you here. I don’t have it in me. If something were to happen, I’d never…” he pauses mid-sentence and breathes in deep, those wild blue orbs of his pleading with me to give in. Well, how can I resist when he puts it that way?

  Unfolding my arms, I reach out and take hold of his strong bicep. “Okay, Levi. Okay,” I nod ruefully, “but are you sure? I mean, you can just wait while I call a cab. I’m sure you don’t want to go out of your way for me. I’m okay to cab it.” I try once last time.

  The volume coming from the bus shelter suddenly increases, and I hear a loud “Woot, woot!” An empty beer bottle smashes on the sidewalk a few feet away, and the jeering evolves into delighted howling.

  “It’s done, Braunwyn. I’m taking you home. Now stop,” he deadpans.

  I silently agree to allow him to drive me, and get in the car.

  He waits until I’m safely buckled in before turning the ignition back on. “Thank you,” he whispers as he shifts into drive, peeling away from what could have been a really bad situation for me. My own stubbornness baffles me.

  After what seems like hours, Levi breaks the silence, his tone annoyed.

  “From now on, I drive you home. And if for some reason I can’t, you take a goddamn cab. Then give me the receipt; I’m paying for the rides, that way your stubborn ass can’t argue. Fuck!” The way he raises his voice causes me to jump a bit. He reaches over, putting his hand on my leg, as if to get my attention. Like you don’t already have it, Anger Man.