Mixed (A Recipe for Love Book 3)

by Lane Martin

  “Are you alright Libby? You seem a little flushed.” Logan leaned forward in his chair, his muscle inked arms on full display. Did I just moan out loud? Logan licked the lip I was just fantasizing about, and I nearly whimpered. Again. Oh my god. Daydreaming about a man had never happened to me before. I almost came. He wasn’t even touching me, and I wasn’t touching myself. Frickin’ hormones. What would he have done? Would he have kissed me like I wanted him to in the walk-in? Would he have pushed me away and reminded the entire staff at the next family meal about the company dating policy. Next, to the information about the health plan, it was the one policy I could recite word for word. Section four paragraph two.

  Hayes Investments does not support nor condone workplace relationships except between a supervisor and their subordinate. This will not be tolerated and will lead to the immediate dismissal of both parties. Any employees engaging in a consensual relationship with a co-worker should report it immediately to their supervisors. All employees are reminded that this is a place of employment and professional conduct is to be maintained at all times.

  Logan was my boss. It was a “line” neither one of us would cross. I just needed to get new batteries for my Lelo.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Marissa tossed up her hands before standing from her chair and placing her hands on her hips. “First your sister.” Her tone was accusing.

  “Marissa,” Logan warned firmly.

  “Now you.” If looks could kill, I’d be dead. But in all fairness, she would be too.

  “That’s enough.” I knew his menacing tone, and heated glare shouldn’t turn me on more than I already was, but they did. Fuck, he was even hotter when he was mad. It brought out the bad boy he tried so hard to keep hidden. Fuck. That line kept getting harder and harder not to just hop right over. Not looking before you leaped was what got you knocked up. Don’t screw this up too.

  “How was your day?” Emily asked, seeing her working in the kitchen reminded me of our grandmother. I’d just got off work, it was after midnight, and I was sitting in the Mama M’s kitchen watching my sister work. She seemed like she was doing better. She was wearing clean clothes, and her hair was pulled into a sleek low pony. Emily’s current state of dress was miles away from the messy knot on the top of her head she was wearing paired with what I can only assume were Dicklan’s t-shirts when I first arrived. I’d like to think I had something to do with it, but the more she talked about the woman she met today, the more I thought it had nothing to do with me. Her name was Willow. She was a military wife with a young girl named, Fay who wanted to send her daddy who was deployed, “hugs” from home. My sister had the biggest heart I’d ever known. I knew the minute she started talking about them that she would do whatever she could to help the little girls wish come true. I just hoped she didn’t get hurt again in the process. My sister may have been book smart, but I worried about people taking advantage of her generosity, my case in point being “Hope.” I didn’t even want to think about the cluster fuck of that situation. Needless to say; the truth came out, it always does. She took off back to Nashville, and Matt went running after her. Shocker.

  “Just be careful. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.”

  “You never told me how your day was.” No, I didn’t. “Did you have your meeting with Logan and Marissa?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the sneer Emily wore every time she said wine girls name. It cracked me up. So much in fact that I’d made it into a game of sorts. It’s called get her to say her name. What? I was easily amused. If I weren't prego, it would be a great drinking game.

  “Logan and who?” I asked not so innocently.

  “I’m on to you, you know.” She pointed at me with a batter coated spatula. Great, something else I wanted to lick. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “You’re no fun.” I pouted as Emily eased back to work on her muffins. “You need to find a replacement helper.” The way Hope took off left her high and dry.

  “I know. In fact, Willow told me she might know the perfect person. He’s a veteran who was injured in the line of duty.” For fuck’s sake, she just met Willow. “Don’t give me that look Libby.” Jesus, I guess I couldn’t hide anything from my twin sister, except for the fact I was pregnant. “Now stop avoiding my question and tell me what happened with Marissa.” There was the look again. It never failed, and I couldn’t help but laugh, but she threatened me with her spatula again, and I filled her in.

  “She started with that first your sister, now you shit.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah, but Logan wasn’t having any of it.” I almost had to fan myself as I remembered how hot he looked. Dayum!

  “That’s good.” I could tell Emily wanted to say something about my reaction to just talking about my boss, but she knew better. We’d argued about it every day since the night I met him.

  “Logan agreed I could serve glasses of wine at the bar without the assistance of the “wine girl.” It’s a step in the right direction.” It was rather ridiculous I couldn’t serve wine by the glass in the bar without the assistance of a sommelier. Who came up with that idea in the first place? I got it, we had a massive wine list, but I wouldn’t be treated like a second-class citizen because I didn’t know the exact difference between a 2014 Pinot from the Applegate Valley Oregon region and the 2013 from Valle de Colchagua in Chile. When someone asked for a glass of Pinot, did they care if it was “a rich, ruby red wine with a touch of violet and great aromatic complexity” or “a bold taste, packed with a punch of berries with a hint of tobacco mixed harmoniously.” The answer was now and would forever be, fuck no. Sometimes you just wanted a good glass of wine. Add some delicious food and good company, and you were set to go. Besides, Marissa may have known vino, but I knew my spirits. Ask me about bourbon, and I could tell you whatever you want to know. Marissa didn’t even know the difference between traditional, high-rye, and high-wheat. She probably didn’t even know the difference between whiskey and bourbon.

  “I was doing some cost analysis on wine versus spirits in restaurants. I think I’ll share my findings with Logan.” Have I mentioned how much I loved my brilliant sibling?

  I’d tried everything, and I still couldn’t get Libby off my mind. She was my fucking employee. I scoured every surface of my already immaculate kitchen. I sparred with my trainer, Mack, at the gym till he practically cried, uncle. He grumbled it was sweat he was wiping away from the corner of his eye, but I think it was a tear. Baby. Now I was on to my last resort.

  “Hey man, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Sterling has done all my ink except my very first piece. It’s awful, and he’s wanted to fix it for years. Broken. Damaged. Fit to mark me forever. I never wanted to change it before. Now, it was the only thing I could think of. Sure, I’d been attracted to other women. Even her twin sister for fuck's sake. But something about her called to me like never before. She was a siren. My muse. It felt like the right time to make this change even if a future with Libby seemed impossible. She’s your subordinate. Sterling’s seen his share of clients who chicken out; I never thought he would see that look on me. “What’s up? You look like a virgin about to run out on getting a stupid butterfly.” Prick.

  “I’ve been thinking about making some changes.” He was the best, and since it was permanent, only the best would do. I was just there on the anniversary of her death so he could do the next sectional of the memorial piece. Today wasn’t part of the plan. I pointed to my chest, and the asshole grinned from ear to ear.

  “About fucking time.”

  My sister was the best. She showed her research to Logan and Marissa was no longer in the restaurant on a daily basis. Nobody had implied anything, but I’m sure Declan had a hand in this too. Yes, I called him Declan, not Dicklan. He may have been a jerk for leaving, but I did think he loved my sister. Emily might not have known where he was, but I had the feeling Eric and Logan were in contact with him. They should have told him to grow and pai
r and come home. For now, I believed he did me a favor, so I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t completely gone, but her role had undoubtedly changed. Marissa was officially now an employee of Snattered and consulted at Swayed twice a week. She came in before family meal and trained the staff on wine pairings, including me. Barf, I know, but at least I only had to deal with her twice a week. She also spent time in the kitchen working with Logan. I didn’t like it, but he was my boss, not my boyfriend. The worst part of her working for Snattered was she could date Logan without any repercussions. I, on the other hand, was left frustrated, wishing for something I couldn’t have. Something I had to continually remind myself I didn't even want.

  “Oh my god, did you make this? It’s delicious.” Marissa was making a fool of herself in front of the entire staff. She didn’t need a chair. She was practically sitting on Logan’s lap. Gag me.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen.” Mikey was Logan’s right-hand man, and he clearly wasn’t a fan of Marissa either. What I couldn’t understand was why Logan was letting her do it. I swear he couldn’t even look at me. Ever since the near-kiss in the refrigerator, he’d been keeping his distance. I kept reminding myself space was a good thing. Distance also makes the heart grow fonder Libby.

  “Hey, Lucas.” Darcy offered with a nod of her head toward the handsome man who had just sauntered in. All the girls and even some of the guys blushed at the mere mention of his name. He was one of our liquor reps and looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine. Yes, I’d noticed. I was pregnant, not dead. Plus, my hormones were all out of whack and other than my vibrator and my own fingers; I hadn’t had sex in weeks. My vagina was the Mojave Desert.

  “Hey.” While I know his greeting was meant for all of us, I couldn't help but notice his eyes were focused solely on me. Do I have food on my face? “Libby.”

  “Dayum is it hot in here?” Darcy offered under her breath, but everyone at the table still caught it.

  “Time to get to work people.” Logan rose from his seat so quickly Marissa almost landed on the floor. Served her right, she shouldn’t have been sitting so close. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Logan gave Lucas a warning look before heading into the kitchen with Marissa hot on his tail. But Logan had made it clear nothing could or would happen between us, so why would it matter if Lucas was flirting with me. Hell, I was a bartender, and I flirted all the time. It’s called using your resources wisely. I didn’t believe for one second using my feminine charm was wrong or it said anything about me other than I was smart. This was how it worked. If a guy sat at my bar and asked for a shot of tequila, I had a choice. I could pour him a shot of Blanco in the single-digit price range. He’d enjoy it, and we’d make a few bucks, or I could use what my mama gave me, tell him he looked like a guy who knew his tequila and offer to pour him a shot of Suprema or Reserva. Would he be distracted by my smile or the swell of my breasts while I leaned forward on the bar while waiting for his answer? Maybe. Oh, who am I kidding? Probably. Especially now, I swear my tits were getting huge. And if he waivered? I’d ask him to wait for a second while I turned my focus (read that as tits) away from him to show him my other assets. See what I did there? Upon my return, I would ask with my brightest smile if he wanted the double-digit shot before diming said smile and adding in my most sultry voice “or the Blanco.” Now, don’t go all crazy on me. I did it with women too. It was like shoes or purses. Ladies know what I mean. Can you buy a cute purse at Target for fewer than forty bucks? Sure, but it’s not the same as the designer bag you need to practically take a loan out to own. Okay, that might be a stretch. Maybe you need to just eat Ramen for a few weeks, quit your coffee house latte habit, or sell your plasma. What was my point in all this?

  Oh yeah, Lucas. He worked on commission; I was his customer. I was a woman, and he was fucking gorgeous. You call it flirting. I call it sales 101. Did we really need that extra case of Reserva? Yes, actually we did. Like I explained before, my girls were huge. I’d been selling a lot of it, and don’t even get me started on my tips.

  “I’ve got some new vodka I want you to try.” Lucas was already pouring the sample. Typically this wouldn’t be a problem, but because of the inmate(aka baby) I was carrying, I couldn’t drink.

  “I don’t drink.” Lucas must’ve thought I was joking because he was laughing like I’d just spouted out the funniest thing ever.

  “You can’t be serious. Come on Libby. It’s just a sample. It won’t hurt anything.” Just my baby. It was a risk I wouldn’t take even if the reality was one sip probably wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn’t a risk worth taking. “You know you want to.” Lucas cocked his head to the side while pushing the shot glass in my direction. Damn, he was good. How could anyone refuse that look?

  “She said no,” Logan growled while practically ripping Lucas off his stool in front of me. Holy shit! I knew it should have upset me. I could handle Lucas without Logan’s help. Instead, it tuned the Mojave that was my vagina into Niagara Falls.

  “What the fuck Logan?” Luckily the restaurant was still closed because neither man was using his inside voice. The wait staff stood frozen as the two men glared at each other. I wondered the same thing Lucas had. What the actual fuck?

  “She said no,” Logan stated again without backing down. The men matched each other in size, but that was where the similarities ended. Lucas had a smile that belonged in toothpaste commercials and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. His blond hair was styled to perfection, and you could tell by the way he filled out his shirt he worked out. Lucas’ supermodel good looks didn’t hold a candle next to Logan in my book. Maybe it was his dark hair and matching dark eyes. His skin was olive in tone, and I longed for the summer so I could see what a kiss of the sun would do to it. The ink that covered his arms stood out, especially the words “no regrets” that were scrolled intricately on his forearm. The same words were displayed on the wall in his office. Mikey had indicated one day when we were alone that they were the way Logan now lived his life. We were interrupted before I could ask what he meant by the word “now.” What did Logan regret? I knew a thing or two about that.

  “It’s fine Logan.” Neither man seemed willing to back down. While I was all for using my womanly charm for a sale or a tip, I didn’t really need Logan, or any man for that matter, to defend me. Especially not from Lucas, I cleared my throat and tried again. Still, neither of them backed down, so I did the only thing I could think of, I lifted the soda gun and sprayed them both down with water.

  A series of “what the hell’s” left both of their mouths but they were overpowered by the sound of Mikey’s hearty laugh. It filled the room.

  “I’ll email you our order,” I instructed Lucas, leaving no room for apologies. Logan grumbled about going to his office to change into something dry once Lucas made his departure. I was hot, as in pissed the hell off. Who did Logan think he was? His office door was shut, but I didn’t give a shit. His shirt was off, and his hands were running through his damp hair. Oh fuck, he had more tattoos on his back and rib cage. Surprisingly, his upper chest was almost void of ink. Except for a lonely heart right over his own. Fuck, just the sight of him made the anger that was coursing through me dissipate, instantly it was replaced by sheer desire for this man who was making me crazy. Apparently, I wasn’t alone.

  He came at me, in only his pants. He filled the small office, not just with his size but with his presence. I found myself backing up against the door as he came closer. The air between us had always been charged; the tension had been growing between us since the first day we met. I hit the closed office door the very same moment his lips crashed down on mine. That was the second all hell broke loose. You’ve heard about the perfect storm, that’s what this was. The magnitude in which he kissed me made me chill and burn at the same time. The force of the emotions that swirled around my head, my heart, and my body was both crazy and amazing. The charge between us was palpable. It was magic. It was madness. It was r
eckless and complicated. It would never be enough, but as soon as it was over, I knew it could never happen again.

  “Are you sure about this man?” I told Sterling what I wanted, and he was still reluctant. He always thought I would just cover up the old work. That’s not what I had in mind. I wanted him to alter it. Give it wings. I got the broken heart over my heart a week after she died. I was only fourteen. It wasn’t even close to being legal. It was one of the many reasons it was so atrocious. Shit, I’m lucky getting it didn’t kill me too. Back then maybe I hoped it would. Living wasn’t high on my list of priorities.

  “I’m sure.” Sterling didn’t say another word as he began to work. Some clients liked to distract themselves by chatting when he was working. Not me. I focused as the needle drug across my skin. Each jolt of pain served as a reminder of what I survived, of the place I would never return to. This tattoo would no longer represent the past that held me back. No, now it represented my future. My heart, no longer broken, would soar.

  The doctor’s office was warm and welcoming, but it did little to help calm my nerves as I filled out my paperwork. Other than the free clinic I’d visited in Nashville to confirm my pregnancy, this was my first regular prenatal visit, and I was freaking the hell out. I should have just told Emily and asked her to come with me. I knew she would have gladly come. God knows I wasn’t the first person to ever be in this situation; I just didn’t think I could take the look of disappointment I was sure I would see in her eyes when I finally told her.

  “Mrs. Barnes.” A nurse in pink scrubs called my name from the door that led to the examination area. “Was anyone joining you today?” Thank you for pointing out I was all alone as if I hadn’t already noticed most of the other prego’s had someone with them in the waiting room.