No Damn Good (Enemies-to-Lovers Contemporary Romance series)

by Gwen Gavin

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Want to see what’s next in the series? Check out

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

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  About the Author

  No Damn Good

  BY: GWEN GAVIN

  NO DAMN GOOD

  By: Gwen Gavin

  Copyright © 2020 by Danielle Donaldson writing as Gwen Gavin. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Click or visit:

  GwenGavinbooks.wordpress.com

  To my sister, Allyson, who always tells me when I’m being a hot mess.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mike

  My alarm went off, and I wiped the drool from my chin. The sun was already warming the area in front of the small window in my bedroom. I groaned at the sight.

  It wasn’t easy always waking up at eleven in the morning, but it was something that I had to do. I went about my morning easily, basking in the quiet of my small apartment. Every one had already started their days earlier. The apartments next to mine didn’t have people around them or children screeching or televisions on. The only person home and awake other than me was Mrs. Whitley in the first floor corner apartment, but she preferred the silence even more than I did.

  When I locked up my place and took the outdoor steps easily down to the first floor, Mrs. Whitley was already sitting in her plastic chair on her front porch area, glaring at anyone that happened to walk or drop by.

  I knew better than to bother her other than to salute her with two fingers which allowed her to nod curtly at me and I walked down to my place.

  I unlocked the bar and took a deep breath. It was my favorite time of the day. Quiet. Peaceful. People weren’t in yet and the chairs were still up on the tables. I got to head to the office and work on the books for a few hours before the wait staff and the cooks made their way in for the day.

  I made myself a small pot of coffee, moving around the kitchen quietly in my normal routine so when I heard something clatter behind me made me jump five feet in the air. I turned, holding an empty coffee mug like it was a weapon, gripping it tightly.

  “Whoa. Whoa. I’m sorry!” She had her hands up in the air and her face was white as a ghost.

  I glanced at the mug still gripped in my hand. “Dammit, Jazz! You can’t sneak up on me like that. Don’t you know that most bar owners carry guns on them?”

  My new bartender, Jazz Royale, was still standing with her hands up.

  “Cripes, Mike. I didn’t think you would be that jumpy. I thought—”

  I waved my hand in front of my body. “It’s okay. I should be the one who is sorry. I’m not used to having people in this early.”

  “I thought you told me to come in early to start training.” Jazz rested her hands on her hips. She had the perfect look down for a sassy bartender that didn’t take any shit. It was perfect for our small town.

  Oaks Pass wasn’t the biggest town in the Central Coast of California so most of our patrons were locals. The tourists usually kept to the craft breweries, wineries and the fancy places on the coast. If you were going to cut off someone that you would have to see for the rest of your life, you would need nerves of steel and a no damns given attitude.

  She would be perfect for the job.

  “Uh, yes. I did. Let me get this coffee choked down and we’ll get started. Grab a menu and look it over. You don’t need to be an expert on it, but pick out one or two things that you’ll recommend to new people or folks that have to get food in their bellies to soak up the booze.”

  Jazz nodded with only a hint of an eye roll behind it. Owning a bar wasn’t exactly what I had planned on, but I sucked at accounting in college and was much better at earning money at frat parties by lining up drinks, so I dropped out and switched out student loans for a business loan and here I was.

  Back in my hometown and serving drinks to the same assholes I’ve known my whole life.

  I stirred a single sugar packet into the black coffee and choked down as much as I could without burning the top layer of my throat off.

  “Okay, Jazz. I have a stack of papers for you to fill out before you start your shift tonight. But if you know how to tap a keg and pour a drink, that’s all I care about. Tips are pooled so please don’t skim the jar. You’ll be working with Keith tonight. He’s all right, but he has a thing for the ladies so he gets distracted. I’ll keep on task as much as possible, but you know…” I took another drink of coffee after I was done with my big speech and Jazz nodded at me.

  She pursed her lips together and looked back down at the menu. “Do you have any questions?”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. There wasn’t a ton to the job. It should be straightforward enough for her, especially since she just moved back into town from San Francisco where she killed it in the nightclub scene if her resume was legit.

  “Have you ever thought about adding to the drink menu?”

  I scrubbed at the two-day scruff on my face. It’s too early for this. I thought to myself.

  “Not really. The crew in here usually orders beers and wine and whiskey cokes. Not a lot of culture around here. Just sling the drinks and collect the cash.”

  She twisted her mouth again in that way that was showing me she had something else to say.

  “Well, how would you feel about me putting up a new drink on the board? Like a special of the day or whatever?”

  I glanced up at the chalkboard above the round bar in the middle of the room. It was late August, and it still had a shamrock drawn up on it from St. Patrick’s Day. “Okay. if you take that on, you can do it. You’ll have to enter it manually in the system. If you need something special, I’ll need a heads up to make sure I can swing it in the inventory numbers. But, don’t get your hopes up. I’m telling you that this isn’t that kind of place.”

  I tapped my pointer finger on the tabletop. It was still a little sticky from the beer from last night. I tried to ignore it because it meant that my employees were half-assing their closing duties.

  Jazz looked at me skeptically.

  If I was a different man, I would have found her completely beautiful in a really intimidating way. But she wasn’t my type. The angles on her face were a little too sharp and judging by the tattoo of a pride flag on her forearm, I wasn’t necessarily her type either.

  My eyes drifted down to it for a split second and she didn’t move to cover it. She met my eyes as they trailed up to her face.

  A silent question bounced between us. Her asking me Will that be a problem? I frowned neutrally and shrugged. Don’t make it a problem and it won’t be.

  “Okay. Can you start setting up for the day? I’ll grab those papers for you and be right back.”

  I went to my tiny office in the back of the seating area and gratefully closed the door behind me. I rested my coffee mug on the only slightly clean area on the desktop. The rest were piles of receipts and paperwork that I should probably figure out a filing
system for, but the piles of stuff were good enough. I knew where most of the things I needed were. This office was the only amount of chaos that I liked in my life. It was the only place where everything was in flux.

  I scooped up a file folder with a post it note on top of it with Jazz’s name on it and tossed it onto the bar top with a pen. I pointed it at it silently as Jazz was pulling down the chairs to set up the dining area.

  She nodded at me without saying more and I walked away thinking we might get along in the future more than I thought.

  I entered my quiet office and drank my coffee, starting my day exactly the way I wanted to.

  Loni

  I took a deep breath and shook off the tension as I put on my happy face. The smile felt foreign on my face, but I had to do it to get through the next 30 minutes of my Paint and Sip class.

  “All right, everyone! Let’s finish up the white space around this tree here.” I moved my brush easily, almost recklessly across the canvas, looking at my shoulder to make sure that everyone was doing as I was doing.

  Most of them were lost in conversations with the friends they had brought with them or sipping on the pricey wine that the winery provided for the night. I sighed to myself. I was supposed to be leading the class, but I was lost in the entire process, not even being looked at except for a passing glance to make sure that their paintings looked even a little like that one I was creating.

  I went back to my work, moving and talking without thinking about it. I was phoning it in. It was my third painting “class” of the day. I had already done a short event at the senior center, an after school class with elementary students and then this painting and drinking event for mostly stay-at-home moms and married people on dates.

  Living in my hometown with my sister and teaching people who really didn’t love art about painting during the day wasn’t exactly how I had planned on spending my time out of art school, but it was better than delivering pizzas and letting my artwork languish, I guessed.

  But I had thought I would be traveling on the coast of France and eating in Italy and having lovers all over the European Union. I would be exploring with my art, not reliving the same pieces repeatedly. I would jet setting, falling in love, and creating things.

  There’s something to be said about the best-laid plans…

  I looked at the clock again and realized that it was time to wrap things up and clean up the room.

  “All right, artists! Brushes down. Let’s look at your creations. This is the perfect time for you to take group pictures with your creations while I clean up the room. Ask your neighbors to help take those photos for your social media and please tag me! I love to see what you guys make and you might get chosen for the art of the week for a free future class.” I pointed at the social media tags on the front of my apron with my Royale Art logo on it. It felt like the smart thing to name the business after my last name.

  Hey, a girl had to hustle to make a dollar nowadays. I thought to myself.

  The crowd chattered loudly as they took pictures and aww’ed at each other’s pictures. It was my favorite part of the class and all I was doing was picking up trashed brushes and pouring out dirty glasses of water.

  I left the wine glasses there for the winery crew to pick up and I glanced over the crowd as they started to disperse. A few of the patrons came up to me to shake my hand and thank me. I plastered that happy customer service look on my face as I wrapped up the class. A few people palmed me small tips, and I dropped them in the front of my apron as subtle as I could manage.

  I sighed and brought the heavy boxes of supplies to my car and brushed the hair from my face. The money would not be enough to cover all my costs, but having my sister Jazz move back into town would help cut down on that stuff.

  As I drove over to the only bar in town, I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Maybe Jazzy moving back to town was just me dragging her down with me, forcing her to take care of me how she always had.

  San Francisco was good for Jazz. She had plenty of friends and fun jobs, but when she broke up with her last girlfriend and had to move out of their shared apartment, I had mentioned more than once that I was struggling and I needed a roommate.

  At least she had found work in town pretty quickly. A good bartender was like a teacher or a nurse, everybody needs one.

  I pulled into the small downtown square area that was pretty much dead quiet after 6pm except for Mike’s Place, which was the very well named bar where I assumed the owner’s name was Mike.

  The bar and grill was on the second floor above the closed sandwich shop and as I walked up the stairs, I heard the noises of a bar and people watching a baseball game on the big screen.

  When I walked in, Jazz was wiping down the bar and looking at the group of people crowded around with their beer bottles and glasses of whiskey and coke with her discerning eye. Mostly, people avoided Jazz. With her severe hair shaved short on one side, her penchant for dark purple lipstick and the array of tattoos across her arms and chest, people gave her a wide berth. Throw in her naturally resting bitch face and she was definitely a charmer.

  When her eyes saw me, she tilted her chin up at me in greeting and then went to pour me a drink. The tired look in my eyes told her something that I didn’t need to use words to say.

  I fell hard into the bar stool in front of her, the area of the circular bar farthest away from the television. The male bartender stayed on the other side of the bar with the crowd of beer drinkers. He took the time to eye me up and down and I frowned at him pointedly.

  “How’s the first day going, Jazz? Looks like you guys got a good crowd in here?”

  She poured the fun little concoction in the glass in front of me. I didn’t have any idea what was in it, but I was sure that Jazz was making something delicious and as long as it had alcohol in it, I didn’t care what it was.

  She shrugged one shoulder up, her mouth pinched in the corner. “Eh. Hard to tell. It’s a weekday, so that’s promising.” Her voice was monotone.

  “Tips are tips, right?” I said as I pulled out my own measly tips and put the folded bills on the bar, counting them quietly.

  She shrugged again.

  “What’s going on? You’re quiet usually but this is weird.” I looked around the bar and Jazz’s eyes didn’t follow mine. “Is it that other bartender? He was giving me the eyes. Did he try to make a pass at you?”

  Jazz rolled her eyes and blew air out of her nose with an annoyed flair. “No, I would’ve welcomed that. At least it would be more exciting than watching locals chug mass produced beers and watching a baseball game that I care nothing about.”

  As she talked, a gruff man that had an angry-looking face came out of the back room. Jazz straightened her shoulders just a little as she finished stirring my drink and popped a straw into it. I pulled it in close to me and took a sip as I watched the man walk around the room.

  A few people stopped him to clap him on the back and he gave them tight smiles. He moved behind the bar and start typing something on the screen in front of him.

  Who’s that? I mouthed the words silently to my sister. She pointed to the ceiling and mouthed back, Mike.

  Ahh, so this was the mysterious owner of the bar and now my sister’s new boss. I frowned and turned my attention back to the drink that my sister had made me. It was sweet without being overwhelming, almost a floral taste but clean and crisp. Definitely refreshing.

  I popped my lips together and gave Jazz the thumbs up. She nodded happily to herself and went to sort bottles and glasses, making herself look busy with her boss right there.

  Before I knew it, he was turning and his deep voice boomed over the noise of the game and music that was piped in over the speakers.

  “Hey, did you ring that in?” He turned his body toward my sister but pointed at the glass in front of me. It was like I wasn’t even here, it was just a glass sitting on the bar in front of an empty bar stool.

  I glanced from him to Jazz. Jazz shrugged
, nonplussed.

  “Not yet. It’s my special of the day. I haven’t figured out how to key it in yet.” She pointed at the chalkboard above her head. The drink was called The Magnolia with a beautifully hand drawn white and yellow flower next to it. The drink was gin and elderflower and a bunch of other stuff that I didn’t pay attention to.

  Mike looked surprised up at the chalkboard and his frown deepened. “Hmm. I didn’t even remember ordering whatever “elderflower” is.”

  Jazz shook her head. “Yeah, I make my own syrup so I brought it from home. I figured that it wouldn’t add to your overhead.”

  As they talked, my eyes bounced between them, trying to watch their facial expressions. I couldn’t read either of them because they either looked neutral or pissed off. But I knew that my sister didn’t like her boss so much. She was on edge, trying to protect herself. Once you got to know her, she opened up and smiled more, even could be affectionate. But there was something about this boss that was making her put her walls up.