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

by Gwen Gavin

  “I don’t know about that part. Plenty of people don’t get laid and they still function.” I argued.

  Jazz looked over her shoulder at me with a squint like she wasn’t about to entertain my bullshit for even a second.

  “Yes, there are hermits in the world and if someone is asexual, I’m sure that they are just fine without the sex. But, largely, people need other people. It’s the way we survive. We’re social creatures. Why do you think people come here and do this all the time? They could drink at home in their pajamas for cheaper than this. But, they come here to be around other people, to laugh, to connect and maybe go home with someone new. Humans need other humans.” Jazz spoke matter-of-factly like I was a small child who she was teaching about the ways of the world.

  From the side, Jazz looked a lot like her sister. Loni’s lips were more plump, her Cupid’s bow was more full. Her hair was longer obviously, and it had a bouncy little wave in it. Their bodies were different too. Jazz was full all around. I seriously wouldn’t want to get in a bar brawl with her unless she was on my side, but Loni had curves and a trim waist—

  I shook my head. Not only was I kind of checking out one of my employees, I was daydreaming about her sister and her sister was not my favorite person in the world.

  “Hmm. I still don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me, Mike. People go a little wacky without having other people in their lives.” Just as Jazz was done talking, a customer flagged her down for another drink. I watched her walk away and scrunched up my nose.

  I don’t know about all of that.

  Loni

  I was dead on my feet after a full day of teaching. All I wanted to do was hose down the stink of craft beers and paint and sweat off my body, put on my best worn in pajama shorts and climb into bed.

  It was later than I had expected by the time I loaded up my car with all the gear and drove back to the small apartment on the west side of town. My eyes were bleary looking at the headlights of the few cars that drove in the opposite direction.

  I still had to wake up tomorrow and start scheduling events for the rest of the month and the next month. The good thing was that the gigs were becoming more constant as school was starting soon and everyone was wrapping up their summer vacations. Constant gigs meant the money was coming in, but it also meant that I was going to work my hands to the bone.

  My feet moved in a zombie shuffle to the front door of the apartment, an ache was throbbing through the arches in my feet and I daydreamed about having someone to rub them.

  When I got to the door and went to put my key in it, there was a black scrunchie wrapped around the doorknob. From inside, I could hear the dulcet tones of a Fleetwood Mac song, Stevie Nicks’ voice swelled under the door.

  “No, no, no, no. Not tonight, Jazz,” I said to myself quietly. As if on cue, Jazz’s laughter bubbled out of the apartment and another’s woman’s voice was singing along to the melody.

  Of course. Of freaking course! My sister would pick one the hardest days in recent memory to pick someone up and bring them back to our apartment. This situation wasn’t something that we discussed before Jazz moved in with me, but I knew that it would likely happen, eventually.

  Jazz wasn’t one to wallow in heartbreak for long and how she was laughing and carrying on in there, I didn’t want to break in and ruin the moment for her. It was bad enough that I guilted her to move back home to save my ass. I couldn’t kill her game with the ladies too.

  The apartment was small enough that having me there would definitely damper her spirit and probably her sex life.

  I sighed and hung my head in between my shoulders. I turned around and shuffled back to my car, to wait for the all clear text from Jazz.

  My feet were throbbing in pain so I turned the car on to play the radio and climbed into the tiny backseat, which was littered with take out bags and various stuffs that I tried to convince myself that I kept around for emergencies but really, I was just too lazy to bring them inside.

  I tried my best to stretch out my legs and let the cool night breeze come in through the windows. It wasn’t that bad. It would only be a little while, anyway. At least, that’s what I was trying to convince myself.

  The radio was playing some sappy love song, and I groaned at it. I didn’t really want to hear someone sing about their sex life while my sister, who had been in town for all of five minutes, already had an active one and mine was a total dud.

  It wasn’t that I wasn’t looking. I had been on plenty of dates, but somehow, they all turned out to be losers or control freaks or just married assholes that were trying to convince me they weren’t married assholes.

  I threw my arm over my face to hide the orange glow of the street lamp and tried to fall asleep. Instead of drifting off for a little nap, my mind was racing and my legs were restless. They were twitching and jumping every few minutes, too much to really relax.

  I groaned to myself again. Today just wasn’t my day.

  My body was telling me I needed to find someone who would rub my feet at the end of the day and take care of my more carnal urges. Maybe it would be a good way to work out this pent up energy. Jazz always knew when I wasn’t dating anyone because she said that I got particularly “squirrelly,” whatever that meant.

  But, I hadn’t seen a single, available guy at any of my events in months. Most men at my painting nights were with their dates. And I didn’t really go anywhere other than work since I didn’t have time for much else at all. The only guy I could think of seeing in the last week or so was Jazz’s annoying and grumpy boss who was definitely not my type. And I still thought Jazz should leave that job so she wouldn’t have to interact with him at all.

  He had that stupid face that said that he thought he knew better than anyone else and the way he crossed his arms over his chest was obviously meant to flex his forearms and biceps so I would look at them. And that stupid half-beard-not-a-beard thing he had going on was so noncommittal that it was annoying to look at too.

  But there was something else about him that just got on my nerves and riled me up. Not that me riled up wasn’t so far away from being sexually excited, they basically ran on the same parts of my brain.

  Ugh. Gross. I could never sleep with Jazz’s boss. That was gross to even consider. Plus, he was a total asshole to me with those dark eyes and the hint of a sleepy smile underneath his tough exterior.

  Eww, Loni. You can’t think like that. I mentally chastised myself even as my body was responding to the idea of it.

  Well, hate fucking is a thing. I heard the devil on my shoulder whispering in my ear. I doubt hating someone would stop Jazz from hooking up with them. Hell, I doubt it would stop any of the guys I was into.

  Nope. I told myself that I would not do this again. I would not get physically involved with an emotionally unavailable man. I’ve made that mistake more than once before. And hating someone definitely put them in the “emotionally unavailable” category.

  But Mike’s dumb face kept creeping back into my mind’s eye and I hated myself for it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mike

  As I went home alone the night before while both Keith and Jazz were walking back to their cars with pretty women under their shoulders, I tried not to think about the fact that I would go back to my apartment solo.

  It didn’t matter to me before and I would not let it bother me now.

  Until I got home to the small apartment complex and was reminded of the loneliness. Mrs. Whitley was already packed up in her apartment. The lights turned out, and the blinds drawn.

  Somewhere in the complex, there was someone playing a video game loudly and somewhere else, there was a couple people having loud sex, screeching like monkeys. I couldn’t wait until the weather changed cooler and people started closing their windows again at night.

  I scowled to myself in the dim light of the courtyard. They didn’t need to rub it in our faces.

  The next day, I got to the bar a little
earlier than usual and started taking inventory of the bar and kitchen for the biweekly order. I made a mental note to ask Jazz if there was anything that she needed for her specialty drinks.

  I hated to admit it, but she was right about expanding our clientele. I had been running the business on autopilot for a second and I was leaving money on the table by doing so.

  While I had my head poked into the kitchen fridge, one of the cooks, Benny, came in for the day. He silently tilted his head up to me in a morning greeting and started moving around the kitchen, getting things ready for the day. He moved seamlessly, doing the same thing that he had done countless times before.

  When I opened Mike’s place five years ago, I knew that the town needed a watering hole and a place that would offer fried foods for the Sunday football games. It would be a profitable business just based on the demand, but I worked my hands to the bone making sure that it didn’t fail.

  “Hey, Benny. Can I ask you a question?” I put my clipboard down on one of the steel tabletops.

  His eyebrows shot up on his forehead, but he came over to talk to me. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked around the kitchen.

  “What’s up, boss?” Benny looked a little nervous, wiping his hands on the apron that hung low on his hips.

  “How long have you been working here, Benny?” I rubbed my chin with my hand. I knew that Benny was one of the first hires, but those early days all blurred together for me.

  “A little over four years now, I guess.” He shrugged.

  “How do you think things are going around here?”

  Benny looked around the quiet kitchen and rubbing his hands together. “I think it’s going okay. Is there something that you need to talk to me about? Is there something that I did wrong? I know that I was late last week but my daughter was sick--”

  “Oh, no. Is that what you think this is? No. No, man. That’s not it at all. This has nothing to do with you. You’ve been great. You show up. You work hard. You’re a nice dude. That’s all good.”

  Benny’s eyes shifted from side-to-side. “Okay…” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Actually, this is about our menu. What do you think about it? Is there anything that we should change? Add? I thought maybe we should expand the menu a little and cut out a few things. Nobody is ordering the sliders even though they are delicious. I just keep ordering less and less of those little buns.” I pointed at the clipboard on the table.

  Benny arched an eyebrow at me. “Well, yeah. I could come up with some things. I could talk to the night shift and I’m sure that we could gather up some notes?” Benny’s voice sounded hesitant and I could tell that he was still worried that I would fire him.

  “Notes. Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks, Benny.” I grabbed the clipboard and went to the dry storage to mark down the items I needed to order more of. I doubled back to Benny. “What do you think about paint nights? Like those classes where people drink and paint? Or karaoke night? Something to spice things around here?”

  Benny shrugged again. “Sounds good, boss.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that, man?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like I’m about to take you out back and beat your ass or something.”

  Benny shrugged. His eyes were looking at anything but me.

  “Come on, Benny. You’ve known me a long time. Spit it out.”

  “I don’t know, Mike. You seem weird. This isn’t like you at all. Usually, I know to stay out of your way on inventory day. Plus, you haven’t made any coffee yet, so I thought you would be in a terrible mood, but this is really weird. You talking about changing things, moving things around. That’s the last thing that you like to do. Hell, the menus still have typos in them.”

  I frowned. “Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to reprint them just because I missed a few commas or whatever. They work just fine. People can read them.”

  Benny pointed at me. “See, that’s what I mean. That’s the Mike I know. You would probably keep those menus for another ten years. So, I’m just confused why you suddenly want to change stuff. The Mike I knew from four years ago would have punched you in the face for even suggesting karaoke.”

  It was my turn to shrug. “Maybe it is time to make a few changes around here, Ben.”

  Loni

  I don’t know why but my feet led me to the bar, Mike’s place, before I had to hit an afternoon class at an after-school program at the elementary school.

  I don’t know if was the guilt of trying to make it work for Jazz or the idea that was rolling around my head about holding a paint and sip event at the bar or the impossibly steamy dream I had about a mysterious man with a two-day scruff on his face and curly dark hair that curled around his ears.

  It sounded crazy, but after I finally got into the apartment the night before, after Jazzy’s date grabbed an Uber in the apartment building parking lot and Jazz waved at me in the darkness of my car from where she kissed the woman goodbye in her bare feet, I had the best dream I had ever had in my life.

  Maybe I was going crazy from the stress of working so hard or maybe it was jealousy of Jazz having a perfectly good hook up in our apartment after it had been months since my last failed romantic adventure.

  But in the dream, the man’s voice was gravelly and rough as he pulled me tightly against him in a darkened room and even with clothes on, it was as if we were naked because his skin was burning hot through the fabric and I could feel his heart beating in his as it pressed against mine. His breath was warm on my neck as he gently kissed my neck, right in the place that always made me shiver.

  Now, I was standing in Mike’s Place voluntarily, waiting to talk to him just because my body and my mind were working against me in my subconscious.

  Keith, the other bartender from the other night, got Mike from the back and then came back to talk to me. He leaned easily against the bar and had these blue eyes that never left mine. He was a skilled flirt, knowing exactly how to make steaming eye contact and the right subtle compliment.

  “Mike will just be a minute. Wait, I think I’ve seen you in here before, right?” His mouth quirked up in the corner. His voice was low and smooth as he spoke and it was easy to see why Jazz warned me he was a flirt, but since I was still riding the high from that ill-timed sex dream, I wasn’t not into it.

  “Yeah, I was in here the other night. My sister is Jazz. I think you’ve met her.” It was my turn to smirk back at him. He leaned forward just a touch, enough to break the personal space bubble around me but not enough to be considered creepy.

  “Well, I could never forget a beautiful face like yours. You should come here more often. Your first drink will be on me, but the only thing is that you have to let me make whatever I want for you.” He talked slowly, letting the words slide over me like caramel.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were a flirt, Keith.” I scoffed and pretended to scold him.

  “I only flirt with the women I find utterly fascinating.” He leaned forward a little more, dropping his voice just above a whisper.

  “Don’t believe him. He’ll flirt with anything with a pulse or that might tip. Truly, I saw him hit on a woman in her seventies just last week.” Mike’s voice called out over Keith’s shoulder from where he stood ten feet away.

  Keith flinched backwards away from me and turned on his heel. “Ahem, um, this nice woman, Loni, would like to speak with you, boss.”

  Mike crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t move forward. He kept his eyes trained on Keith. “Thanks, Keith. Don’t you have a bar to prep?”

  Mike’s clipped voice was doing something to my body that Keith’s smooth talking didn’t accomplish. Mike’s voice was harsh and just this side of angry. In another world, I would find it annoying and it would just piss me off, but after my dream last night, something else was happening.

  I hated myself for that. I tried to tilt my head side-to-side and crack my neck, anything to break m
e out of this daydream where I was fantasizing about a man that I couldn’t stand most of the time and as much as I hated him, there was still this tether between us, like I couldn’t leave him alone despite how hard I was trying.

  Mike pointed at me and raised his eyebrows. “You. My office.” And then he pointed towards the door in the back of the bar.

  My mouth fell open as he basically commanded me to follow him the back office. Part of it was disgusting how he thought I would just listen to him because he said to. Part of it was actually really fucking hot.