I propose a toast to love—
Where would we be without it?
Wasted
(Whiskey Nights #1)
Mason and Lexi’s story
by
Suzannah Daniels
Published by Suzannah Daniels at Smashwords
Copyright © 2014 by Suzannah Daniels
Cover Art by Louisa Maggio @ LM CREATIONS
http://lmbookcreations.wordpress.com/
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, events, businesses, or places are coincidental and not intended by the author. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are used fictitiously or are conceived from the author’s imagination.
First Electronic Edition: October 2014
Wasted (Whiskey Nights #1) / by Suzannah Daniels
www.SuzannahDaniels.com
To my valued readers:
Thank you for purchasing WASTED!
Writing is my dream job, and without you, none of this would be possible. I hope you enjoy WASTED, the first book in the WHISKEY NIGHTS series, and I hope you’ll come back to the small town of Creekview, Tennessee, with me in the second book, IGNITED, which will be Hawk’s story.
To keep updated with my new releases, please join my email list.
With much love,
Suz
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Sex on the Beach
Chapter 2 Devil’s Handshake
Chapter 3 Sloe Comfortable Screw
Chapter 4 Naked Lady
Chapter 5 Rusty Nail
Chapter 6 Kamikaze
Chapter 7 Kiss Me
Chapter 8 Fortune Teller
Chapter 9 Painkiller
Chapter 10 Blue Lagoon
Chapter 11 Sweet Dreams
Chapter 12 Hanky Panky
Chapter 13 Obituary Cocktail
Chapter 14 Stinger
Chapter 15 Hair of the Dog
Chapter 16 The Showstopper
Chapter 17 Hurricane
Chapter 18 A Thief in the Night
Chapter 19 Fall from Grace
Chapter 20 Avalanche
Chapter 21 Voodoo
Chapter 22 Angel’s Kiss
Chapter 23 Slow Seducer
Chapter 24 Tequila Sunrise
Acknowledgements
Books by Suzannah Daniels
About the Author
Chapter 1
Sex on the Beach
Mason
“You want Sex on the Beach?”
“I beg your pardon?” Her large, dark eyes focused on my face as she glanced up from the glowing screen of her cell phone.
I grinned. “The drink, not actual…you know. Sex on the Beach is today’s two-for-one special.” I motioned toward the framed chalkboard hanging on the wall with the daily special neatly printed in fluorescent colors.
“Oh.” Her lips curved into a smile once she realized she’d misunderstood me, not that I wouldn’t be willing to give her both, the drink and the sex. There weren’t any beaches in Tennessee, but hell, I’d be willing to drive over to the coast. “Sure,” she agreed.
It was early yet, and there weren’t many people sitting at the bar. I clicked my tongue and pointed at her. “Be right back with the best Sex on the Beach you ever had.”
Moving over to the liquor, I filled a glass with ice and poured in all the ingredients, resulting in a drink the color of a sunset. I added a lemon wedge on the edge of the glass, tossed in a maraschino cherry, and poked in a straw.
I set the glass in front of her, and her plump red lips encircled the straw as I patiently waited on the verdict.
Pushing silken tresses the color of dark chocolate over her shoulder, she straightened on her stool. “You’re right. That is the best Sex on the Beach I ever had.”
A victorious smirk shot across my face.
“It’s also the only one I’ve ever had,” she added, looking way too smug as she cut her eyes at me.
I shrugged a shoulder. “Still counts.”
Moving down the bar, I picked up an empty glass, wiped the bar clean, and stuffed a not-too-shabby tip in my pocket. Spanky Dewberry, my manager as well as the owner of Spanky’s, came out of his office and walked briskly toward me. He was a short man with a wide girth. As he strode down the main aisle that separated two sections of tables and approached the bar, I waved. “Hey, Spanky, what’s going on?”
He smoothed a wrinkled hand over the shiny bald spot on the top of his head and combed his fingers through the white tufts of hair that sprang out on the lower half of his scalp. “I see you’ve met Lexi.”
I pointed to the only patron sitting at the bar. “This is Lexi?”
Upon hearing her name, she stood and held out her hand. “Lexi Swafford.”
I shook her hand, noticing that it was soft and warm. “Mason Cambridge. Nice to meet you, Lexi.”
“Likewise.” Her pouty lips curved into another smile, and her straight white teeth contrasted dramatically against her deep red lips.
She turned to the owner. “Your bartender was just trying to convince me that he could give me the best Sex on the Beach I ever had.”
“He tries to convince all the ladies of that, but they ain’t buying what he’s selling.”
“Spanky,” I protested in mock horror, “how can you do that to me? Besides, she’s already admitted that I did give her the best Sex on the Beach she’s ever had.”
“Only because I have nothing to compare it to,” she interjected, holding her finger in the air.
Spanky chortled as he leaned against the bar. “Y’all can work it out later. Lexi’s gonna help out with the bar, so I need you to teach her everything you know about bartending.”
“Oh.” I was a little surprised, not that he asked me to train her because I trained all the bartenders and bar backs, but I hadn’t realized he was hiring. “You got it.”
He turned to Lexi. “You can start as soon as you finish your drink, or you can wait until tomorrow. Your call.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do. May as well start tonight.”
“If y’all need anything, holler. I’m going back to the office.” He waddled away. “Oh, and the drink’s on the house,” he called over his shoulder.
“Thank you!” Lexi called, taking another sip.
“She’s in good hands, Spanky.”
He waved an acknowledgement without turning around.
“So,” I drawled out, turning my attention back to Lexi, “it looks like it’s me and you tonight.”
“You didn’t know when you crawled out of bed this afternoon it was going to be your lucky day, did you?” Her sexy lips smirked.
“No. First, Sex on the Beach, and now I have someone to scrub the floors and haul the ice. I think I’m in love.”
“Again?” a male voice asked.
We both looked up as one of Spanky’s regular patrons grabbed a seat a couple of stools down.
“Hey, bud, what’s going on?” I leaned over and bumped fists with him before turning to Lexi. “Lexi, this is James Hawkins. Everybody calls him Hawk.”
“Hi, Hawk.” She shook his hand.
“Lexi.” He nodded a greeting.
“Hawk’s a firefighter here in the great city of Creekview. So if you ever catch a skillet full of bacon on fire and accidentally throw a pitcher of water on it, he can help you out.”
“And you’re speaking from experience?” Lexi asked me, her daintily plucked eyebrows arched in question.
Hawk chu
ckled. “Let’s just say there’s a reason Spanky doesn’t let him in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t want to waste my winning personality on chicken fingers and cheese sticks.” I picked up a coaster, tossed it in the air with a spin, and let it land on the bar in front of Hawk. “You want your usual?”
“Yep. You know me.”
I grabbed two bottles of beer, positioned the cap of one bottle just below the other, and slammed one bottle down on the bar to pop the cap off the other. “You are pretty predictable.” I set the open bottle of beer on the coaster in front of Hawk.
“How’d you do that?” Lexi sat up a little straighter as she took notice, her brow furrowed.
“Oh, no.” I waved my hand at her. “If you want to know my secrets, you have to share yours.”
“Your secrets aren’t that interesting.”
“Then why do you want to know them?” Amused, I awaited her answer, but she abandoned her question and went back to sipping her drink.
When she didn’t take the bait, I turned my attention back to Hawk. “So how many cats have you rescued this week?” I asked, propping my arms against the bar.
“No cats, which is a good thing since I’m highly allergic to them. It’s actually been pretty quiet. Put out a brush fire and responded to a few wrecks, none of them too serious.” He took a long swig of his beer.
“So basically you’ve been watching movies and working out?”
“Pretty much. I’ve been off the last couple of days, but it’s back to work tomorrow. Got a bunch of kindergarteners coming by for a tour.”
I laughed at the thought of Hawk being overwhelmed by dozens of kids asking a million questions. “You better prepare yourself,” I warned. “Why is the fire truck red? Can I drive it? Why is a fire hot? How do you fill your truck up with water?”
Hawk took another swig and set his beer on the coaster. “Or my personal favorite: My mom said she wants to date a fireman. Will you go out with her?”
“A kid actually said that?” Lexi asked.
“Oh, yeah. They have no filters.”
“Well, what did his mom look like?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but based on the kid….” He scrunched his face.
“So what you’re trying to say is he was one of the ugliest kids you’ve ever seen?” I asked.
“That wasn’t exactly what I was trying to say, but it would be an accurate statement.”
“That’s mean,” Lexi admonished us.
I pointed to Hawk as I looked at Lexi and shook my head. “It’s not like he told the kid he was ugly.”
She frowned. “Guys are so….”
“Oh, like you’ve never seen an ugly kid.” I spotted other customers walking toward the bar, and I grabbed a couple of coasters and spun them in their direction. “Ladies, how are y’all today?”
“We’re fine, Mason. You?”
“The only way I could be any better would be if I’s on that side of the bar having a drink with you two lovelies.”
After serving their drinks and ordering their food, I walked back over to Lexi.
“I’m almost finished,” she assured me. She took another sip. “I rarely drink, so I didn’t want to drink it too fast.”
“Rarely drink? And you want to be a bartender?”
“Drinking’s not a requirement,” she shot back.
Hawk drained the rest of his beer as he stood, pushing the stool back with his movement. “Lexi, when it comes to Mason, you’ve got to give as good as you get.” He set his empty bottle down and fished money from his pocket. “Keep the change.” He nodded at me, and then pivoted around and faced Lexi. “Guess I’ll see you around?”
“I’ll be here.” She gave him a smile and watched as he walked out of the bar.
“You ready?” I asked, drawing her attention back to me.
“I’m ready.”
When she entered the bar area, I admired her tight-fitting jeans and her snug jersey-style tee shirt. I went over some of the bar back duties, like washing glasses, cleaning the bar, restocking items, and replenishing garnishes.
“So how long have you been bartending?” she asked as she sliced lemons.
“For about six years. Spanky gave me a job as a bar back when I was eighteen. After a few months, he let me start bartending.”
“How did you know that’s what you wanted to do?”
I glanced at her profile as she concentrated on the lemons. Her dark hair was pushed behind her shoulders, and her softly rounded cheeks made her seem young, though I imagined that she was probably older than she looked.
“It’s not that I wanted to do it.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I just needed a job, and over the years, I’ve figured out what people want. So I give it to them, and they give me a good tip.”
“And what do they want?” Her hands stilled, and she studied my face as she waited on my answer.
“Most of them just want someone to talk to, somebody that they can tell how their day went or talk about their problems. Basically, they just want someone who will listen.
“If they’re with someone else and they’re in deep conversation, then they may want nothing more than someone who can give them service when they need it and get their drinks right. I like to keep things interesting by adding a little flair like the trick with opening the bottles.
“When you’ve done it long enough, you get a feel for how to treat each customer, and of course, we have a lot of regulars, so that takes the guesswork out of it once you get to know them. The bottom line is they have to leave feeling better than they did when they got here, and I don’t mean from the alcohol.”
She went back to cutting lemons. “So you have to know how to read people?”
“You definitely have to be a people person if you want to make good tips. If you come in here scowling because you’ve had a crappy day, you’re gonna drag them down with you, which will definitely affect your tips.”
Business picked up, and I trained Lexi on as many things as I could. Since Sex on the Beach was our daily special, I taught her how to make one, and every time one was ordered, I let her fix it. We were pretty busy for a Thursday night, and by the time we closed and got everything cleaned and stocked, we were both exhausted.
“My feet are killing me,” Lexi complained as she sat down at the bar. “If I had to carry one more bucket of ice….”
I plopped her share of the tips down on the counter. “You have to look at it like this: the more ice you carry, the more tips you’re making.”
“It’s hard to remember that when the pain is so intense it’s shooting up my legs.”
I sat on the stool beside her. “Give me your foot.”
“What? Why?” She shook her head. “There’s no way I’m giving you my foot.”
“Why? Does it stink?”
She smacked me playfully on the arm. “No, it doesn’t stink.”
“You have ugly feet? Crooked toes? Warts?”
“No!”
I patted my leg, motioning for her to lift her foot and rest it on my thigh.
“Fine,” she said, finally obeying, “but I’m keeping my socks on.” I untied her shoe and removed it, letting it drop to the floor. She wore black socks with pink polka dots, and I cradled her small foot in my hands as my thumbs stroked the bottom of her foot, working small circles over the surface.
She moaned in delight. “That feels so good.”
“So you still want to be a bartender?”
“I never wanted to be a bartender.”
“Spanky kidnapped you, tossed you over his shoulder, and forced you to work for him?”
“Of course not.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but instead, she closed her eyes, enjoying the massage. “Ow,” she screeched, jerking her foot and laughing. “That’s the best kind of hurt.”
I lightened my hold and grinned as she relaxed her foot again. “Not the best kind,” I countered.
“Is that why you do well in tips?”<
br />
“Is what why?”
“Because you flirt and charm the ladies?”
I chuckled, amused by her assessment. “I told you that you have to be a people person to do this job well.”
She switched feet, and I removed her other shoe and massaged her foot. She groaned as I worked the pain out.
“Maybe you should’ve been a massage therapist,” she said with her eyes closed.
Her comment amused me. She wasn’t the first woman to tell me that I was good with my hands. “So do you live around here?”
“I used to. My father was transferred when I was twelve. I always told myself that I would move back one day. I just graduated from college a few months ago, so here I am.”
I stopped stroking her foot and glared at her like she was crazy. “You graduated from college and you came here to get a job as a bartender?”
“Not exactly.”
She wouldn’t be at the bar long. Nobody spent all that time and money going to college, so that they could bust their ass serving people behind a bar.
“How long have you been back?”
“I just rolled into town today.”
“You already got a place to live?”
“No. I’m staying at the hotel down the street until I can find something.” She straightened up and pulled her foot out of my lap.
Standing, I retrieved her shoes and handed them to her.
“I tried to find a one-bedroom apartment before I came, but I didn’t have any luck. I thought it might be easier once I got here.”
“Housing around here is a little tight right now. They opened that new customer service center on the edge of town. The place is huge, which is good because they’ve brought a lot of new jobs to Creekview. The downside?”
“They’re attracting people to the city and housing is being snatched up like free beer at a frat party?”
“Exactly, which is good for the bartending business.”
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