by Johnson, Cat
I take out my phone to text Phil. I can’t work out how to say how badly I want him to come out and have a drink with me in public without sounding desperate or needy. I’m ridiculous. Fuck.
Me: @ Museum bar with Jess - come down?
I shove the phone back in my bag so I’m not tempted to look at it every three seconds. Jess is here, she’s buying me a drink, it’s Friday. What’s not to love.
Jess arrives back at our table way faster than I expected. She puts the two huge round-bellied cocktail glasses filled with multicoloured layers of liquor, way too many tropical fruits shoved onto the rim, a paper umbrella, a plastic flamingo, and a striped straw.
“Holy shit, Jess, what the fuck is this?” I grin at her. It’s perfect. Jessie rolls her eyes, and we both burst into laughter. It feels good.
“The bartender called himself a mixologist.” I snort and the drink burns the back of my throat and my nose. “Apparently, this is one of his latest concoctions, a drink he’s labeled The Sure Thing.”
We both dissolve into giggles again.
“And are you two ladies a sure thing?” A deep smarmy voice from behind me interrupts our laughter. Jessie’s eyes widen, and she snorts again at the cheesy pick-up line.
“No, not tonight,” Jess answers way more politely than I would have if I'd gotten in first.
A stranger slips in beside me, leaning up against our table as though he’s been invited.
“It looks like you ladies are all alone, and I’m pretty sure I’m man enough to take you both on. I could be the sure thing.” He looks across at me properly and winks as he strokes his fingers up Jessie’s arm. Jessie pulls away from him and toward me with an indigent squeak.
“Are you fucking right, mate?” I ask the man, pulling Jessie behind me.
The guy is huge, all muscles and tight shirt. He smirks a nasty lascivious smile at me. I see the exact moment he realises he’s just hit on a guy and I brace myself. I don't ever want to get into a fight, but I'm ready if he comes at me.
“What the fuck?” he yells, and his mates turn around to see what’s going on, although thankfully, they stand back. I could take him on alone, but not all his friends.
“Is there a problem here?” Phil’s voice from behind me is like a magic balm. He steps in close and slides his arm around my waist.
“Uh, ah, that’s a guy,” the asshole standing in front of me stutters. Phil reaches over and grabs my frou-frou cocktail off the table, not so subtly flexing his biceps as he does so.
“Yes,” he replies, unhurriedly between sips. “This guy is my boyfriend.” The thrill at his public claim is tinged with nervousness. I don’t want the huge beefed up idiot to start a fight with Phil. Phil puts down the drink and looks into my face, not seeming to care what our unwelcome onlooker is doing.
“Hey, sweetness. I finally made it to drinks.” He’s dramatic and cute and completely ignoring the guy who now seems unsure as he hovers beside us. “If I drink this, am I, or do I get, a sure thing?” He smirks at that. I think he thinks he’s being clever.
“Either, both,” I say. Jess groans.
“You guys are gross.”
Phil leans in to kiss me hard on the mouth, all wet and possessive. I think maybe it’s for show, or maybe it’s just for me. He breaks it off unexpectedly.
“Don’t ever fucking go near my boyfriend again,” Phil growls at muscle head, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I am hard and wanting, with all the desperation of a man who’s been waiting to be claimed by his lover in public for weeks. The guy mutters something and slinks away.
“Don’t mind me,” says Jess at our public display. I smile into Phil’s kiss and do as she instructs. I don’t mind her at all, or any of the other patrons of the crowded bar.
“I’m so happy you came out to meet me. Now can we go home and fuck?” I whisper in Cole’s ear.
“No more Sure Thing?” Phil asks me softly.
“No, the only sure thing I need is you.”
About the Author
Nadia lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband, two kids, cat, goldfish and stick insects. She adores the occasional Netflix binge, coffee, writing and sometimes, her kids. She has a passion for people, all kinds, and can and does pretty much talk to anyone, a lot. It’s probably a form of procrastination. She has over thirty notebooks filled with story ideas, conversations between characters (who speak, write and think in Australian/British English), and dirty little snippets of unwritten books. She REALLY wants to get them written. She needs to stop talking so much.
https://www.nadiamackauthor.com
Rocks
Ivy Nelson
Amalia’s life is on the rocks and sexy bartender Mitch Hartley might be just the one to make things right again.
1
“I hope you know you owe me big time,” Mitch Hartley said, holding the phone with his shoulder as he wiped down bottles behind the bar at The Outpost.
His friend and business partner, Hunter Novak, just laughed. “It’s going to be great. A show like Bar on the Rocks is going to give the bar a lot of publicity. I know that one is your baby out of all the ones we own together but humor me. You’ll see that I’m right.”
Mitch set his towel down and pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. He made a face at Hunter’s name on his screen while he was at it.
“You said they’ll be here at eight-thirty?”
“Yep. I need to get off here for another meeting. Let me know how it goes.”
It was eight in the morning, and Mitch was waiting on the Bar on the Rocks production team to show up and begin filming an episode about his bar. The bar was one of many he owned with Hunter Novak, an entertainment and luxury Tycoon who spent most of his time in Las Vegas running three major casinos.
The Outpost was his pet project. It was a bar Hunter hadn’t wanted to invest in, let alone buy, and Mitch had talked him into it because it was in Colorado where he could be close to his other favorite place to spend time, Club Solitaire. Solitaire was an elite BDSM club, and he spent a lot of his weekends there behind the bar and in the dungeon.
There was a knock on the door at eight-fifteen, so he checked his ponytail in the mirror behind the bar and went for the front doors.
He jerked the door open intent on intimidating whatever annoying producer they sent to talk to him, but his eyes went wide, and he froze when he saw the short Latina standing with her hand raised, ready to knock again.
She blinked first and looked away.
“Amalia?” Mitch said when the air came back into his lungs.
“I’m surprised you remember my name. What are you doing here, Mitch? I thought this was Hunter Novak’s bar.”
“It belongs to both of us. What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with the show. I’ll be the bartending trainer for the episode and I’m also a producer.”
He stepped back and let her in. Amalia was the last person he expected to see walk into his bar. In the back of his head, he knew she was on the show, but every episode featured a different bartender depending on what production thought the episode called for. At least he assumed that’s how it worked.
Amalia Sanchez was a blast from the past he thought he would never see again. He let his mind drift to the night they met. The attraction had been instant, and they’d fallen into bed together one night at a Mixology convention. When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. He hadn’t even known her last name. The only reason he discovered it was because a week later a video of her performing bar tricks at a night club went viral. He’d followed her career ever since, but never bothered contacting her. Mitch had clearly been a one-night stand that meant nothing to her and respected that.
Amalia cleared her throat. “I was expecting to talk to Hunter. His people are the ones we dealt with when your bar got nominated.”
Mitch shrugged. “Buying this bar was my idea, so I’m usually the one on site. Hunter owns half the damn universe. I’m sure you
r bosses didn’t actually expect him to drop everything for this. We should get this over with.”
“Still impatient I see.”
He smirked. “Some things never change, sweet Amalia.”
She shook her head. “Don’t call me that, please. I’m sorry I slipped out on you like that, but I think we can both agree it was for the best.”
He cocked his head to one side and stared at her. “I don’t agree with that at all, but I respect it. Now unless you want to go to my office and finish what we started four years ago, we should sit down and go over whatever we need to go over.”
She slipped a hand into her purse and pulled out a manilla envelope. “You’re right. Let’s talk. To start, we’re going to install some cameras and film the bar. Your staff must fill out waivers. If they don’t want to be filmed, it would be best if they just take time off, but if they can’t then we can blur their faces. As for your patrons, you need to post signs letting them know that filming is happening. If they don’t wish to have their likeness appear in our show, they’ll need to fill out a form. We’ll leave a stack of them with you.”
He watched with amusement as she laid out each of the forms as she explained the process. Not a lot had changed over the past four years. But she’d gotten polished, more professional, and damn it if he didn’t want to fuck some of that veneer right off of her.
She pushed her sleeves up and he grinned. “You finished it.”
Amalia blinked at him. “I’m nowhere near finished. We just got started.”
“No. Your sleeve. You finished it. Looks great.”
A blush crept up her cheeks. “Oh. That. It’s not quite finished. There are still some spots on my shoulder to fill in.”
He flashed her a wicked grin. “Maybe you can show me later.”
Four years ago, she’d just begun getting her arm inked in a full sleeve of imagery that was meaningful for her. Mitch had given her the names of a dozen tattoo artists around the country who would do good work.
She shook her head and went back to the paperwork she was slapping down on the table. “After a few days of candid filming, we’ll bring in an actual film crew and start filming the meat of the episode. The makeover for the bar will begin on Tuesday and the bar will reopen on Friday. Rick will join us for filming on Sunday.”
“So that means I have some time to convince you to go on a date with me.”
There was that pretty blush again.
She closed the folder and took a deep breath.
“Mitch. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I admit it’s good to see you again after all these years but dating you would be a breach of contract for the show and I can’t afford that right now. Don’t make this harder for me.”
She adjusted her shirt again, and another tattoo caught his eye. He reached over and picked up her hand, pointing at the small triskelion on her wrist. “You didn’t even know what this was four years ago. Are you saying you’re active in the lifestyle now?”
Four years ago, hadn’t just been a roll in the sheets. He’d given her a taste of a world she’d only seen glimpses of and led her into the realm of submission and domination. When she was gone the next morning, he assumed he scared her away, and she wanted nothing to do with the lifestyle, but that tattoo told him otherwise. He might just have to thank Hunter for booking this show after all.
2
Amalia stared at the three sectioned circle tattoo on her wrist. It was tiny. Something she got a couple of years ago as a miniature symbol of her participation in the BDSM lifestyle. Most people didn’t notice, and the ones who did either knew what it was or thought it was some variation of a Celtic symbol.
She pulled her wrist from his and stood. “This is inappropriate. Maybe I should find someone else to produce this episode.”
Mitch stood with her and rounded the small table they sat at to stand in front of her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you. Four years ago, after our night together, I assumed you hated my lifestyle and wanted nothing to do with it.”
Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “The exact opposite. I fucking loved it and knew I’d found my place. There are a lot of things that happened at that convention that you don’t know about. I didn’t leave because I didn’t like what we did. I left because it was the wrong time for us.”
“And is it still the wrong time?” He lifted a hand and settled it against her cheek. God, if he kept touching her, she wouldn’t have the willpower to resist him. But she had to. Getting involved with anyone who worked for the bars her show rescued would get her fired and she couldn’t lose her job. Her viral videos from four years ago had landed her the show and what she thought was going to be fame on the bartender circuit. But things hadn’t worked out the way they were supposed to and the contracts she’d signed ended up not being very beneficial for her.
Now she was trapped until she could find a new path. This episode was supposed to be her shot. If you could impress Hunter Novak, it could be life changing and she’d been hoping to do just that. But of course, a man as impressive as Hunter wouldn’t show up at something like this, so now, she stood here with Mitch fighting the urge to moan as his hand caressed her cheek.
“I wish it weren’t the wrong time, but it is,” she whispered.
He dropped his hand. “I’m here if you change your mind.”
She shook her head. “I should let the crew in to install the cameras. You understand what we need in the way of paperwork?”
When he nodded, she gathered her things and slipped out the door. As soon as she saw that the camera installation crew was set up with everything they needed, she got in her car and headed for the only decent hotel in town. She’d booked out most of the rooms for the production crew and the construction teams who would be giving the bar a makeover.
In her suite, she lay on the bed and thought about Mitch Hartley and their encounter four years ago. She’d been new to the circuit and was excited about performing some of her bar tricks for a crowd. Then she’d bumped into Mitch and one thing led to another. When they fell into bed together, he’d told her he was a Dominant and asked if she’d ever done anything kinky. Just like that. Such a simple question. When she told him, she’d done nothing beyond a partner slapping her ass or putting a hand at her throat, he’d flashed her that wicked grin and promised her a night she wouldn’t forget if she gave him her submission. Boy had he delivered.
It had been easy to bend to his will. He'd made it so worthwhile. When she woke the next morning, a call from Dirk Margo was waiting for her. He was a giant in the entertainment industry and wanted to talk to her about a job after he’d watched her at an expo. She’d slipped out to answer the call and never looked back. Not because she didn’t like Mitch, but because he’d only promised one night, and she didn’t want him to feel obligated to more.
After her experience with him, she knew she wanted more though, so she’d sought out the BDSM community and thrived in it until she didn’t. She threw an arm over her eyes and tried to shut out the memories of the scene that made her walk away from the lifestyle. Mitch popping up in her life was like rubbing salt in a wound.
She needed to do well on this episode. It was her first one to be in charge of, and if she nailed it, she could start making demands and rework her contracts, so she didn’t have to work with certain people. If it bombed, she was stuck.
She dozed thinking about what she wanted to do with the episode and woke two hours later to a growling stomach. She’d missed breakfast to get to the bar in time. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she ran a brush through her hair and headed downstairs to check out the hotel restaurant.
When she stepped out of the elevator, she nearly ran in to a hard chest. “Watch it,” she blurted.
“I wasn’t the one looking at my phone.”
That voice sent a shiver down her spine and she looked up to find Mitch staring down at her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked for the second time th
at day.
“Chef here makes my chips fresh for the bar. I’m here to pick up a batch.”
She lifted an eyebrow and made a mental note of that. It would be a good tidbit to work into the show.
Just then her stomach let out a loud rumble and he chuckled. “Chef here also makes some of the best food in Colorado. Come on, my treat.”
Amalia shook her head. “I’ll get my own meal. But thank you.”
“Come on. It will be a working lunch. You can pay if you want to, but I know the owner, so I don’t mind getting our meal comped.”
“Do you know a lot of community business owners?” she asked as she found herself walking beside him into the restaurant.
He shook his head. “Just Hunter. And a few of my vendors.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Wait. Hunter Novak owns this hotel?”
Mitch nodded. “Yep.”
She groaned. “That’s a problem. I might need to move the crew.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from turning to head for her room. “Is it a problem that can’t wait until you’ve eaten?”
She sighed. “I guess not. I am pretty hungry.”
“Good girl. Come on.”
A woman came around the hostess podium and wrapped Mitch in a hug. “Good to see you again. I see you brought company today.”
Mitch nodded. “This is Amalia. She needs a good meal. Tell Chef to make us something special.”
“You got it, honey. Sit anywhere you want. Lunch rush isn’t for another hour.”
Mitch took hold of Amalia’s elbow and she hated how much she loved having his hand on her, even in such a simple way. He steered her to a table near a window and pulled out her chair.
“This isn’t a date,” she felt the need to say as he settled across from her.
He gave her a very serious nod, and she knew he was mocking her. “So, noted. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”