Page 19 of Sweet Whiskey
KINSEY
My cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, and I’m only three hours into my shift. I lean against the bar top, catching my breath as Tracy loads up the tray for the party’s order.
“How are you feeling today? Marley told me you had a rough night?”
I give my boss a weary smile. “Kind of. I’m fine. As long as certain alphas don’t walk in, I'll be absolutely…fine.”
She smiles when I blow out a long breath. “They’re good men, but at the end of the day, they’re still men. ”
My lips quirk in amusement. “No, it’s not them. I just need to work through some things myself. It’s like when you’re mad, you know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t get over it.”
Tracy hums, setting the last bottle onto the tray. “Maybe just let them grovel anyway? Give them something to focus on.”
She taps the counter, pushing away to saunter over to the other side. Grabbing the tray, I deliver them to my tables with a smile before letting it fall as I walk away. Brielle comes up to my side, nudging my shoulder.
“You good?”
I nod, sighing and leaning against the counter as our eyes sweep over the bar. “Yeah, I think I’m just waiting for people to show up when I know they won’t. They’ll give me the time I asked for.”
Brielle fiddles with the strings of her apron before glancing over at the corner. “Maverick is here if you want to talk to him.”
I bristle at the thought. “Did he ask to talk to me? ”
She shakes her head. “No, but he seems like the stubborn type. You know the ones where sometimes it’s easier to hit them upside the head than change their mind.”
Her eyebrow raises, implying she knows someone just like that. I nudge her shoulder back, wiping my sweaty palm on my jeans.
“Do you think he’ll want to talk to me?”
She grips my elbow, leading me to the booth. His eyes are on hers, soft and wanting, before turning cold when they shift to me.
Brielle wags her finger in his face. “None of that. She’s my best friend. Treat her with kindness.”
I shrug off her hold. “It’s okay, Brielle. He’s protective of his dad, I get it.”
Maverick’s jaw tics, glancing between us and landing on me. “Can I see the photo again?”
My fingers shake as I pull it out of my back pocket and hand it over to him. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at me. I clear my throat. “My mom kept it on her nightstand. I was sixteen when I finally asked her about it. She said it was my dad.”
“And she was positive about that?”
I scowl. “Are you asking if my mom slept around?”
He shrugs.
“No, she didn’t,” I say sternly, “but I understand the suspicion. Look, if he turns out not to be my dad, then so be it. I’ll move on. I’m not looking for trouble.”
His mouth opens to reply, but the bells ring out and his eyes widen. I throw up my hands, back up a step, and nod at Brielle. “That’s all on you.” Even if the test comes out negative, I would never be comfortable giving my almost brother an almost lap dance.
Before I make it back to the bar, I almost run into a solid chest of muscle. An apology is on my lips when I look up at the dazzling hazel-green eyes and blond curly hair hanging down enough to nearly conceal them.
Brooks’s hands catch around my waist. “Can I have this dance? ”
Butterflies flutter in my belly, my heartbeat picking up like it always does being near him and the other two alphas that have stolen my mind lately.
I barely nod before he yanks me closer, one hand sliding to catch my hand and the other firmly on my lower back, closer to my hip.
His knee slates between my thighs. The rough denim of his jeans rubs against the bare skin from my shorts, and heat tingles in my core.
I run my fingers up his front, enjoying the slow caress of his muscular frame until I’m resting my hands on his shoulders. With a smolder, Brooks stares down at me intently, and I can’t help but smile a bit.
“I’m not the best dancer if I’m honest, especially not something more formal like this.”
He shrugs and grins back. “We’ll make it up as we go. It’s more fun that way.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before he starts pulling us toward the pool tables, swaying like we’re in a ballroom, and I laugh loudly, following his lead freely.
“Hard to Handle” by The Black Crowes is blasting around us, making it seem even more silly as Brooks guides us into a waltz-like dance.
“Did you choose this song? How’d you get Tracy to agree?” I ask.
Brooks pulls me closer, swinging me sharply to the side when we nearly run into a standing table. “She owed me a favor.”
We continue dancing for another minute, all the day’s tension draining, and something comforting settles in my soul the longer I’m in his arms. He smells like freshly baked cookies after a long day.
I swallow down the whine that almost escapes, wanting nothing more than for him to pick me up and carry me home, wherever that is.
The song switches and we slow to a stop, but he doesn’t let go as his fingers flex where he’s holding me. When our eyes meet again, he sighs and forces a weak smile on his face.
“I know you’re still mad at us, but I just wanted to feel you in my arms one more time if you decided to leave.”
Tears threaten to fill my vision and I clear my throat. “I’m not running.”
His stare brightens with hope. “So there’s a possibility of you forgiving us?”
The urge to blurt out that I already have is on the tip of my tongue, but I only nod. He drops his hold to cup my face and brushes a soft kiss on my lips. I arch toward him, wanting more when he pulls away. Brooks tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and then rubs his calloused thumb along my lips.
“Good, because I have no problem fighting for who I want, but only if they want me back.”
A loud whistle has us looking toward an agitated Maverick, who is waving at Brooks to leave.
I grab his hand still on my mouth, kiss his palm, and then press it to his chest with a wink. “See you later, cowboy.”