Page 2 of Sweet Whiskey

Taking her elbow, I pull us closer to the bar top, ignoring the eyes that seem to follow us.

I can guess that out here, they don’t get a lot of new faces.

We’re nearly two hours from the biggest city, and thirty minutes from the next town over.

By the time we pulled into the parking lot, I was starting to get used to the miles of land on either side of the road without a building in sight.

There’s a peacefulness here I’ve never experienced in the city.

There you can’t move a few feet without running into someone else, and the apartment my mom and I had was a step above a broom closet.

I had skipped months of rent after she died before the landlord finally evicted me, but at that point I had been determined to come find my dad.

We hadn’t factored in how costly gas and random motel stays would be, especially when Brielle’s parents promptly cut off access to her cards.

Something soars in my heart that this is where I’m meant to be, no matter how we land on our feet. I’m not sure how Brielle feels, but I assume that with each passing week, the disdain for the simple life will start to wear on her.

When we stand at the end of the counter, waiting patiently for the bartender's attention, I glance at her.

“You know you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Brielle sighs. “And do what? Go back to my parents, give in to their demands, and for what? Money? I can live without, Kinsey.”

I hold up my hands. “I know, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. ”

Her narrowed eyes take me in. “Where is this coming from?”

“The fact that I’m considering if we have enough to buy drinks and a room and food,” I say.

She scowls. “I still have my academy card.”

I give her an incredulous look. “You don’t think they cut it off too?

” Most of the time, the academy would pay us an allowance if we participated in sponsored events.

I drained mine as soon as my mother’s health started to decline, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Brielle’s parents took control of hers.

“My parents?” She laughs humorlessly. “No, they’d keep it on to ensure I can use it and then hang it over my head. They cut off the ones to their direct bank accounts to make a point. But if we need it, it’s an option.”

Shaking my head, I sigh. “We’ll just order a single drink to blend in and then call it a night and possibly look for jobs tomorrow.

” We both grimace at the thought of working, but it is what it is.

I knew when I started this journey that it might come to it, but usually most places don’t prefer to hire omegas.

Brielle holds my hand, pulling me through the crowd and ignoring the interested looks thrown our way. A woman with spiky black hair and bright purple eyes watches us from behind the bar, a soft smile dawning on her face when we get closer.

“What you having, sweetie?”

I pause, unsure what to order because I’ve never drunk more than an occasional beer.

She catches my expression, looking over me warily. “You sure you’re old enough to be here?”

“Yes, sorry. Just was never a big drinker. Do you have a menu?” I ask.

She snorts, shaking her head. “I’ll grab you our special. And you, blondie?”

Brielle’s lips tighten, and I brace for the snark.

She hates being called blondie as much as I hate being called red.

My hair is a darker auburn, and in the sun it’s a bright copper.

She sees my face and expression, forcing a fake smile instead.

“The same. Thanks.” The last word is pushed through clenched teeth.

The woman raises her eyebrows, clearly catching Brielle’s tension, but doesn’t say anything before turning around to make our drinks.

“Thanks,” I tell Brielle, squeezing her arm once.

She rolls her eyes. “Flies. Something about honey, right?”

I nod. “Exactly.”

“Plus, it wasn’t really a big deal to be rude about. How would a stranger know I don’t like to be reduced to the color of my hair?” She shakes her head.

Patting her shoulder, I smile. “You’ve got the right idea.”

Brielle blows out a breath, flicking her fingers. “I’m cool and collected.”

I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing. “Look at you. I’m so proud.”

“Here you go. Added a lemon just for you, Barbie.” The bartender winks, and I can almost see the flames coming out of Brielle’s ears.

I quickly move in front of her, placing money down. “Thank you!”

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks, stuffing the cash into her pockets.

Nerves spiral in my chest, and I nod.

“Yeah, I uhh—I actually wanted to ask if you recognize this man.” I pull out the photograph and slide it on the scratched-up wood for her to see. She picks it up, staring at it for a moment as her tongue presses against her teeth, visible through her open mouth.

“He looks familiar. Hard to tell,” she drawls, her eyes sharpening as she returns the photograph.

Brielle cocks her head to the side, and I grab her wrist, warning her to let me handle this. I caught the lie as much as she did.

“Okay, do you know where I can find him? It’s kind of important.” Grabbing the folded-up image, I shove it back into my pocket .

The woman shakes her head, giving me a pitying look. “Nah. You’re better off asking one of the cowboys.” She’s throwing me a bone as much as she can, and I can feel her resistance to offer more.

Brielle perks up. “Cowboys? Like real cowboys?”

She looks over at my best friend, unamused. “Sure thang, honey. Real cowboys.” With a condescending laugh, she pushes off the bar.

“Wait!” I call out, and she stills, looking up at me again. “Uhm. We’re new in town. Do you know of any places that are hiring?”

Her eyebrow raises. “You staying or passing through?”

“I…I don’t know yet.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kinsey, and this is Brielle.”

She gives my best friend an unimpressed glance before looking back at me. “Tracy. And if you’re serious about a job, we might be hiring.”

I smile, standing straighter. “I have a few years as a waitress, but no bartending.” If you can call helping a few tables full of other omegas waitressing, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Tracy nods, the hesitant expression on her face not giving me much hope. “I’m sure you haven’t seen a waitressing job like this one. Why don’t you hang around and see? If you’re still interested, come find me.”

“What about me?” Brielle says with narrowed eyes.

Tracy laughs. “You’re too volatile. I can tell just by looking at you.” She walks to the other side before we can respond, and Brielle has her mouth open in faux outrage.

“I think she just assumed who I am by my resting bitch face.”

I stifle a giggle. “You do have some wicked RBF.”

Brielle rolls her eyes. “Let’s find a booth and order some sodas to wash this down with.”

When we start to walk across the crowded bar, a prickling sensation starts at the back of my neck and I tilt my head up, locking gazes with the hottest man I’ve ever seen.