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CHAPTER 2

MAX

“ S o, you’ve never worked in a bar before?” the manager of The Tavern asks me.

“Technically no, but I’m not picky and am a quick learner,” I insist, though he doesn’t look convinced. He said his name is George, and he’s a large barrel-chested man who appears to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He looks like someone who doesn’t trust anyone, and especially not newbies in this town.

I stand my ground. At five foot one I may not look very formidable, but I raise my chin and show him that I’m serious and that his intimidation tactics aren’t going to work on me. I’ve faced worse monsters than him.

“Alright, what kinda skills you got?” he grunts.

“I can make drinks,” I lie, and hope it’s convincing enough as I continue, “I can wait tables, and do dishes. Whatever you need, I’m your girl.” I put my hands on my hips.

The side of his lips pull up in a smirk like he’s amused by me, but I don’t move.

“Alright, little girl.” I try not to show my agitation at him calling me that. I’m twenty-five, not a child. “We’ll do a trial run tonight. You can be behind the bar, and we will see if you can keep up or handle yourself with our crowd. You get through it; I’ll give you a job. You bitch, cry, or run out, don’t bother coming back.”

“Won’t be a problem. I can handle it.”

George nods with a smirk. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

I’ve been thrown to the wolves on my trial run. After about thirty minutes with the bartender showing me the ropes, he left me to fend for myself. I know that I’m being tested, probably more than normal, but I’m no quitter.

“Hey Red, another round,” some asshole yells from the other end of the bar. He’s a part of a group of men that came in close to when we opened. They are all middle aged and the second I saw them, I could tell they were going to be a problem.

My first issue is being called “Red” throughout the night. Calling someone a name based on a characteristic they have is a pet peeve of mine. But I’m good at dishing it right back. Which is why as I’m bringing the group the generic beer they’ve ordered and setting them down in front of him I say, “That’ll be another thirty dollars, baldy.”

His smug face contorts with rage, and he rears back. “Who the fuck you think you’re talking to?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You call me by my hair color, I’d do the same, except you don’t seem to have much left.”

“I’ll be sure to tell George his new bartender is a real fucking bitch,” he threatens. “Then you’ll be out of a job.”

“Oh no, that supposed to scare me? I’m just doing my job.” I extend my hand expectantly. “Thirty dollars.”

I see him wanting to say more, but he digs his wallet out of his pocket and slaps his card into my hand. I send him a fake smile that drops immediately when I turn around to charge him and see the other bartender I was working with, David, standing there with his arms folded staring at the bald man. I’m annoyed that no one thinks I can handle myself when I clearly had it all under control.

I’m sure this bald asshole isn’t going to tip me for shit, but that’s fine. There are plenty of others around and before I get pulled into another verbal sparring match with him, some woman, who looks at me like I’m less than a piece of gum she just stepped on, is demanding drinks from me.

“Two gin and diet tonics,” she orders.

“Be right up.” I nod, already grabbing the bottle of gin. Other than the customers, I’m not sure why George was acting like this is the hardest job ever. Most people here have been ordering pretty simple drinks, like beers or ones with just a couple ingredients. I may not be a professional yet, but it’s hardly rocket science.

It’s when I grab the diet tonic the woman snaps at me, “I wanted normal tonic, new girl.”

I look down at the bottle in my hand, my eyebrows creasing. “No, you definitely said diet tonic.”

“You think I need fucking diet, bitch?”

If everyone could stop calling me a bitch today that would be great.

“You’re the one that said it, not me.” I shrug, trading out for a regular tonic bottle.

“Why are you even here, anyway?” she snaps as I pour the drinks.

“I’m working, what are you doing here?” I slide them over.

“Back off, Karissa, she didn’t do anything to you. Take your drinks and leave her alone,” another woman says, planting herself on a barstool in front of me. She looks to be about my age, her blonde hair falls just above her shoulders and her eyes are so blue that even in the low light of the bar they stand out.

Karissa sends the new woman a look before rolling her eyes, slapping cash onto the bar and taking her drinks back to a table somewhere else.

“Ignore her, she just doesn’t like that you’re new in town, pretty, and already getting more attention than her. I’m Danner.” The new woman stretches her hand out to me with a smile. I can’t tell if she’s being sincere, but it seems like it.

“Max,” I respond, shaking her hand.

“I love that, so what brought you here?”

“Work.” I shrug, already moving to grab more drinks for the irritated patrons.

“No, I meant what brought you to Seaside?” She chuckles.

“Oh, uh it’s nice here, I guess. I’m sorry it’s so busy, can I get you something to drink?” I try to not be rude, but I feel the sweat dripping across my brow and down my back from the intensity of my shift so far. I’m really hoping to keep this job and can’t be chit chatting the entire time.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’ll take a Dirty Shirley.” She’s still smiling, and I wonder how someone can be so happy, but don’t have time to question it.

I quickly make her drink, wasting no time as I pour the vodka in and top it with Sprite and grenadine. I start to tell her how much she owes, but she’s already handing me cash. Suddenly, my eyes catch on the small group of men that just walked in and I freeze. It’s five large men that all look equal parts scary and too sexy for their own good.

The oldest looks to be in his late thirties or early forties with arms that could crush me. As they move, I catch a glimpse of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket, spreading onto his hands and neck. His salt and pepper hair is short and a little fucked up from the motorcycle helmet he’s carrying, I assume.

The man behind him is around the same height, but looks younger, possibly twenties and his dark hair is longer flopping onto his forehead. His gaze scans the vicinity immediately like he’s surveying it all. He looks slightly leaner than the first man, but just as muscular.

Another man walks further into the dim bar lighting and is towering over the first two men by inches. His body, though covered in jeans and a hoodie, looks like it could lift a building. He has tan skin, hair cropped close to his scalp and when he glances over at me his eyes are so light blue, they’re almost out of place with how intimidating he is.

The two other men with them are both tall and built, but one seems younger than the rest, maybe in his early twenties. Though, my entire focus is on the first three that are holding my entire undivided attention.

They look like the kind of guys I would want. Guys that can give me the things I’ve always thought about. The things my ex said were gross and wrong. They look like they can be brutal. Unforgiving. Dirty.

“Oh shit, keep your panties on over there, Max,” Danner’s voice pulls me back to reality and away from the Adonis’ that just walked in here.

I scoff, pretending like I wasn’t just blatantly staring. “Panties are firmly on and will stay that way.”

“Yeah, okay. I know they’re hot; the whole town knows they’re hot. But stay far away.” She shakes her head. “It’s not worth it.”

“You dated any of them?”

“Nope,” she pops the “P” dramatically. “But I know people who have. Well, dated isn’t the right word, but just trust me. Keep your distance.”

“Don’t worry, distance is exactly what I came here for,” I insist.

I finish helping someone else and as I’m returning their card to them, the large scary man of the group is leaning against the bar, his mesmerizing eyes looking right at me. It’s almost uneasy how intense his stare is, but I don’t let it show.

I open my mouth to ask what he wants when he speaks first, “I don’t know you.”

“And you’re not going to,” I snap. “What can I get you?”

He doesn’t say anything, his stare is blank and emotionless even as his eyes trail along my body. The only show of emotion is a slight tug on the side of his mouth. “What are you offering?”

Propping my hands on my hips I say, “Whatever shitty beer or lighter fluid alcohol you usually get. So you better order now, or I’m helping someone else.”

His eyebrows raise, but the rest of his face remains just as indifferent as before. “I don’t drink beer,” is all he says.

“Great, I don’t remember asking what you don’t drink.” I roll my eyes, grabbing a glass, and slapping it down onto the counter, taking the drink dispenser and pouring it full of water while keeping my eyes locked with his. “There you go.”

Without paying him anymore attention, I get back to dealing with the other customers. I glance over at Danner and see her sipping her drink to hide a smirk as she watches the giant man walk back to his table where his buddies sit watching our whole interaction.

That man looked like trouble; they all do. And the last thing I’m looking for right now is any more of that. I intend to keep my head down and focus entirely on me, myself and I.