are saying… you were standing at the bar, having what I suppose was a less than stellar drink… and it made you think that we should run our own place??” He looks totally thrown.
“Yeah, man. I have the money. You have the skills…”
He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m at the first job that I’ve worked for more than a year.”
“You’ve been there for like four years.”
“Yeah, and I only remember two of them. The first two were consumed by whiskey and cocaine. Even now, I still can’t stop wanting to fuck every hot chick that walks in the door.”
I grin. “Yeah, yeah. Convince me that you’re not the perfect guy to open a restaurant with. And what about Cece?”
He frowns. “What about her?”
“I thought she was… nice. And that you guys had a connection, or whatever.” My lack of sincerity shows, and he rolls his eyes.
“What about you?” Jameson asks. “You’ve never made anything more complex than a rum and coke. You’ve never been in the service industry. You’ve never managed anyone…”
“That’s not true!” I chip in. “What about—”
“If you bring up the summer before eighth grade right now, I swear I’m leaving,” he threatens. He knows me too well.
“Just think about what our bar would be like,” I say, switching topics. “We’d find a place on the beach. You could serve shit in fancy glasses, which you’re always going on about—”
“Not everything needs to be served in a tumbler,” he mutters.
“You could put on good music, turn down the lights, and schmooze your way into the heart of any girl there with just one line.” I wiggle my brows for comedic effect. “All you’d have to say is that you’re the owner.”
That appears to give him pause. He rubs the back of his neck, but continues frowning. I’m used to that expression, though.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “It seems like a really bad idea.”
“But…?”
“That’s it.”
“You know, I’m going to roll with it. I think you’re more intrigued than you let on.”
He just squints at me silently. I reach out and clap him on the shoulder.
“You just wait,” I promise. “It’s going to be great.”
Jameson just shakes his head. “Can I buy you a drink, at least?”
“That you can, man. That you can.”
Turning my back on the sultry evening, I head inside.
3
Prologue 3
Four Months Ago — CURE Bar
“Hey Emma, what do you think?” Jameson asks, scratching his stubbled cheek.
The wall behind the bar is lit up by glowing neon string lights, and it showcases the hundred or so brands of liquor that Jameson insisted on. He stands back, admiring his handiwork. I think that it’s absolutely amazing, but then again I think that almost everything Jameson touches is amazing.
“Uhhh, it looks great,” I say from my seat at the bar. I’m taking up all the space by spreading out my law school books, but I’m not studying law. Instead, I’m studying Jameson. “Maybe you should add another bottle over there on the right?”
I point to a spot. He looks at where I’m pointing, nodding slowly. “Good eye. It looks totally bare in that spot.”
He grabs another bottle, reaching up to put it in the bare spot. I bite my lip. Jameson looks ridiculously good right now, just in dark jeans that hug his ass just so, a black NIN t-shirt, and blood red Chucks.
“It looks good,” I say, my cheeks turning red even as I say it. By it, I mean every inch of him… and by good, I mean appetizing, enticing, and tempting to the extreme.
I sigh. Forest comes out of the back room, looking suave as ever in a green sweater and jeans. His dark hair and beard look pretty alluring; if I wasn’t already so infatuated with Jameson I would probably have a thing for Forest.
He pulls his fiancée Addison along by the wrist. She doesn’t say anything, just looks good in her pristine white dress, her hair artfullypinned up.
“Hey guys,” Forest says.
“Finish checking out the liquor cave that I built upstairs?” Jameson asks Forest.
“Yeah. It’s kind of trippy to see several thousand dollars of booze in one location. But it looks like everything is ready for the opening tomorrow.”
“Right on. What time will you be here tomorrow?”
Forest glances at Addison. “What time do you think we’ll be done with brunch with your parents? Around four? ”
She inclines her head ever so slightly, which I guess means that she approves. I wonder what her deal is. It’s not exactly an ice vibe I get from her, like I feel with Asher’s fiancee Jenna. I just don’t get anything from Addison.
It’s very weird.
I turn my head as Gunnar bursts in the front door, three pretty blondes dressed to the nines in tow. For his part, Gunnar looks like he just left a dance club, because of the way he’s dressed in a black checked dress shirt that’s partially unbuttoned and a pair of black jeans.
He’s obviously just said something funny, because they are all laughing.
“Ladies, just sit over there if you will,” he says, pointing to one of the booths. He winks at them. “I just need to be here for a minute, and then we can go back to my place.”
My eyebrows rise, but the girls just titter. Gunnar turns his attention to me, walking toward the bar. “Emma. Looking good, as usual.”
I squirm a little under his gaze. Gunnar is a complete tool, but damn if he’s not good looking enough to pull it off.
“Uh, thanks,” I manage.
“Hey,” Jameson says, scowling. “You know the rules. No hitting on Emma. Same rules for everybody.”
I turn bright red and wish I could sink down into my seat. Asher has been announcing the same rule ever since I was old enough to put on a training bra. It’s super humiliating.
“I was just commenting,” Gunnar says with a shrug. He notices Forest and Addison. “What’s up?”
Forest
