Chasing Whiskey Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Contents

  Chasing Whiskey

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Author

  Take Your Time

  1 Melody

  2 Melody

  The Saucy Devil

  Prologue

  1

  Chasing Whiskey

  Sophie Stern

  Copyright © 2018 by Sophie Stern

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Oriana isn't looking for love. Nope. She doesn't need that. All she needs is an apartment, a job, and a little bit of hope. She's been to hell and back again and she's ready for life to be a little bit softer, a little more calm. Greenville, Kansas might be just what she needs.

  Dale doesn't like change anymore than the next person, but when Heather runs off to get married, he's left high and dry on his busiest weekend of the year. He'll hire just about anyone who happens to walk through his doors, but he isn't expecting the beautiful out-of-towner to be the first one in line.

  Oriana is beautiful, kind, and gentle.

  She's also got wounds so deep he isn't sure if they'll ever heal.

  Is he brave enough to give her a chance?

  Is she?

  Author's note: This is a contemporary BWWM romance with sexy characters and steamy scenes. If this offends you, please consider purchasing a different novel.

  Chapter One

  Dale

  A woman walks into a bar.

  She’s tall and curvy with beautiful hair that falls in ringlets. Her heels click as she walks across the wooden floor and makes her way toward the counter in the back. She doesn’t belong in a place like this. Not her.

  A lot of women walk through those doors, but none of them even comes close to comparing to the beauty making her way through the dive. She’s much too good for a place like this. She’s much too good for a guy like me.

  She smiles when she reaches the counter. I set down the glass I’m cleaning and look her up and down. She’s classy: not trashy. If you’re going to be hanging out at a place like Chasing Whiskey, you have to be at least a little trashy.

  Maybe she’s here to ask for directions.

  “Can I help you?” I ask her. She’s not here for a drink. I don’t just think this because it’s five and we just opened. Nope. I think she’s here for something else because this is a woman who looks determined and fierce. I don’t see many women like that in here.

  Most of the girls who come into the bar are looking for something that will satisfy them for a few hours or maybe even an entire night. They aren’t looking for love, for romance, for satisfaction. They’re just look for something to distract them from their lives.

  “I’m looking for the manager,” she says, glancing around the room. She’s not nervous. This isn’t some sort of anxious habit where she can’t make eye contact. No, this woman is something else entirely. She almost looks like she’s casing the joint. Is she looking for exits? Trying to figure out how many people are here lurking in corners? She’s covering all of her bases.

  Maybe she’s not here to rob me. Maybe it’s something else. If she’s not here to try to take advantage of me, I’d guess she’s suffered some sort of abuse or trauma, and probably very recently. Only people who have been through hell are concerned about things like where the fire exits are.

  “You found him,” I tell her. She’s got my full attention now.

  “You’re the manager?” She confirms, and now she’s looking at me. She doesn’t stay focused on my face, though. Her eyes roam my body, but not in a lustful way. She’s not trying to figure out how she can seduce me. No, this woman wants to figure out what makes me tick. What’s going to increase her chances of getting what she wants with me? What’s she going to have to do to convince me?

  “Dale Brennan,” I hold out my hand to her. She takes it and shakes it firmly.

  “Oriana Smith,” she says.

  “Nice to meet you, Oriana Smith.”

  “Likewise.”

  “What can I do for you, darling?”

  “Darling?”

  “It’s an endearment. I’m not hitting on you.”

  She smiles. “Sorry, I guess I’m not used to how friendly everyone is here.”

  “At Chasing Whiskey?”

  “Just in Kansas. I just moved here,” she tells me. She stands up a little straighter. “I’m looking for a job. Waitressing, bartending, cleaning: I’ve done it all. Do you have any openings at the moment?”

  She wants to work here?

  Now that’s not something I saw coming, although I suppose it makes sense. Oriana is dressed well. She looks professional and serious. Her clothes are ironed and neat. Everything about her is perfectly arranged. She doesn’t look like she just wandered in off the street and wants to pick up some company for the evening. No, she looks like she’s ready to work hard and pay her dues in order to get a paycheck, in order to move forward.

  What’s she running from?

  A girl like Oriana could work anywhere. She looks like she belongs at the head of a company: not a tiny dive bar off I-70.

  “I do,” I find myself saying. I shouldn’t be offering her anything without running a background check and conducting a proper interview, but something tells me she’s not going to be trouble. She’s not going to give me a hard time. Not this one.

  Besides, this is exactly what I need.

  It’s going to be the busiest weekend of the year and I could use some extra help around here. I’ve got Audrey, yeah, but one waitress isn’t going to cut it on New Year’s Eve. Unfortunately, my last server, Heather, just left me high and dry, so we’re hurting for help.

  Oriana’s eyes light up for just a moment. Hope flickers, but it’s quickly replaced with fierce determination.

  “May I please fill out an application?” She asks. “I have references.”

  “When can you start?” I ask her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When can you start?”

  “I, um, now?”

  “All right,” I tell her. “We pay hourly - minimum wage - and you keep the tips you make. No tipping out to anyone. That’s crap. Anything that goes in the jar,” I jerk my head toward the tip jar on the bar counter. “We split at the end of the night. If that sounds good to you, you can put your jacket in the back.” I jerk my head toward the break room. “Your purse can go up here in this cupboard,” I point to it. “I’ll get together the paperwork you’ll need to fill out.”

  “Really?” She asks. Her voice sounds less confident and fierce now. Now she’s filled completely, totally with hope, and I wonder what the hell this gorgeous woman has been through to make her so happy to get a job at a crappy little bar.

  “Welcome to the team,” I tell her.

  “I could hug you,” she whispers.

  I chuckle. “You’re welcome to anytime. Just don’t do it in front of the customers. They tend to get jealous.”

  Now it’s Oriana’s turn to laugh. Her joy fills the tiny room. There are only a couple of people here: a group of old guys drinking bee
r in the corner. They’re hiding from their wives after work. They have another half-hour or so before they have to scurry home, but they don’t even look up when they hear her laughing.

  “Thank you, Dane,” she says. “I won’t let you down.”

  She moves to head toward the break room. She’s already slipping her jacket off, and I hear her fidgeting around back there for a few minutes. Whether she’s trying to calm down or get herself pumped up for her first shift, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter. I start sifting through drawers, trying to find the forms for her to fill out. It’s been a long time since I hired a new employee. I don’t even know if I remember how to file this paperwork.

  When Heather ran off to get married, she walked out without giving me any notice.

  “See ya never,” she told me when she left her last shift.

  “Excuse me?” I said. What the hell was she talking about?

  “I’m leaving town,” she said with a shrug. “Joe and I are getting hitched.”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve in ten days,” I told her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m getting married,” she repeated. “Sorry about the weekend, but well, he lives in Molbrook. What do you think? I’m gonna commute?” She laughed and wiggled her hand in a goodbye sort of gesture. “I’ll send my mom by for my last paycheck,” she said. “Nice working for ya, Dane.”

  That was seven days ago.

  I’ve been trying to find someone to replace her to help out for the coming weekend and Oriana is a welcome treat. I don’t know if she’s actually interested in bartending or if she simply needs something to get her started in her new life, but I’ll take it. She seems like a serious person, and when we’re completely swamped this weekend, I’m going to need some serious people to help keep everything together.

  Chapter Two

  Oriana

  Deep breaths, I tell myself.

  I need to take deep breaths because this can’t possibly be real.

  It’s the third place I’ve tried to apply for a job, but the first that would actually take me. In small towns like these, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an outsider or if it’s because I look different from everyone else, but it doesn’t matter because I have something now. Dale is giving me a shot and I’m not going to let him down.

  He’s clean-cut, for a guy working at a bar, and I wonder what his story is. He’s got tan skin with short brown hair cropped close. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in the military, at least for awhile. The tip of a tattoo peeked out from beneath his t-shirt, but I couldn’t really make it out. It might have been an anchor or some sort of nautical design. A compass, perhaps? Maybe I’ll see it sometime.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, Oriana.

  Willing myself to stay focused, I hang my jacket on one of the hooks in the tiny break room. It’s not a big bar, but it’s the only real place to hang out at night in this town, so I’m guessing it probably gets pretty busy. There are fifteen tables, along with pool tables and dart boards. Plus there’s the bar itself, which spans the length of the back of the room. Whoever designed this place did it with the intention of making money. That much is obvious.

  The break room is comfortable and cozy. I’ve never worked at a place with a room like this before. There are hooks and cubbies along one side of the room and the other side has a couch, a coffee pot, and a little television. There’s even a blanket at one end of the couch. Does someone sleep here? Is that for the staff?

  I have a lot of questions, but I try to bite them back. Dale gave me a job, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let me keep it. If I screw up, I’m out on my own. I know that better than anyone. I’ve come a long way from home and I have no intention of returning.

  There’s nothing left for me to go back to, anyway.

  I hurry back to the front of the bar. I shouldn’t have worn heels today, but if it means a paycheck and tips, I’m not going to complain. My feet will be hurting later, but I’m thankful to have this shot. My heels click against the floor as I scurry back over to Dane.

  No one thought I was ever going to get out of that town, but I did. I left. I proved everyone wrong and I’m going to make something of myself, starting with tonight. I’m going to be the best damn waitress this bar has ever seen.

  I move behind the bar and I put my purse in the cupboard Dale pointed out earlier. He’s making a drink when I come out, but he stops and looks me up and down.

  “You comfortable in those shoes?” He asks.

  “They’re fine,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow. “There’s an extra pair of sneakers in the back,” he says. “The girl who just quit left them behind. I think she was probably about your size. If you want to try them on, I guarantee they’re going to be more comfortable than when you’ve got on. Things might be dead right now, but around seven, it’s going to get busy. You probably aren’t going to want to be risking a fall in those shoes. Not with people pushing and shoving.”

  “What happens at seven?”

  “The college kids have a game night. It’s going to be packed. Trust me when I say you’re not going to want to be in heels. Not that you don’t look gorgeous,” he adds. “But the floors are going to be slippery because these kids are slobs and spill constantly.” He shakes his head. “I should start giving them their drinks in sippy cups,” he adds. “Not sure why I don’t.”

  I choke back a snicker. “Thanks for the shoes,” I say quickly. “I’ll go find them.” I duck back into the break room, locate the sneakers, and slip them on. I regret not having socks to wear and I’ll probably get a blister, but this is definitely way better than wearing heels. I carefully set the too-tall shoes I was wearing next to the couch. I’m sure they’ll be fine back here until the end of my shift.

  “Just breathe,” I remind myself, and then I head back out front. There are a few more people in the bar, and Dale motions for me to start taking orders.

  “Don’t worry about charging anyone,” he says. “These are all regulars and I’ll put everything on their tabs. Just write down what they order.”

  “Got it,” I say, and I move toward my first customer.

  “What can I get for you?” I ask with a smile.

  “For starters, how about your phone number?” The old man says with a grin.

  “Bill!” Dale hollers, chastising the man. Bill sheepishly blushes.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” he says. “I’ll just have a beer.”

  I look back over at Dale, surprised he’s managing to keep everyone in line so well, surprised everyone seems to be obeying him, and I go to get Bill’s beer. Something tells me that working at this bar isn’t going to be what I’m expecting it to be.

  Not at all.

  *

  My first shift flies by in a blur of drink orders, laughter, and music. A couple of people bring guitars in and jam out for awhile, but then Dale turns on the jukebox and the music goes all night. At 2:30, he flips the lights on and people start filing out of the bar slowly. By 3:00, the doors are locked and we’re cleaning tables, counting tips, and getting ready to go home.

  In addition to me and Dale, there are two other people who work at the bar. Kyle is the muscle and Audrey is a waitress. She doesn’t make any drinks, but she’s great at getting orders and filling them. She keeps the customers happy. A people person, Dale calls her, and it seems to suit her.

  “Here’s your portion of the tips,” Dale hands me a wad of ones.

  “Seriously?” I stare at the money in my hand.

  “It was kind of a slow night,” he says. “Don’t worry. Tips will be better tomorrow.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s just that…”

  “What is it?”

  Audrey looks at me and then her jaw drops. “You think it’s too much,” she says. “You weren’t expecting that much.”

  “Where are you from?” Kyle asks, leaning against the bar. “A place without a bar?”

  �
�I’m from a super small town in Minnesota,” I tell them. It’s not a lie. It’s true, in fact. I don’t really want to talk about my past or where I’m from, but that much I’m comfortable sharing. “Not many people come or go.”

  “Kinda like here,” Audrey shrugs. “Guess you’ll fit in well.”

  “You left one small town for another,” Kyle shakes his head and chuckles. Then he grabs his keys and heads for the back door. “Crazy girl,” he laughs. “See you guys tomorrow.”

  Audrey takes off, too, and then it’s just me and Dale.

  “You did well,” he tells me. For a minute, I think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.

  “Thanks.” I motion to the shoes. “I’ll go take these off,” I tell him.

  “Nah, keep them. Heather’s not coming back anytime soon, and those are name brand. If I’ve got you pinned correctly, I’d say you probably don’t have a whole lot to your name right now. Is that right?”

  Too right.

  I nod slowly, not ready to give up all of my secrets at once.

  “If you ever need a free meal, the Catholic church has sandwiches and soup every day at 11. Completely free. There’s also a food bank around the corner. It’s one of those ‘honor system’ types of deals, but they have canned goods. You can get what you need there. There’s a dollar store, too, so you should be okay. All right? And we’ll get your paychecks coming in as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks Dale,” I say, and I mean it.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, Oriana,” he says.

  You know what’s funny?

  I kind of believe him.

  Chapter Three

  Dale

  “Ready for the New Year’s Eve party?” Audrey is wiping down tables. She looks over her shoulder at me.

  “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “You know, for a guy who owns a bar, you sure hate being busy. Don’t you know most businesses would kill to have the problems you have?”