Gorgeous Grumps

1. Kaitlyn

1

KAITLYN

T here are two things I should’ve done: I should’ve stayed home, and I should’ve worn my glasses. Of course, I did neither of these things.

“The stairs, watch it!”

“Holy shit…!”

“She’s gonna?—!”

Club-goers are usually a loud bunch, but I didn’t even hear the rest of that last sentence. My shoe landed on nothing but air, the club’s strobing lights danced all around me, and next thing I know I was all-engines go, ready for takeoff.

My arms shot up as I lost balance, my ankle twisted as my shoe finally connected with the step, and I realized this was the end of the road for me. Instead of a long and fruitful life, it would all end with a sad obituary line: girl breaks neck in a nightclub.

But then, there was… someone ?

All I could see was the blurry contour of a man, but I still held on to him as hard as I could. Except, instead of connecting with a warm body, my hand connected with a full tray of champagne flutes.

“No, miss! Careful!” the waiter—he was close enough for me to see he was a waiter—yelped, but it was already too late. I held onto the edge of his tray, the one carrying enough champagne to turn a bottomless brunch into a never-ending mimosa marathon, and pulled on it to steady myself.

The good news?

I did manage to steady myself.

The bad news? The waiter didn’t.

The poor man stumbled, the tray flew up into the air, and a tidal wave of champagne washed all over us and whoever was in the blast zone. Well, at least I wasn’t falling anymore. Instead, I was just drowning in champagne. Not a good way start to the night.

I rushed to help the waiter, definitely faster than I should’ve, and tripped again. The ground rushed up to meet me—again—and I braced myself for impact.

And that’s when he showed up.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” His voice was deep, vibrant, angry . And then there was his hand. His long, strong fingers, were wrapped tight around my elbow, mercifully keeping me in an upright position while sending a pleasant shiver up my spine.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see where I was going. It’s not his fault. I didn’t have my glasses on, and I… oh, hell with it.” I pulled back from the man’s hold, reached inside my purse, and grabbed my oversized hot pink, rhinestone-encrusted cat eyeglasses.

They weren’t a fashion statement—instead, they were meant to be a joke. The kind of glasses to have around as back-up, nothing but a fun prop to get a laugh during a dinner party. Of course, God has a twisted sense of humor, and last night I sat on my regular glasses and my next batch of contacts didn’t get here in time before Cassie’s bachelorette party. Cue the unwise decision to not wear any glasses tonight.

As I balanced the glasses on my nose, the world came into focus.

“What in the world has just happened?” The owner of that shiver-inducing voice was still standing directly in front of me, his expression that of someone who’d just caught a trespasser trying to pocket the silver cutlery. Whether he was annoyed at me or the waiter, I couldn’t really tell. “Are you alright…miss?”

The words coming out of his mouth were polite enough, but his face worded it differently: instead of ‘ are you alright? ’ what I heard was ‘ are you alright in the head? ’

“I… Well, I…”

Jesus Christ, Katie, I thought, keep it together. You can do this. You can put a coherent sentence together.

Still, the words didn’t come easily. In a futile attempt to clear my head, Iturned my gaze to the poor waiter, his white shirt now a pale shade of yellow, and then back to the man standing in front of me. He was…

Damn.

He just was .

Tall and with broad shoulders, he wore a crisp black shirt that hugged his lean torso in the most appetizing of ways. His face had a blend of hard and smooth features—as if they’d been carved from marble and then carefully polished to perfection—and his eyes. They were just…

Focus, for God’s sake, my inner voice commanded. I know it’s been a long time, but not the time or place!

“Anybody home?” The man insisted, waving his open palm in front of my eyes. “What exactly happened here?”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, quickly rushing to the waiter’s side to check up on him. It was the least I could do. “I’m fine, really, I am. But you?—”

“I’m fine, miss.” The waiter waved me away as politely as he could, his eyes honing in on the carpet of shattered glass littering the club floor, and closed his eyes. I was having a bad day, but his didn’t seem to be going much better.

And all because of me.

“Take care of this, Fernando,” the brooding man in the black shirt said to the poor waiter. A quick snap of his fingers and a small battalion of waiters materialized out of thin air. Like a well-oiled machine, the group cordoned off the mess and started picking up the glass and moping the floor, working up a storm as the party raged all around us.

I hated it.

I had come here to have some fun, not to make people’s lives harder. And this club… God, this club wasn’t what I’d expected. At all.

Given its location on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in Miami, I was expecting more of a Miami Beach vibe complete with neon and palm trees. But now, I was amazed at what I could only describe as elegance… on steroids. The interior was monochromatic navy with low leather banquettes surrounding the dancefloor, blue-black paint on the walls, and, looking up, chandeliers that shimmered like rain, all of which made Bloom feel more like a posh members-only club. Everything was lush and decadently comfortable, and I could not feel more out of place.

“I feel terrible, truly. I can pay for?—”

“Certainly not,” the man—some kind of floor manager, I assumed—cut in. “Accidents happen and…” He narrowed his eyes at me, his expression going from annoyance to… shock? He was looking into my eyes hard enough to tear my soul to shreds, and my body heated up from the inside out. Only then did I realize he was looking at my glasses. “What exactly are these ?”

Oh, his tone…I could tolerate some abuse, but not this.

“Glasses,” I replied, the word carrying a sharp edge. “You know, for seeing.”

“And are they working?” He shot right back at me, eyebrow cocked. His eyes weren’t lasers, but I could almost feel the eyeglasses’ plastic frame melting against my face.

Sure, I get it: as far as clubs go, Club Bloom was the pinnacle of the Miami party industry. You didn’t get in unless you were literally made of money or looked like a movie star. I was certainly not made of money, and I figured my glasses didn’t quite fit the Hollywood style…but I sure as hell didn’t appreciate being judged by my appearance. Even if I wasn’t particularly proud of it.

“Maybe something more practical would’ve been better,” he continued, eyeing up the stairs that had almost killed me. “How exactly did you miss these? They’re not hard to?—”

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” I admitted. “Sure, I should’ve, because if I were, I?—”

“Oh, so these don’t improve sight,” he said. “They just work in hindsight, huh? Got it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second, looking as if he were trying to stop himself from flattening me with his stupid puns. “I guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to wear them.” He pressed his lips together, an amused glint on his eyes. Clearly, whoever this guy was, he was struggling to keep it professional. He could tell I didn’t belong here, and he was having fun at my expense… and yet, as infuriating as this was, I couldn’t find the words to fight back. My brain was too preoccupied with the perfect symmetry of his jawline, and with the way his lips seem so damn kissable. The man was, obviously, one of fate’s cruel jokes: an attitude so abrasive he could strip paint off walls…but hidden inside a package so hot it should come with a warning label. “Look, it’s fine, next time just—oh.”

His eyes fell from my face to my body, and I suddenly became very conscious of how my dress was clinging to my curves. I didn’t remember it being so tight… or so uncomfortably wet.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered, patting the drenched fabric of my ruined dress. “I’m all?—”

“Wet?” The man offered, that suppressed smirk now blooming on his lips. He paused for a heartbeat, struggling to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, and only then did he continue. “Apologies for all this, miss, truly. Our wonderful ladies’ lounge attendant has an entire dry cleaner’s closet of supplies and will get you tidied right up for the rest of the evening. Your evening’s festivities are on me, of course, as well as a replacement for…” he trailed off, trying to guess the brand of my dress and failing miserably. “… that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my dress!” I pinched the wet fabric away from my torso. The movement pulled the dress tight against my ass and revealed a few inches more of my legs. Immediately, an uncomfortable warmth spread across my face as I tried to pull the dress back down.

“I didn’t say there was.” He pressed his lips together again—was he trying to keep himself from laughing?—and forced his eyes to move up from my neckline to my face. “You just look?—”

“Wet, I know.”

“Please,” he insisted, making an effort to keep that professional tone of his, “let us?—”

Uh-huh.

Enough of this.

“Not necessary. I can pay my own way, and I can handle this myself.” I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my back. I looked like a wet fish some alley cat had dragged from the street, and my stupid eyeglasses certainly didn’t help matters, but I still clung to what little dignity I had left. Whoever this condescending idiot was, I didn’t need his stupid assistance, nor did I need to be indebted to him… even if he had a Danger! Nuclear! ranking on the hotness scale. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be here long.”

“At least let me help you find your group,” he paused, and I could see him carefully trying to pick his next words. “Or your date, if that’s the case.”

“No date.” The words escaped my lips faster than my brain could process them.

“Oh?” His smirk was back. “And can I assume you’re not trying to get a date either? I mean, I hate to bring up the glasses again, but…”

“You listen here, Mr. 20-20 vision,” I snapped. “Not all of us are blessed with good eyesight, and I certainly don’t want or need a date. Even if…”

Even if that date was you , I almost blurted.

“Even if…?” He prompted, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked on mine, and I could almost feel him trying to read my mind. The jerk was sneaking into my brain, disarranging my thoughts, and enjoying every second of it.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“Of course not. I just thought that you were about to say that…” He trailed off and, even though I knew he was doing it on purpose, I couldn’t help myself.

“That what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

I wanted to strangle him.

Instead, I took two steps toward him.

The first step was taken in anger, but the second…

“I don’t know what you think gives you the right to be this…” I grit my teeth and, failing to find the right words, just waved furiously at him.

“Tall?” Now he was the one taking a step toward me. God, he really was tall. “Charming?”

“Annoying!” I snapped. “And unprofessional!”

That did it.

“Unprofessional?” His mouth was thin line, and a hint of a shadow spread across his features. “Now, I’ve been called a lot of things, but?—”

“Unprofessional!” I repeated, knowing I’d buried the knife in the right spot. “You heard it. This is unprofessional behaviour, and you’re not being helpful at all. All I want is to find my friends, play my part, and head back home!” I waved a hand at the elegantly chaotic dancefloor. “This isn’t me. I know it, you know it, so can we just?—”

“Fine.” His tone was flat and… professional. Somehow, that felt disappointing. “Can you tell me who you’re looking for?”

“I’m here for Cassandra Thorn’s bachelorette party.”

“Cassandra Thorn?” He blinked. “You mean… Cassie?”

“Yes, Cassie,” I repeated. “She’s my sister. Wait, how do you?—?”

And that’s when Cassie made her appearance, apparently summoned by the mere mention of her name. A tornado of white ruffles and a tulle headdress crashed straight into me, enveloping me in a drunken hug.

“KATIE!” She screamed into my ears, her tequila breath enough to make me tipsy. “Ew, you’re soaked! What in the world happened?” She looked from me to my nemesis, her eyes wide with surprise, and then she just burst out laughing. “James? What’s going on here? Why are you both drenched? I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We don’t,” James and I blurted out at the same time.

“You didn’t ,” Cassie corrected us, a glint in her eyes as she laughed. “But now…now you do.”

James

The things we do for friends.

I pinched the bridge of my nose where a headache was forming, and watched as Cassie dragged her champagne-drenched, insufferable sister to the party.

I prayed for patience.

Since I opened Club Bloom two years ago, it had made a name for itself as the newest, hottest thing in Miami’s luxury club scene. We combined high-end liquor, the most sought-after talent, and an exclusive client list to create the kind of night you’d never forget…and would pay hundreds, if not thousands, to experience again.

We didn’t do tacky bachelorette parties, or serve dick-shaped cakes, or let said bachelorette party request cheesy songs from the DJ like It’s Raining Men.

And yet, I’d found myself allowing all these things because my old frat brother, Scott, was getting married. He’d fallen hard for a bank teller, of all people. She was pretty, no doubt, but I wasn’t sure if that balanced the rest out. Cassie was… wild.

Love—has there ever been a more dangerous drug?

Now, I usually don’t mind how people decide to lead their lives, or who they chose to sleep every night with for the rest of their lives…but tonight, it was hard not to be annoyed. After all, I was paying dearly for my generosity.

Scott’s beloved fiancée, Cassie, was leading her group of feral friends into a drunken frenzy, and it now seemed her disaster of a sister had come to join the party. To make it even worse, there was something about Katie that just made me want to play fast and loose. Maybe—and I can’t believe I’m admitting it—even be a little unprofessional. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was behaving like a cat going ballistic on a piece of string. Not ideal, especially when you have a fucking club to run.

“What was that about?” Fernando asked me, arms folded over his chest as he watched the unlikely duo walk away. He had already exchanged his ruined shirt for a brand-new one, and he looked as fresh as if he’d just started his shift. How the man did it, I had no idea.

“A disaster waiting to happen,” I replied. “Send some more food with their next order. Compliments of the House. Something that absorbs alcohol.”

“Will do, boss.” He nodded and, without a word more, went to do as instructed. At least I’d made the right choice when I assigned Fernando as the bachelorette party’s waiter. He knew how to keep things from spiraling out of control.

Or so I hoped.

The last thing I needed was some party girl in a neon-necklace puking over one of my regulars, or worse, any of the influencers that filled the club on an average night. The luxury club scene in Miami was cutthroat. Piss off the wrong person, and we’d lose 25% of our business before we knew it.

Sure, Cassie was now technically part of the inner circle, now that she was getting married to Scott, but that didn’t mean I was going to let her—or her sister—make quick work of the business I’d worked so hard to build.

Except, of course, that was exactly the direction we were heading to.

A shrill chant erupted from the sunken dance floor area, where Scott’s fiancée had stationed her group, and I looked down to see them whooping it up in their glow-stick necklaces. We were dangerously close to dancing-on-the-table territory.

Not on my watch.

“Fuck’s sake,” I muttered, already cutting through the crowd and heading straight toward the group. When I got there, Cassie already had one knee up on a glass table. Thankfully, her sister pulled her down before Scott’s lunatic bride climbed up on top of it. Katie was as stubborn as she was clumsy, but at least she wasn’t as unhinged as her sister.A small mercy, I figured.

“Hey, ladies.” I raised my voice, trying to make myself heard. “I’ve got a little surprise for you. I want to make sure you all enjoy your evening, so tonight is on Bloom. I’m upgrading you to the Night Sky Suite, which has a private powder room and a prime VIP banquette above the dancefloor.”

The suite, normally reserved for celebrities, would keep everyone out of the women’s way… and hopefully keep Katie from tripping into some other man’s arms. Not that the thought bothered me. It didn’t, seriously. I just liked to keep things ticking along, and having such a disaster of a woman wreaking havoc on the main floor certainly didn’t fit the plan.

I pulled out my phone and quickly dashed off a text to let my staff know.

The group woo-ed and pushed closer to me. “That’s what I’m talking about,” the bride-to-be whooped, shooting me a smile. “Thank you so much!”

Katie was the only one who didn’t seem pleased about the upgrade.

I frowned, annoyed.

Everyone at Bloom constantly wanted something from me, whether it was a free round or the master password to our POS system, or a new Versace blouse, and I knew how to give it to them. That was the magic—you figure out what makes people tick, you give them what they want, and they do what you need them to. Simple and easy.

Except that didn’t apply to Katie.

Was that why I found her so alluring? Or was it the fact she was so maddeningly stubborn?

Any other woman would’ve squeezed me hard after that champagne incident—even if she was the one to blame—but Katie had seemed pretty much ready to get on her knees and pick up the shattered glasses herself. She didn’t want my help, she didn’t want the house to cover her expenses, and she certainly didn’t seem pleased I’d just given her access to one of the most coveted rooms in the Miami nightclub scene.

And yet, I was sure she wasn’t one of those impossible-to-please customers.

She just seemed…

Like a good puzzle to figure out , I thought, my eyes immediately darting to the way her wet dress clung to her figure. The damn thing wasn’t a high-end, credit-card-munching, made-to-order dress…but it just fit Katie like a glove. The kind of glove you want to take off and toss into the corner of the room.

Ah, fuck , I thought. Do not go there, James. Not with this one.

“James, you’re a legend!” Cassie shouted, tipping her tequila shot glass in my direction. She turned to her group and, Viking-style, tossed her head back and emptied the glass. “Ladies, you heard the man! The Night Sky Suite it is!”

Katie stood out like a sore thumb, numb to the electrified excitement that had taken over her group. She stepped closer to me, her eyes locked on mine. “You didn’t have to do that.” She pointed in the general direction of the stairs. “That…that was my fault. We don’t need special treatment.”

From you , she wanted to say.

“Maybe I’m just being nice.” I smiled, wanting to show I could be the textbook definition of professionalism, but there was a certain tension on my lips. My voice didn’t sound quite right either—somehow, it sounded as if I were teasing the damn woman instead of treating her like a paying customer. Maybe that’s why I was putting their expenses on the house. Maybe I didn’t want her to be just another paying customer.

Katie frowned.

“I’m not sure if I feel comfortable with that,” she said. “What if you get in trouble with your boss?”

I almost laughed in her face. She didn’t know I owned the club? That was adorable—maybe even refreshing. Finally, a woman in my club who didn’t know by sight everyone who showed up in the society pages. “Don’t worry about the boss. I’ve got it covered.” One deep breath and… “I just want to start over. Call this a white flag.”

She smiled a little hesitantly, and I liked that far more than I should. For a moment there, I had the wild, unprofessional urge to lean down and kiss her. See if that soft pink mouth of hers tasted as innocent as it looked.

“All right, then, if you say so. I just hate that I caused such a fuss. Honestly, this dumb club scene is more Cassie’s thing than mine, but I’ve got no choice. Maid of Honor duties.”

I frowned down at her, ready to defend Club Bloom’s honor, but Cassie grabbed Katie by the arm. Thank fuck for that—I had just raised a white flag, and the last thing I wanted was to beat her with it.

“We need to get some drinks in you instead of on you, so let’s go! Also, take those glasses off, you promised you’d try to dress up tonight.”

Katie’s shoulders curled in a bit as she took off her glasses and shoved them into her purse, looking unsteady in her heels as she allowed herself to be dragged away. She glanced back over her shoulders at me, her expression softer and more vulnerable now that the world was probably blurring around her again.

I had the strangest impulse to go after her and tell her to wear the damn glasses. Sure, these glasses were dangerously close to being one of fashion’s unforgivable sins, but…the woman was beautiful no matter what. Why would she give up the opportunity to admire the beauty around her in return?

The group followed one of my servers to the suite and I returned to my own duties. I’m often accused of being a micromanager but I didn’t get to where I am sitting back and doing nothing. My staff might call me a bosshole behind my back but I pay all of them extremely well and in return, I expect damn-near perfection, which as far as I’m concerned, isn’t too much to ask.

I finally tracked down my floor manager Ted to fill him in on the night’s upgrade. “One of them had a run-in with Fernando and a tray full of drinks, so please send a stack of washcloths, a couple of bottles of seltzer, and some towels up there.”

“Done. You staying until close tonight?”

My mind immediately leaped to Harper and the usual tug to be with her at home. Especially after the events of the last few months. But duty called. “I am.”

I let my eyes wander to the VIP suite where Katie was hanging over the railing, staring out over the dancefloor and patting the front of her dress with what looked like napkins, while the rest of her group was jumping on the banquettes.

Yes, duty called…

But the view didn’t hurt.