Nineteen
ALLISON
FOUR MONTHS AGO
A llison had been constantly tired for years, but today was the final straw.
Her father had turned a twenty-four-hour day into an endless cycle of meetings, squeezing in every possible moment with back-to-back obligations she was expected to attend.
In his eyes, Allison’s worth was measured by her results, not by her needs. She barely ate, barely slept, often surviving on granola bars until dizziness forced her to remember that her body needed more than just whole-grain snacks.
She missed having friends.
Her days were a lonely grind, devoid of casual conversations or social breaks. Johnathan was too wrapped up with his nosy girlfriend, Susan, and training under their father to eventually take over the company. Leopold had escaped to L.A., living his best life while dodging family responsibilities—something Allison wished she could do. Frederick was buried in work, striving for a promotion, and when he wasn’t working, he was catering to his girlfriend, Christine.
Glancing at the digital clock on her desk, Allison sighed. It was nearly nine o’clock, four hours past the time she was supposed to leave. She rubbed her temples, questioning the point of all these extra hours, of her job, of her life.
Happy birthday to me , she thought bitterly.
It had been months since she’d last spoken to Amira, and she had never spent a birthday alone before. She had hoped it wouldn’t bother her so much, and she’d tried drowning herself in meetings and paperwork to avoid thinking about it.
Surprisingly, it worked—until 5 PM, when everyone else, even her father, had gone home. She was the only one left, still slaving over words and numbers. Her eyes ached from staring at documents for so long that the letters had started to blur together, and the onset of a headache pulsed behind her eyelids.
I need a fucking break.
The thought came suddenly, like a light bulb switching on. She could go out—by herself, of course—but she didn’t have to stay out long. She was exhausted, but it was her birthday. She deserved to celebrate, even if it was just one drink.
Her brothers had called, but their birthday wishes were brief, overshadowed by their own busy lives. Her father hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge the day, and Amira hadn’t texted. The more she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. She’d rush home for a quick shower and outfit change—because there was no way she was going out in her work clothes on her fucking birthday—and have just one drink. By midnight, she’d be back in bed, Kindle in hand.
It’s the perfect plan.
Forty minutes later, Allison was circling the parking lot near The Olive , looking for a spot. The roads hadn’t been too busy, and her apartment was only a fifteen-minute drive away. She had taken the fastest shower of her life, careful not to get her hair or face wet to avoid redoing her makeup. She picked a dress she hadn’t worn in ages and slipped into a matching pair of heels. Letting her hair down, she swiped on some red lipstick, thankful she’d curled her hair that morning.
Her heels click-clacked on the pavement as she approached the bar. She had to actively stop herself from feeling self-conscious; it had been too long since she’d gone out, and she had never done it alone. As she walked, her mind raced with every possible thing that could go wrong.
What if I fall on my face right here?
Or what if I trip and fall in the bar?
Oh my God, what if I slip off the bar stool and a hot guy sees it?
Or if a guy smiles and I smile back and he’s taken?
Or he isn’t even smiling at me and just at someone behind me?
She forced herself to quiet her thoughts as she opened the door to The Olive . The music hit her all at once, and she silently admired the soundproofing of the place.
That’s how you know you’re an adult—when you’re impressed by soundproofing.
Swallowing hard, she took in the scene. There were so many people. Too many people. Allison suddenly regretted her decision to come out instead of staying in, reading with a glass of her favorite wine and a face mask.
No , she corrected herself. There’s a reason I chose to go out—I deserve it.
She stayed in every night; her birthday should be different. She should enjoy herself, even if it was just for a little while.
Although, I would have enjoyed myself if I’d been reading with my vibrator in hand.
Maybe I should just—
“You in or out, sweetheart?” a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
She turned to apologize to the person she was blocking, only to be met with a six-foot-something guy with blonde curls and a creepy smile plastered on an unfortunately attractive face.
“Excuse me?” Disgust was evident in her voice—and she was sure it showed on her face, too—as she glared at the man ogling her chest.
“You’re blocking the door, baby,” he said, still staring at her boobs. “If you’re waiting for a friend, you could join me for a drink until she gets here,” he added with a wink.
I think I just threw up in my mouth.
“No, thank you. And my face is up here, asshole,” Allison snapped, stepping further into the bar before he could respond.
The crowd, overwhelming as it was, became her shield, and she was thankful for it. She hoped the throng of people would keep Slimy Guy from finding her again.
Hopefully, he gets rejected enough times that he’s gone by the time I finish my drink.
Allison weaved through the crowd, praying in her heart of hearts she could find an empty seat at the bar. The Olive had been gaining popularity ever since it opened. Its sophisticated vibe set it apart from other bars, and the steady beat of the music was loud but good—not overwhelming. She appreciated that, considering she still wanted to have her hearing intact when she went home.
Spotting an empty bar stool, she hastily made her way over, silently pleading that no one else would take it. Her heels were pretty, but they were not made for standing.
She sighed in relief as she finally sat down.
“What can I get ya, honey?” A sultry voice, sweet with a hint of a Southern drawl, asked.
Allison looked up from her lap, where she’d been fidgeting with her rings. She always did that when her anxiety kicked in. Her social battery wasn’t very big, and depending on her mood, she could be either a social butterfly or a hermit crab—no in-between.
Why can’t I just be comfortable in a crowd like all these people? I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake.
“No overthinkin’ in my bar, gorgeous,” the woman behind the counter said, snapping Allison out of her thoughts.
The bartender was stunning, with fiery red hair and a confidence that radiated from her like a beacon. She wore a black, skin-tight, low-cut mini dress that highlighted her curves, and her presence commanded the attention of everyone around her.
“Wow. You’re beautiful,” Allison said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
She didn’t believe in holding back compliments, especially not to other women. It was obvious in the woman’s movements; her confidence. It was oozing out of her, radiating such a glow that pulled in everyone around her like winged insects flying towards a fire.
“Thanks, hon. Right back at ya,” the woman replied with a wink that made Allison blush. “What’s your name?”
“Allison,” she said, captivated by the bartender’s charisma. She wanted to be her.
“Lovely to meet ya, Allison. I’m Sandy,” the woman said with another wink, and Allison’s cheeks burned even more. “So, what can I get ya?”
Allison hesitated. Her usual drink for unwinding was a glass of red wine, but it was her special day. She didn’t want to stick to routine.
That would defeat the purpose of going out.
“I’m not sure,” she finally said. “I usually drink wine, but I don’t want my usual tonight.”
“Tough day?” Sandy asked, her eyebrows coming together and painting her face in a picture of worry—although her perfect features still looked flawless.
“Tough life,” Allison whispered to herself, knowing Sandy wouldn’t hear over the bar’s noise. Louder, she said, “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Hard liquor, then?”
I shouldn’t , Allison thought instantly. She wasn’t much of a drinker and knew she’d regret it. But then again, if it was too much, she could just order an Uber and leave her car until morning.
Ah, fuck it.
She nodded.
Sandy grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes that made Allison momentarily second-guess her decision to trust her so easily.
A minute later, Sandy placed a pink drink with a lemon slice on the edge in front of her. A quick sniff confirmed it was tequila.
“On the house, gorgeous,” Sandy said with yet another wink.
Two thoughts crossed Allison’s mind: What if it’s too strong? And, What if it’s not?
She had planned to have just one drink, but now she was reconsidering. If it was too strong, she could order something else—no one would know, and no one was pressuring her. On the other hand, if it wasn’t strong enough—unlikely, given her low alcohol tolerance—she might need a second.
Stop overthinking, Allison.
She took a small sip and cringed as it burned down her throat. She heard Sandy’s bright laugh somewhere in the background, though she couldn’t see her through the tears that blurred her eyes.
Jesus, that shit is strong.
As Allison was about to order a glass of rosé—a compromise since it was wine but not her usual choice—the burn in her throat subsided, leaving behind a surprisingly pleasant, sweet taste.
Maybe that explains the pink? she thought.
“Um, Sandy?” Allison called out to the bartender, too curious about the drink to let it go. “What is this?”
“It’s tequila rose and cherry vodka, babe. I thought it’d be a good match for ya,” Sandy replied, a playful glint in her eyes as she noted Allison’s reaction.
“A good match?” Allison echoed, finding herself at a loss for words. She took another small sip, savoring the unusual combination.
“I can make any drink for anyone. I like matchin’ drinks to people,” Sandy explained, leaning in a little closer. “You’re sweet and shy, but I can see that bit of fire you’re hidin’ away. Hence, the pink drink that burns so good.” She shrugged casually, as if she hadn’t just hinted at something deeper within Allison.
Can this fire please come out anytime soon? Allison mused. I’d like to see it, too.
“You don’t even know me,” Allison replied, deflecting. She knew people often poured their hearts out to bartenders, but she wasn’t about to join their ranks. Her private life was going to stay just that—private.
“I saw that little interaction you had with Slimeball at the door. There was steel in your spine and fire in your eyes, sugar.”
Allison couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at Sandy’s words. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall for this woman, if only for how she made her feel about herself. Allison had always been a watcher, more comfortable with a book than with people. The only exception had been Amira, but she’d been stupid and lost her best friend.
“Ah ah, what did I say?” Sandy playfully scolded, pulling Allison back to the present.
“No overthinking in your bar.”
“That’s right. Now, if you didn’t like the drink, I can get you something else… though you’ve already downed half of it.”
Allison looked at her glass, realizing Sandy was right. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed how much she’d drunk. The burn was almost gone now as she took yet another sip.
“Thanks, I’m good. I actually really like this,” Allison said, and she meant it.
“See? Told ya it’d be a good match. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. You deserve it,” Sandy said with a smile before another customer caught her attention, pulling her away. She moved like a spark of energy, lighting up the room around her.
As Allison’s thoughts began to settle, she realized something she hadn’t picked up on earlier.
Wait, this is her bar?
She glanced in the direction Sandy had gone, ready to ask her about it, but she was nowhere in sight. Instead, her gaze landed on the customer who had pulled Sandy away.
Oh fuck.
Allison’s heart thudded in her chest as she caught sight of the man across the bar. He was tall, with dark, neatly combed curls, dressed head to toe in black—a sleek black shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and slacks that fit just right. There was something about him, something magnetic, that made it hard for her to look away. She hadn’t seen him before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity to his presence.
Who is that? she wondered, her mind racing to place him. As if sensing her gaze, the man turned his head slightly, his sharp, angular features becoming clearer in the dim light. His chocolate eyes met hers briefly, and Allison quickly looked away, feeling a sudden flush creep up her neck.
She tried to focus on her drink, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. There was a subtle, confident energy about him that both intrigued and unnerved her. He didn’t belong here—not in this bar, not in this moment. Yet here he was, as if drawn by some unseen force.
But before she could dwell on it any further, a hand landed on her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Allison flinched, turning to see a man grinning at her—a man who was decidedly not the one across the bar.
She shrugged his hand off, turning back to her drink and cursing at her rotten luck.
“Hey there, gorgeous. Haven’t seen you around before,” the man drawled, his voice thick with sleaze.
Allison didn’t bother looking up. “You have five seconds to get away from me,” she said, her tone as cold as ice.
Sandy had seen that flicker of fire in Allison’s eyes before, and she had no intention of letting any foolish guy ruin her night. She’d already dealt with one creep a few minutes ago, and the encounter had only stoked the flames of her irritation. The alcohol coursing through her veins wasn’t helping either; it was like gasoline on the fire, fueling her determination to shut this guy down before he even had a chance to say “horny.”
Her pulse quickened, and her fists clenched, ready for whatever came next. She wasn’t just going to get him away from her—she was going to make sure he thought twice before bothering anyone else ever again.
The man chuckled, a low, mocking sound that grated on her nerves. “Or what, doll? You gonna bite me?”
Allison finally turned and met his gaze, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “I might.”
The man smirked and reached out, his hand aiming for her ass and every bit of self defense she had learned kicked in.
With a swift motion, she grabbed his hand, twisted it around, and hooked one heeled leg around his, flipping him to the ground.
He blinked up at her from the ground, more surprised than hurt, as Allison casually turned away, dusting off her hands like she’d just taken out the trash. Ignoring the curious looks and whispered murmurs around her, she picked up her tequila and took a slow sip, letting the warm burn of the alcohol settle in her chest.
The fuzziness in her mind grew, and with it, a sense of calm. Allison relaxed back into the moment, the tension from the encounter melting away as she lost herself in the steady hum of the bar around her.
That was, until another, deep, gravelly voice was heard from right behind her.
“That was fucking impressive.”
Allison sighed, praying this dude would just get the message on his own unlike the previous two, but her retort died on her tongue as she twisted to look at the man.
His eyes were the shade of rich chocolate, deep and inviting, with a warmth that could melt the coldest heart. Dark curls framed his face, tumbling in soft waves that seemed to defy order, each one catching the dim light in subtle glints of chestnut and made her want to tangle her fingers in it. A light scruff dusted his jawline, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise gentle features. Dressed entirely in black, he moved with a quiet confidence, the dark fabric a striking contrast against his warm complexion, as if he were a shadow come to life, mysterious and magnetic.
How is this man so beautiful?