Chapter 7 #2
“You’re an adult. Pretty sure you can handle pouring drinks without a committee voting on it.”
A laugh escapes me. “Try telling that to Troy.”
“Troy is just being a big brother.”
“I know.” I sigh. “He means well.”
“I work late at the lab most nights,” he says after a moment. “I can give you rides after your shifts if you need them. Mountain Springs isn’t great for late-night transport.”
My first instinct is to refuse. I don’t need anyone’s help. But then I remember the twenty-minute wait for an Uber when I was out last weekend, and how the closest bus stop to Luzia is a fifteen-minute walk.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” He starts gathering his things, not looking at me. “Just an option. It’s basically on the way anyway.”
I bite my lip, considering. “Maybe sometimes. If it’s really not out of your way.”
He nods like it’s settled. “Text me your schedule when you get it.”
And somehow, that’s that. No lectures about safety, no suggestions that I’m making a mistake. Just a practical solution offered without fanfare.
It’s kind of nice, actually.
“Thanks,” I say, then add because I can’t help myself, “But I’m not helpless, you know.”
“Trust me, Tara,” he says, and there’s definitely amusement in his voice now, “after watching you wrestle scaffolding for an hour, ‘helpless’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe you. Stubborn, maybe. Possibly delusional about physics…”
“Oh, be quiet,”
“…but not helpless. There are plenty of other words I’d use first.” his eyes darken and I am overtaken with a need to know what these other words are.
“The ladder’s not stable,” I say, watching Alfie test its wobble. We’re trying to cover up the…artwork.
“Maybe we should wait for maintenance to bring a better one.”
“It’s fine. I’m barely going off the ground.” He starts climbing. “Just spot me.” I position myself behind the ladder, hands raised uselessly.
“If you fall and die, I’m not explaining it to Troy, Freddie or Ethan. Actually Ethan would probably be the worst. I think he would cry the most.”
“Your concern is touching.” He reaches for the top shelf, stretching. His shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned skin and defined muscle that makes my mouth go dry.
I force my eyes away, but not before noticing the trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.
The ladder shifts suddenly. Without thinking, I grab his hips to steady him. My fingers meet warm skin where his shirt has ridden up, and his muscles tense under my touch.
“Careful,” he says, voice rougher than usual. I should move my hands. I definitely should not be noticing how perfectly they fit against his hipbones, or how his skin is like fire under my palms.
“Tara.” Heat pools in my stomach.
“Yeah?”
“You can let go now.”
“Right.”
I snatch my hands back.
“Sorry.” He descends slowly, and when he turns to face me, his eyes are dark in a way that makes my heart race.
Then he clears his throat and steps back. “I should get back to work.”
Luzia looks different in daylight. Less like a glossy nightclub. It has a more industrial feel with exposed beams and warehouse-like windows. I adjust my all-black uniform and check my reflection in the window. Professional.
“You’re early.” The voice behind me makes me jump. I turn to find a guy a little older than me, probably mid-twenties, wearing a crisp button-down and a smile that belongs in a toothpaste commercial. “James. Nice to see you again, Tara.”
James was the one who interviewed me, which was more of a conversation than an interview. In all honesty I came out thinking I’d flunked it.
“Hi! Yes, sorry. I’m probably way too early, I just—”
“No such thing.” He unlocks the door, gesturing me inside. “Eager is good. Shows initiative.” He winks.
The bar smells like lemons and cleaning products, nothing like the perfume and sweat mixture from my interview. James leads me behind the main bar, pointing out equipment with the precision of someone who actually enjoys training.
“We’re a bit different from your average college bar; in fact, we price our drinks high to discourage college students from coming in.
We get the occasional post grad who’s got some cash but it’s mostly rich tourists,” he explains, pulling out a leather-bound menu.
“Our cocktail list changes seasonally. Everything’s premium, including our clientele. The tips reflect that.”
I try not to look too excited about that part, but he catches my expression and grins.
“Yeah, that’s why everyone wants to work here. But it’s not easy. You’ve got to be smart, efficient, and good with people. That’s why I hired you. You’ve got a natural charm to you.”
Something flutters in my stomach at the compliment, but I push it aside.
“The uniform suits you,” he adds, then immediately moves on to explaining the POS system.
“Here, let me show you a trick,” James says, stepping behind me at the register.
“The system can be tough, but I’ve got shortcuts for everything.
” He’s close enough that I can smell his cologne, something expensive that reminds me of the way Alfie smells, except wrong somehow.
Artificial. Alfie smells like the outdoors, like freshly cut wood and the forest.
“Any questions so far?” James asks, and I realize I’ve completely spaced on whatever he was saying about setting up a tab.
“Um, could you maybe repeat... all of that?”
“Hey, don’t stress.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, just for a second. “First day’s always overwhelming. You’ll get it.”
I nod, determined to prove him right. To prove everyone wrong. I can handle this job. Handle myself.
“Most important rule?” He’s pulling bottles from the shelf now, setting up for a training cocktail. “We’re family here. You need anything, day or night, you come to me. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” That megawatt smile again. “Now, let’s see how fast you can learn our signature Mountain Mule.”
Two hours later, my head is spinning with recipes and regulations, but I’m getting it. James is patient, encouraging, quick to praise when I nail a pour or remember a recipe.
Who knew there were so many types of whiskey?
Or that getting the perfect foam on an espresso martini was basically a science experiment?
But I’m getting it! And okay, maybe I’m a little too excited every time James says “perfect” or “excellent form,” but whatever.
Positive reinforcement works on me, don’t judge.
“You’re a natural,” James says as we prep the fresh fruit for tonight. “Most new hires take days to get the hang of our style. I think this is going to be a fun summer, T.”
I beam, then immediately feel embarrassed for being so pleased.
The back door opens and this goddess-level gorgeous bartender walks in. “Hey, boss,” she calls to James, then gives me the once-over. “New girl?”
“This is Tara,” James says, his hand landing on my lower back as he makes introductions. “She’s going to be great.”
The girl’s face breaks into a gorgeous smile as she holds out her hand. “Becky. Nice to meet you. Thank God you’re joining. We’re starting to get the summer rush and it’s getting pretty crazy around here.”
“It’s great to be here. I’m so excited!” And I actually mean it, not just my usual enthusiasm for literally everything.
“It’ll be nice to have something besides studying to focus on.
” And by ‘studying’ I mean ‘community service with Alfie Spencer who is definitely not occupying way too much space in my brain right now.’
“I told James I can work basically whenever,” I continue, “Five or six shifts a week would be amazing. Between this and my, uh, volunteer work, I’ll probably be too busy to miss everyone who abandoned me for summer break.”
“Trust me”—Becky laughs—“once summer really hits, you’ll be too exhausted to miss anyone. But the tips are incredible, especially during tourist season. The rich kids trying to impress each other? They’re basically funding my grad school.”
“Are you at UMS?”
“Yeah, bio major, you?”
“Environmental science.”
“Alright! Great gossip session, ladies,” James cuts in, Becky rolls her eyes out of his view. “I need to steal T for some more training. Go check on the supplies, Becks, ‘kay? We should practice some more cocktails before your first real shift. Ready to learn how to make an Old Fashioned?”
“Born ready!” I grin, ignoring any judgement about my attitude. I’m learning how to make fancy drinks in a fancy bar and nobody’s treating me like I need protecting. This summer is going to be amazing.
“That’s a Paloma, right?” the woman asks, pointing to the cocktail in my tray.
I glance down. I know it’s a Paloma. Of course, it’s a Paloma. But still, my brain demands a double-check. I peek at the bartender’s station just to be sure before nodding, all casual confidence.
“Yep! Grapefruit, tequila, and a splash of magic,” I say, flashing my best smile.
She laughs, and I exhale. Good. Handled.
Six hours, three spilled drinks, and approximately ten thousand cocktail recipes later, I’m fumbling with my apartment keys.
My feet are killing me. It turns out standing for an entire shift is different from standing around in a lab.
Different muscles or something. I’d ask Troy, but then I’d have to admit this job is harder than I made it sound.
I miss Alex. Now it’s just me and my thoughts, which are unfortunately stuck on the fact that I have to be up in, I check my phone and groan, six hours for community service.
Community service with Alfie.
I shouldn’t be nervous about that. It’s just manual labor with a guy I’ve known for almost two years. A guy I may have kissed. Once. In a hallway. And it might have been the best kiss of my life. And he wants me to forget it and pretend it never happened.
I peel off my black uniform, heavy with lime juice and sweat, and collapse onto my bed.
My first day at Luzia and my mind’s swimming with everything James taught me, premium spirits on the top shelf, mixers on the right, wine list to memorize by Friday.
Who knew there was a whole science to cutting fruit? Not me, definitely not me.
My phone buzzes with a text from Alex.
ALEX THE GREATEST VBFF
First day details!! Can you make a spicy marg yet? You know they’re my weakness
I should reply, but my eyes are so heavy. Another buzz makes my heart skip.
Alfie Spencer
Meet at admin building. 8am
Four months ago, that message would’ve been perfectly normal. Now it sends butterflies racing through my stomach.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I tell my ceiling. “It’s just community service.”
I set three alarms (because I know myself) and drag my tired body to the shower.
The hot water helps my aching muscles, but it also gives my mind time to wander.
And lately, all my thoughts seem to lead to Alfie.
How he looked in the dean’s office. His tanned arms filling his black t-shirt.
The way his eyes found mine during our coffee not-date and made my heart stop.
I work the soap into my shoulder knots, imagining different hands, stronger, larger, more certain. In my mind, Alfie’s standing behind me, his fingers working out the tension in my muscles, his breath hot against my neck-
“Nope!” I turn the water ice cold. “We are not doing this. We’re thinking about drink recipes. Garnish techniques. Literally anything else.”
But back in bed, my skin still tingles. Maybe it’s leftover adrenaline from work. Maybe it’s the way Alfie’s voice gets rough when he’s frustrated. Maybe it’s remembering how his hands felt steadying me earlier, strong and sure.
“Oh, screw it.” I reach for my bedside drawer. Fine. If this is what it takes to get some sleep.
The familiar buzz of my vibrator fills the quiet room.
I close my eyes, trying to think of anyone else, that cute guy from my chem lab, the last guy I hooked up with who had an impressive member, anyone.
But as pleasure builds, there’s only Alfie.
The sharp line of his jaw, those clever hands, the way he says “Tara” in his deep voice that makes my insides swirl.
When I finally come undone, his name falls from my lips like a confession.
Oh boy, have I sinned.