Wrecking Caine (Reign of the Underground #5)

Chapter One

A little splash of vodka.

Keely tilted the bottle gingerly, pouring a small amount in the glass on the counter.

She grabbed the bar spoon, mixed the drink, then carefully eyed it.

It needs something. A final touch. She rushed over to the bar caddy and picked out a lime wedge and a few olives.

The two additions usually didn’t go hand in hand, but she was willing to take the risk in the name of creativity.

How could she craft the next best drink and not experiment?

Keely carefully hooked the lime on the edge of the glass and dropped in the olives.

Masterpiece. She placed a napkin on the bar in front of Killian and served the drink.

Then she took a moment to bask in the beauty of her newest concoction.

When her brother didn’t make a move to lift the glass, she glanced up. She was met with a disapproving scowl.

“What?”

He pointed to the opposite end of the bar. “That’s why there’s a set of tongs. So you don’t touch the condiments with your hands.”

Right. She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “I’ll remember next time. Try it!”

Keely planted her hands on the counter and hiked up on her toes, her shoulders nearing her ears.

Killian was lead bartender for the Bowery, had impeccable taste, and was well-respected by the owners.

His opinion mattered to the powers that be .

If Killian liked it, her drink would surely be added to the specialty menu.

Killian sipped, then stilled with the glass hovering at his lips.

Her sole focus was on his face, but his expression was impossible to read.

He lifted the glass, having another taste.

This was a good sign. Right? Or maybe not.

Killian pursed his lips, and his jaw clenched seconds before he placed the glass down.

“What do you think?”

Killian settled back on the stool, shifting his gaze between her and the glass. His brows tightened as he cupped his mouth.

“Christ, Keely, what did you put in that?”

Another good sign. Kind of. His tone was off, but he was interested in the ingredients. She’d be vague on the details until it was approved by the bosses. She trusted her brother, but anyone on staff could be listening, and she didn’t want them stealing her recipe.

“There are eight different types of alcohol in there. I’m going to call it” —She paused for dramatic effect and slowly swept her hand across the bar as if she was showcasing a game prize— “The Flatliner.”

Her brother stared back at her with a look she knew well. Twenty-four years on this earth, and she’d seen it often. It was a combination of shock and bewilderment, with a touch of “have you lost your goddamn mind? ”

“That’s your marketing strategy? Welcome to the Bowery, order this drink, and fucking die,” Killian mocked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shaking his head.

She hadn’t worked out all the kinks in her naming process.

Clearly. But she had put a lot of thought into it.

His criticism was hitting her in a sensitive spot.

Much like most people, she respected her brother.

They had their moments of sibling angst, banter, and rivalry, but it didn’t discount how much she’d always looked up to him.

His opinion mattered, and when it wasn’t positive, it stung.

Keely reacted in true Keely fashion . She sent him a seething glare and grabbed the glass aggressively, spilling some of the contents on the top of the bar.

“As you know, I’m a marketing major, so I think I know a thing or two. More than you do.”

Killian scoffed, which rolled into a laugh. “Oh yeah. How’s that going by the way? What are you on? Year six?”

Keely ground her teeth and sucked in a breath. “Lots of people take extra time to get a degree.”

He raised his brows, chuckling. “Six years at a two-year school and you still haven’t graduated.”

It was true. She was taking longer than most. Attending class would’ve sped up the process.

Completing and turning in assignments would’ve worked in her favor too.

Keely knew what she had to do but lacked any and all motivation.

College wasn’t for everyone. She’d heard it said a million times.

Admitting to that fact was harder than she’d imagined.

If she wasn’t pursuing a higher education…

then what am I doing ? And for that, she had no answer.

She admired people who knew exactly what they wanted to do with their life out of high school.

Friends who had fully launched into the career they’d always dreamed of.

But that wasn’t her. Keely’s long endeavor of getting her marketing degree had more to do with pleasing her parents than being her true passion. That explains why I’m still at it.

Keely dumped the drink in the slop sink and slammed the glass on the counter. She spun around, prepared to make a dramatic exit, but Killian leaned across the bar, grasping her wrist, forcing her to stop.

“Want some advice?”

Keely narrowed her gaze, but Killian didn’t wait for a response. He had to know it was coming in the form of her middle finger. “Focus on being a barback. Learn all the drinks, serve each bar as if it’s your own, and show up on time.”

What the…

“I wasn’t late today!”

Killian raised his brows. “Yesterday?”

She flattened her lips and straightened her shoulders. I woke up late from my nap.

“Last Friday?”

There was fucking traffic.

“Two weeks ago, and…”

She yanked her arm away, glaring at her brother. “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to be a dick.”

Killian rested back on his stool and held up his hands.

“Not trying to be a dick, Keels. Just want you to make the best of a situation that is temporary . You’re gonna do something and be something that’s better and bigger than a barback at the Bowery.

But until then” —Killian rested his elbows on the counter— “You got bills you gotta pay, and rent, and you have to fund your ridiculous shoe obsession.”

True.

“I’m on your side.” Killian’s voice was a mere whisper, but she heard him.

She tried her best not to give in to a smile.

It was a hard task, and she glanced over at her brother.

Fuck! How’d I get this lucky? Keely had heard horrible stories about sibling relationships.

Fighting, sometimes physical, or the polar opposite, going years without speaking.

That’s not us. Killian may not agree or approve of all Keely’s decisions.

But he’d always shown blind loyalty when it came to her making life choices.

Thanks, Kill.

Her appreciation was on the tip of her tongue, but she was instantly distracted by the front door opening as two familiar men walked inside.

And my day just got better! Keely perked up, straightened her back, and sauntered closer to the front of the bar with her eyes locked on him .

Neither man looked over. It didn’t stop her from staring.

“Nash,” Jared’s voice had Keely jerking her head and watching him meet the men halfway through the club. Conveniently, directly in front of the bar. Keely was treated to an unobstructed and front-row-seat view of the hottest man on the planet.

Hello, Caine!

He stood a few feet behind Nash, stoic, focused, and way too serious. He was diametrically opposed to Keely in every sense, but that didn’t hinder her unrelenting attraction to this man. She didn’t drop to her knees, but she was tempted.

Thank you Lord for this beautiful male specimen. Fuck, this man was blessed.

They’d only met a few times, always brief.

Her last interaction with him had been an epic disaster.

After making a fool of herself once at the X-Lounge, drunkenly coming on to him, she’d doubled down by trying to make small talk weeks later in Elodie’s shop.

That moment would forever live on in her mind as one of her most embarrassing.

She’d asked if he remembered her after a long, drawn out, overly-detailed explanation of where they’d met.

Caine had zero recollection. I’m not memorable.

Admittedly, that was a hard blow to her ego.

It took time to recover. It wasn’t a new, groundbreaking revelation for her.

Aside from her outgoing and sometimes obnoxious personality, very few people remembered her based solely on her appearance.

Wild, curly red hair that refused to be tamed, a splatter of uneven freckles, and a skin tone that required SPF100.

I’d be a goddess in Ireland. Here? Forgettable.

But Caine? He was the polar opposite. Hottest man on the planet in any country.

Her gaze trailed over his body, taking him all in.

Goddamn, this man! He was always in a suit, but that didn’t stop her from envisioning what he looked like underneath.

If the taut fabric of his jacket over his forearms was any indication, his biceps were larger than her thighs.

His broad shoulders stretched the material over his back.

Unlike Nash, he never wore a tie, but the top button was clasped.

He’d look so much more relaxed if he’d just unbutton it.

Keely drew in a breath, sliding the pads of her fingers over the smooth bar top.

She glanced over his body from head to toe, slowing her perusal over his chest. Maybe he just needed a larger sized jacket.

No, this is perfect. She loved the way the material stretched over his defined muscles.

He had to be well over six feet, maybe even six and a half. He towered over most people, including her. Of course, she’d only been close enough a few times to give an honest estimation. But they’d been memorable. Keely had remembered everything !