Chapter 1

1

DYSON

" I need a drink."

The female voice pulled my attention away from my phone screen. At some point while I'd been texting my buddy, whose nephew worked behind this bar, a woman had come in and climbed up on one of the barstools.

I don't work here. Those were the words I should've said, but the sight of her left me speechless. And being speechless meant I couldn't tell her that I could only make the very basic cocktails. If she needed a gin and tonic, I could pour some gin and some tonic water. Rum and soda? Sure. But anything complicated, and these people were out of luck.

The reason I couldn't seem to spit the words out, though, was that looking at her was doing things to me. Not just lustful things, either. That was a given. She was a hot blonde with a big smile and light green eyes framed by long lashes. I could only see her top half, but those breasts were what wet dreams were made of.

But this was so much more than that. It was like the earth had shifted on its axis the second I laid eyes on her.

I assumed she was here for the makeup convention. It was happening here—and that was as much as I knew about that.

I was here because the bartender's house had been leveled by the tornado that came through last night. The whole town was in complete upheaval, and standing behind this bar, pouring drinks for anyone who showed up, was the least I could do.

The show must go on, or in this case, the conference. Besides, this gorgeous woman was exactly the distraction I needed right now.

"Long day, huh?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You can say that again."

"Well, then you came to the right place," I said, setting my phone on the counter behind me and walking over to her. "What can I get you?"

"Can you do a Hurricane?" she asked.

Oh shit. I should have known she'd ask for something complicated. It wasn't that she looked high-maintenance or anything. Something about her just made me want to give her the world.

"Hold on a second," I said.

I started searching the area for the book my buddy had mentioned. It had recipes for the most popular drinks. After a couple of seconds, though, I gave up and decided this was a job for my phone.

"Is that not a common drink?" she asked, obviously noticing me scrolling on my screen.

"Not at all," I said, finding it in a matter of seconds and assessing the ingredients.

"I mean, I thought it was pretty common," she said.

"I'm just a little rusty. I haven't done this in a while."

Why had I said that? I'd never done anything like this. I wasn't even much of a liquor drinker. I was more of a beer guy. Beers were simple. They got the job done, and I liked the taste.

"It's the tornado, isn't it?" she said. "Everything's all out of whack. Are you filling in for someone who's helping with cleanup?"

We weren't even to the cleanup stage yet. Right now, the town was still assessing the damage. I'd actually spent most of the day riding around with coworkers on the construction crew, sussing out exactly where we'd be needed most.

It was a tragedy. That was the only word to cover how it felt to see your hometown wrecked by Mother Nature.

"Yeah, everything's upside-down right now," I said as I scooped ice into a tall glass. "Sorry about your meetings being canceled."

I'd expected the restaurant bar to be full tonight, but apparently, the retreat center had emptied out. It was a good thing it had. There'd been a server when I first arrived, but she'd run out of here after getting a phone call—and it wasn't like I knew how to wait tables.

"It's no big deal," the woman said. "I was a little ready for this to be over, anyway. Most of our group went home, but I decided to stay the night since the retreat center was unharmed."

I sighed, reaching for the two types of rum required for a Hurricane. "At least the part of it that has a roof. The campground was hit pretty hard."

It was just a plot of land, but all the conference-goers who were tent-camping during the conference had lost their belongings. Luckily, most of them had thought to bring their purses inside. One of the women had a dog. Thank God she snatched it up and hid out in the retreat center lobby with the rest of the campers.

"I'm sorry about your town," the woman said. "I assume you live here?"

"All my life," I said.

"It's a beautiful place," she said. "We were helping out in that neighborhood over by the courthouse earlier today. There was a missing cat. This guy found it while we were there."

"So that's why you need a drink," I commented. Suddenly, I felt very bartender-like. "My buddy's nephew is the regular bartender here, and he lives over in that neighborhood. He lost everything. Sounds like maybe I need a drink too." I glanced down at the instructions, finished off the drink, and set it in front of her. "Does that look right?"

She shrugged. "Can't tell. It just sounded like the appropriate drink, considering the day I had. Do you have a straw?"

Oh, yeah. Bar patrons usually liked those. I hunted around a bit, found them, handed her one, and scanned the restaurant. The entire place was still empty. I hoped it stayed that way.

"Are you ordering dinner too?" I asked.

Her eyes widened as she slid the straw into the drink. "Is the kitchen open?"

"Yep. It's a smaller staff than usual, but as you can see, I think they can handle an order or two."

"Then make it two," she said. "I don't like to eat alone."

She took a generous sip of her Hurricane and immediately made a face. Oh crap, I'd messed it up. My first chance to impress this woman, and I blew it.

"I work construction," I said. "I've never even tasted a Hurricane, and I definitely don't know how to make one."

"No, it's fine," she said. "I'm not really used to drinking. I get those hard lemonades in different flavors. That's pretty much been my signature drink since college."

I turned, grabbed a menu, and handed it to her. Then I thought for a second and grabbed one for myself. I had no idea how to use the computer, so my job was to gather the orders, make the drinks, and have someone in the kitchen ring it all in.

"I'll take the shrimp tacos," she said, slapping the menu shut. "But only if you'll eat with me. And drink."

I lifted my gaze from the menu. "Am I allowed to drink on the job?" I asked.

She'd taken another long sip from her drink, and I couldn't help but notice the glass was less than half full. Yes, the ice took up a good bit of space, but that was still a hell of a lot of alcohol.

"Are you being paid for this?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then yes, you can drink. I give you permission."

I laughed. "Seems like you want to get me drunk to take advantage of me."

It was a risky comment. My goal was to sound flirtatious. But if she said that was exactly what she planned to do, I wouldn't argue. In fact, give me the strongest liquor we had.

"Would that be a bad thing?" she asked.

Those words sprung my cock to life. In this case, she wouldn't be taking advantage at all. In fact, I'd strip off my clothes, put my hands behind my back, and let her do whatever she wanted. But the thing that would suck about that was I wouldn't get to show her what I could do for her first.

A slow smile broke out over my face, and I took several backward steps toward the back bar, where the liquor was kept. I reached back and snatched up the first bottle my fingers touched—vodka. That would do.

I poured some into a glass, noting how much I'd taken for later so I could pay for it, and downed it in one go, never taking my eyes off her. When her face lit up, I did it again. I'd switch to beer for dinner, but this would do the job of convincing her to take advantage of me. And that was what I was all about tonight.