Page 53 of Gin and Bear It

“A cocktail for a person who wants to keep their memory of that night? No,” I say. “But I was a barista for a bit. I’m sure some of those skills can transfer.”

“Shit, Ash.” Wes snorts and grabs a few glasses. “It’s not that hard, but if you pour too heavy, you’ll cut into our profit margins.”

“Cut into the profit margins? Not deal with a bunch of wasted assholes?” I lean against the bar.

“That, too. But I also want my inheritance, so don’t fuck with my profit margins.” Wes pulls out some moonshine. I can drink a lot of strong shit, but I’ve always had a reaction to moonshine. It’s probably all psychological. “I’ll walk you through the major drinks first. We make more moonshine margaritas than anything else.”

He shows me how to put it together—seems simple enough. All of it is straightforward, but doing it over and over again with a lot of people might get tricky.

Still, I can do this enough to not fuck the whole thing up, which is what matters.

“I’ll put you on a shift with me first, I guess.” Wes pulls out his phone, then frowns. “Tomorrow’s trivia, though. But I guess you and Jada can ride together if she comes.”

I just nod. There’s trivia night? I haven’t seen Jada go, so maybe she hasn’t in a while. I need to ask her.

“She’s doing okay?” Wes asks after tapping around on his phone.

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugs. “Her grandparents passing hit her hard. And then you two are married now, which is still weird as fuck to me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I say, half to myself.

“Eventually.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Not to be a snitch, but Waylon will dismember you if this goes sideways.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. I know. He made that extremely clear.” I glance at the big, vintage clock on the wall. “I guess my shift is over.”

Wes watches me clock out and I leave. I nearly go on autopilot and drive to my parents’ house, but I catch myself and head back to Jada’s.

Her car isn’t in the small lot next to the building, so the apartment is quiet when I enter. Pip hops off his cat tree and walks across the room to me. I’ve learned that if I don’t pet him immediately, he’ll let out the most pathetic little squeaks until I do. So I give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He trails behind me as I go into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.

While I’ve never hated cats, I’ve never loved them, either. But Pip is growing on me. Maybe because he’s a little doglike with how friendly he is. His loud purr and quiet little squeaks are cute, too. Less so in the middle of the night when he decides to walk all over my face, but it’s not annoying enough to make me mad.

I lean against the counter and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I’ve always been a person who’s needed some background sound, usually music, but lately silence has been exactly what I need.

I’m not sure how long I stand there before I hear Jada come in. Pip trots toward the door, but I stay put.

“God, Pip, I’m so tired,” she says, heaving a sigh. “I can’t believe this day.”

Pip meows.

“Right? I really can’t believe it. At least I’m home so we can snuggle and eat. Did I even prep dinner? Ugh. I’ll probably get takeout. Again.”

She walks into the kitchen, her hand up the back of her shirt. Then, she yanks her bra out of her sleeve, her breasts falling.

Going from zoned out to extremely zoned in on her full, luscious tits wobbling in front of my face is like getting dunked into an icy pond. I can’t pretend I don’t see them—it’s like she’s filled every part of my awareness with the simple yank of a bra.

She finally notices me and freezes, her black bra in her outstretched hand.

“Uh. I didn’t know you were here,” she says, still not moving.

“Um.”

“I usually take my bra off when I get home. I think I mentioned that.”

“Uh.”

The line between my head and mouth got severed. I’ve seen a lot of tits—bare, right in my face. I’ve even signed some.