Page 1 of The Sweet Spot

BRYNLEE

The stale scent of spilled beer mingles with the sweet smell of sunscreen on the insane number of bodies crowding in around me, while I try not to get smashed up against my favorite beach bar. Literally. The place is packed tonight, and based on the sheer wave of bodies moving in sync to the beat of the music, I’m fairly sure everyone in the entire town is crammed in here, singing along to “Sweet Caroline.”

It’s summertime at O’Malley’s, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

This place has been around since my parents were kids, and according to them, it’s always been this crazy. It’s one of those bars you know better than to wear nice shoes in because you know you’re leaving at the end of the night with questionable substances on them. Spilled beer being the least gross of those substances. And I’m pretty sure the bartender is still the same one who was working here ten years ago when my cousin Maddox and I came in with our very first fake ID’s.

A quick elbow to the back has me stumbling as Maddox hands me a margarita and passes out the rest of the drinks to our friends and family before we all raise our glasses. “Alla faccia di chi ci vuole.”

“In English, please,” his younger sister, Caitlin, snaps at him as a round of Salute is uttered back by everyone else before we all clink our glasses together and drink.

I swallow a mouthful of tequila with a hint of lime and choke as my mouth catches fire. “Oh wow.” The words burn almost as much as the tequila as it makes its way down my throat. “That’s bad.”

Callen slings his big, beefy arm around my shoulders and guides me to a now-empty bar stool. “Drink it faster, Brynlee. You won’t taste it as much.”

I hop up and spin my stool to face Maddox and him.

Even sitting on a barstool, these two tower over me.

Everyone does.

Short girl problems.

“You realize that defeats the purpose, right? I don’t drink something if I don’t like the taste.” I stir the concoction that should never be anyone’s definition of a margarita, hoping that will help before taking another sip. Nope. Still bad.

Maddox ignores me and hands Callen and me each shot glasses as the rest of our friends disburse to other parts of the bar.

I sniff the dark liquid and scrunch my nose, not in the mood to get burned twice. “What is this?”

“Don’t ask.” Maddox lifts his shot glass up much the same way we did a minute ago, and the three of us clink glasses again before Callen sets his sights on a bachelorette party at the end of the bar like a heat seeking missile.

“I think I’m gonna go bag me a bride.”

Maddox looks down the bar and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Callen. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Nah, man.” Callen just keeps smiling as he claps Maddox on the shoulder. “You won’t let me die.”

Callen disappears down the bar into a circle of bridesmaids, and I stifle a laugh. “Think we’ll see him again tonight?”

“Doubt it,” Maddox scoffs.

I push my margarita toward the bartender with my sweetest smile. “Hey, Lou. Think you could add more mix to this?”

Lou looks down my shirt before making eye contact. “Most people usually ask for more booze.”

“Most people who want to live wouldn’t look at her tits either, man. So how about you just do it, huh?” Maddox’s beer hits the bar a little harder than necessary as he glares at the old man. Guess you could say my cousin is a touch overprotective.

Lou’s eyes double in size before he quickly takes my glass away to fix my drink.

Hopefully, the next one won’t incinerate my taste buds.

“Did you have to scare him?” I nail Maddox with my attempt at a glare, already tired and wondering how long I have to stay here before I can go back to the house and crash in my warm, comfy bed.

Maddox cocks his head like an apex predator, silently answering me.

Like I didn’t already know the damn answer.

Everyone in this town knows exactly who Maddox Beneventi is. Or more accurately, who his father, Sam, is. And as my uncle likes to say, a little bit of fear is healthy. I glance at the bartender, who’s currently pouring my new drink with shaking hands. This dude has passed a little bit and is well on his way to terrified.

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