Page 1 of Cucumber Martinis

one

Madison

"Come on, Mads, one more round." Katie, one of our regulars at Sweet Cocktails, slurs her words as she stands on the bottom rung of the barstool, leaning over the bar with her empty martini glass in her hand, waving it at me.

"I think you've had enough, Katie." I nod at the bouncer by the front door, signaling him to call a Taxi to take Katie home.

I didn't know what to expect when I arrived in New Orleans a year ago. I'd never been out of Iowa before—I had no reason to. My life was planned out for me, from who I would marry to where we would live and even what college I would attend.

At the time, I didn't mind. Like any lovestruck young woman, I thought John was my soulmate. Looking back, I'm glad he cheated on me and left me at the altar on our wedding day. I was having my own doubts. Given enough time, I'm pretty sure I would have made my escape out the bathroom window.

"You're no fun." Katie sticks her tongue out at me, making her wobble on her perch. Luckily, she regains her balance before she crashes to the floor. Instead, she plops down on the barstool in a huff.

Not that it would be the first time I've had to pick up one of our customers from the floor; I just prefer not to. We've had an issue with some male bartenders over-serving our female customers. The bar owner, Mae, won't stand for that and has been known to fire the bartender on the spot for endangering our customers. Based on how Katie is acting, I think my co-worker Jared might be the next bartender on the chopping block.

For the most part, Jared has kept to himself in the three months he's been working here, but something about him doesn't feel right. He's always trying to send me home early and close the bar by himself.

"I know, but you'll thank me in the morning when you can actually function at work."

"He's the reason why I'm here, you know."

I don't have to ask her who she's talking about. Katie and I have bonded over our nonexistent sex lives over the last year. Hers is due to her grumpy boss, who, as she puts it, is the devil himself. Our sad love lives inspired me to create my signature drink, the cucumber martini.

It's become a running joke: if you can't have a "real cucumber" in your mouth, you might as well have a liquid version. My cucumber martini has become so popular with single female customers that Mae made it the official drink of our bar for Mardi Gras last February.

"What's the grump done now?"

Katie always has entertaining stories about her boss, but this is the first night she seems truly upset about him—almost like she's on a mission to drown all memories of him.

"He's on a date."

Well, that's a new one. Katie said he's a workaholic, but she's never mentioned that he has a girlfriend. Poor Katie—this must be breaking her heart. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I texted him earlier telling him exactly what he could do with his date and that I'm going to find someone at the bar and do it with them, too." Katie holds up her phone, and not only do I see her text message to her boss, but I also see a few responses from him demanding to know where she's at.

"Um, do you think that was a good idea?" I've never met her boss before, so I have no idea how he'll react, but if the quick glimpse of his text messages Katie might be in a whole lot of trouble.

"It's fine. I told him I quit. Now, where's Jared? I'm ready to take him up on his offer." Her eyes scan the bar, looking for Jared, making me realize I haven't seen him in a while. I wonder what he's up to.

I don't have time to think about Jared as two very tall, extremely sexy men walk into the bar and sit at the bar two spots down from where I'm talking to Katie. It's been a slow Monday night, which is fine because the weekend was crazy busy.

"Katie, stay here. I'll be right back."

She dismisses me with a wave of her hand as she continues to scan the bar. "Sure."

Keeping one eye on her, I move down the bar to the two sexy newcomers. "What can I get you?"

"Why don't you surprise us?" the dark-haired man says, his smokey voice drawing my full attention.

"What are you in the mood for?" I pause at the husky sound of my voice. Am I really flirting with these two?

In the whole time I've worked at Sweet Cocktails, I've never once flirted with a customer or taken them up on the offer to go home with them for the night, but I'm pretty sure if one or both of them asked me to go home with them tonight I would jump at the chance.

"It depends. What are you offering?" the blonde-haired guy responds—his voice is just as lethal as his friend's.

"Anything you want, everything I have to offer tastes good." I hope they can't hear how fast my heart is racing. I've never flirted with anyone, so I hope I don't sound too ridiculous.

The look they give each other should make me run in the other direction, but a part of me wants to see where this goes. When I left home, I said I was going to take a walk on the Wildside and live life to its fullest—except the most exciting thing I've done is get a tattoo.

---