Page 3 of Kiss Away Your Pain (Wounded Hearts 2)

I set the slippery nipple shots on white cocktail napkins in front of them. They raise their shot glasses toward each other and say in unison, “Ride or die.” Then they clink their glasses and toss back the shots.

More guests arrive at the bar and I turn my attention to serving them. It’s not long before the dance floor is built and it’s time for everyone to take their seats. Guest seating is arranged in a semi-circle with a smaller table of four facing the semi-circle. Down the center of the tables are simple, elegant garlands of vintage-looking roses with greens and baby’s breath. White candles are tucked into the length of each garland.

Once everyone is seated, the best man gives his toast. Glasses are raised and he hands the microphone to Candi.

She stands next to Destiny, addressing the guests. “Hi, everyone. I’m Candi and I’m Destiny’s maid of honor and best friend.” Turning toward Destiny, she reaches out for her hand. “God answered my prayers for a sister when he brought your parents and you to be our neighbors. Being friends since we were five, we’ve been through so much together. From braces to bad perms, from pulling all-nighters studying to dancing our asses off, from celebrating accomplishments to sobbing over breakups.” She pauses. “From losses.” They each tilt their head to the side and pull their lips into pained smiles, looking like they may burst into tears.

Hmmm. The instant she said it, her mood shifted. I get the sense she’s referring to something deeper than lost shoes.

Regaining her composure, Candi continues. “To incredible celebrations like today.” She returns her attention to the guests. “I confessed to Destiny today that I kind of played a little bit of a matchmaker when she and Nicco first met.” The crowd chuckles and she looks at the groom. “And that’s because I knew enough about him to know he’s a good man and he’d treat my best friend the way she deserves to be treated. I’ve watched your love blossom and strengthen and I’m enamored by it. There’s something indescribable about soul mate love. It’s magical. Unbreakable. Tonight, we’re all here to honor you both and celebrate your love.” She releases Destiny’s hand, takes her champagne glass, and raises it. “To the bride and groom, wishing you endless years of love and happiness. Cheers.”

With that, the guests raise their glasses, shout, “Cheers,” and sit down for their meal. During dinner, people sporadically come to the bar to refresh their drinks. During lulls, I clean glasses and watch Candi because I can’t seem to stop myself.

Bartending is the job that pays the bills between modeling gigs. With the industries I’m in, I see my share of hot women. They all pale in comparison to Candi. It doesn’t matter though. The lifestyle I have doesn’t lend itself well to a stable relationship. When I’m intimate with women, we both know it’s a quick physical thing before we move on to our next gig. It’s not like I get laid on every job I do, I just know when I do hook up with someone, that’s all it is. Besides, any time I’ve tried to have a long-term relationship, they always ended up leaving me in the dirt.

There was a time I wanted to find the right girl, get married, have kids — the whole nine yards. But I had my heart stomped on enough that I learned to leave before they could. Now, I don’t even bother.

After the wedding cake has been served, the bride and groom step onto the dance floor for their first dance. About halfway through the song, the DJ invites the maid of honor and best man to join them. He takes Candi in his arms and holds her close.Lucky bastard.

The music shifts to club music and guests disperse to the dance floor and to the bar. The second Candi starts walking toward me with her long, sexy legs alternately peeking out from the slit of her dress, a zap of electricity strikes my dick.

Stepping up to the bar, she rests her elbows on the edge. Some of her pink, mermaid-long hair slides around her shoulder and hugs the side of her breast. My dick twitches.

“What can I get you?” I ask.

“One Macallan and one chocolate martini, please.”

“Whoo, rough night?”

She chuckles. “No, they’re for the bride and groom.”

“Ah.” I start making their drinks, glancing in her direction a few times.

Her attention is fully on me.

“Here you go.” I set the drinks in front of her. “Can I get you something?”

“I’ll be back for mine.” She smiles.

“What would you like?”

She pauses, staring directly into my eyes. “Surprise me.” No smile. No smirk. No flirtation. She walks away, leaving me rattled.This woman is so damn sexy.

When she returns, I have a cocktail waiting for her.

She sits on one of the three white-leather bar stools we have on either side of the bar. Taking the drink in her hand, she asks, “What is it?”

“Taste it first. See if you like it. I took a chance. If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

She takes the cherry stem in between her thumb and index finger. Gingerly placing the cherry into her mouth, she plucks off the stem, placing it on the cocktail napkin. The air scorches. Then she picks up the drink and takes a long sip from the tiny gold straw.

“Mmm.” Tilting her head slightly, she sips again. “Good choice. I’ve heard bartenders match drinks with personalities. You don’t know me, so why a whiskey sour?” Curiosity alight in her silky chocolate eyes, she looks up at me from under her long, dark lashes.

“Whiskey cocktail drinkers are a bit of a wildcard. They tend to live in the moment and tell it like they see it. No bullshit. They can be both the life of the party and also be found deep in conversation tucked into a corner booth. They have a discerning palate, hence the whiskey. For you, the sour of the lemon and lime juices highlights your sassiness while the simple syrup enhances your sweet side. And the cherry, well, it just wouldn’t be complete without a cherry on top.” Our gazes tangle as she processes my interpretation.

She gives me a nod with her sexy smile then raises her glass toward me and takes another sip. Sliding off the bar stool, she returns to the head table and sets down her drink before going to the dance floor. This woman is feisty as shit. A force to be reckoned with.

Reading the crowd, the DJ alternates between club music and slow songs. Between serving drinks and keeping the bar clean, I watch her dance.Damn, she knows how to move her body.

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