Page 5 of Bad Behavior

It knocks me back a few steps. I’m stunned. I feel a trickle of blood seep out of my mouth. “What the fuck?” I ask, touching my lip.

“You fucking prick!” he screams.

“I’m not the one you should be yelling at, dude!” I point to Jenna, who has started laughing uncontrollably.

“You’re both such pieces of shit!” she declares. “Fuck you both.”

Asher flushes a deep red. He wasn’t expecting that, I guess. He turns and storms out of the back room.

I’m right on his heels. He lets out a bellow as he reaches the bar, and he sweeps a tray of champagne flutes off the bar top to the floor. The whole party comes to a halt, though the music continues.

“This wedding is off!” Asher yells, making a beeline for the front door.

“Asher—” I try, but he pushes open the door and disappears.

I take a breath, and realize that every single person in the bar is staring right at me. Not to be outdone, Jenna stumbles out of the back room and promptly throws up everywhere. Her dress is split down the back and barely covering the essentials, which only makes her seem more pathetic.

She’s noisy, too. I look back at her, feeling absolutely nothing. No hatred, no anger really… just an emotional vacuum.

Well, at least the would-be wedding guests aren’t staring at me anymore.

Several people rush toward Jenna, and I’m more than happy to get out of the way. Forest comes over to me, looking pissed.

“What the fuck?” he says. “Jesus, you’re bleeding.”

“Jenna came into the back room and came on to me,” I say, loudly enough that a couple of the people helping Jenna turn their heads and glare at me. “Asher just happened to come in at the wrong moment.”

“Come on,” Forest says, tugging me out from behind the bar. “Let’s get your face cleaned up, man.”

He hauls me to the bathroom, intent on getting the blood off of my face. When we come out, the bar has emptied out. That’s a relief of sorts.

I sit at the bar, while Forest heads off to find his fiancee. Gunnar and Maia are stacking champagne flutes on the bar, looking gloomy. I put my head down on the bar, feeling the coolness of the slate countertop.

I didn’t actually do anything, but I feel like I fucked up Asher’s wedding somehow. I bet Asher feels that way, for sure.

I hear a clink, and lift my head to find Emma on the other side of the bar, setting a bottle of Bulleit bourbon next to my head. She has two oversized brandy snifter glasses held in one hand as she walks around the bar and takes a seat beside me.

I try not to notice her curves, but there is absolutely no denying that they’re there in that sexy as hell dress of hers. And her eyes look amazing right now, like two perfect emeralds.

Stop, I tell myself. You’re being a creepy old man.

“I feel like you need this,” she says, tilting her head to the side. She sets down the brandy snifters and uncaps the bourbon, pouring a little for her and a lot for me.

I grimace. “Yeah, I probably do.”

I take the glass that she holds out, then clink my glass to hers.

“Cheers,” Emma says. We both take a sip at the same time. I sigh as the liquid fire burns its way down my throat. Emma swallows and makes a face.

“Gross,” she says, shuddering. “How do you drink this stuff?”

I make eye contact with her as I tip my glass back, emptying it in a few swallows. She smirks and shakes her head.

“I assume you’re going to tell me what happened with Jenna?” she asks.

I look at her. I can feel her eyes on me, giving me an appraising once-over. What does she see? A thirty something man that does nothing but bartend and surf? The oldest son of two addicts, who abandoned their kids and left me in charge at fourteen?

There’s nothing good for her to see, that’s for sure.

Much as I’d like to know just what she’s thinking, I resist. Instead, I reach for the bottle of bourbon.

“I’m gonna need way more of this. Then maybe I’ll tell you.” I can’t help the glance that I shoot her, the flirty one. “If you’re good.”

Emma’s cheeks darken prettily. I pour myself some more whiskey, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that’s saying that this is a bad idea.

I hold my glass aloft. “Bottoms up.”

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