Fire and Ice: Book One: Burned (The Fire and Ice Series 1) Page 2

  Dunny...Dennis is his real name...one of the college kids that plays on the football team, weighing in at least 320 pounds, if I had to guess, is our bouncer. He works the door Fridays and Saturdays, as we have local bands on Saturday nights, also drawing in a decent sized college crowd. The rest of the week is hit and miss. We bring in the shooter girl, or girls, depending on demand, which has been slower right now, on the weekends and on the busier nights during the week. It varies depending on sports seasons, whether college is in session, etc.

  In all honesty, it's Jim's call. He could hire ten of them and have them here six nights a week...less work for me to do, as far as I'm concerned. Most of the people at the bar order straight up shots; simple and easy. Out on the floor, the girls pedal fancy shots, and sell the shit out them. If they didn't make them, the whole goddamn bar would be ordering tequila shooters all night. I don't have time to pour shots all night.

  The shooter girls have a job: help me and the other staff keep an eye on the liquor, mix their own shots, and sell the fuck out of 'em, using whatever means it takes, including shaking their fine little asses. Their fancy shots equal big time money. And the shooter girls can make a shit ton in a few hours. It's easy money; they mix as many shots as they think they can sell at one time. They keep fifty percent plus tips.

  Here's the catch. We don't make cheap shots like tequila or Jack. We're talking crazy shit you've never heard of, and they take time to make. So if they don't make enough, they've gotta take time out of the floor time they could be selling their shots to come in the back and make more shots. Not to mention, they could have a thirsty, pissed off crowd, bitching about where the hell the shooter girl went. So it's a gamble. It takes a minute to learn, but they learn quickly when money's involved.

  With my ledger in hand, I strode out of the office, and nearly knocked Miss Priss on her ass when she collided with my chest, before I caught her by her tiny waist, my ledger spilling to the floor. I righted her, as she put her hands on my chest, her long dark hair tickling my hands as I held her still, gauging her reaction. I gave her a harsh stare, as if I were unaffected, while in my mind, I was anything but. A sudden primal need of want washed over me with a tidal force. My senses were on full alert as her delicate floral scent washed over my way, making me instantly hard. Her soft blue eyes had a hint of grey in them, rimmed by thick black lashes that were now batting at me in confusion, or perhaps deliriousness. Now this was humorous. I was definitely having an affect on her.

  Our gazes remained locked for what seemed like minutes, mine severe, and hers dazed, as she clung to my shirt, digging her nails into my chest. Any doubts I had about her being a woman flew straight out the window. I could feel her breasts heaving up and down as her breath warmed my neck. Fuck, Miss Priss had me breathing hard and fast, wanting every tight little inch of her tempting body pressed against me, before she hardened her stare and shoved off of me, spewing, "How dare you?" Ok. Was the bitch bipolar or something? She just went from impassioned to pissy pants in three seconds flat. What the fuck?

  Stunned, but now thoroughly enraged, I was ready to put Miss Priss in her place. "Look, honey, I don't know who you think you're fuckin' with here, but around this place, it's my way or the highway, got it? Now you got a problem, put it in the suggestion box, and I'll take a look at it," I said sardonically.

  She looked over my shoulder, peeking behind me before questioning, "Where's the suggestion box?"

  I smirked. "You're lookin' at him."

  She rolled her eyes before placing her hand on her perfectly curved hip, tipping her head to the side and cocking a brow. Clearly not amused, she responded, "What do you do with the suggestions?"

  "I wipe my ass with them. Now, the clock's ticking on your training hour; you wanna learn how to do this shit, or make it up as you go?" I bit out, brushing past her as she followed behind me, hot on my heels, trying to keep up with my long gait. I didn't waste time around here. I didn't have time to waste. Hell, this hour would set me behind two today, as it was. I didn't look back to see if she was keeping up, or bother to check if she was comprehending what I was telling her. I rattled off her instructions, sweeping through the bar area, and into the back, pulling out the supplies she'd need in record time. By the time I was done, I had twenty minutes to spare, we were both sweating, and damn if she didn't look hot with that sheen of sweat gracing her neck and chest; and I either needed a cold glass of water or a cold shower.

  ******

  Hailey

  My head was spinning, and not just from Kellan's speed method of teaching me how to operate on my own. My run in with him earlier had sent chills coursing through my body. For the second time in one day, I was met with a pair of eyes I could find myself lost in. When he'd touched me, a searing spark had inexplicably shot through my entire body. Looking at Kellan was like looking at a piece of art. His dark, almost black hair, was cut short at the neck and sides, and a bit messy on top, as if he'd just run his hands through it after showering. His face was beautifully handsome, with dark brooding eyes, and a chiseled jaw, he was all male. He had the 'bad boy' look down to a science. In simple blue jeans, ripped in a few spots, that hung from his lean, muscular hips, and a plain white t-shirt that hugged his upper body, I could feel the heat radiating off of his muscled arms, cut, corded, and well defined; each covered in varying works of tattoo designs. Kellan was like a mosaic of notions and ideals, a tapestry of fine detail, etched into his being through ink.

  Working at Jimbo's would be no easy task, by any means. I would be constantly surrounded by testosterone-fueled energy, spiking my own hormones, I'm certain. One thing was for sure, the way Kellan looked at me back there, practically the only time he had looked at me, it was as if he speared me with his scorching gaze, right through me into my inner thoughts. I sure as hell hope he wasn't a mind reader, because at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be right where I was, in his arms. No. That's not true...I wanted more, it wasn't enough. I wanted more of him, his essence...it was intoxicating; and I knew I had to push myself away before I made a fool out of myself. If I make it through this night without my panties going up in flames, I'll be shocked.

  ******

  Kellan

  Dunny was getting set up and Miss Priss looked frazzled trying to prepare her shots in the back while I stalked past her to take a quick smoke break before the crowd started filing in. I did manage to get a nice peek at her tight little ass as I walked by, though. Yeah, I wouldn't mind hittin' that; if she weren't such an uptight...

  "Hey, Kellan...wait up, man!" Jordan interrupted my nasty inner tirade. "I'll come out with ya. I need some fresh air." Maybe he had his own brush with the Princess. Jealousy tugged at my brain at the thought; I'd never been jealous of another man in my life. My equilibrium was spinning out of control and no chick was going to dominate my life. Jordan or any other guy out there, for that matter, could fucking have her; I swatted the little green monster that had reared it's ugly head back down where it belonged, which was nowhere near me.

  I kept walking and held the heavy steel door open for Jordan to follow after me, propping it open with a heavy sand filled coffee can I used to dispose of my butts. I don't know why I bothered. Everybody else that wandered back here, or stood out front threw their cigarettes wherever they damn well pleased. I ended up sweeping the sidewalk, laden with garbage, every day and picking up everybody else's discarded waste each afternoon, just so it looked decent around here. Jesus, doesn't anybody have any respect anymore? Fuck...who am I kidding? I'm the most disrespectful person I know, but I'm not a goddamn slob.

  I took a long, slow drag off of my cigarette and stared out, as if oblivious to the scenery, into the street as the cars passed by. Jordan and I stood in comfortable silence for a moment before he said, "That new girl...what's her name?" Really? We're gonna play Who's on first? C'mon Jordon, you can do better than that.

  I cleared my throat, not making eye contact with him, and took another drag before I said dr
yly, "Why?" When I turned to look at him, he had a wounded expression on his face and simply shrugged. I could tell from the jump he had the hots for Piss Pants, but I wasn't gonna pass notes back and forth between the happy couple. He could man the fuck up and ask her what her name is if he's interested in her. I'm here to do my job, not be his fucking wingman.

  Chapter Three

  Kellan

  The DJ is tight tonight and killin' it. The crowd is loving it and the drinks are flowing, which is great, but the three of us are running on fumes. I'm working the bar almost entirely on my own, while Jordan's running drinks, and what's her face is actually selling the shit out of shots. Good for her...she'll live to see another day. If she survives band night, she may just make it here a few weeks. That's about our turnover rate. Quick, easy money; then they're gone.

  Jordan had his hands full taking pitchers to tables, picking up empty glasses, and getting orders. I was filling orders at the bar one after another, and Jordan's last tray full of drinks had been sitting at the end of the bar for at least ten minutes, now. Miss Priss just so happened to walk behind me for some funky syringe shots we had made up, when I grabbed her by the arm before she could make off. She turned abruptly, as she began to quake, with the look of a scared child on her face. I scoffed, "I ain't gonna bite ya, kitten." Sneering, I added, "Unless you're into that sorta thing." Her eyes widened in what I swear was fear. Sheer and utter panic. I was instantly aroused...what the fuck was it about this chick? I shifted myself, inconspicuously, and continued with my reason for stopping her in the first place. I shouted over the music, "I need you to run these drinks."

  She looked at the tray, and back to me, as if I had grown a second head. "Wh...where? I mean...you didn't say anything about that. That's not my job," she complained.

  I pulled her in close, so close I could smell the peppermint on her breath, and said through gritted teeth, "First of all, you'll do whatever I say you'll do. And second of all, as far as what your job is around here...refer to my previous statement, got it Princess?" I shoved her towards the tray, as she looked at me in astonishment. I knew she had no clue what to do, so I gave her the bare bones instructions, as if she were a toddler. Pointing to the tray and volleying my eyes back and forth between her and it, I said slowly, "You take these order tickets here...you match them up with the drinks...the table numbers are written on top..." I sighed. "You know what, fuck it, I'll do it myself," I huffed out, grabbing the tray, and pushing past her, leaving her to listen to the patrons at the bar scream orders at her. I giggled to myself.

  ******

  Hailey

  By the time we called last call, as the last of the patrons exited one by one, and we closed the doors up for the night, I was exhausted, completely spent, and apparently, still had to count out my money and separate my earnings and tips. Ugh. With my legs burning from the ache of being unused to the physical activity, I dragged myself to the end of the bar, untied my apron, and emptied my bills onto the top of the bar to begin counting out the night's cash. It was after two in the morning, and the bar top was sticky, the floor was a mess, and the place was trashed. Yet, Kellan and Jordan went straight to work, clearing tables of used and dirty glasses and ashtrays, which reminded me that I now smelled like sweat and smoke, something I guess I would have to get used to. They wasted no time wiping down seats, tables, and barstools, and flipping them onto the tabletops. I watched them work at a furious pace while I straightened my balled up bills, readying them for me to count out.

  Kellan caught me staring, walked over to the mop bucket, and motioned to it with his hand. I looked at him bewildered as he said, "C'mon, Princess, the floor ain't gonna mop itself."

  As my eyes widened, I replied, "But...I thought...that's not my..." Kellan tilted his head, clenched his jaw, and gave me a stern look of warning, reminding me of what he'd said earlier. I snapped my mouth shut and nodded curtly, standing up on my feet, as my wretched shoes bit into my already blistered toes and heels. Trying not to limp or wince, I gingerly made my way over to the mop bucket, and looked at the foreign contraption, then back to Kellan.

  "Is there a problem," he preened, with a devilish grin on his face that I wanted to slap off. I shook my head back and forth, as if I'd used an industrial mop all my life. "You've never used one of these, have you?" he prodded, the bemused grin still gracing his deliciously handsome face. The fact that he could read me like a book, both pissed me off and turned me to liquid fire at the same time. I shrugged, not wanting to full on admit that he'd caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. He lowered his head, covering his smile with his fingers, and tried to stifle a laugh.

  Annoyed, I huffed out, "What's so funny? Why is it such a big deal? It's not like people are born knowing how to run one of these things!"

  He literally bent over and couldn't hide his laughter any longer before saying, "Running one of these things? You don't run it, sweetheart; it's not jet fueled, for Christ's sake." He looked over his shoulder, shouting, "Hey, Jord...where's the extension cord for the mop?" Jordan gave him a perplexed look as Kellan continued to giggle, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. As his laughter died down, he began to walk away and shouted over his shoulder, "Don't hurt yourself, honey!"

  ******

  Kellan

  I caught up to Jordan in the back, cleaning off tables in the poolroom. "Katie, or Ashley, or whatever the fuck her name is...Jesus, what a complete ditz, huh?"

  "It's Hailey," he said, pinning me with a quick stare before returning his gaze to his task. "And I think she did a pretty damn good job, considering there was only the three of us and we had a packed house," he defended her. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to start to have a 'thing' for her. I don't blame him, if she wasn't so damn prissy, I would probably jump on that train faster than lightning. Jordan has a way of smooth talking the ladies with his good ole boy charm.

  Sadly, it's not an act; he's the most decent guy I know, and knows how to treat a lady right. I couldn't give a shit whether they like me or not. If they want me to take 'em home and fuck 'em, fine by me, but my ass is gone when the deed is done. I don't give out my number, I don't care about what their name is, or their sign, or their hopes and dreams, and I sure as fuck don't stick around and cuddle. Like it or leave it, it's who I am, and I don't have a problem getting pussy, so I don't plan on changing any time soon.

  Jordan was giving me the cold shoulder as we cleaned up, consistently taking notice of Hailey and her clean up efforts. I felt sorry for the sad sap, it was slowing us down, and I wanted to get out of here before the sun came up. "Jesus, man, do you want me to go check on her and make sure she's not breaking a nail, or some shit?" I asked derisively.

  He looked at me with a scowl and replied, "Would it hurt you?" I threw the rag down on the table and turned on my heel, making my way out to check on Her Majesty.

  Well...she had gotten about a quarter of what Jordan and I could have done in the same amount of time. But I'd give her a little lee way, it being her first night and all. I snuck up behind her, quiet as a mouse and smacked her hard on her pert, round ass, belting out, "Move this pretty thing any slower and the customers will be coming back in before..."

  She jumped about a foot in the air, squealed, and shouted, "Shit, Kellan! Why would you do that?" with wide eyes.

  I furrowed my brows, and began to play with my tongue ring, out of nervous habit. Not only had I scared the living shit out of her, I was now embarrassed as fuck. I thought it would be a funny joke; ya know, lighten the mood. I should've known she'd have a stick up her ass, no matter how perfect it looked in her tight jeans. Again, my mind was wandering into territory I needed to keep tamped down. The fact that she was drop dead gorgeous didn't override the fact that she had a shitty attitude. "I...I was just joking around, ya know. I didn't mean to..." I stammered. I hardened my stare. I wasn't about to apologize to a bitchy little wench with a poor work ethic. I threw my hands up in the air, and abruptly turned to walk away, saying over my
shoulder, "You know what, forget you, sweetheart. I don't need the headache. Good luck making it through another day."

  The next thing I know, I had a small hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging me backwards. I stilled, not knowing whether to snatch my hand away, or turn and face her. I decided to stay impassive and do neither, simply standing where I stood, as she came around to face me, her eyes sympathetic. "Kellan, I'm sorry...I was just taken off guard, that's all," she said softly, her eyes shining as her lips curled into a small smile. Lips I wanted to claim as my own and devour. The sheen on them was glistening, as if begging me like a siren to take them. It took all of my willpower to take my eyes from the soft pink lips I so desperately wanted to lick and suck. Goddamn, this woman was getting into my head, and not the head of my cock, either. Although, I have to admit, my dick was twitching with each word her pretty little mouth was letting out. Please don't sigh...please don't sigh...I swear to fuck, if you sigh, I'm gonna come in my pants. Jesus! I'm thirteen again. She began to lightly sway our hands back and forth before sighing, and saying, "I don't want to fight, Kellan. I want us to..."