Mixed Connection (Cypress Lake Reunion #1)

5. Chapter 5

5

Babes at Benny’s Group Chat

J-babe

Is “let him read your recs” code for sexy time?

Paloma doubles over in laughter as she wraps her arms around her stomach. I just finished showing her the message Jameson sent me about his old-lady girlfriend. “I don’t think I have laughed that hard in months! So, you’re competing with granny now, huh?” She laughs again and this time I join in.

“Imagine her coming out like, hold my bag, Helen!” She imitates what she thinks an old woman sounds like and sticks her tongue out, holding back a laugh. “I, for one, can’t believe that is the same guy from high school. Age has done him more than good, babe!” She licks her lips and I playfully nudge her arm with my own.

“He is most definitely a cold glass of yummy I’d like to sip on. But I don’t think he lives here. At least that’s what it seems like when I look through his social media profiles.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he doesn’t keep it updated and maybeeee you should still get yourself a little taste of him.” Paloma’s voice takes on a mischievous tone laced with a playfulness that I know will get us in trouble. Chaos, my best friend is chaos and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hip bump her and as I’m turning to help the customer who filled the stool behind me, I watch my best friend’s eyes turn to saucers, and the scent of citrus and bourbon wraps around me.

“Taste of who?” The familiar voice is deep and sends a welcomed shiver down the center of my back, right to my core. When I fully face Jameson, his gaze is directly on me and I don’t miss the sly grin that graces his lips. “Sounds like something I may enjoy, given that my girlfriend isn’t much a fan of drinking in her old age.”

Sinfully handsome and funny too, my kryptonite. “Hmm, maybe you would, but the verdict is still out on that.” Cringing inwardly at myself, I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why that is what I chose to say, but he only situates himself further, his eyes roaming over me. My body heats in response to his perusal which feels much more like a physical touch. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually meeting a friend of mine about a project that I’m working on in town and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you,” Jameson answers, pulling a stool out, he gets himself comfortable at the bar.

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait, or maybe a book?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him as he huffs a laugh.

Forget the damn drink. Meeting his gaze again, I notice he is taking me in like I’m a cool beverage—the only one that can quench his real thirst. Without missing a beat he says, “Unfortunately, what I really want isn’t on the menu.” His voice lowers, causing me to lean further into his space to hear him. “So I’ll settle for a whiskey and ginger ale.”

I very much want to be on his menu.

Jesus, what is wrong with me? I read about instant love and lust all the time, but I never thought I would be standing here feeling some of those same feelings myself.

I turn, grabbing a tumbler and a whiskey from the top shelf, add a splash of ginger ale, and hand him the drink. Our fingers brush as he grips the glass, I don’t miss his eyes connecting with my own as the heat from his fingertips warms my hand, traveling up my arm like an intimate touch. A touch that sends shockwaves of surprise through me, lighting up my entire body. Makes me wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere. Calm your nips.

“You want to tell me how you managed to give me the wrong number?” His voice has an authoritative tone to it, his eyes still on me as if we are the only two people here.

I cough to hide the laugh at the thought of his elderly girlfriend before I answer, “Maybe you just misdialed.” His eyebrows raise just a bit, a sardonic gesture that tells me even he knows better than that; he tips his head forward, urging me on. “Or…maybe I was a tad nervous and it was dark. Plus, all the strobe lights. It’s a wonder my eyes don’t twitch.” Why am I rambling over a man I shared a few dances with? Maybe it’s because, even though I’m nervous, he is every bit into me, and that is a power I am thrilled over.

Before I can say anything else, Paloma grabs my attention as she bumps into me. A quick apology is on her tongue, but I can tell she is quickly getting overwhelmed. Peering around this hulking man, I finally see things have picked up, significantly.

Though I’m enjoying Jameson’s undivided attention and what it does to me, I turn to give him an apology of my own but a face belonging to a man I haven’t seen in a while waltzes in. My eyebrows become quick friends with my hairline and my mouth drops slightly before I wave him over.

“Anderson? It’s been too long, how are you? Are you stopping in for a drink?” I pepper him with questions as he claps a hand on Jameson’s shoulder.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Jameson asks. This must be the person he is meeting with, what a small world.

“Hey, Cass,” Anders greets me, pushing a closed fist my way. We do our handshake and I catch Jameson watching us, in awe as he chuckles in disbelief.

When I hired Triple C to remodel this place, there were days when things didn’t go as planned. With older buildings, it happens but we’ll make it right Anders would say, but for me, the constant shift in plans was always the first time. I never thought I would be buying my dream building, let alone remodeling it.

Remodel still feels like such an understatement when he ripped it down to its studs. On a particularly rough day, he walked up to me and grabbed my pinky with his own, before pressing our thumbs together and wiggling his fingers as he urged me to do the same. I remember huffing a laugh as the random act cut through the anxious fog I was suffocating in. Since that day, it has become a way to check-in with each other. He made the job easy because he was so trustworthy and did what he said he would. Moments like those blossomed into the friendship we have now; and even though it has been quite some time since he’s stopped by, it doesn’t matter. Some friends you talk with every single day and others, months or even years can pass.

“How do you have a handshake with Cassidy? We don’t even have one! You’ve been holding out on me Anders!” Jameson’s voice raises an octave, clearly in jest for his lack of a secret handshake.

“Don’t be jealous, Jameson,” I say, resting my palm on the bar. I lean into my hip before continuing, “We can have a handshake of our own.”

Anders snorts at my comment and pays Jameson no mind, before answering my question about how they know each other. “This is the other owner of Crews, the one who does all the consulting and was out scouting new places when we were working here.”

Anderson looks from side to side, taking in all the new updates since he’s been in before he tilts his head in Jameson’s direction. “He’s also my best friend. It’s been too long, Cass. The place looks great.” He rests his forearm on the bar and I squint my eyes a bit, he is normally a man of very few words but maybe being with his best friend loosens his tongue.

It’s been a few years since Anderson has been inside, well, since the grand opening come to think of it. When I bought the building, I hired Crews Construction and Consulting to separate the spaces and build out the bar of mine and Lo’s dreams. Anderson became a quick friend with all the hours we spent together to get this place just the way we wanted. There was no way I could’ve known he was also Jameson’s best friend, and now that I know, this information is blowing my mind. He has been so close to me this entire time.

I make my way around the bar, giving Anders a side hug before pointing at them both. “Anderson, it is so good to see you. We shouldn’t allow another two years to go by, okay? I have to get back on drink duty but—” Knowing Anderson’s no response, is in fact a response all on its own, I pull out my phone and turn to face Jameson. “What’s your number?”

This somehow makes his grin deepen, it’s beautiful and tugs at my heart, and on instinct I begin to raise my hand in my desire to touch him, but quickly change my mind, reminding myself that just because I read all about insta-love doesn’t mean I want to jump the gun. His dimples peek through as he gives me a megawatt smile with perfectly straight teeth. He gives me his number and I make sure to send him a text, watching him as he leans his head down and peers at the screen. I can tell he has read it when his tongue peeks out a bit and he rubs his lips together. I nod with a smirk and turn to get a customer’s order.

“Cassidy.”

Hearing my name on his tongue with such an authoritative tone makes me stop in my tracks, a blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks, and I look at him from over my shoulder. Understanding he wants my eyes on him before he says anything else. “About that book recommendation?” My eyes almost dazzle, the thought of Jameson reading sends flutters low in my belly—but a recommendation from me? A book fiend’s dream. “What about a book that fits the drink you were telling me about at the reunion, it’s your favorite right? The one that started Shaken Tropes. I’d like to find out why.”

One Bed.

He wants to find out why I love the one bed trope. And he remembered what I said, and fuck if it isn’t sexy as hell. “Okay.” My voice is husky as all the one bed scenes pop into the forefront of my mind, showing me what he is about to read. “Let me grab one for you.”

The blue and black cover comes into view, the deep tones making it one of my favorites. Pulling it off the bookshelf, I tuck it under my arm as a customer approaches me about the upcoming tournament we’ve chatted about previously. He starts with the tournament and eventually asks for a sports romance focused on golf with a drink to match. “Let me just finish with this book rec and I’ll be right over,” I answer, making an internal note of where he sits down.

Last year we signed up to be a vendor at a professional golf tournament, taking Shaken Tropes to the green. Paloma was actually the one to bring it up given she has experience with country clubs. She said it would be a great way to market us and invest in a charity event, it was an immediate yes .

I hustle my way back to Jameson, extending the book. “Here you go, it’s one of my favorites. Treat it right.” I glare at him, keeping my face stern as he takes the book, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Always.” His answer feels like he is implying more than just the treatment of the book. I watch him for a moment as he makes his way over to where Anderson is now seated at a booth. I grab the towel off the countertop, toss it over my shoulder and get to work.

Shaken Tropes is packed tonight, whether it’s regulars coming in for a spiked coffee and a book, or people walking in from downtown who are just intrigued with the space. Paloma distributed new flyers and has been pushing social media a lot lately. Clearly, it’s paying off. When we first had the idea of the bar we were sure it would be a hit, there was no doubt in our minds. It was something we often saw in bigger cities or near popular tourist destinations, but there wasn’t anything similar near us. We were certain, if we wanted it, then others must as well.

It has been four years since we opened the doors and I don’t think I will ever regret it. We both took several bartending classes and made sure to hire a temporary bartender to help us learn in our own space. Brianna was amazing and pretty much taught us everything we know. She never left though, even after she finished training us she stayed on and became our lead bartender here. Though she did a bit of everything, from helping establish inventory, to connecting us with a chef who would make appetizers worthy of a book lovers’ imagination, she also became a close friend. She told us sticking around Shaken Tropes allowed her time to work on her paintings, something she struggles to do when she is pressed behind a desk piled high with paperwork.

I can’t help but continue to be grateful when I find more of my people.

Paloma and I work together to attend to all the new faces that are coming in tonight. Making quick work of drink orders and book recommendations as the afrobeats merge into a Lofi playlist that allows everyone to enjoy the music, but doesn’t distract readers from their books.

As the night progresses there is one thing that is just as constant as the customers and book rec pairings—I can feel Jameson’s eyes on me and it’s taking everything in me not to meet his gaze. After depositing a book back in its rightful place on the shelf, I turn on my feet and head back towards the bar. My phone vibrates in my back pocket and a soft sigh escapes me as I look at the message.

Jameson

I could watch you do your thing all night, beautiful.

Am I melting right here and now? Maybe I should turn the air conditioner down just in case I turn into a puddle.

You’re watching me?

Jameson

How could I not watch you?

A little creepy, no? *devil smile emoji*

Jameson

Not if you like it.

My mouth drops open and I involuntarily kegel… Oh, I like it very much . I snap my mouth shut and lean my back against the bar, replacing my shock with an insatiable grin, until I hear the two chatterboxes I’m sharing duties with tonight.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Brianna’s voice perks up at the end of her question but I don’t get the chance to answer before Paloma slides in next to us, pulling at one of my curls.

“MMmhm, maybe you should be asking her who has her smiling like that?” Her voice is teasing as they both wait for my response, wiggling their eyebrows.

“I think the who in question is that tall glass of hunk sitting in the booth with his friend,” Brianna says before blowing a raspberry. “Who was clearly sculpted by the gods.”

“You both are insufferable,” I respond with a laugh. I swear these two will never let me live this down… I can imagine the teasing already.

“But seriously Cass, I’ve been working at the bar since the beginning and have never seen you glow the way you have been over the last week. What’s up?” Brianna pipes in. I know she’s right and I don’t want to fight it.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the reunion. I’m either laughing or blushing from his compliments or by the way he looks at me.” I look back over at Jameson talking with Anderson. Allowing my gaze to linger a bit longer before turning back to the girls, my phone chirps again. I know who it is which in turn makes my phone feel like it may burn straight through the back pocket of my jeans. I fold my lips into each other, holding back a tight smile while the girls stare into my very soul.

“He text you didn’t he… just now?” Paloma asks. Her playful tone is serious with a need-to-know. “Bitch, don’t keep him, or us, waiting. Open that text!”

“Could you be any louder?” I swat at her.

“Actually…” she says, leaning up on her tiptoes as I pull my phone out. She most definitely will yell it across the entire bar.

Jameson

Now who’s the creeper?

You like it!

Jameson

Oh, I absolutely do.

My cheeks darken and squeals sound around me, as the girls lean over my shoulder to see what he text.

“Okay enough out of you two, we’ve got to get back to work.” I laugh at my instructions because I would much rather sit at the edge of this bar and text Jameson for the rest of the night.

“Fine!” they say in unison. Brianna goes back to the kitchen, I assume to check on a few appetizer orders, and Paloma heads towards the register where a group of customers are huddled nearby with our book pairing’s menu. I send him a couple of blushing emojis and slide my phone in my pocket, where it’s going to have to stay if I am going to get anything done tonight.