Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology) Read online

  Shaken

  Not

  Stirred

  Alyssa Rose Ivy

  Shaken, Not Stirred

  Copyright 2013Alyssa Rose Ivy

  Cover Design: Once Upon a Time Covers

  Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Other Books by Alyssa Rose Ivy

  Flight (The Crescent Chronicles #1)

  Focus (The Crescent Chronicles #2)

  Found (The Crescent Chronicles #3)

  The Hazards of Skinny Dipping

  Derailed (Clayton Falls)

  Veer (Clayton Falls)

  Wrecked (Clayton Falls)

  Beckoning Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #1)

  Perilous Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #2)

  Enduring Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #3)

  Soar (The Empire Chronicles #1)

  www.AlyssaRoseIvy.com

  www.facebook.com/AlyssaRoseIvy

  twitter.com/AlyssaRoseIvy

  [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bonus Excerpt

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Sex on the Beach is overrated. I don’t mean the carnal act, although I’ve heard the same thing about that, sand in the wrong places and everything, but I’m talking about the drink. With so many other drinks out there, why does everyone order it? It’s the name of course. If you want to create a popular drink, put “sex” in the name. Bottom line: sex sells.

  “A Sex on the Beach. Wait, make that two.”

  I glanced up at my latest customer. He ran a hand through his short brown hair. Wearing a pink polo shirt with the collar popped, he was trying to pull off thirty, but my guess was he was nearing forty. Without looking, I knew he was wearing flip-flops with his khakis. Guys like him always did. They left their suits at home, and tried to act younger and cooler than they were. They usually spent their time hitting on younger girls, who were looking for rich older guys to break the monotony of college boys. I’d dated my share of those boys and understood the boredom, but these losers weren’t any better.

  “Sure.” I turned my back to him, pulling down the glasses and going through the motions that were all too familiar. When I first took the job bartending at Surfside Bar & Grille in Corolla, North Carolina, I thought it would be a good summer escape. It was almost Labor Day, and I wasn’t going anywhere. The Outer Banks served my purposes just fine. What was the point of picking up and leaving?

  “Here you go.” I set the two pinkish-orange drinks down in front of the suit and waited for him to slip me a credit card. My guess was an American Express.

  He slid me a Visa. I’d lost my touch.

  “One’s for you.” He grinned at me, as though he was telling me I’d won some great prize.

  “Uh, thanks, but I don’t drink on the job.”

  “Come on, don’t you like sex on the beach?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I knew exactly how to handle him. “I think your friend misses you. You better bring over her drink.” I nodded toward a blonde—bottle not natural—who was currently shooting me daggers.

  He didn’t bother to turn around. “I’d rather talk to you a little longer.”

  I leaned back against the far counter. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He grinned like a Cheshire cat—all white teeth. “I like the attitude. It’s sexy.”

  “And you’re wasting your time.” I wiped down the counter, biding my time before another customer came over to the outdoor tiki bar, or the guy got bored and found blondie.

  “Have you worked here long? I don’t remember you from last summer.” He tried to pull me into conversation again.

  “I wasn’t here last summer.” I didn’t bother to turn around. That would just encourage him.

  “Where do you go to school?”

  “I don’t.” It had only been about three months since college graduation. He didn’t need to know that.

  “Oh. You kind of look like a college girl.”

  “What, her ass looks smart?” A low voice called from behind me.

  I smiled. There was no need to turn around to know who had uttered the words. I’d been listening to that same snarky attitude since before I could walk.

  Suit wasn’t too happy with the interruption. “Excuse me? Was I talking to you?”

  “I don’t think so, but I happen to have a close personal relationship with that ass, so I’d like to know why you think it’s smart.”

  I let a laugh escape and turned around. “Hey, Macon.”

  He took a stool right in front of me. “Hey, this piece of work bothering you?”

  I poured Macon his usual Thursday night drink, a Long Island Iced Tea. “Nah, he was just leaving.”

  “Are you two involved?” Suit still hadn’t gotten lost. I guess I could give him points for determination—although those points would get him nowhere with me.

  “We live together, don’t we, honey?” Macon winked.

  “We do.”

  “Oh. I see.” Suit finally got up.

  “Do you see?” Macon spun around on his stool. “The other guy she lives with is in the kitchen.”

  “Other guy?” Suit’s eyes widened.

  Thankfully I got another customer and didn’t have to listen to any more of the conversation. Macon was sweet at heart, but he tended to take things a step too far. He liked being the center of attention, and he didn’t always care whether I felt the same way. By the time I served another Sex on the Beach and two Rum Runners, suit was hanging all over the blonde.

  I leaned on my elbows in front of Macon. “Was that really necessary?”

  “What? I was just telling him the truth.”

  “The truth? We’re roommates, Macon, not some live-in threesome.”

  He laughed so
hard he coughed on his drink. “Live-in threesome? Yeah, if you want that, we’re switching Brody for a girl.”

  “Oh, come on, baby. You think I want to share you?”

  He set down his glass. “One of these days you’ll discover what you’ve been missing.”

  “I will? When?”

  “Soon. Real soon.”

  “Thanks for the specifics. I wouldn’t want to miss it.” It’s not like Macon wasn’t good looking. Not at all. There were few girls that could resist the charming smile that belonged to my brown hair, blue-eyed roommate. I was one of them. My ability to joke about sex with Macon was a new thing. We kind of broke the ice on it when we drunkenly kissed one night at a party my sophomore year of college. It didn’t take long to realize neither of us wanted that to happen again. We did, however, like to joke about the possibility. I don’t know why, we just did.

  He finished off his drink. “You’re laughing now.”

  “And I’ll keep laughing.”

  “We’ll see about that. When you get cold this winter, I know what bed you’ll be running to.” He crumpled up a cocktail napkin.

  “I just made a mental note to buy extra blankets in case you shut off the heat.”

  “Would I ever do something like that?”

  “Yes.” He wouldn’t. He’d be more likely to turn up the heat so I wouldn’t get cold.

  “Three Shark Baits and two Shirley Temples.” Mary rested her tray on the bar. Of the waitresses at the grill, Mary was my favorite. Sweet and funny as hell, she made the busy summer nights move faster. We hung out every once in a while, but she spent most of her time with her young daughter.

  I busied myself making the drinks. The Shark Bait was one of our signature tropical selections. Overpriced, and pretty much only pineapple juice and peach schnapps, customers usually cared more about the plastic shark attached to the cup than the actual drink.

  Right on schedule, Brody took a seat at the bar. He always timed his break with the beginning of the first set on Thursday nights.

  “You smell like fish.” Macon wrinkled his nose.

  I filled Mary’s tray, but she lingered. I got the sense she was into one of my roommates, but I couldn’t tell which. My bet was on Brody. She’d told me she had a thing for tall guys. Macon wasn’t a small guy, but he looked tiny next to Brody’s six-foot-three frame. Brody claimed his mom made boys big and that his older brothers were actually bigger. I wasn’t sure if I believed him.

  “Really?” Brody looked down at his black Surfside Grille t-shirt and then over at Macon. “It almost seems like I’ve been cooking fish all night.”

  I laughed, and Brody winked. “Give me my usual, Maddy.” He took it in stride, but I knew how much he hated his job.

  “Like you have to ask.” I placed his Coke down in front of him. He couldn’t drink at work, but really the only time he drank alcohol was late at night once in a blue moon.

  He opened his straw. “Thanks. So do you have your drink picked out for tonight?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s the right one. I can feel it.”

  Mary smiled. “Ohhh, it’s Thursday night, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, this week went fast.” I picked up some empty beer bottles someone left on the other end of the bar.

  “What do you think of all this?” Macon treated Mary to his full attention. “Do you think Maddy’s ever going to give up on this loser?”

  “No. She’s dedicated. When a girl’s dedicated, she never gives up on a guy.” She twirled a piece of her reddish-blonde hair around her finger.

  “I get that, but there’s an easy solution.” He turned back toward me. “You know that right, Maddy?”

  “An easy solution?”

  “Tell the guy you want to go home with him. If he says yes, you’re in. If he says no, you had no chance to begin with.” Macon laughed, letting me know he knew there wasn’t a chance in the world I’d do it.

  “Thanks.” Used to the ribbing by Macon, I didn’t let it get to me.

  “Fantastic advice.” Brody shot me a sympathetic glance. “What’s the drink tonight?”

  “An Algonquin. I’m convinced he’s a whiskey guy.” I left out my narrative on the history of the drink, those usually didn’t go over well.

  “Oh yeah? Should we plan the wedding? He likes whiskey, so he’s got to be a catch.”

  “Shut up, Macon.”

  “No, it’s too much fun.”

  “Good luck, Maddy.” Mary smiled before heading off to deliver her drinks.

  “Oh, look. The man of the hour has arrived.” Macon laughed again. He seemed to do that a lot at my expense. If he wasn’t my best friend, he’d have never gotten away with it. Our history made it different somehow. Besides, I usually managed to throw it back at him.

  My heart sped up slightly as I caught sight of the musician that had me drooling every Thursday night. My fascination with him went beyond his athletic build and piercing brown eyes, although those traits didn’t hurt. What really got me was his music. He sang the most haunting songs. They found their way under my skin in a way that music usually couldn’t. “I think he got hotter.”

  “It must be that white t-shirt. It’s so over the top.” Brody grinned. His teasing never went as far as Macon’s, but he definitely did his share.

  “I like that shirt on him.” I liked everything on Lyle Waverly. In all honesty, I’d been dreaming about him wearing nothing quite often. Although in those dreams, his guitar usually blocked my view of his lower region.

  Macon grinned. “Oh damn, she’s imaginary fucking him again.”

  “I am not.” I swatted at Macon. “I’m admiring the view.”

  “Really? That expression on your face says otherwise.”

  “Shut up.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Brody, man. Is it healthy that we’re supporting this perverse hobby of hers?”

  “What makes it perverse?” I crossed my arms over my black t-shirt. Unlike Brody’s, the logo on mine was small and on one side of my chest. “I’m just trying to find the perfect drink for him.”

  “Because you’re convinced it’s the ticket to getting a guy to like you. That’s not normal.”

  I let my hands fall to my sides. “Who defines normal?” He was wrong. I didn’t think it would make him like me, but it would help me understand him.

  “Oh no. No getting all philosophical on us. We’re here to support you. Don’t put us through it.”

  “Support me?” I ran a hand through my just-past-shoulder-length dark brown hair. “My mistake. I thought you guys were here to mock me and get free drinks.”

  “Who’s getting free drinks?” Max, my boss, picked that moment to join us. I’m sure it wasn’t random. He usually kept a close eye on the outside bar when I worked it alone. I think he worried about male customers bothering me.

  “No one. Maddy would never do that.” Brody took a long sip of his Coke.

  Max put a hand on the bar next to me. “I’d complain, but Brody works here and Macon brings in enough business with his dates.”

  I gave Macon a patronizing smile. “See, I knew your man slut ways would serve a purpose one day.”

  “Man slut? Is that really how you see me?” Macon feigned hurt.

  “Yeah, but what do I know? I’m the one with the perverse hobby.”

  “Perverse hobby?” Max gripped the edge of the bar. “I told you that living with two men was a bad idea.”

  I smiled at my protective boss. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking.”

  “Oh.” He noticed what had my attention. Lyle was leaning against the railing, watching the sound. “You still pining over that musician?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “Pathetic, huh?”

  “Not pathetic, but unnecessary.”

  “Oh? Are you offering your services, Max?” Macon smirked.

  “Me? Of course not.” Max turned pink. “She’s young enough to be my daughter. I’m talking about that real estate kid who is always hanging out when she work
s.”

  I knew who he meant immediately. “Kid? Colin is at least twenty-five.”

  “That’s a kid.” Max always pretended to be really old, but he only looked like he was in his fifties. “But what’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with him,” I mumbled. “I have a date with him tomorrow.”

  “What?” Brody slammed his glass on the bar.

  “He came by earlier and asked me out again. I decided, why not?” I tried to make it sound nonchalant, but I understood their surprise. I’d been turning the guy down all summer. I’m not sure what changed my mind. Maybe knowing I wasn’t leaving made it worth the effort of going out on a date. It had been a while since I’d been on one. Colin had caught my attention the first time he walked in, but my mind was already preoccupied.

  Max patted my shoulder. “Good for you, but if he treats you anything less than as a lady, you let me know.”

  I smiled. “All right. I will.”

  “Who says Maddy’s a lady?” Macon was ready for the attack, and he ducked before my hand could make contact with his face.

  Max shook his head and walked off. He was used to our banter.

  “Where’s he taking you?” Macon’s voice rose slightly, the only hint he might be moving from jokester to protective friend. He could pretend all he wanted, but he cared about me.

  I made him a second Long Island and set it in front of him. “Picnic on the beach.”

  Macon sipped his drink. “So he wants you in a secluded spot so he can seduce you. Are you sure you want to go?”

  Brody shook his head. “No. If that was his goal, he’d have offered to make dinner at home. Picnic on the beach means he’s trying to impress her. He wants to show his romantic side.”

  I opened a bottle of water. “I like Brody’s version better.”

  Macon snorted. “Of course you do. You’re a girl.”

  “Weren’t you the one accusing me of imaginary fucking earlier?” I took a long sip of water. Even at eight o’clock at night it was still hot out.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that you want romance. You want a guy to sweep you off your feet, and you’ll believe anything to get it.” He made a broad sweeping motion with his hands.