One More Drink: New Year Bae-Solutions Read online

  One More Drink

  New Year Bae-Solutions

  Elle Wright

  Contents

  Recommended Reading

  Chapter 1

  Set the New Year on Lukewarm

  Chapter 2

  Long Island No Tea

  Chapter 3

  Juke’s Winter Cider

  Chapter 4

  Suffering Bastard

  Chapter 5

  Granny’s Old Fashioned

  Chapter 6

  Snow in the Crack

  Chapter 7

  Hop, Skip, and Go Naked

  Chapter 8

  Tie Me to the Bedpost… Forever

  Brook’s Pub Bar Menu

  New Year Bae-Solutions

  Her Little Secret

  Excerpt: Her Little Secret

  Also by Elle Wright

  Connect with Elle!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  One More Drink

  Copyright @ 2021 by Elle Wright

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9994213-6-9

  Excerpt from Her Little Secret

  copyright @ 2020 by Elle Wright

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this work made be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Elle Wrights Books, LLC

  Ypsilanti, Michigan

  www.ElleWright.com

  Editor:

  Nicole Falls

  Cover Design:

  Sherelle Green

  Recommended Reading

  One More Trip to Wellspring…

  One More Drink is set in the fictional town of Wellspring, Michigan.

  I first introduced Veronica and Juke in my WELLSPRING Series—Touched By You, Enticed By You, & Pleasured By You. For the best reading experience, I encourage you to start with this series before you read One More Drink.

  * * *

  Unimaginable luxury. Longstanding wealth. A powerful family empire that controls the town of Wellspring, Michigan. But three heirs are done—with all of it. Now one by one, these very different siblings are seizing control of their lives . . . and daring to find real hometown love.

  TOUCHED BY YOU

  She's falling hard for the troubled newcomer who saved her life—and holds dangerous secrets.

  ENTICED BY YOU

  When he is rear-ended by a gorgeous stranger, he finds himself torn between business and pleasure.

  PLEASURED BY YOU

  He’s built a life for himself away from his domineering father and his hometown… but a chance meeting with the woman who has a hold on his heart changes everything.

  One More Drink

  Everything about my life is different than before. My deadbeat father died, but I found the family of my wildest dreams. I have more money than I ever thought I’d have, yet all I want is one kiss, one shot with him. The only problem? He’s the hot bartender I always fantasize about, the confidante who never lectures, and the gentleman who never quite gets the hint.

  How many more drinks do I have to order before he sees that I’m not just his friend’s newfound sister, but I might be his one chance at forever?

  Maybe just one more...

  Dear Reader

  A good (and very wise) friend once told me to “stop thinking about everything you want to say and just write the damn story.” She was right.

  Visiting Wellspring again was just what I needed at this time in my life. I LOVE this town. It was so much fun catching up with some familiar faces.

  I fell in love with Veronica and Juke the moment I started writing this story. I went through the gamut of emotions with them. But I enjoyed every bit of it. I hope you do, too.

  Love,

  Elle

  www.ellewright.com

  For Granny! I miss you every day!

  Chapter One

  Set the New Year on Lukewarm

  VERONICA

  “Happy New Year!”

  The chorus of cheers, the sounds of laughter, the echo of happy conversation surrounded me. But my eyes were glued to the man in front of me. He leaned forward, his eyes glued to my lips. I swallowed, waiting for the touch that I’d longed for, the brush of his mouth against mine that I’d dreamed about.

  My eyes fluttered closed as his scent wrapped around me. Shit. He smelled like he always did, like soap and leather and man. I braced myself for the contact, for the kiss that would, hopefully, segue into something more. Like his hands over my clit, his teeth scraping my nipple, and his dick giving me exactly what I needed tonight. A good fuck with all three “Hs”— Hot. Heavy. Hard.

  His soft lips met… my forehead? What the hell is this bullshit? I blinked. My eyes popped open and the room slowly returned to focus. The same eyes were staring at me and I was still a horny, frustrated woman.

  “Happy New Year,” Juke whispered, a soft smile on his lips. The lips I had hoped would be kissing me senseless right about now. His mouth brushed my ear. “Happy Birthday, Ronnie.”

  Nobody called me “Ronnie” except my mom and my… bartender. Because that’s exactly who Julian “Juke” Bush was to me now. Not my friend, not my booty call, not my forever love… just my bartender.

  Yep, I was angry. In fact, I was so pissed I wanted to push him. Not that he would fall over, or even move an inch against the force of my strongest attempt. After all, he was a solid—at least two hundred and twenty pounds—rock of hard muscle with sexy, distracting tattoos, a killer smile, and a seductive voice.

  Letting out a frustrated grunt, I deadpanned, “Thanks.” Asshole.

  He frowned. “Are you okay?”

  Hell no. “Yes,” I bit out through clenched teeth.

  “You’re sure?” He raised a brow and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

  See! It was just that kind of thing that made me want him. Every day, he did something endearing and genuine and sincere.

  “Happy Birthday!”

  I froze, mortified by what was likely about to happen. “Oh no,” I murmured. The loud cheers behind me, nearing me, made me want to run far away from this place, from his bar. Brook’s Pub was jam-packed with people, as was the tradition in good ol’ Wellspring, Michigan. Every year, Juke closed his bar to the public and hosted a private New Year’s Eve party. “Please, don’t …”

  The familiar chorus of Stevie Wonder’s version of the birthday song pierced the air. The crowd was dancing, bumping hips, and singing at the top of their lungs. All for me. Great. Too bad I hated my birthday. It came every year, of course, but I’d always been able to avoid celebrating because it was also the holiday.

  “Veronica!” my sister, Brooklyn, screamed—right next to my ear. I cringed. “It’s your birthday!” she sang, squeezing my shoulders. “Happy Birthday, sis!”

  Plugging my ear, I forced a smile on face and turned to face everyone. The damn song went on and on, but when it was finally over, I said, “Thanks.” My best lighthearted response paled in comparison to their birthday greetings, but it would have to do.

  The candles on the huge cake being held by my younger brother, Bryson, taunted me. It was a lot of them damn things glowing in the dimly lit bar. Once daylight hit, I might be tempted to kill all of them.

  Bryson smiled. “
It’s your day. Go ahead and blow them out.”

  “She might be too old,” Parker announced with a wide grin.

  I glared at my oldest brother. “If I’m old, you’re old.”

  He laughed. “Just blow the damn candles out. Kennedi needs a slice of that cake. Stat.”

  Meeting the gaze of my very pregnant sister-in-love, I said, “Can’t disappoint my niece.” But instead of blowing the candles out, I quickly removed each one, dropping them into a pitcher of water on the bar top next to me. Everyone cheered. I plastered on that fake smile again. “Thanks, everyone. I appreciate you.” I hugged my siblings. “I need a drink.”

  Still frustrated, I turned and nearly bumped into Juke, who hadn’t moved from his spot. Sighing, I shoved him aside and limped over to the bar.

  I slid onto a barstool and kicked off my shoes, cussing out those high ass heels under my breath. I’d purchased them with this occasion in mind. Hell, I’d worn my sluttiest dress and even paid a makeup artist to give me a smoky eye. Because I was on a mission—Operation Fuck Me, Juke. Normally, I’d be at home in my pajamas watching the ball drop with a bottle of sparkling apple cider.

  Moving to Wellspring a couple of years ago had also brought on a change in my holiday traditions. A few burgers on the grill on Memorial Day had morphed into a full barbecue dinner with ribs so tender I wanted to weep and outdoor games. My Thanksgiving was nothing like the quiet dinners I used to have with my mother and stepfather. It was a weekend affair starting with the Wellspring Thanksgiving Parade and ending with a competitive bowling tournament. And Christmas… Breakfast in the morning, lunch, and a six-course dinner. Oh, and lots of gifts.

  I should be feeling happy, grateful even. But this day had never been my day.

  “Veronica?” Brooklyn joined me, sliding onto the stool next to mine. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “Yeah, right. If you’re going to lie, at least try to make it convincing. Your whole face betrays you.”

  I blew out a harsh breath and ordered shot of Patrón because champagne wasn’t going to cut it. “I’ll be fine, Brooklyn.”

  Not because I really was okay, but because I always had to be good. No matter what was going on in my life, I was expected to grin and bear it. Even through hurt feelings, tears, and life’s disappointments, my mother had always ordered me to suck it up and trust God. Broken bones? Thank God you have a doctor. Liver and onions? Be grateful you have food on the table. Boyfriend dumped me? Praise the Lord. He wasn’t the man for you. God was looking out. Cry? So many people have it worse. Depressed? No faith. Jesus would work it out.

  At six, I’d had to sit out the Daddy-Daughter dance because my father didn’t want me. I’d never received anything from him. Not a call, a card, a gift. I would have settled for a letter in a plain white envelope and a thirty cent stamp. I never complained, though. The fact that he couldn’t be bothered to even call me on my birthday because I was a girl and not an heir to the Wellspring Water Corporation still stung. But I’d needed that call, I’d yearned to be acknowledged by him. I hated that feeling of not being wanted. I still hate it.

  “Sis?” Brooklyn rubbed my back. “You can talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you.”

  I shot my sister a sidelong glance. “I know you do, but I don’t think you can.”

  She frowned. “Even if I can’t, I can still listen.”

  My eyes watered but I willed the tears not to fall. It was New Year’s Day, damn it. No emotions, no tears, no heart-to-hearts in the middle of Brook’s Pub. “Maybe another time,” I said, offering her a small smile. I downed the shot in front of me and relished in the burn traveling down my throat and settling in my gut.

  “Fine.” Brooklyn ordered two more shots. “If you want to drink, I’ll drink with you. Carter can drive us both home.”

  I smirked. “I’m sure he would love that, handling two drunk women tonight?”

  Shrugging, Brooklyn said, “If he doesn’t, oh well. I’ll still suck his dick tonight, so he’ll be just fine.”

  Unable to help myself, I laughed. Loudly. And it felt good. “Thank you for that, sis.”

  “You know I got you.” The bartender, not Juke, set two full shot glasses on the bar in front of us. I picked up one and Brooklyn grabbed the other. “Toast?”

  “To what?” I eyed her skeptically. “Please don’t say another year. That’s so cliché.”

  “Girl! What the hell is going on with you? Birthdays are national holidays. I’ve been trying to tell you this forever.”

  “Not forever,” I countered. “I literally just met you a few years ago.”

  Brooklyn giggled. “Oh, shut up. One day, you’ll tell me why you hate your birthday so much.”

  “Let me guess… this,” I motioned toward the cake that had been cut and served already, “was your idea.”

  “It was,” Brooklyn admitted. “And I know you told us not to make a big deal, but I wanted to. I didn’t get a chance to steal your birthday thunder while we were kids. And since I’ve grown out of that center of attention phase, I had to do something special for you. To thank you for being my sister. To celebrate you because you’re a bad ass boss. Smart as hell. Beautiful. Kind. Fly in every way. You deserve birthday cake.” She met my watery gaze. “If Kennedi doesn’t eat it all,” she added under her breath.

  Before my father died, I’d spent a lot of years feeling alone, like I didn’t have a place in the world. Parker Wells Sr. had effectively prevented me from bonding with brothers who would have protected me against every enemy, real or imagined. My bastard of a father kept me from hours of advice and support from my sister. And now that he was gone, I’d stepped into a world I had only dreamed of in what seemed like a past life. Family. Friends. Everything I didn’t know I wanted, but so desperately needed.

  “I hate my birthday,” I confessed softly. “It has never felt like my day.”

  “Why?”

  I hunched my shoulders. “Growing up, we prayed for the New Year and spent the day at church.”

  “That sucks,” Brooklyn grumbled. “No birthday parties?”

  “Not really. My mom didn’t celebrate birthdays. She thought it was a waste of money to eat empty calories and blow your spit onto cake that other people would eat. It just wasn’t a priority for her.”

  While she’d spent years being Senior’s mistress, my mother had been determined to leave her past behind. After I was born, Susan Pittman became Reverend Pittman. She’d turned her life over to God and had never looked back.

  I sighed. “I love my mother, but she was definitely about that church life.”

  Brooklyn nodded. “And so you had to be, too?”

  “Pretty much,” I admitted. “I didn’t hate it, though. I learned a lot from her. She gave me a good life.”

  “Your mother is good people. She’s always been nice to me. Probably because she doesn’t really know about my penchant for foul language. I’m certain she wouldn’t approve of our cussing and drinking ways.”

  “My mother would probably send me to the altar over the amount of alcohol I’ve imbibed since I moved here.”

  We laughed until tears of mirth fell. “Drinks are good for the soul. However, I’m sure that comment won’t age well when we wake up in the morning.”

  “That part.” I held up my glass. “Well, to hangovers and blow jobs.”

  “Now, that’s a muthafuckin’ toast!”

  We took our shots, no chaser. “Woo.” I blew out a harsh breath. “That was good.”

  “Hell yeah, it was. Now,” she turned to face me, “what is up with you and Juke?”

  With narrowed eyes, I said, “Did you give me tequila to learn all of my secrets?”

  “No, but you two looked super cozy when the clock struck midnight. Did you finally get your kiss?”

  I snorted. “No.”

  Frowning, Brooklyn ordered two more shots—one more than I should’ve had. “What? You look hot. He should have
been kissing your ass all over this bar.”

  “Except he didn’t. All I got for my trouble was a forehead kiss.”

  Brooklyn choked on the water she’d drank. “What the hell was he thinking? This isn’t The Best Man. Forehead kisses are not what’s up.”

  “Right? Especially since I am dressed to get some. It’s like he can’t catch a hint. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I keep trying to switch to the fast lane of friends who fuck. And he’s firmly stuck in the slow lane of friends who… just friend.”

  Brooklyn cracked up, dropping her head on the bar. “You’re hilarious.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  Yet, the joke always seemed to be on me. I wouldn’t consider myself the best flirt, but I thought I was throwing out good hints. Juke and I talked every single day, whether on the phone, via text, or in person. We had dinner at least once a week. Shit, I even joined the bowling league so I could show him I was good with balls. And tonight? My dress was a whole sexy vibe, my skin was glowing and showing. Full cleavage on display.

  “I mean, what do I have to do? Throw myself on his dick?”

  Brooklyn’s smile fell. “Uh oh.”

  “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  Damn.

  I let out a heavy, embarrassed sigh and turned to face him. “Hi,” I croaked. “So, you heard me.”