“Sex on the Beach,” he says as if he’s trying to get me to laugh. “A popular tourist favorite.”
I laugh. “Of course.”
I twirl the umbrella between my fingers after I take a sip and mumble to myself, “This will be the only sex I’ll be having for a very long time.”
He raises his eyebrows and wipes down the bar, not saying anything to that, but I know he probably heard. Great, he thinks I’m a lunatic who talks to herself.
“Need something to eat?” he asks, sliding a menu across the bar.
I suddenly realize how hungry I am. “I probably should eat something. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Want me to surprise you with that, too?” he asks, dark hazel eyes glittering with flecks of gold and a splash of mischief.
I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, surprise me. I’m starving.”
He winks at me before sauntering off. I catch a couple of women staring dreamily at his butt. I stifle an inappropriate giggle.
I needed this. Beach, drinks, food, and a cute, friendly bartender to remind me there’s more to life than a shitty, cheating ex-fiancé and a monstrous sister who classifies as an enemy rather than blood.
Much to my delight, the patrons at the bar slowly forget about me. Or maybe they decide this is Coconut Beach and weird things just happen here. Either way, I suck down my sweet drink and wait for whatever food the bartender’s going to bring me.
My new life starts now.
3
Cal
The first ruleof bartending in a small beach town is that if a woman walks into your bar alone, wearing a wedding dress and mascara down her cheeks, you don’t ask questions. Something’s already gone sideways. You pour her a drink and keep an eye on her. She needs a minute.
The whole bar seems to clock her at once. Some make it more obvious than others. Conversations are cut off mid-sentence. A few people straighten in their chairs so they can get a better look. Every pair of eyes is on her. Marina, the other bartender, glances at me from the other end of the bar, brows lifted in silent question. I give her a small shrug. I have no idea who this mystery woman is.
And yet, something in me stirs anyway. I’m drawn to her. Not in a flirt-with-the-customers kind of way. More of a protective way.
That’s new, Cal.
The woman looks tired, like she’s reached the end of whatever road brought her here and decided this is the place she needs for now, and I get that. This bar has a way of drawing in nearly everyone who comes to Coconut Beach. Hell, it caught me in its net and dragged me in when I was lost.
Everyone knows everyone here, and if you’re a tourist, we know it. We look out for everyone and consider this a safe space. I’m not sure what her name or story are, but I’m going to make sure she’s takencare of here. Marina, clearly reading my mind, nods to me as if she’ll do the same. It’s just what we do.
“Long day?” I ask.
The woman opens one eye. “You have no idea.”
Her phone lights up on the bar. She flips it face down as if she’s frustrated, without looking at it.
I slide a glass of water her way while I wait for her food order. She notices, and her shoulders ease just a little.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
We make small talk, and I push a plate in front of her loaded down with a savory burger and greasy fries. Nothing fancy. But it’s the kind of food that will fill you up if you’ve been drinking. We like to feed people here when they drink. Music, food, and alcohol are what we’re known for here at Cocktails & Chaos.
It’s that simple, pure purpose that makes working here so fulfilling. I love running this bar, taking pride in every detail from taking care of the patrons all day and night to wiping off every sticky table at close. There’s pride in what I do, and I can’t say that’s been the case for other jobs I’ve had.
I’m grateful for my friend, Jonah Black, who I manage the place for. He doesn’t like people much and runs a local fishing charter. We have an agreement. I run Cocktails & Chaos, and he pays me a nice salary. It gets me out of the house, and I get to meet people.
What he doesn’t know is I’d do it for free. Unlike Jonah, I genuinely love seeing new faces from all over, catching up with the regulars, and sharing inside jokes. It’s the energy I thrive on. The music, the vibes, the food.
She’s finished her drink and half of her water. I’m about to ask her if she wants another one when her eyes meet mine. They’re haunted and sad. A moment ago, she was laughing at my attempts to lighten the mood, but she’s not laughing anymore. The mask is gone, revealing a heartbroken woman. It makes my chest tighten. Helping people is in my blood. I want to make her smile again. To shake off whatever shitshow she just came from and enjoy this little slice of heaven.
