JULES
You know all those stuff they taught us in middle school, like math equations, chemistry formulas et cetera? Well, I graduated middle school nearly a decade ago, and if you’re normal like me, you’d have forgotten half the stuff you learnt there too.
Like Pythagoras’ Theorem; what’s that again?
Newton’s Law? I don’t need that.
What Romeo said to Juliet at the balcony? Probably an old-timey version of Ay girl, wanna smash?
In other words, thanks, but no thanks.
I really wish they taught relevant things we can actually use in daily life, like how to file our taxes or pay our bills. I sure need help with that now, if the pile of taxman letters on my bedroom dresser is any indication.
Or hey, even how to tame frizzy flyaways, because being a typical southern blonde, my hair gets way crazy in the summer.
There is one lesson I remember, and surprisingly, it was one of the substitute teachers’ lessons. Being a sub teacher basically means that absolutely no one pays any attention to you or what you say. But for some reason, there’s one that really stuck with me.
The teacher was a young redhead straight out of college, with the fresh-faced and idealistic look seen only on the most recent grads. That day, she told us that we should all live our lives with a mantra.
“What’s a mantra?” Gemma Wimbly had asked from the front row. (Even at that age she had been a bimbo, but I guess she got the last laugh because the following year her dad got a job in Los freakin’ Angeles and her whole family up and moved to Tinseltown.)
But anyway, a mantra, according to Ms Substitute Teacher, is a personal word or phrase that holds spiritual powers for the person. Basically, it’s a fancy term for words you live by.
We were tasked with coming up with our mantras that lesson, which was a wonderful waste of time, because which seven-year-old knows their life mantra? I sure don’t remember what I came up with—probably Always be smiling! or some similarly naive saying.
I forgot all about that lesson until one day, during my last year of high school, disaster struck my family. Specifically, my dad.
And let me just say that cancer?
It’s a bitch.
Dad beat it though, because he’s Dad. The biggest redneck around, tough as the jerky he’s always munching on. He made prostate cancer his bitch, and his cancer went into remission after months of chemo.
We didn’t have insurance—huge mistake, because the hospital and medicine bills from the treatment are nearly enough to bankrupt us—but Mum and I would’ve gladly signed our souls to the Devil himself if it means Dad got to live another day.
But it also meant that we couldn’t afford a college education in the city for me.
It was fine to me, because leaving was the last thing I wanted to do when Dad got better.
And as everyone I knew from childhood graduated and left for mega-cities across the country, I told myself that one day I’d get to go too, and I’d take Mum and Dad with me.
That isn’t going to happen anytime soon, though. Four years on, we’re still paying the bills. I work every shift I can at local diners and pubs, and every cent I make goes to our debt, which only seems to be mounting with the crazy interest rates.
Still, I keep telling myself that one day, I’d experience life. One day, I’d fall in love for the first time, hopefully with a hot hunk with a sexy voice. And one day, I’d get to see the world, travel beyond the state of Colorado for the first time ever.
I’d go trekking across the deserts of Namibia, sail through the ice passages in Alaska, paraglide off the coasts of Australia.
I’d wrestle with anacondas in the Amazon, gag at the scorpion meat they hawked on the streets of rural China, get chased by horny wild moose in the Canadian wilderness.
But for now, I hold on to my new mantra of One day, and thank the Lord for bestowing mankind with the greatest gift ever, YouTube. The greatest cache of knowledge and videos known to the masses, and it’s F-R-E-E. I devour the countless travel documentaries like I devour oreo cheesecakes—unapologetically and always with room for more.
But my daydreams will have to wait for now.
First, I gotta make it to my shift at The Barracks, a pub-slash-diner that opened downtown just over a year ago, because my internet plan—and Dad’s hospital bills—aren’t gonna pay themselves.
I check the side mirrors of my clunky Toyota and floor the accelerator, going as high under the speed limit as I dared. The streets leading from my house to downtown Castle Rock are more crowded than usual since it’s a Saturday, but thankfully no one drives like an asshole and I get to where I need to without swearing a single time.
I stop a five-minute walk away from The Barracks where parking is cheaper, and glance at my watch.
I’m just gonna make my shift by the skin of my ass, so I grab my sling bag, pop out of the car and lock the door, and turn around to sprint my way to The Barracks.
And I promptly run face-first into something wide and hard.
“Ow, shit!” I stumble back. “Oh, excuse me...”
I gain my bearings and blink a couple of times to clear the pain in my face, and then I raise my head to look at the person I’ve just bumped into.
And I look up…
And up…
And oh, my, gosh. My mouth opens and closes like a fish on land with an asthma attack.
Did I just stumble into a set of a rom-com movie? Or did I just die and go to heaven? Because I’m staring up at literally the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen, and men this fine do not just go wandering around on sidewalks for hapless girls to bump into.
I’m probably embarrassing myself by now, but I can’t stop staring at the man. It’s like he’s pulled straight out of my dirtiest fantasies. Pitch black hair. Striking green eyes. A strong brow and a jawline that makes me suspect this man is descended from a line of models.
And as for his body, well, my nose freaking hurts. I’d bet my crappy car that under that white tailored dress-shirt is a chest that would put the man of steel to shame. And if the rest of his body matches what I can see, under that pair of black slacks is something no less amazing.
I gape in stunned silence for a full five seconds more as the gorgeous male specimen stares back at my face. His beautiful green eyes are arrested and his dark eyebrows draw together as if he has never seen anything like me before. The sun streams from behind him like a halo as we watch each other, spellbound in the moment.
My heart thunders in my ears, and my stomach gives a kick.
Is this man the one I’d fall for? Is my one day finally here?
Still gazing down at me, the man-god draws in a breath and parts his lips, which are full yet so very masculine at the same time. His voice comes, sounding exactly like I imagined it would be—low and elegant, the vowels clipped in an aristocratic way. It’s music to my ears.
But wait.
What did he just say?
“If you’re done staring, could you kindly get out of my way.”
I do a double-blink in shock, but the man-god merely gives me a look before he turns back to the phone in his hand and continues down the sidewalk.
That look is the same one I give my shoe when I step onto a wad of gum on the ground.
“Excuse me?” I stare at his retreating back, which is so broad and muscular and I’m dying to bury my face against it—no, focus. “Not even an apology?”
Man-god makes an irritated sound, and half-turns to give me a baleful expression that would’ve been right at home on the face of a tomcat. “Apologize for fuck? You knocked into me.”
“Don’t swear at me, you were in my way!” I glare at him and jerk my chin at the phone in his hand. “If you didn’t have your nose glued to that, you would have seen me.”
“Look, lady, I don’t have time for this. I got someplace to be, so do me a favor and find someone else to entertain you.”
My mouth falls open again, for a completely different reason this time. “You’re not from town, are you? Because around here, people actually have manners—”
Man-god raises his green eyes to the sky. “I’m not, and thank fuck for that,” he mutters.
“You—”
“But since you obviously are, tell me.” He tilts his head and spears me with a narrowed look. “How do I get to The Barracks? It’s pub. Or a diner, it depends on the day and hour, and frankly, I’ve lost track of what it’s supposed to be.”
The Barracks? Hold up, is this asshole headed there for a pint? My shift is starting in less than five minutes, and I really don’t look forward to serving him.
I bite back a swear. For a second I’m tempted to point him the wrong way, but I was brought up with politeness drummed into me—as much as I can muster for this guy, anyway—so I roll my eyes and say curtly, “This way.”
The guys raises a dark eyebrow and folds his arms. “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to walk me. Just point the way, and I’ll make it there myself.”
Jesus, does this guy think I’m trying to hit on him? Nothing is more unattractive than a hot guy who’s full of himself.
I glare at him, my rose-tinted glasses completely shattered by now. “I work there, okay? I’m heading in right now.”
The man takes on a look of interest at that. “Really,” he remarks. “What’s your position there? Accounts? Admin?”
Position. Like I’m in some white collar company. “It’s Saturday, mister. I’m a waitress.” I stride in the opposite direction from him. “Look, you can follow me if you want. I don’t care, but I don’t have all day.”
I head down the sidewalk in the direction of the pub, not bothering to see if the guy follows.
A few seconds pass, and he jogs up to walk beside me.
“Thanks,” he says coolly, looking straight ahead instead of at me. “I’m completely shit when it comes to directions.”
Seriously, could this guy sound any more insincere? “Don’t you have GPS on your phone?” I say in a irritable tone.
Man-god shrugs a broad shoulder. “Sure. But I can’t read maps to save my life.”
“You’re kidding right? Just follow the freakin’ arrow. Even a kid could do it.”
That earns me a quizzical look from him. “Aren’t country girls supposed to be nice and shit?”
And aren’t devastatingly handsome guys supposed to be gentlemanly and suave, not foul-mouthed and rude?
I speed up my strides, but the jerk keeps up with no effort.
“Firstly,” I say shortly, “this isn’t the countryside. Castle Rock is practically a small city. And secondly, you heard wrong. Country girls come in all kinds, but one commonality? We don’t take crap.” I slide my eyes over at him meaningfully “And we know trash when we see it. No fancy city clothes can hide it.”
Though I gotta admit, his accent can. It doesn’t have the twang we hear around these parts. His voice is low and pleasant, and the way he rolls his vowels sounds posh-American, and it’s honestly, really hot.
Too bad the vocal cords producing it belongs to an ass.
Man-god gives me an odd look as we walk. “Have I offended you in some way?”
“Are you seriously asking me that? After refusing to apologize and being a rude dick?”
“Sorry, then. Where I’m from, it’s just small talk.” He grins for the first time, and I almost stumble on the flat pavement at the sheer beauty of it.
I snatch my gaze forward. “Where are you from?”
“Manhattan.”
I halt in my tracks in shock. “Manhattan? Oh my god, that’s so awe—I mean...” I pause mid-gush and clear my throat. “That’s cool, I guess. How long have you been there?”
The guy cocks his head and grins down at me, not missing my excitement. “Other than college in Texas,” he shrugs, “my whole life.”
His whole life. In the city. “That sounds…awesome.”
“Anything is, when you compare it to this place.” The man looks at the half-full shops and short buildings around us with a perplexed expression. “There’s nothing here. And there’s no one.”
I frown and look around. It’s pretty crowded to me, with clusters of family and friends milling about since everyone here hangs out downtown on the weekends. “Do not insult my town. Just because it’s not screaming advertisements at you at every turn doesn’t mean it’s boring.”
“You look plenty bored,” the man counters. “And your face lit up when I mentioned Manhattan.”
“Because I haven’t been there.” I brush my hair behind my shoulders and try to look nonchalant. “What’s it like?”
Man-god pauses, considering my question. “Noisy,” he finally says. “Wet. Lots of rats.”
“Bet the people there walk really fast too.” I nod pointedly at his long legs eating up the sidewalk. I’m walking twice my usual pace just to keep up.
The guy looks surprised when he notices and slows down for me to keep up, which is surprisingly considerate.
Though it’s more likely that he just wants to prove me wrong.
“Yeah, things go at breakneck speed there,” he agrees. “It’s a big world, but it can make you… hard.”
“What do you mean?” I know he doesn’t mean physically (though he is).
“You can lose yourself in the hustle,” he says simply, but doesn’t continue.
Hmm. So he’s a city boy come to town to escape the big bad life outside.
“I get you.” I shift my sling bag to my front to hug it. “I feel like escaping too, sometimes.”
“Yeah? And what problems do you have to run from? Mean customers? Hard water?”
Ass. Hole. “Were you always this miserable, or did the city make you this way?”
The man smirks down at me, looking so roguish that I could almost forget what a jerk he is. “Couldn’t say,” he drawls. “I was there from the moment I popped out my mum’s vagina.”
“My god, you are such a…” I snap my head forward and stride across the street towards the pub with a masculine, dark wood signboard saying simply The Barracks. I can practically feel him grinning at my back as he follows me, so I know he said all that just to piss me off.
Well, it worked. I’m done being nice to this boor.
“Walk right through that door and you’re in it. Pleasure meeting you,” I add sarcastically.
Man-god grins down at me, but I don’t bother to meet his gaze. “Don’t spit in my food later,” he reminds me.
“No promises, asshole.” I flip him off and stride off towards the back entrance, glad to finally be rid of him.
Charlene takes one hurried glance at me as I stride into the kitchen, and turns back to the order receipts that she was busily arranging for the chefs. “Where were you!” she exclaims without looking. “We’re up to our necks.”
“Sorry, I was showing an idiot directions. I’ll be right there with you!”
I jog to the room that serves as an employee lounge and stash my bag in a locker. Then I quickly tie my hair up in a ponytail, put on my black apron, and slip a notepad into the front pocket. I check myself in the mirror one last time, and then I burst out to the floor, ready to take over at the window section.
“Jules?” Liam calls from the bar behind me just as I’m halfway across the floor. “Could you come here for a sec?”
Liam is the coolest guy around, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my boss. He’s only a few years older than I am, but he’s got so much drive that I can’t help but admire him.
Did I also mention that he’s really sizzling hot? That chalks up points in his favor, because I’m shallow like that.
Hoping that I’m not about to be reprimanded because I’m late, I quickly smooth my apron and hurry over to Liam—
And I stop dead when I see who is standing beside him.
Man-god stands at the bar casually, his elbow propped arrogantly on the dark wood surface like he owns the freaking place. His green eyes are mocking, and the faint smile on his lips tells me I’m not going to like what’s going to happen next.
“Are you kidding me?” I come to a stand in front of him and plant my hands on my waist. “I took the trouble to show you the way here and the first thing you do is complain about me to my boss?”
His smile merely widens, and he looks like he has some nasty secret that he can’t wait to tell. I just glare harder.
Liam looks between the two of us quizzically. “What’s going on?”
“Liam, whatever this asshole told you, I assure you, it’s not true!”
“Really? Because he was telling me about your helpfulness and your…” Liam trails off and raises a questioning brow at the man.
“Feistiness,” Man-god finishes with a grin. “A very entertaining start to my visit here.”
I frown suspiciously. “Oh. Well, in that case…” I clear my throat. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
“You—”
“Jules,” Liam cut in expertly. “This is Garrett Hudson.”
I huff and fold my arms, ready to say something cutting when a switch goes off in my head.
Wait a minute.
From what I know, The Barracks is jointly owned by three guys, two of whom I’ve never met before in my one year here.
The first is obviously Liam, who runs the place and its operations. The second is a reclusive vet, who, according to rumours, never left Devil’s Head, the mountain west of Castle Rock.
And the last is Liam’s best friend from the city, by the name of…
“Garrett Hudson.” My hand moves to my throat as I stare up at his mocking green eyes. “Oh my god. You’re…”
My boss.
Garrett smiles down at me, his white, even teeth flashing like a predator’s. “Pleasure to meet you too, Julianna Lane.”