Kickstart My Heart (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 1)

  Kickstart My Heart

  Burgers and Brew Crüe, book 1

  Copyright © 2021 Lacey Black

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

  Photographer Wander Aguiar

  Model Pat Tanski

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Proofreading by Joanne Thompson & Karen Hrdlicka

  Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference 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.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  Published in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved.

  Index

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Also by Lacey Black

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Walker

  At exactly eleven o’clock, I slip a quarter into the old jukebox on the back wall. The bar is silent as they await tonight’s selection. My bar, my choice, and tonight, I’m feeling a little rowdy. The opening melody of “Dr. Feelgood” blasts through the speakers, resulting in a loud cheer from tonight’s patrons. As I make my way back behind the bar, I get a few high fives from the guys and even more phone numbers slipped into my palm from the ladies. I wish I could confirm they’re all single, but the truth is they’re not.

  Just a typical Saturday night at Burgers and Brew, the place I co-own with my three best friends. We all have our forte within the business, and mine’s behind the bar. Mixing drinks and slinging beers. That’s my life, and damn, what a life it is.

  I slap Jasper on the back as I slide under the bar and jump right back in to filling drink orders. Everyone’s singing along, word for word to the ol’ 80’s hair band tune, as part of our weekend ritual. It’s an ode, a salute to our college days and the band we all grew up listening to. We built this business, taking an old brick building in downtown Stewart Grove and turning it into a staple.

  Jasper’s the man in the kitchen, the one who comes up with the mouthwatering burger creations we’re known for. Isaac is the numbers guy, the man who keeps us in the black and our taxes completed on time. Jameson’s the muscle because he’s big and tattooed. But he’s more than that. Jameson is talented as fuck with a guitar and serves as our house musician Friday and Saturday nights. Then there’s me. Walker Meyer, bartender extraordinaire, who keeps the beer flowing, the panties melting, and the tips rolling in.

  We’re the Brew Crüe, and damn proud of it.

  “Dance, dance, dance, dance,” the crowd starts to chant, encouraging me to do what I do every weekend when we play Mötley Crüe.

  Dance.

  When I glance over at Jasper, he’s already shaking his head, but there’s no missing his wide grin. He knows what’s coming. Placing my hands on the bar top, I jump, hoisting myself up on the aged oak. Patrons erupt into cheers as I grin down at them. Mostly, at the ladies. The single ones and even the not-so-single ones. No, I’m not taking any of them home, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give them one hell of a show.

  I twist my ballcap around so it’s on backward and start to swing my hips. Mama blessed me with moves, which helps almost double my tips every night. Women go crazy for a man who can dance. That’s evident by the number of panties that’ll be thrown behind the bar in a matter of moments.

  Swaying my hips, I do a little dip and grind, popping my ass out and sending the ladies in the front row into cardiac arrest. They scream and reach for my pant legs, digging their nails into the denim. Instead of shaking them off, I wink and carefully walk a few steps away. Then, when we get to the refrain in the song, I throw my arms out to the side and belt out the words, everyone singing along with me.

  It’s like karaoke.

  But better.

  As the song winds down, I steal the drink in Jasper’s hand and hold it up over my head. Everyone in the bar does the same. We sing. I dance and drink. The panties start flying.

  When an old Hank Williams’ song starts up on the jukebox, I throw the crowd a wave and a grin and hop off the top of my bar. Drink orders come flying, and it’s all we can do to keep up with them. By the time I holler last call, we’re exhausted. Jameson starts to shoo everyone out, including the tall blonde who has been throwing me those fuck-me eyes for the last thirty minutes. Oh yeah, she was ready to go home with me, but little does she know, I don’t fuck where I eat.

  I don’t sleep with employees or patrons, no matter how much they try.

  Period.

  And they do try.

  A lot.

  Kallie, one of the bartenders, heads out to start cleaning tables, while Jameson follows behind, picking up the chairs and placing them on top of the tables. Jasper plays some ZZ Top, relaxing a bit after working all night in the kitchen.

  “Hey, Jameson, grab a case of Ultra,” I holler to my friend, who helps me stock the coolers for tomorrow once the chairs are off the floor.

  “What else do you need?” Jameson asks before entering the walk-in cooler.

  “Two Bud Lights, a Busch Light, and probably two Coors Lights,” I reply after a quick scan of the case.

  He throws me a salute and vanishes through the heavy door.

  “Where’s Numbers?” I ask, as Jasper returns to the bar. I’m referring to Isaac, our number-loving friend.

  “Where do you think?” Jasper asks, twisting the cap off a bottle of water and tossing it in the trash. Once he takes a healthy pull from the bottle, he starts gathering up trash bags from the receptacles behind the counter. “Newton’s always in his office.”

  Newton, as in Isaac Newton. The other nickname for Numbers. Fitting, isn’t it?

  Jameson slides cases of beer out the door, so I head over to help carry them behind the bar. When Jameson returns with the rest, we get to work filling back up the coolers. Kallie restocks bottles of liquor, making note of the ones getting low or that sold really well throughout the weekend. It helps make my Mondays a little easier when I inventory and order.

  “How’d we do tonight, boys?” Numbers asks, making his grand entrance.

  I glance at my watch. “It’s twelve thirty. What the hell have you been doing up there?” I ask, washing the rest of the dirty glasses and placing them in the rack to dry.

  “Working, just like you,” he retorts dryly. Isaac moves to the cash register and starts to close it out. He’s not always here when we close, but everyone tries to stay on Saturday nights, our busiest night of the week.

  Grinning, I occupy myself with cleaning everything up. By one, floors are swept and mopped and everything is stocked and shut down. Kallie signs
out on the iPad and Jameson walks her to her car, as he does every weekend. Finally, it’s just me and my three partners left in the now-empty building.

  “It was a good night,” Numbers says, as he finishes off his bottle of water.

  “No issues, which always means a good night,” Jameson adds, referring to the occasional fight that breaks out in the bar. It doesn’t happen too often, mostly because the locals know not to start shit inside this place. Jameson’s scary on a good day, but when he’s here, he takes his job very seriously. Yet, throw in a little booze and any situation can go from zero to holy shit in less than five seconds flat.

  “We sold out of the meatloaf burger tonight, so no complaints from me,” Jasper adds.

  Burgers and Brew is divided into two large sections, the bar side and the restaurant. Our specialty is gourmet burgers, an idea Jasper had one night in college when we couldn’t find a good burger joint anywhere near the campus. He vowed when he opened his own place, it would have the best burgers in town. He’s more than accomplished his dream, serving food seven days a week.

  I stick my third of the tips into my pocket and throw Jameson his cut. Kallie took hers before she left. “Thank you,” he grumbles in that gruff voice.

  “Let’s get out of here, boys,” I holler, shutting off the lights above the mirrors. There’s one strip left, lighting the way to the back door.

  The night air is cool for late August in Ohio, but I think it’s fucking perfect. This is the type of season I’d take all year long. Leaving the windows open at night is the best sleeping weather ever. The only thing that would make it better is to have a naked woman beside me. But that’s not gonna happen. When I have someone over, they don’t spend the night. I don’t snuggle or cook breakfast in the morning. I want none of the bullshit that resembles a relationship.

  Period.

  “See you tomorrow,” Jameson hollers, heading over to his vintage Harley Davidson. He has a Nova in the garage but prefers the bike when he can ride it.

  “Later,” I reply with a wave, heading for my 1986 Jeep CJ-7.

  I wait in the lot until Isaac and Jasper are both in their own vehicles before I pull out onto the main artery through town. The streets are deserted as I drive home, a welcomed reprieve from the heavier traffic of going into work mid-afternoon.

  By the time I pull into my driveway and open my garage, I’m more than ready to be home. A hot shower is calling my name. I throw my Jeep keys on the counter and head straight for the bathroom. As the water heats up, I move to my bedroom, tossing my wallet and phone on my dresser and stripping out of tonight’s clothes. Dark jeans and a black Burgers and Brew sleeveless T-shirt are pretty much my standard wardrobe, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

  The moment I step under the shower spray, I feel my body finally relax. This is my second favorite way to unwind after a long night. Sure, I could have easily found someone to come home with me, but I really try not to take a bar patron home. Last time I did, I thought she was gonna boil my bunny. Even though I was very clear that our time together was just sex, she didn’t like being asked to leave. It took forever before she finally left, but then she showed up the next morning with bagels, wearing a thong bikini.

  It was March.

  Five days of madness and one restraining order later, I vowed to never bring home one of those numbers I’m given most nights at work.

  How do I meet women, you ask?

  Easy.

  The grocery store. True story. Do you know how many horny, single women are buying food on a random Tuesday night? My favorite is when I find them in the frozen section buying ice cream. There’s only one reason a woman buys three pints of ice cream in the middle of the week, and that’s because the douche she was dating fucked up. That’s when I get fucked. Because they’re not looking for forever. They’re looking to numb the pain.

  I can handle that.

  Of course, I don’t find all my lady friends in the grocery store. I’ve met plenty running through the park or even at the movie theatre. All I’m saying is there are a number of options available if you know where to look.

  And I’m an expert on looking.

  After my shower, I slip my phone on the charger and settle on a playlist. Nirvana starts to play through my Bluetooth speaker, filling my bedroom with enough noise to ease me into sleep. I don’t know why I need music, but I do. Always have. Even as a child, my parents said I had to have the radio on to fall asleep.

  As Kurt Cobain sings about smelling like teen spirit, I finally drift off to sleep.

  ***

  Mondays are busy, but for a different reason than other days of the week. Monday is my “office” day. Inventory, placing orders, and our partner meeting takes up a big chunk of my day. I never schedule myself to work behind the bar on Mondays, and usually have one bartender throughout the week, since it’s lighter than the weekend. But I’m always there, so if I’m needed behind the counter, I can jump in at any time.

  I’m in the storage room, counting liquor bottles and filling out my weekly order form. Def Leppard spills from the jukebox and echoes down the short hallway. The sound of heavy boots thump over the hair band tune, and I already know who’s heading my way before he enters the room.

  “Jasper’s all pissed off again,” Jameson announces as he comes around the corner.

  “What’s new?” I ask, wondering what our finicky chef is in an uproar about now.

  “He’s going to have a heart attack before he’s forty,” my broody friend proclaims.

  I snort. “We said the same thing in college. How he made it past twenty-five is beyond me. What’s got his panties in a bunch this morning?”

  “Another server called in sick. He yelled at Numbers to find him reliable help or he was going to do it himself.”

  That makes me laugh. Jasper is a hell of a cook, but his people skills are lacking. He’s the boss in the kitchen, plain and simple, and can be a little pushy or hard to work with. But really, he just wants everyone to do their job. He knows everyone makes mistakes yet struggles to accept them. We know it and love him for his strong personality, but also have no trouble putting him in his place when needed.

  We tend to go through servers quickly. At least those who aren’t truly committed to the job. The ones who are make great tips, and if you can deal with a hot-headed boss, then you’re golden. If you show up when you’re scheduled and do your job, you’re going to be just fine.

  “Isaac made some calls and had two interviews earlier. He wants to hire both and train them together. This way, if one doesn’t work out, we still have the other to fill the hole.”

  “Day shift?” I ask. For some reason, it’s harder to fill that shift than the night one. Nights are covered by those who attend the nearby community college mostly. The tips are slightly better, since we’re usually busier for dinner than lunch. But don’t count our noon crowd out. This place is still plenty busy, and those servers make damn good money too.

  “Yep,” Jameson confirms, jumping right in and helping me count cases of brew.

  Our Server Manager, Gigi, is an older woman with decades of experience. She handles the training and scheduling of our servers, and also works the lunch crowd with two others. She’s fun, yet incredibly efficient, and isn’t afraid to put Jasper in his place when he starts to get a little out of line. We love her, that’s for sure.

  We spend the next thirty minutes inventorying, and while I head to my small office to place this week’s order, Jameson heads off to tune his guitar on our small corner stage. We don’t hire bands, usually, but we don’t need to. Jameson is one hell of a musician, and his acoustic sessions on Friday and Saturday nights draw a damn good crowd.

  When the orders are placed and my stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten lunch yet, I slip out of my small space and head down the hallway. My destination is the kitchen to grab a quick snack before our owners’ meeting, but I’m stopped in my tracks. There’s a woman walking in the opposite dire
ction, and for some reason, I’m enthralled. Her long, blonde hair hangs down her back in long waves and her black pants form to her ass like a second skin. And her hips—fuck—the sway of her hips has my cock getting hard in no time flat. For some reason, I can’t seem to make myself move my feet. I just stand there, watching her go.

  Just before she pushes through the door that leads outside, she stops. Slowly, she turns around, and the craziest thing happens. I’m struck by lightning. Not literally, but damn, does it feel like it. My heart is pounding as our eyes meet from about fifteen feet apart. Even through the slightly darkened hallway, I can see the emerald green in her eyes. She has the creamiest white skin, almost too pale in comparison to my darker coloring, and her makeup is subtle, not nearly as smoky and dark as I’m accustomed to seeing here.

  She’s simply breathtaking, and I want her as mine.

  “Hey, man,” Isaac says, coming up behind me and slapping me on the back. “Did you meet Mallory Sargant?”

  “Mallory?” I ask, my eyes still glued to the beauty before me.

  “Yeah, Mallory. She’s our new lunch server.”

  Just like that, I’m doused with a bucket of ice water. My heart drops into my shoes and my shoulders probably visibly sag. She’s a server. Of course she is. Mallory is an employee of Burgers and Brew, which can only mean one thing.

  She’s off-limits.

  Chapter Two

  Mallory

  Blue eyes.

  That’s all I notice. The most unique blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re light, yet have a darker navy ring around them. They’re magnificent, really, and I can’t seem to look away, even though I try.

  “Mallory, this is Walker Meyer, one of the owners. You’ll see him over on the bar side if you need alcoholic drinks, but Gigi will go through all of it in more depth tomorrow morning,” Isaac says.

  I finally pull my eyes away from the tall, muscular guy beside him and smile at my new boss. “Great. I look forward to it. Walker, it was a pleasure to meet you,” I reply, stepping forward and extending my hand.

  Walker places his large hand in mind. When our palms meet, an electric current zips through my fingers and courses through my veins. It’s the most shocking and exhilarating sensation I’ve ever experienced. “Pleasure, Mallory.” The way he says my name, it’s like that first lick of an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. I just want to…sigh.