What's It Gonna Take (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 5) Read online

  What’s It Gonna Take

  Burgers and Brew Crüe, book 5

  Copyright © 2022 Lacey Black

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

  Photographer Wander Aguiar

  Model James Clippinger

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Proofreading by Sandra Shipman, Joanne Thompson, and 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

  Another Epilogue

  Also by Lacey Black

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Reagan

  “I quit,” I belt out the moment my ass hits the pub chair.

  My cousin, Madelyn, blinks at me from across the table. “What?”

  I sigh deeply and reach for the glass of water already sitting at the table, fully aware it’s probably hers. “Yep. I quit. I didn’t even give notice.”

  “Wow, okay,” Madelyn states, watching me gulp down her water and absently rubbing the small swell of her stomach. “Tell me everything.”

  I glance down and smile, loving the way pregnancy looks on my most favorite person in the world. My cousin Madelyn has only been a part of my life for the last few years, but it’s as if she’s always been by my side. Our mothers are sisters but were never close. In fact, our childhood was as different as night and day. Madelyn grew up in New York, rubbing elbows with the elite, while I’ve worked entry-level jobs and lived in Small Town, USA my entire life.

  “Well, I was the only teller who applied for the branch receptionist position, and Archer decided to give it to some newbie tartlet with perky double D’s and blond extensions.” I can feel my heart rate spiking just thinking about it.

  “He’s such an asshole,” Madelyn mumbles, waving to someone behind me, but I don’t turn to see who. I’m still too fired up over my afternoon confrontation, and the resulting quitting of my job, to be polite to whoever is nearby.

  “He is. Capital ass, capital hole,” I proclaim. “That’s why I quit. Ever since he took over as bank manager last year, he’s been pushing it with the employees, even more so than he did before,” I add.

  Back when Madelyn moved to town, Archer pressed me for her number, begging for me to introduce them. They went on one date, which didn’t go well for him. Actually, that date was the night my cousin met her now-husband and father of her unborn baby, Jameson.

  He co-owns this restaurant and bar, Burgers and Brew, with three of his friends. It’s the best place to grab lunch, dinner, or just unwind with a cold drink after a long day of work. They also own the brewery next door, which makes my favorite beer, All American Crüe. They’ve been distributing regionally throughout Ohio until about a year ago, when they were picked up by a major grocery chain. You can now find several varieties of Crüe Brew in fifteen states throughout the Midwest and eastern United States.

  “I’m not saying Shellie with an I E isn’t qualified to man the phones and greet customers who walk in, but I’m pretty sure her bra size is bigger than her IQ, and there’s no way she deserves to get that position over me, especially since she’s only been there three weeks,” I state, probably a little too loudly, but I’m beyond caring at this point.

  I’ve worked my butt off at Stewart Grove Trust and Savings, starting as a drive-up cashier before moving to the lobby side. I love people, have always enjoyed chatting and helping customers with their banking needs, but I’ll be honest, money is dirty. You can only clean your hands so many times before your fingers start looking like raisins, dry and cracked from too much hand sanitizer. I’ve had to buy stock in fruity lotion.

  That’s why I wanted the new position. I could still talk to the customers without having to touch money all day. It was the perfect job for me.

  Until it was given to twenty-one-year-old Shellie with an I E.

  “So…you quit. What are you going to do now?” my cousin asks, worry marring her beautiful features.

  I shrug. “No idea. Probably lose my apartment, my car, and be living on the streets in less than two months.” My laugh is humorless.

  Where’s the alcohol?

  Just as I turn to find a server or bartender or hell, even a janitor who can get me a beer, my face practically jams into the armpit of a man. A tall man. Sexy one too, who smells woodsy and clean and makes my blood hum through my veins.

  He also knows he causes this reaction, which is why he does it. Garreth Taylor has nothing better to do than to tease me. He has worked as the assistant manager of Burgers and Brew for about four years, so our paths have crossed on several occasions. Especially since we have girls’ night here most Tuesday nights.

  “If you wanted to get closer to me, I can think of other places you can stick your face, love. Unless you have a thing for armpits. Is it a kink?”

  I sigh and pull my head back so I can look up into gorgeous smiling eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate. “Why is your armpit near my face?”

  He ignores my question. “I mean, I’m all for exploring whatever kinky side you have. Wanna tie me up? I’m game. Whips and a ball gag? I’m willing to try it once. All you have to do is say the word.”

  I roll my eyes dramatically and turn back to face Madelyn, doing everything I can to ignore the dull ache of desire that starts between my thighs. Garreth has one hand positioned on the back of my pub chair and the other on the tabletop, and the way he leans in and toward me makes me all too aware of his close proximity.

  “I was just getting ready to flag someone down to get me a drink, since no one has come to our table yet,” I retort, even though that’s not completely true. I’ve only sat down a few minutes ago, and Madelyn already has something to drink.

  Garreth smiles a heart-stopping grin. One that makes my stomach flutter with the release of a hundred butterflies. “Well, look no further, love. The man you’ve been looking for is right here.”

  I can still smell him.

  I school my features and plaster on my best you’re-annoying-me face, even though my heart feels like it’s going to tap dance out of my chest. Usually, this is when I feel incredibly guilty for finding him so damn attractive, but I can’t help it. The man flirts shamelessly with me, always doing everything in his power to cause a reaction. “I have a boyfriend,” I remind him for the umpteenth time.

  Ever since I met the man, he’s been nothing but a huge flirt. Always with that big, cocky smile and that perfectly proportioned, handsome face that women drool over. And the hair. A shaggy blond head of hair that your fingers just beg to dive into and pull. Every time I remind him of my significant other, it seems to only spur him on further.

  But I will also say, in the time I’ve known Garreth, he’s never taken it too far. It’s always that bold teasing I’ve come to expect anytime he’s near. He’s never made me feel uncomfortable or like he’s overstepping when he does it. If anything, he makes me smile, even though I won’t let him see it. No, a smile would only encourage his flirting more.

  “You wound me,” he replies dramatically, bringing his hands to cover his heart.

  Unable to hold back my chuckle, I shake my head at his antics. “How about a beer?”

  “Anything for you,” he croons, setting a napkin down in front of me. He doesn’t have to ask what kind I want. He already knows. I order the exact same drink every Tuesday.

  “Sorry we’re late,” BJ announces as she approaches the table, Mallory hot on her heels. “This one had a boob emergency.”

  Garreth steps back so he’s not blocking the chair beside me, allowing BJ to easily slip onto the seat, but he doesn’t go far. He moves directly behind where I sit, his fingers brushing against me as he holds the back. “Ladies, welcome. I was just getting ready to grab drinks. What are you having?”

  “Regular margarita, on the rocks with salt,” Mallory orders, taking one of the remaining seats.

  “Beer. A big one,” BJ states before she yawns. BJ’s married to Isaac, one of the owners of the restaurant and bar.

  “Coming right up,
” Garreth replies before heading for the bar.

  “They’re busy tonight,” Mallory notes, her eyes automatically moving to the bar, as if she’s looking for her husband behind it, even though he’s home tonight with the kids. She’s married to Walker, the man who runs this side of the business and keeps the alcohol flowing. They’ve been married five years and have three kids. Lizzie is eight, Duncan is four and a half, and Waylon is almost two.

  “They are,” BJ confirms. “Did you notice Garreth didn’t even blink when I mentioned your boobs?”

  Madelyn giggles. “That’s because he’s used to you talking about them.”

  “Very true. My boobs always seem to be the focus of conversation at least once during the course of the night,” Mallory confirms.

  “So what happened tonight?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes focused on my friends and not on the sexy assistant manager who’s helping behind the bar.

  “My bra strap broke.”

  “And her boobs were practically flying all over the place,” BJ adds. “Walker was happy.”

  “He’s always happy when my boobs make an appearance.”

  “Sorry, sorry I’m late!” Lyndee cries, practically running to our table and flopping onto the remaining chair. “Elliott had a diaper explosion right before I was set to walk out the door.” Elliott is her and Jasper’s two-year-old son. Jasper is one of the other co-owners, the wizard in the kitchen. “What did I miss?”

  “Mallory’s boobs fell out and Reagan apparently quit her job,” my cousin announces, causing all eyes to turn to me.

  “You did?” BJ asks with wide eyes.

  “Do you have something else lined up?” Mallory inquires.

  “Was it because Archer Stewart is an asshole?” Lyndee hedges innocently.

  “Part of the reason, yes,” I confirm, glancing around for my beer.

  As if knowing I’m eyeing him, Garreth looks up. He’s setting two beers on a tray, doing it easily and without spilling a drop, all while maintaining our gaze. Someone else sets the margarita down beside the glasses, and he picks them all up and carries them our way. “Ladies, your first round,” he says, setting drinks down around the table before looking at Lyndee. “Wine?” When she confirms with a nod, he adds, “Your server tonight is Max, and he should be here in a few minutes,” before turning to grab Lyndee’s drink.

  “Thanks, Garreth,” Mallory hollers before chugging some of her margarita.

  “Anything for you, ladies,” he replies with a big grin and a wink before heading back to help at the bar.

  “He’s been a godsend,” BJ announces, even though everyone at the table already knows it. They’ve all discussed it in great lengths several times, appreciating the fact their husbands can trust their business to someone else, giving them all a little more free time to be with their families.

  “I heard we had a diaper problem.” Lyndee turns to see her husband approaching our table.

  “It was more of an explosion, and it was nasty,” she confirms, giving him a hard kiss on the lips. “Dustin was gagging and refused to help clean it up.”

  “Can’t say I’m not glad I wasn’t there for that,” he teases, tapping her on the nose as he gazes lovingly down at her.

  “Yeah, you’re always gone when the really bad ones happen,” she quips, sticking her tongue out at him.

  He laughs. “I can’t stay too long but wanted to say hello.” Jasper bends down and steals another kiss. “Love you.”

  “Love you too. I’ll come see you before we leave,” she announces, earning a nod from her sexy husband before he walks away to return to the kitchen.

  “You two are so cute,” Mallory says, already slurping up more alcohol, “but I want to hear more about Reagan’s job.”

  Sighing, I take a long drink of my beer before launching into the same short spiel about Archer giving the job to someone else, even though I’m better suited. Plus, I’ve put in over four years at that job, far more than Miss Perky D’s.

  “So, what now?” BJ asks.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. I’ll find something. I always land on my feet,” I insist, dreading the whole application and interview process in my immediate future.

  “You can always work here. Isaac was saying they’re short a bartender, which is probably why Garreth has been helping,” BJ informs as the man himself approaches carrying Lyndee’s wine.

  “Max is still handling another table, so let me get your orders into the chef,” he states, flashing a grin that seems to make everyone swoon just a little. I bet everywhere this man goes, there’s a trail of wet panties left in his wake.

  Everyone starts hollering out their orders, and I watch in complete fascination as he nods with each one, not bothering to write them down. He never does. Every time he’s waited on us, he remembers what we ask for and delivers the plates perfectly. I can see why all the employees love working for him.

  “Umm…Reagan? Isn’t that Justin?” my cousin asks, drawing my attention away from the hot assistant manager.

  “What? Where?” Turning toward the front entrance, I find my boyfriend, Justin, and his assistant, Tia, enter the bar. Weird. “He said he was working late tonight, since I was doing girls’ night.”

  Then, he throws his arm over her shoulder and draws her into his side.

  Okay. Very weird.

  And very friendly.

  “Uhh…” BJ says as Tia laughs at something my boyfriend says.

  Justin takes his hand and wraps it around her hip, pulling her petite body against his chest. His tongue then falls into her mouth. Yep. That’s the only way to describe it. Like an out of body experience, I sit here and watch my boyfriend’s tongue do an impression of this sickening mating ritual bit I read about in a sci-fi romance book I accidentally bought years ago. Tia seems to love it, her mouth wrapping around my boyfriend’s tongue and sucking.

  Gross!

  “What the hell is going on, Reag?” Madelyn whispers as we all stare at the show.

  I’m up and moving before I can consider what I’m going to say. What does one say when confronting their boyfriend, who’s tongue-fucking his assistant in the middle of a busy bar? “Justin, what the hell?” I demand the moment I reach his side.

  He looks at me, startled and confused. “Hey, Reagan.” He sounds nervous.

  Good.

  Fucker.

  “Uhh, yeah. Hey.” I prop my hands on my hips, waiting patiently for someone to tell me what in the world is going on. You know, like Ashton Kutcher. I’m pretty certain he’s about to jump out from behind the bar and yell, “Punk’d!”

  When that doesn’t happen, I glare a little harder at my boyfriend, who has the audacity to shift and hide behind Tia.

  Loser.

  “Did you, uh… Well, I sent a text.”

  “A text?” I ask, fully aware we’ve now drawn eyes from all over the bar.

  “Yeah.” He swallows hard. “About us,” he adds, guilt written all over his face. “Didn’t you get it?”

  My mouth drops open as realization sets in. “You broke up with me…in a text?”

  He lifts his shoulder, as if it’s no big deal. “Well, yeah. You were busy with your girls’ night. I didn’t want to bother you,” he insists, glancing across the room to the table where my friends sit.

  “And you thought bringing your assistant and making out with her in the place you knew we were coming for dinner was the way to not bother me?”

  Again, he shrugs. “I guess. Listen, we’re gonna have dinner, okay?” Justin says, turning pleading eyes to Tia, as if she can somehow get him out of this awkward situation.

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry to interrupt.” As I get ready to turn and walk away, I holler, “Oh, and Justin? I hope you get the clap and every erection you have for the rest of your life ends with you pissing fire.” And because I can’t stop myself, I turn to Tia. “I hope you don’t mind three-minutes’ worth of—” I hold up my pinky to demonstrate exactly what she’s in for.

  Then, with my head held high, I turn and walk back to my table, dozens of sets of eyes trailing me the entire way. There’s a lump the size of Texas in my throat, but I will those emotions away, begging them to just hold off until I’m alone before they fly. I will not cry over a jerk like Justin in public.

  I will not.

  Especially with Garreth Taylor watching.