Chapter One
Jessa
Present Day
"I'm so jealous of you right now, Jessa," my best friend, Gwen London says, her round face scrunched up in a scowl that makes her look far younger than she is. "You get to spend the night hanging out with Cami and Bentley Reynolds."
"I'm not hanging out with them. I'm working," I say with a laugh, carefully wiping down the top of the bar even though it's already spotless. The waxed wood shines in the late afternoon sunlight spilling in from the three glass walls. So does the hardwood floor. The entire place is squeaky clean, which is great. Before I came to work here, I always imagined bars would be messier.
This one isn't. It's honestly kind of beautiful. The karaoke bar is situated on the rooftop of the best hotel in Chattanooga. The sun seems so much closer from up here, like I could reach out and touch it if I wanted to do it. It's one of my favorite things about working up here.
At night, fairy lights and the bonfire pits set up outside give the place a cozy vibe. Both the bar and the floors are made of some sort of wood that's so dark it's almost black. Plush sofas and armchairs are scattered around in groups, allowing patrons to get comfortable after eating at one of the bar tables. It's intimate, the perfect setting for small, private parties like the one scheduled for tonight.
"You're working a private event for Cami and Bentley, Kasen Alexander, and Clayton Devine," Gwen says, still pouting. The guys and Cami are big country music stars, here to play a charity benefit at the hotel tomorrow night. Six years ago, Cami fell in love with Bentley Reynolds and gave a lot of curvy girls like my best friend hope that there is a place for girls who look like us in the music business.
Cami has been Gwen's idol since we were seventeen, serving up ice cream at Papa Scoops and dreaming about our futures. We both had grand plans for our lives. Gwen wanted to be a big star. I wanted to be a school psychologist.
Not much has changed in the last five years.
We're older, wiser, and as determined as ever. Gwen still dreams of getting her big break. I still want to be a psychologist. We still work together, though I now serve alcohol in the luxurious hotel where we work. Gwen runs the hospitality desk. Despite how she makes it sound, my job is by no means glamorous. I spend most of my time serving expensive drinks to people who spend the whole time looking down their noses at me.
I'm not rich enough, skinny enough, or important enough for most of them to waste their time on me. But grad school isn't cheap, and I make good money here. I've worked hard to keep my grades high enough to make it through all four years at UTC on a full scholarship. Which means, thanks to this job, I've been able to tuck away enough to cover what my fellowship isn't going to cover when I start grad school in Nashville this fall.
My older brother, Cyrus, keeps trying to slip me extra. I've told him a thousand times that I'm fine, but he never listens. I love him to death, but he drives me crazy sometimes.
Cyrus is nine years older than I am. He joined the Air Force right out of high school and fell in love with the life. I missed him like crazy over the years, but he's stationed at the base in Tullahoma, which is only an hour from here. He's working on a flight simulation project.
I love having him so close to home, even if he is overprotective and bossy. He's been that way my entire life. No one messes with me without answering to him. Picking on the smart, chubby girl was quality entertainment for some of the boys in my class when I was little. They really didn't like that I made better grades than they did. Tommy Wahler was the worst. He always tried to destroy my homework so I couldn't turn it in.
That ended the first time I ran home in tears. Cyrus pried the truth out of me. He walked me to class the next morning. I still don't know what he said, but Tommy and his friends never bothered me again. My brother has been my hero ever since.
I'll never tell him that, of course. Are you kidding me? He'd never let me forget it. Just like he never lets me forget the time I puked on the Ferris wheel. Or the time I had a crush on Justin Bieber. He may be awesome, but he's still an annoying older brother.
"If you were downstairs, you could probably talk to Cami yourself," I tease Gwen, checking to make sure the bar is completely stocked. Since I'm the only one working tonight, running out of something isn't an option. Gretchen Landers, our manager, would have a fit. She demands perfection, especially when celebrities and the upper echelon stay here.
Gretchen may be in her sixties, but she knows that one negative Tweet or bad review from a high-profile guest could spell trouble for all of us. She refuses to let that happen. Unlike the guests who stay here, most of the employees depend on this place for survival. They have families to think about, households to run. Gretchen may seem stern, but she's a marshmallow.
"I'll go in a minute," Gwen says, waving me off with one perfectly manicured hand. Unlike me, Gwen makes being curvy and fashionable look effortless. She's always dressed to impress in bright, bold colors. She's African American and has a flawless tawny complexion, curly black hair, and gorgeous hazel eyes. Everything looks amazing on her.
I've got porcelain skin and blonde hair, both of which look washed out and pallid in bright colors. I stick to more traditional, boring colors, wear my hair pinned up to keep it out of the way, and hope I make it through the day without spilling something all over myself. As for my nails…well, I usually slap on a coat of clear polish and promise myself I won't pick it off when I get nervous. It never works.
The sad truth is, I'm a twenty-two-year-old cat lady in the making. Except I don't own a cat. I have a teacup chihuahua who owns me. She has more sweaters than I do. We spend our nights knitting and watching true crime documentaries on Netflix. Well, I knit. Ruby judges me.
"I came up here to tell you that Jax is here," Gwen says.
I jerk my head up to look at her, smacking it on the bar in the process.
"Ouch!" I mutter, reaching up to rub it as I slowly back out from beneath the bar.
"I don't understand how you manage to pour drinks all night without spilling them yet can't walk across a flat surface without tripping," she says, shaking her head. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I mumble, still trying to process that Jax is here.
Jaxon Archer is my brother's best friend, my secret love, and my new boss all rolled into one delicious six-foot-four package. I've been in love with him since Cyrus found out he didn't have any family and dragged him home to spend the holidays with us the year I turned eighteen.
He is so freaking gorgeous. He's tall and broad, imposing save for his glasses. The thick black frames make him seem more like a hot nerd and less like the Navy SEAL he is. They soften his mocha-colored eyes, hide a little of the danger gleaming there.
The man is deadly, in more ways than one. Every time he looks at me, I want to throw myself into his arms. I can't do that, of course. For one, Jax could have any woman on the planet. There's no way he'd go for his best friend's chubby little sister. For two, Cyrus would kill us both. The last time one of his friends flirted with me, he had a fit. I don't think my brother has talked to Chase Bennett since then. I don't want to be the reason he stops talking to Jax.
Jax needs every friend he can get right now.