One Last Shot

By Remi Wild

It's been four, long, and painfully single years since my drunken hookup with Mr. Blue Eyes. His fading memory and unrealistic fantasies have sustained me thus far, but I'm lonely, tired of being the strong one while everything falls apart.
After making a deal with my mom, I jump back into the dating pool and come up for air with Derek. He's sexy, funny, sweet—everything I could possibly want in a man, both for myself and my daughter. For the first time in my life, I'm excited about the future.
In walks Mr. Grumpy/Braden with his disgusting beard and perpetual self-loathing. Mr. Grumpy saves my life, but I wasn't prepared for Braden's dark truth. What he's done can never be forgiven. But I've got a secret too...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ravenna Young
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201845254

Book preview

Chapter One

My blistered feet are no doubt bleeding in my shoes. Why I chose to break in a pair of kitten heels on a Saturday night, I’ll never know. Although they seemed like a good idea at the time, I’m now counting the seconds until I can kick them off my feet. It’s been a long shift, and I’m more than ecstatic to get out of here.

Reaching for the keys, I’m about to go lock access to the bar when the front door flings open, and a man struts in.

Damn stragglers.

I scoot from around the counter and bolt for the door with key in hand, saying over my shoulder, Sorry, we’re closed. Last call has been and gone.

After I’ve locked the door, I spin, expecting the straggler to be heading out behind me, but instead he approaches Dan, usually the last patron to leave. Pissed that he ignored me, I glare at him as he joins Dan, sitting opposite him at the booth. They chatter as though they know each other, so I shrug off his blatant disregard for the fact that I’m closing—he won’t get a drink anyway. My heels throb, reminding me to haul ass back behind the bar and continue to cash out.

Moving between fridges, I continue my counts while sneaking glimpses of Dan’s friend. I’ve never seen anyone with him, so I’m curious, borderline nosy. It’s none of my business, and I really want to finish up and get home.

I’m not sure why I can’t stop checking the straggler out. He’s nothing much to look at, that’s for sure. He’s a big guy, could be muscle or chub, but it’s difficult to tell because he’s snuggled into sweats and a grungy oversized hoodie. His scruffy, shoulder-length brown hair and overgrown beard harden his facial features, making him appear as though he’s stuck in a cycle of utter self-loathing or perpetual anger.

Who is this dude?

Dan usually sits alone at his booth, most nights he stays until closing. The regulars know each other, and they exchange small talk, but other than bar staff, no one has actually ever taken a seat at Dan’s booth and engaged in conversation with him.

From this angle, I can’t see Dan’s face, but his friend looks serious as fuck—grumpy—I think it just may be how he looks.

Is Grumpy Guy angry with Dan?

An altercation is the last thing I need tonight. My stomach clenches, but then I hear Dan’s soft chuckle and relax. There’s a lopsided grin on Grumpy Guy’s face, I think. Even with a slight smile, the guy looks miserable. Maybe it’s a manly version of resting bitch face. Dan seems cool with him, though, so whatever. They’re just chatting.

Time to go guys, I say from behind the bar as I stuff my deposit into a bag. They get up, Dan staggering behind the grump, and leave.

Despite my bleeding ankles, I practically fly over the bar to lock the door from the inside as a smile of relief spreads across my face. Cloth and disinfectant spray in hand, I race to Dan’s booth to wipe it down. As with every time I clean or serve this booth, flashes of the night four years ago, the night I shared with a stranger, comes to mind.

Probably the most epic sex of my entire existence took place in Dan’s favorite spot. It’s also the last time I had sex. Sadly.

Vague memories flash through my mind, flushing my skin. The details in those memories are fading, so is his face, but the feeling—that’s still there. Closing my eyes, I succumb to the memory of his hands on my flesh, of the way he savaged the groove of my neck, driving me fucking wild—I can almost feel my hands weaving through his soft brown locks, cradling his head as we kissed. And oh, he could kiss. The kind that sucks you in and steals your breath while sending jolts of pleasure to all the right places.

Sighing, I shake my head, refusing to waste time reminiscing. I finish up, approach the office, and knock.

Come in, gorgeous, Samuel says, his pet name for me makes me grin. I open the door, reach into the filing cabinet to nab my purse, and then lean in to drop the deposit into the safe.

All locked up, I say, moving behind the desk for a hug from the world’s finest boss.

You best get home to your baby, then, he says, pulling away and returning to his chair.

That’s the plan. I smile, missing my girl. Callie hasn’t been feeling well. On any given day I hate leaving her but when she’s sick, every second away is torture and filled with worry. If anything happened to my sweet girl, I’d be lost.

Tell Ruthie I say hello. Samuel smirks like a naughty devil, but I see it like I always do when he speaks of my mom, which is basically every day. Someday, I’m gonna marry your mamma. He’s been crushing on her for years, but since Mom barely leaves my presence and hasn’t even looked at another man since Dad shit all over her, I have my doubts. I smile anyway. A guy could dream.

Samuel is the sweetest man this side of Heaven. It’s surprising that he’s been widowed for over twenty years with no children. What’s more astounding is the fact that some lucky lady hasn’t snapped him up. I wish my mom would snap him up. He’s smart, kind but doesn’t take any crap, generous, decent-looking, and financially secure. He owns this bar, the Corner Pub, which is basically assured clientele from the four-star Seven Springs Hotel it’s attached to. If I were twenty years older, I’d be chasing Samuel.

I’ll tell her, I say, leaning in to close his laptop. He usually needs that extra push out the door. Samuel, you need to get some rest, too. I swear he never leaves the bar.

Chuckling, he raises his hands in defeat. I will. Just going over some resumes.

It’s two in the morning. Resumes can wait. I glare at him with my sternest mom-look.

Alright, Alright. He laughs, rising to leave. I’m sorry you’ve been working so much since Rayne ran off with Glen to work in Banff.

Ah, yes, well they’re apparently in love, so for love, it’s worth it. Really, it’s no problem. I know you’ll find replacements soon.

Linda’s got the day shift for the next week, but I’m gonna need you for nights. As soon as I have some new hires in place, you can take some time off.

That would be lovely. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends just to spend time with my girl between all the extra shifts. Downtime sounds absolutely heavenly.

Now, go on, he says, motioning for me to leave. I’ll shut the lights.

Waiving over my shoulder, I head out. As I crawl into my van, I notice Dan’s car in the parking lot. Scowling, I grit my teeth. I’m pissed that he drove here—he knows how I feel about driving drunk, and Dan should never be driving anywhere—I’m sure his blood alcohol level never dips low enough for him to be fully cognizant. At least he didn’t drive home. Grumpy Guy must have given him a ride.

My mom is still awake and reading on the couch when I get in the door. I kick off the shoes from hell, say a quick hello, and rush to Callie’s room. Kissing her forehead, I feel the coolness of her flesh—the fever is gone. Whatever virus she had seems to have moved on, and my worries disappear with a sigh with relief.

For a minute, I sit beside her, watching her sleep. Her shoulder-length, brown ringlets drape lazily across the pillow, her stunning blues are masked behind lids lined with doe lashes, long and dark. I just love her pudgy cheeks, and she still stops my heart with those pouty lips.

She doesn’t look a thing like you, Mom whispers from behind me. "She looks like a tiny cherub. You looked like a little devil at that age."

A grin crosses my lips, I know she’s right. I love that Callie looks nothing like me; she didn’t get her curly hair or her piercing blue eyes from me, but she definitely has my stubborn, independent nature.

We leave Callie and move to the living room. Mom sits on the couch, and I join her, resting my head on her shoulders. She reaches up to smooth the hair off my cheeks and kisses the side of my head.

Mom, you didn’t have to wait up for me. Stifling a yawn, I nudge her with my head, letting her know I appreciate it.

Why should you always be the one up late. Anyway, I was reading. I’ll take her word for it, but I know it’s the mom in her, waiting for her baby to get home safe.

Thank you, Mom, for everything. I honestly can never thank her enough, so I make sure to tell her often.

She’s silent. We both are. Mostly I’m too exhausted to think, but not too exhausted to wonder for the umpteenth time why Mom hasn’t moved on by now. I’m so grateful that she hasn’t but I know she deserves more for herself even though it could mean she isn’t around to help with Callie.

Working in a bar makes raising a kid as a single mom tough. The hours suck, but the pay is fantastic. The tips alone more than support the three of us, but I wouldn’t be able to do any of this if it weren’t for Mom taking care of Callie while I take care of them.

Mom was a homemaker for twenty years, until my dad decided she wasn’t enough and split. She’s lived with me for the past ten years, surviving on alimony checks and my kindness, a kindness I learned from her. She’s been there for me through everything, her support is my backbone.

How my dad could walk away still just astounds me and everyone who knows her. She’s amazing, loving, a positive force to be reckoned with, and absolutely admired. I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone—even after Dad left her for a younger version. She’s too classy to talk shit about anyone, but I’m sure she seethes on the inside.

I wish I had a drop of her grace, her class. I’m the opposite, but I embrace my awkward sassiness. Life’s too short, you know.

Not once, since the moment I told Mom I was pregnant with Callie has she judged me. Everyone else did—getting pregnant from a late-night, after-hours, hookup in a booth at the hotel bar where I work isn’t exactly a great conception story. It’s made worse by the fact that I didn’t even catch his name, but any shame I felt over our drunken dalliance vanished the moment I held Callie in my arms.

Callie’s dad is missing so much. We didn’t exchange contacts, and I haven’t seen him since, not that I fully remember what he looks like because I was totally smashed, fucking tequila, but he had the most intense blue eyes, dark blue like the ocean. Callie has those same eyes, and she’s beautiful in every sense of the word so win-win for me.

Alexa, you need a man in your life, Mom coos, nudging me with her shoulder. Ugh, not this again.

Samuel says hello, I shoot back, but there’s a tease to my tone. Turning and shifting myself, I look her square in the eye. You should just go out with him. One date.

Shaking her head, her expression is one of rigid trepidation. I have only ever been with one man, and to go through that kind of heartache again...No thank you. Her eyes appear glassy, it’s still a sensitive subject with her and perhaps always will be. She lost so much. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to have your soul ripped out, but when the supposed love of your life tosses you aside, it can’t feel like anything less.

"Pfft. Dad’s an idiot. Samuel would never..." As I say the words, I wonder...Would he? One never really knows, even though I just can’t picture Samuel being that cold.

I never thought your dad would either and please don’t call him an idiot. He’s a good man, he’s just... She doesn’t have the word for it. What is the word for a man who leaves his family and devoted wife to shag a legal assistant at his firm and then goes on to marry her?

One word can’t possibly describe that kind of hurt.

Nodding, I shut my mouth. I pray she isn’t holding out, hoping Dad will come back, but I also know she’s terrified. Who can blame her? Ten years is a long time, but she isn’t ready to move on. You could do worse, just saying. Samuel owns his own home, a successful business, and he’s a pussycat who just happens to adore you. But I’m not going to push, you don’t push me. Leaning in, I give her a hug and then head to bed.

As I lay in the dark, snuggled under the duvet, I can’t help but think of him, Mr. Blue Eyes. Honestly, no man has ever left such a mark—or a child. Although I was fairly sauced by the time Mr. Blue Eyes and I shagged that fateful night, I do remember laughing as we chatted and the stifling heat between us. He was funny, sweet, yet commanding, and I was hooked, so when closing time came and Samuel went home ahead of me, I grabbed the tequila and took a seat next to him. The rest is mostly a tequila induced blur with flashes of unbelievably awesome sexual moments. I would have loved to get to know him, for him to get to know his daughter. She’s so amazing. That night was amazing.

Yeah, I was wasted. One tequila always leads to regret. Maybe he had regrets, too. Maybe he didn’t enjoy it as much as I did, but somehow, I doubt it. I couldn’t possibly have been alone on that volcanic island. Just thinking about it sends shivers of delight rushing through me.

So, where is he?

Why didn’t he come back?

I guess, hookups aren’t supposed to come back. No promises were made, just memories, really hot memories. Memories won’t provide a father for my baby girl. I shouldn’t have been so careless. Now Callie’s missing out on having a father. He’s missing out on one of the best things in life, but he’ll never know it.

A knock on the door grabs my attention and then Mom is standing in the open doorway.

OK, she says, sucking in a breath as if it’s courage.

Leaning up on my elbows, I eye her silhouette with question. OK, what?

I’ll go out with Samuel, on one condition. Oh, crap. Here it is. I can sense her grinning in the dark. "You, have to go out with the next man to ask you."

A half-snort, half-laugh escapes me. Mom, I work in a bar. The next guy could be fifty shades of nasty.

"All right, then you need to pick the least nasty one by closing tomorrow night. Once you have a date, I will pay Samuel a visit." She doesn’t even wait for my reply before leaving my room and closing the door.

Stunned, I stare into the darkness, wondering if I dreamt