Page 789 of One More Kiss

Marked

The Prequel

Lexxi James

Jess

Eight years ago

“Have you seen Tyler?”I ask from the customer side of the bar at Donovan’s. In just a few weeks, it’ll be me behind the bar. When the Donovan’s hired me right after graduation, I swore to stay the mandatory three feet away as they’d instructed. But as my eighteenth birthday has come and gone, I want in. Serving. Not drinking.

Bartending in the great state of New York is totally legit at eighteen. Taste-testing even one drop of said concoctions, not. And as I am the last of the Bishop children to work in this great establishment, jeopardizing the Donovan liquor license would be a cardinal sin my brothers would never let me live down. So, I have assured them with pinky swears and heart-crossed promises that if they give me the job, I won’t let them down.

Donovan’s has been a staple of Saratoga Springs since the dawn of time. Or, at least, since the dawn of civilization at the gateway to the Adirondack mountains. It’s said that Donovan roots drive almost as deep as the forests, with restaurant seeds planted seven generations ago.

They handle everything from last minute birthday parties to lavish two-hundred-person weddings. From food deliveries to formal catered events, this restaurant is the salt of the town. Let’s just say I don’t want to be the one to eff it all up with the liquor authority.

Anita notices my stance and scolds me. “Step up to the bar!” She leans in. “This will all be yours someday?”

I glance around, fascinated at all there is to learn. “I can’t wait. And you’ll be my boss.”

She gives a pageant wave. “I will always be one of the people.” I laugh as I golf clap. She curtsies and tosses me a small notebook. “Here. You want the job? Memorize it.”

It has to be fifty pages of home-grown cocktails from the Adirondack Sunset to Donovan’s Deadly Twist. But when my page hits Bishop’s Breeze, I pause. My eyes well up. I expected it to be a drink created by Brian, Deacon, or Finn—any one of my brothers, but it’s not. It’s written by Henry. Henry James Bishop, my father. My fingers feather across the page as I well up with pride and sadness.

Anita’s warm hand covers mine. “Anything I can do?”

Rewind time. Stop them from getting in that car. “No,” I reply softly. Not unless you can bring my parents back. I breathe through it and blink away an annoyingly stubborn tear.

“Lunch?” she offers.

I decline with a smile. “Rain check?” I ask, hopefully. Considering I’m blowing all my money on Brian, I will absolutely take a free lunch.

She winks. “Anytime. Hmm…” She fills a thick, glass mug with whatever’s on tap. “Tyler?” She thinks it through.

I slump my shoulders, dismayed. If one more person says they haven’t seen Tyler, I will throw down like a toddler. Face planted into the questionably clean floor, arms and legs flailing about like that meltdown kid GIF.

She places the drink at the pickup station and sets down the mug down before sliding her glasses to the tip of her nose. “What do you need Tyler for?” she asks suggestively. Or hopefully. I swear the woman is a walking cupid.

I sport a scandalous grin and play along. “Because Tyler knows how to make a girl truly happy.”

She darts a hairy eyeball at me. “You’re lucky you’re legal,” she waggles her brows, smirking.

“All I need is a few minutes alone with the man. Just me and Tyler so he can—” I deadpan, “—pay me.”

Her gives me a mournful eye roll. “Boring.” She leans in. “Moment of truth…which?”

“Which what?”

“Which of the Donovan’s melts your butter?”

Which? I’ve never thought of it. I mean, they’re all friends with my brothers. Which is weird. Wide-eyed, Anita smiles expectantly, as I mentally run down the list.

There’s Tyler, the man I’m intent on hunting down, is the older, wiser, kinder of the trio. His sandy blond waves are always as carefree as his soul, and his twenty-seven-year-old smile warms you from the inside out. One day in the not-too-distant future, this business will be his kingdom, though not without help. On the date-worthy scale, too sweet. And paternal. Whenever I come in, he’s always checking if I’ve eaten. Thanks to this place, I have.

Then there’s Josh, the youngest. He’s a steady presence whenever he’s back from New York University. He’s twenty-one, though by his passion and drive, the man tackles his career like he’s thirty-one. Every summer, he returns to shake things up. Moving the inventory system into this millennium. A spruced-up website with candid shots of customers eating and an ordering system that takes everything from Venmo to Bitcoin. He even added an Instagram feed.

I’ve been snapping photos like crazy, and they’ve posted every single one. Josh says I have raw talent. I call it an obsession with Mama D.’s food. Josh will forever be the guy driven to take on the world. From a dating perspective…brilliant? Yes. A compulsive workaholic? A thousand percent.

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