If you play pool or even throw darts, this is the place you do it. Four tables and two dartboards fill the second room. You’ll find all levels of skill too, not just the pros like Jet. He loves taking young guys under his wing and teaching them about angles and English.
But what we’re really known for is our wings. Yeah, there’s hamburgers on the menu too, but that’s not what people come to Jet’s for. Honey barbecue, parmesan garlic, pineapple teriyaki, and Cajun jerk are the most popular. However, if one of those doesn’t strike your fancy, we have eight additional flavors on the menu.
When I first started here more than two years ago, a week after turning twenty-one, we only served food Thursday through Saturday, but as the months went on, and seeing how many orders came through those nights, I worked to convince Jet to add more days. Sunday was first and the most popular, especially during football season. With wings available, I noticed baseball, hockey, and even NASCAR seasons started to see an increase in food orders. Eventually, we went seven days a week and serve enough nightly to keep a cook busy for hours.
Once the patrons at the bar have refills, I turn my attention to washing the dirty glasses. I’m bent over the sink, scrubbing each one inside and out, when the heavy wooden door opens and slams closed. I hear a few offered greetings but keep my focus on finishing my task. Only two more glasses to go…
“How in the hell do you get a drink around this place anyway?”
I know that voice.
It’s loud and laced with humor, and when my eyes fly up and meet his happy hazel ones, I let out a little squeal. Then my legs are carrying me, away from the soapy dishes and the running water and toward one of my favorite people ever.
“Chad!” I bellow, rounding the corner of the bar and leaping into his outstretched arms. He catches me easily, holding steadfast and barely making a grunt as I slam into his chest.
“Hey, Shay,” he whispers, holding me tight against his chest.
After a few seconds, he releases his hold on me and allows my feet to return to the floor. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” I say, my face hurting from smiling so widely.
“Are you kidding me? My feet barely landed on US soil, and I couldn’t wait to rest up and walk through that old door,” he says, hitching a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.
But that’s not where my eyes go.
Oh, no.
They lock on the tall man standing behind my cousin. Crazily fit body, scruffy jaw, and buzzed dark hair. His alluring green eyes are the perfect shade of freshly dewed grass under warm, rich sunshine. They’re twinkling with eagerness and mischief, and maybe even a promise or two of dirty things. At least that’s the way my dried-up lady parts dissect them. He’s just a hint taller than Chad and sports the same buzz cut and Army Proud green T-shirt.
“Hey, Ford, this is Shayne,” Chad says, taking a step back to allow room for his friend to join our close circle.
His eyes widen with shock right before they take a leisurely perusal of my body. When they finally return to my face, he seems even more confused than moments ago. “You’re Shayne? But…you’re a woman.”
I glance down at my chest, at the hint of cleavage peeking out of the fitted V-neck T-shirt I’m wearing. “Uh, yeah, I’m definitely a woman.”
Chad barks out a laugh and hits his friend on the back. “I told you that, didn’t I?”
The impossibly gorgeous man turns to my cousin and shakes his head. “No, I’d definitely remember…her.”
“Oh, well, sorry,” Chad replies with a shoulder shrug. “Come on, let’s grab those two seats at the bar.”
He takes off, but Ford doesn’t move. He’s still looking at me, those green eyes assessing and observing. It starts to make me feel a little uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, but it’s quickly washed away when he steps forward, extends his hand, and says, “Ford Gregory.”
His hand is rough, warm, and sends sparks of lust bolting through my bloodstream. Like little zaps of electricity, they land firmly between my legs, leaving me a little achy and breathy.
What the hell?
“Shayne Danner,” I reply, allowing him to hold my hand for way longer than normal. “Female,” I add, unable to help the little dig.
He smiles perfectly white, straight teeth. Of course he does. A man this pretty wouldn’t have a stained, crooked grin. “Sorry about that. You were just a…surprise.”
I wave his comment off. “Believe it or not, you wouldn’t be the first person to be shocked by my lack of a penis.”
He barks out another laugh and shakes his head. As he opens his mouth to respond, we’re interrupted by a holler. “Yo, Ford, quit hitting on my cousin and get over here! I’ve been thinking about these wings for nine long months.”