PartyNaked

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Party Naked

ISBN 9781419935541

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Party Naked Copyright © 2011 Mari Carr

Edited by Kelli Collins

Cover design by Syneca

Photographs: wtamas, librakv and Sergej
Razvodocskij/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication September 2011

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
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Party Naked

Mari Carr

Dedication

This story is dedicated to Kim and Sue, my fellow
secret keepers.

Chapter One

“Goddamn, motherfucker, son of a bitch on a cheese cracker!”
Stephanie Harper looked at the mass destruction around her feet and felt the
overwhelming desire to smash every bottle in the damn bar.

“What was that?” Her best friend Jayne’s head popped up from
where she was bent over, stocking new-release books on the shelf.

“Just me redecorating the bar area with broken glass.” Her
tone betrayed the fact she was finding no humor in her clumsiness.

“Trip on the mat again?” Jayne’s question—laced with a
giggle—told Stephanie her friend was finding humor in the situation.

“Yes, Miss Unhelpful. I tripped on the motherfucking mat
again.”

“Uh oh. Two MFs in under a minute. You really are having a
bad day.”

Stephanie took a deep breath and tried to take stock of the
damage. “You can say that again. I just broke two bottles of vodka, one of Jack
and a brand new Beefeater.”

Jayne approached the bar, crawling on a stool to peer over
at the mess Stephanie had made. “What’s Beefeater again?”

“Gin. Jesus, Jayne. You’ve worked in this bar nearly two
years now. You’d think you’d pick up some of this stuff.”

Jayne shook her head, plopping her ass down. “I work in the
bookstore.
You
work in the bar. And I don’t like alcohol.”

Stephanie shook her head in mock disbelief, though Jayne’s
distaste for the strong stuff was a well-known flaw in her friend’s character.
“Yeah, well, you don’t know what you’re missing. Nothing like a splash of
Beefeater with Sprite and a twist of lime in the summertime. Very refreshing.”

“Lemonade serves the same purpose. I take it the gin was
important.”

“No, not really. However, the loss of that particular brand
of vodka was deadly. Books and Brew isn’t gonna open at all today without it.
Your Romantic Hearts book group likes their special Screwdrivers.” Stephanie
moved toward the corner to grab the broom, while Jayne walked behind the bar to
inspect the broken glass.

“Tell you what. I’ll clean up the mess and you can run to
the liquor store for more. Maybe the drive will clear your head a bit. Not
quite sure what’s thrown you out of whack, but the fresh air might do you some
good.”

Stephanie gratefully relinquished the broom and dustpan, but
she didn’t think a drive was going to help her escape the dark cloud she’d
woken up under. “Maybe I should just say ‘screw it’ to everything, go home and
crawl back in bed. Hope for better luck tomorrow.”

Her friend placed a consoling hand on Stephanie’s shoulder.
“Just go get the vodka. You really don’t want me to have to man the bar.”

Stephanie imagined Jayne with her nose buried in the
bartender’s guide, trying to figure out how to make a scotch on the rocks, and
grinned. “True that.”

Jayne started cleaning up the shattered glass and liquid,
while Stephanie grabbed some money out of the cash register to pay for the
booze.

“Don’t forget to tell Jordan you took that money, and bring
back a receipt. You know she goes mad when she can’t account for every penny in
the cash register.”

Stephanie waved her hand briefly in response. She’d been a
thorn in her accountant friend’s side since she, Jordan, Jayne and Sophie
opened Books and Brew two years earlier. Owning their own business had been a
shared dream for the four women since they’d graduated from college and, so
far, their joint venture was a relative success. Books and Brew was a twist on
the coffee shop/bookstore idea. Stephanie wasn’t a fan of coffee, but she could
see the beauty in sipping a cold glass of wine while perusing the shelves for
new reading material.

Because of their diverse interests, they each managed to
bring something unique to the table. Jordan was using her B.S. in accounting by
taking care of the store’s finances, and the information Sophie had gathered in
her marketing classes was put to good use in advertising for the store. Even
Jayne was applying her liberal arts education—using her knowledge of literature
and history to stock the bookstore and hold weekly reading groups.

In the meantime, Stephanie was sitting on a psych degree
while tending bar. A fact her mother, Beverly, managed to bring up during every
single conversation they’d had since Stephanie’s graduation from college.
Beverly considered her daughter’s chosen profession a stage she’d outgrow,
which made Stephanie all the more determined to make the business a success.

She loved her job, using her degree in a rather unique way,
and she adored the patrons of the store. People loved to unload their problems
to bartenders and, while she certainly wasn’t trying to practice her
profession, she liked being able to provide an ear and perhaps some words of
comfort or advice. Stephanie joked she’d traded a barstool for the couch. She’d
found her niche, and she refused to give all that up by caving to her mother’s
constant nagging that she open a “respectable” practice and hold down a career
her mother felt was brag-worthy. Apparently telling her friends at the country
club that her daughter was a bartender wasn’t cutting it for good ol’ Mom.

“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She grabbed her purse
and car keys.

“Anything I should know before you get back? Expecting any
deliveries? Hank coming by?” Jayne wiggled her eyebrows as she asked the last
question.

“Do me a favor. Don’t mention Hank and ‘coming’ in the same
sentence.”

“So he’s still driving you crazy?”

Stephanie shuddered at the mention of their beer
distributor. “The guy doesn’t get it. He calls to ask me out and I say no. He
calls again and I say no. You’d think after twenty-or-so calls, he’d figure it
out. One moment of weakness and it’s like I’m going to be punished for life.”

“I think it was more like three moments,” Jayne teased.

“Wow. You’re a regular laugh a minute today. We should call
The
Daily Show
and see if they’ll give you a job co-anchoring with Jon
Stewart.”

“I’d love that. I think he’s hot.”

“Of course you do. You go for that brainiac type.”

Jayne didn’t deny the truth of Stephanie’s assessment. “You
know, I’d like to say I know
your
type, but I can’t pin you down. You
never seem to go for the same kind of guy twice or for longer than a month.”

“That’s because my time is too valuable to waste. And I’m a
fast learner. For example, a few nights with Hank proved weightlifters are not
my cup of tea.” Hank had a major self-esteem issue that manifested itself in
his obsession with outward appearances. After a couple trips to the gym with
him, she’d discovered the same held true for quite a few of the über-muscular
men in his social circle.

“Seems sort of narrow-minded. What if the next weightlifter
is cool and you never give him a chance?”

Stephanie shrugged, not wanting to admit her friend had a
valid point. The whole argument was moot anyway. Dating anyone seriously was a
luxury she simply didn’t have time for.

Luckily Jayne was a good friend. She let her off the hook
easy. “You’ll just have to keep looking.”

“Maybe, but regardless of who I date, let’s get one thing
straight, Jayne. I’m not looking to fall in love. Lust? Definitely. Sexual
attraction? I’m in. Red-hot, set-the-sheets-on-fire fucking? Hell yeah.
Forever? No way.”

Jayne looked at her thoughtfully. “I kind of think forever
would be nice.”

“Ha, that’s because you weren’t raised by Beverly Harper
Price Fitzgerald Warner, the queen of the five-minute marriage.”

“Agreed. Your mom’s giving Elizabeth Taylor’s record a run
for the money. Which husband is she on now? I lost track after the second.”

Stephanie sighed and pretended to count on her fingers.
“Four.”

Jayne winced. “Wowza. Well, you shouldn’t let your mother’s
missteps lead you astray. True love does exist, Steph. You just have to keep
your eyes and your heart open.”

Stephanie smiled. “You’ve been reading too many romance
novels. They’re rubbing off on you. Unfortunately, it’s not like Portland is
crawling with hot guys who frequent bookstores and right now, this bar is the
only place I’m likely to meet someone. I can’t remember the last time you and I
hit the nightclubs together.”