Chapter One

She hated the closing shift. Not necessarily because she wouldn't get home until after 2am, hand clutching the bottle of pepper spray she kept on her keychain as she nearly jogged the four blocks that separated her apartment from the bar. No, it was because the night crowd was far rowdier than the afternoon one.

The afternoon crowd consisted of hardened, seasoned alcoholics. Guys who needed their first beer at 10am, their first shot of bourbon at noon. Sure a few of them let their gazes linger a little too long, some of them tried to make passes at her, but it was always half-assed, a rather hopeless effort. Those guys saw her every day, they knew they didn't have a chance. The night crowd however, the night crowd was loud. A mix of college kids, the occasional group of tourists who somehow managed to end up in the Sunset, and the more boisterous pack of locals, most of which had been coming to Fireside long before she was even born.

"Emma sweetie, I still don't have my Coors Light." Nick, one of the locals, leaned across the bar top a bit further than should have been allowed, his fingers dangerously close to skimming over and tainting the jar of limes that she had pre-sliced earlier in the day. A small preparation for the grueling Friday night that lay ahead.

"I'm a little short-staffed in case you hadn't noticed." Emma grunted as she grabbed a glass from the fridge and tugged down the Coors Light tap.

"Sassy this evening." Nick smirked, one side of his lips curling up as he placed a five-dollar bill down on the bar top.

Of course that fucker isn't going to tip, his family owns half the fucking Sunset and he's still a cheap bastard.

Emma placed his beer in front of him, snagging the five-dollar bill, spinning around, and ringing him up on the chunky cash register that had certainly seen better days... better decades. She rammed her hip into the drawer to get it to pop open, then shoved the bill inside, brushing the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand as she turned back around.

Her eyes caught and settled on a tall figure sauntering his way into the bar. She'd never seen him before, she knew, because she definitely would have remembered him if she had. The dude was broad, his shoulders comparative to that of a fucking linebacker or something, but his width tapered in at the waist, his brown belt cinched tight over a pair of blue jeans that looked like they belonged in the 70's... his whole look was decades behind, actually, a short-sleeved, bright blue button-up stretched over his wide chest and back, the thing looking like it was about to burst at the seams as he sat down at one of the empty barstools right in front of her.

His eyes, a dark, chocolate brown, somehow looked kind as they flickered up to her face, then slowly trailed down her body, making her stifle a tremble as they worked their way back up.

Javier smiled, not wide enough for that dimple to emerge on his right cheek, but enough so that he flashed her those perfectly straight, white teeth, framed underneath a thick, black mustache.

Pretty. He thought as he watched a flush brighten the apples of her cheeks. Really fucking pretty.

"What can I get for you?" She asked, grabbing a rag from the bar top, and ringing it in her hands to try to cope with the heavy-winged butterflies that were currently flapping away in her stomach at the sight of the attractive stranger.

"Bourbon please, neat." He said in a low baritone that made those butterflies leap into her chest.

"Preference?" She asked, forcing herself to turn around and step over toward the bourbon shelf.

"Whatever you give me will be fine, sweetheart." He crooned, his eyes snaking down her body as she reached for one of the mid-shelf options. Really fucking pretty, he thought again as his gaze lingered on her generous backside, snugly filling the seat of her high-rise jeans.

She turned back around, feeling his eyes on her as she poured him a glass, perhaps a tad more than she would pour normally.

"Here you go." She slid it across the bar and into his large, awaiting hand.

"How much do I owe you?" He asked, leaning to the side a bit to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He put his weight on his left arm as he did, which was propped up on the bar, and it bulged, pressing defiantly against the taut fabric of his short-sleeved shirt. She swallowed hard at the vision, forced her eyes back to his face... not that, that was any safer.

"Five."

He pulled a ten out and slid it across the bar. "Keep the change, I know that bottle costs more than five dollars a glass." He said, the side of his plush lips pulling into a smirk as he winked at her.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip, feeling her cheeks heat up as she snatched the ten and whirled back around.

So much for playing it cool, nice going Emma. She cursed herself as she rang him up, depositing the extra change into the tip jar to the right of the cash register.

He watched her help a couple at the end of the bar, smirking as she inconspicuously rolled her eyes when they ordered mixed drinks rather than beer or straight liquor like the rest of the patrons. Her perky, little tits bounced a bit as she shook the ingredients, and he licked his bottom lip, keeping his eyes on her as she poured the concoction out and delivered the glasses to the couple who blindly shoved a twenty-dollar bill in her direction.

After a good fight with the ancient-looking cash register, she turned back around to find him staring over the rim of his glass, her cheeks pooling with blood for a third time since he walked in. Shit, he could get used to that.

"Javier" He said, sticking his hand across the bar top.

"Emma." She answered, placing her hand in his. His eyes flickered down once as his hand enveloped hers. He relished the way his hand dwarfed hers, how soft her skin was against his calloused palm.

"New in town?" She asked, the skin on her hand tingling as she began mindlessly twisting that rag again.

"How could you tell?" He inquired, his eyebrows flickering up as he took a slow sip of his drink.

She shrugged, her slight shoulders raising up before quickly dropping back down, "Get a lot of the same folks in here every night. San Francisco isn't that big of a city, and the Sunset is like a small town nestled into the edge of it."

"Caught me. Just moved here last week." He began to twist his glass in small circles, his dark eyes still keeping her locked in place.

"From whereabouts?" She pried, still manically twisting that rag.

She watched him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in the confines of the thick column of his neck. "Um, Columbia." He answered, his voice an octave lower as he blinked and diverted his attention somewhere across the bar.

Columbia? The man looked Latino... but he certainly didn't sound like he just moved to America from Columbia for the first time.

"Originally from Texas." He said, reading her mind as he blinked again and directed his attention back to her face. "Was just in Columbia for work for a-- a while."

She wanted to pry further but could tell by the low tone of his voice, the deep v that had etched itself between his eyebrows, that he didn't want to talk about it.

He passed a hand through the dark locks of his hair, then threw back the remaining liquid in his glass.

"Another one, bonita, if you wouldn't mind." He asked, sliding his glass toward the back of the bar top.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip, nodding once as she took his glass and turned around to refill it. She was placing it down on the counter in front of him when Nick erupted to his left.

"Emma sweetie, gotta pay more attention to your other customers." He sang out, shaking his empty beer glass in the direction of her face.

She felt a stinging bout of annoyance surge up in her gut as she snatched his beer glass from him and quickly refilled it, not giving two shits about the amount of foam that swirled around at the top.

"Here's your Coors, Nick." She huffed, setting it in front of him in exchange for another five-dollar bill.

Javier's jaw twitched as he glared at the man out of the corner of his vision. He didn't have much room to judge when it came to asshole tendencies, but he certainly would never mistreat someone who was serving him, especially when that someone was a very pretty bartender.

"Keep that attitude up missy and I'll be letting Martin know." Nick chuckled, then swallowed a mouthful of mostly foam.

Javier felt the muscles in his right arm shudder. Who the fuck was Martin? And how quickly would he get banned from this bar if he decided to take his anger out on this prick?

"Something wrong, big boy?" Nick inquired harshly, now turned slightly so he was facing Javier.

Javier swallowed a good portion of his drink, then shook his head. He wasn't going to get kicked out of here. This was the closest bar to his new apartment, and the service was excellent. "No problem, my man." He said, grinding his teeth as he fished around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

He placed one in between his lips, cupping his hand around the flame as he lit it. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Nick place his coaster over the top of his glass, then slip from his seat, crowding the side of Javier as he ducked his head down to his ear.

"Not worth it, sonny." His breath was hot and sour against the side of Javier's face, "I've been coming here a long time, and she's a real looker, but she doesn't put out. Waving her tight little ass in front of everyone's face, but believe me, she's a bitch." He slipped away, stumbling toward the bathroom before Javier could grab the front of his shirt and bang his head down onto the bar top.

His jaw was so tight it ached as he constructed an image of Nick's head trickling blood. His hand gripped his glass with white knuckles, tight enough that he thought it might buckle and break in his palm. He needed to find a way to cope, there was way too much anger occupying his head. And he couldn't take it out on Escobar's men anymore...

"Could I have one of those... please?" Emma's voice broke him out of his violent spiral.

He stared up at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she meant, when her eyes flickered down to the cigarette perched between his lips.

"Oh, yeah, yeah of course." He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, handing it to her along with his lighter.

"I'll be right back; I'm going to take this outside." She said, motioning toward the door with his lighter.

"I'll come, if you don't mind?" He asked, partially because he wanted to talk to her more, partially because if he stayed unsupervised at the bar, he might end up actually punching Nick in the head.

She flashed him a small smile that he involuntarily matched as she nodded.

He swallowed the remaining liquid in his glass, then followed her outside, eyes lingering on the motion of her hips swaying as she walked.

"So... Nick..." Javier said, leaning back against the building as Emma worked to light her cigarette.

She groaned around the filter, finally getting the lighter to ignite, the flame glowing yellow against her face. "He's a regular." She said through a mouthful of smoke.

"Gathered that."

"His family owns like half this neighborhood; give a man money and power and he can get away with anything." She flashed an annoyed, half-smile.

Javier's mind drifted back to Escobar.

"Isn't that the truth." He muttered, flicking his cigarette into the street before promptly lighting a second.

She rolled her eyes, taking a long drag as she moved to the space next to him, "He's mostly harmless, besides being a fucking asshole."

"Being an asshole isn't necessarily synonymous with being harmless." Javier said, turning so he was facing her, his shoulder pressed into the brick of the building.

He watched her plump bottom lip jut up between her teeth.

I'd like to suck on that bottom lip.

"I'm a big girl. I can handle it." She cooed, staring up at him from underneath her lashes.

He stood straighter, his head tilted down so his chin nearly met his chest, "Don't look very big from up here, chiquita."

She blushed, but he watched her straighten her back to try to add a few inches of height. "Physical size is just a deception tactic."

He chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes refusing to part from hers, dark fucking blue, like the deep water in Lake Travis he used to stare at as a kid, propped up over the edge of the fishing boat as his dad yelled at him to keep an eye on the lines.

"How long have you been dealing with him?" Javier asked, gesturing back into the bar with a flash of his cigarette.

"Four years," She exhaled, slumping back against the wall, "been working here since I was 21, got a degree in English... I wanted to be a teacher, but they pay fuck all for that, and I still haven't paid my loan off, can't think about going back for my masters until after I do that..." She stared off across the street, then turned to him, her cheeks pink again, "Sorry, I tend to ramble."

"No need to apologize." He shook his head, eyes flickering over her face as he counted the years between them in his head. Fifteen... fifteen years, Jesus fuck.

It was quiet for a moment, besides the commotion spilling out from the bar, and the occasional car passing by on the street.

"What about you?" Emma asked, her voice low and cautious, "what do you do?"

Javier tensed, absently flicking his cigarette as he let his gaze wander down the street, away from her perceptive eyes.

"Nothing." He coughed, "Nothing right now."

"Are you a spy?" She smirked, "Undercover agent? You know, you wouldn't stick out so much if you wore clothes from this decade."

He felt his lips curl into a smirk despite how concerning it was that she was close to actually hitting the mark, "Not quite, and what-- you don't like my clothes?" He inquired jestingly, passing his hand over the front of his shirt.

She shrugged, "They're just a little dated is all." She tried to keep up the facade, but lost the fight as a smile broke through, pushing the apples of her cheeks up.

Fucking hell she's pretty.

"I'm dated, chiquita." He exhaled, pushing his hand through the front of his hair. "Went to Columbia a young man, came back an old fuck." He muttered, the bourbon making him more candid than he wanted to be... or was it her that was making him more transparent?

She shook her head, bumping his arm with her shoulder, the touch made them both feel as though a surge of electricity had been plugged into their veins. "Old isn't always a bad thing you know." She said, her voice soft, warm, like fucking honey, "Old means alive, and occasionally wise." She winked at him, and he felt a grin pulling his lips up.

"You're supposed to tell me I don't look old."

"Why lie?" She smirked, biting down on her bottom lip so it wouldn't turn into a full, cheek-crushing smile.

"Mala." He grunted under his breath, but his dark eyes twinkled when they locked on hers again.

She giggled softly, and the sound made his chest feel light. When was the last time his chest felt light? Nineteen-ninety fucking one?

"I'm only teasing, you don't look old, I promise." She cooed, flicking her cigarette out into the street as she pushed herself from the wall and took residence at the space in front of him.

He shook his head, "Too late for that, bonita." He dropped his cigarette, putting it out with a quick twist of his boot, "You've already insulted me, the least you can do is stand behind your statement."

She shrugged, "I'm a known hypocrite."

"I don't believe that." He shook his head.

Oh, if you only knew. She thought as she stared up at his pretty face. I told myself I would never sleep with a customer and here I am imagining you pressing me against this fucking brick wall.

"You don't know me." She voiced as she stepped around him, letting her hips sway a bit more than usual as she walked back into the bar.

"I'm trying to!" He called after her, turning to watch her walk back inside, his heart and his dick urging him to follow... his head, however, knew that would be a bad idea. He was too fucked up to deal with anything apart from a regular hookup right now... and if he wanted to continue to frequent this bar, he needed to make sure he kept up some semblance of good behavior. No reason to make the pretty, little bartender hate him when she found out he couldn't bring her flowers or meet the parents. Javier Peña could fuck, but he could not date.