Page 1 of Pucking Bad Boys

Chapter 1

Fake ID

TALIA

pair of piercing blue eyes makes me forget what I was about to say.

“What…” the words should roll off my tongue easily. Asking a customer what they want to drink should be second nature, and yet, my teeth scrape over my bottom lip as my mind comes up totally blank.

The fact that the piercing blue eyes are looking at me from a stunning face doesn’t help my situation.

High cheekbones, a straight, proportionate nose, soft-looking lips, and a perfect jaw with the faintest hint of blondstubble make the man who just sat at the bar stand out from the throng of tourists and locals crowding Joe’s tonight.

I’ve always rolled my eyes when I read sentences like, “The rest of the world faded into the background when he looked at me…”

As if a hot guy could make a woman forget where she’s at and what she’s doing. As if the way his lips curl at the corners in just a hint of a smile could make me feel like we’re the only people in the crowded bar.

All the romance novels my best friend has insisted I read since we were in high school could never have prepared me for the way my skin tingles under his gaze.

I’ve always teased Sam for believing that bullshit, and now here I am, tongue tied and with a swarm of butterflies flapping their wings in my stomach.

He breaks the ice. “Hi.”

If there were any justice in this world, his voice would be nasal or surprisingly high pitched. But of course it isn’t.

Deep, low, with a hint of gravel and a faint twang that I can’t quite identify.

I release my bottom lip and swallow, willing my heart to stop beating so fast. If I don’t say anything in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna look like a complete idiot.

“Hi.” Ok, good start. Now let’s get to it. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve asked someone what they would like to drink in the two summers I worked at Joe’s, I wouldn’t need this job to help me pay my way through my senior year of college.

It shouldn’t be that hard to ask someone what they want to drink, and yet, it takes me a huge amount of effort.

I blame it on those intense blue eyes that look kind of familiar, even though I’ve never seen this man before. If I had, there would be no way I could have forgotten him.

“What can I get you?”

Yay. Finally.

Relief brings a smile to my face, and I have to fight the urge to jump up and down to celebrate finally asking the hot guy for his drink order.

After spending most of the summer at a cheerleading training camp, cheering had become second nature. I was cut right before they announced the final team roster I remind myself.

“We have certain standards when it comes to the physical appearance of our dancers. And you don’t meet those standards.”

Every time I think about the reason why I was cut, I want to go and hide in a dark corner.

I’m too short for their standards, and they realized that when they saw me dancing in a line with girls who had longer legs.

My self-confidence has taken a real hit, and I forget the butterflies in my stomach.

Why would a hot guy like the one I should have been serving five minutes ago even take a second look at me? I’m sure he can have any woman he sets his stunning blue eyes on. Women with slender bodies and long legs, like my former teammates.

So there’s no point in getting flustered and tong-tied over someone who wouldn’t even notice me if I weren’t standing behind the bar.

“Can I get a double shot of Don Julio Anejo on the rocks?”

I turn to look at the top shelf where our more expensive bottles are before I ask the next question. “Can I see your ID, please?”