Bottoms Up: The Rock Bottom Series, Book 1

  Bottoms Up

  The Rock Bottom Series, Book 1

  Holly Renee

  Contents

  To my sisters

  1. Spanx

  2. Friendly Neighbors

  3. Firecracker

  4. Mother From Hell

  5. Fabio

  6. Slut Dust

  7. Opportunity of a Lifetime

  8. Rock Bottom

  9. Correctly Fucked

  10. Movie Night

  11. Chocolate Chip Waffles

  12. Approval

  13. The Beast

  14. Fucked

  15. Tennessee

  16. Just Friends

  17. JoJo

  18. Four-wheeling

  19. “You get me?”

  20. Jealousy

  21. Ice Cold Pizza

  22. Family

  23. Fuck Buddies

  24. The Owners

  25. Professional

  26. The First Glance

  27. Firecracker

  28. Super Hero

  29. Never Let Go

  30. Believe

  31. The Invitation

  32. The Surprise

  The End

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About Holly Renee

  Also by Holly Renee

  Holly Renee

  Bottoms Up

  Copyright © 2017 by Holly Renee. All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.authorhollyrenee.com.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Cover Design: Regina Wamba

  Editing: Ellie McLove of Your Brother’s Editor and Becca Hensley Mysoor of Evident Ink

  Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar

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  To my sisters

  I’ve always been your crazy little sister.

  You’ve always loved me unconditionally.

  I’ve looked up to you for as long as I can remember, and neither of you have ever let me down.

  Thank you for always supporting me.

  Thank you for always making me laugh.

  Thank you for being the best big sisters I could have ever imagined.

  I love you, Nickel and K-Dawg.

  1

  Spanx

  I turned the page and gripped the paperback harder in my hands. It didn’t matter how many times those ruffled pages had been turned by my fingers, my heart still thumped against my chest.

  I ate the words up one by one, relishing in the story, anxious to get to the part I knew was coming. The page slipped through my fingers as I turned it quickly, not missing a beat as I saw the winged warrior so clearly in my mind. He lifted his sword, ready to fight for his mate, and the loud buzzing rang through the room making me jump.

  My paperback clutched to my chest, I looked around the room at all the people busying themselves with their laundry. My dryer still spun beside me, and I cringed I saw a pair of my lace panties slam against the dryer door and gyrate around like they were putting on a show.

  The laundromat was packed today, but I had completely forgotten where I was. The smell of laundry detergent filled my nose and blocked the scent of citrus that clung to the skin of the warrior I had so unmistakably smelled a moment before.

  A young boy, probably no more than three years old, ran in a circle around my chair. His toy beat against every surface he could find as he smiled wildly. His mother, on the other hand, looked like she was at her wit’s end. She chased behind him, balancing laundry in one hand while stretching the other out to grab him. He grinned up at me as he headed my way again, and I imagined him as the mighty warrior in my story. Impossible to tame.

  I waved at him as he ran by me, and he came to a sudden stop. He stared up at me, curiosity filling his innocent face, and pointed to the book in my hand.

  “Whad are you doing?” His t’s sounded like a d, and I smiled at how adorable he was.

  “I’m reading.” I looked up at his mom who stopped in a huff behind him. “What are you doing?”

  “Running from monsters.” He grinned before looking over his shoulder at his mom.

  “Really?” My voice was in awe. “That’s what I’m reading about right now.”

  He cocked his head and looked down at my book. “You like monsters?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I love to read about the warriors who fight them.”

  His eyes lit up, and he inched closer to me.

  “If you want, you can sit beside me, and I’ll read to you while your mom finishes her laundry.” I glanced at the mom for her permission, but the sudden relief in her eyes was all I needed. She tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear as her son crawled up in the chair beside me.

  “Thank you,” she silently mouthed the words to me as she set her laundry basket on the table across from us.

  I smiled at her as I opened the book to page one.

  The little boy sat attentively as I read the words to him. His eyes got big as saucers as I described the monsters in the book, and he wrinkled his nose when I talked about the girl with golden hair.

  We had just finished the first chapter when his mom squats down in front of him.

  “Are you ready to go, Jonah?” Her hands reached out and tied his shoelace that had started to come undone.

  “We’re reading, Mama.” He grinned up at me and I returned it.

  “I know.” She smiled at me as well. “But it’s time to go to the park.”

  “Yay.” He pumped his tiny fist in the air and quickly jumped from his seat.

  The boy who sat attentively while I read to him was long gone, and he was once again running around full of energy.

  “Thank you so much.” His mother’s eyes tracked his every movement. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

  “It’s no big deal.” I looked away from her and tucked my paperback into my bag.

  “It is.” She held my gaze, and I squirmed in my seat. “Just thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I went to my dryer as they headed out the door and pulled out my already cold laundry. I should have folded our clothes right then and there, but they were already cold which meant the wrinkles were already setting in. My roommate, Brooke, would be mad, but I was dying to get home to finish the rest of my book.

  With my basket against my hip, I awkwardly smiled at the man who sat closest to me before I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. If my roommate and I were responsible adults, we would have gotten our dryer fixed weeks ago. But adulting was hard and buying makeup always seemed more important to Brooke while blowing my paycheck on books would always be more important to me.

  The laundromat was a short walk from our apartment building. I stared at the elevator as I stepped through the heavy glass door. It had been broken for the last four days, and I had never hated living on the fifth floor more.

  I hiked my laundry basket higher on my hip, and I pulled the door open to the stairwell as I began my long journey home. Each flight had ten stairs in it, and I counted each step as if I was reaching the end of a marathon. Surely someone would be at the top with a congratulatory cookie or something. What I wouldn’t give to be living in the book I was currently reading. Then the hero could just lift me
in his arms and fly me to the fifth floor.

  I snorted out loud at how big of a nerd I was and completely missed the body that came barreling down the stairway toward me. I jumped out of the way with only seconds to spare and several pieces of my freshly laundered clothes fell onto the stairs. They looked like they probably hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time, and I quickly squatted down and began grabbing my clothes off the ground. It was as if there was a five-second rule for the amount of time that could lapse before they caught herpes.

  I hadn’t even looked up at the person who almost caused the near death collision. There was no time to spare. My clothes were collecting bacteria with every second that ticked by, and there was no way I was going back to the laundromat before next week.

  “I’m so sorry,” a deep southern accent pulled my attention away from my “Don’t trust the muggles” shirt that my hand was currently hovering over.

  “No worries,” I started to say, but I wasn’t sure what actually came out of my mouth because when I looked up, I almost fell on my ass.

  He was picking up clothes, my clothes, and throwing them in my basket. While I, like a total creeper, stared at him in awe. His jaw was square and had just a touch of scruff covering it. His hair was light brown and styled perfectly in that “I just woke up, ran my hands through my hair, and managed to look like a supermodel” kind of way. My hand was twitching to run my fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked. He had on a white T-shirt that stretched across his fit chest and a pair of black running shorts that showed off his muscular calves.

  I ran my gaze up his body but stopped dead when I realized there was something dangling from his strong callused fingers. I would have given anything to see my red lacy panties that I was so ashamed of moments before staring back at me. Instead of one of the only sexy panties I owned, the piece of fabric that he held up in front of him with a quizzical look on his face was none other than my loyal, trusty, always hold us together Spanx.

  Kill. Me. Now.

  “What are these?”

  My eyes darted up from the offensive piece of fabric that had the power to suck in my stomach when my will power had all but given up and stared into his laughing, chocolate brown eyes. I reached out and ripped my Spanx from his hand and buried them deep in the basket. I spotted my red lacy panties that probably matched my face at that moment and mentally cussed them for not stepping up when I was in need.

  A deep chuckle echoed against the walls in the stairwell and it felt like there were thirty people in there laughing at me.

  “Umm…” I trailed off because I didn’t know what to say to him. I sure as hell wasn’t about to tell him that he was just holding my Spanx.

  His phone rang as soon as I opened my mouth to speak again and saved me from making a bigger fool of myself, and he smiled at me and shook his phone in my direction.

  “Well, it looks like we’ll have to save this conversation for another time.”

  Over my dead body.

  I didn’t say that out loud though. I just thought it as I watched his ass jog down the stairs and away from me. I waited patiently for something to jiggle as his feet pounded against each step, but his muscles bunching and releasing didn’t count. As he rounded the corner to go down the next set of stairs, he looked back up at me smirking, and I realized I was just standing there with my basket full of shame staring at him.

  I quickly spun around holding my hand over my clothes being careful not to drop anything again and headed up my last flight of stairs. I guess it’s true what they say about the likelihood of you having a wreck is greater when you’re within five minutes from your home because I only had about six stairs before I would have been in the clear. Instead, I managed to embarrass myself in front one of the hottest men I had ever met.

  I busted through my apartment door and Brooke looked up at me from painting her pink toenails like I was crazy.

  “Bad week at the laundromat?” she asked before she blew on her freshly painted toes.

  “You could say that.” I set down the basket on the coffee table and plopped down on the couch across from her.

  “What happened?”

  “Well to start, the laundromat was packed and it took me a good ten minutes to find an open washer, but then I get home and things only got worse.”

  “Why?” She finally looked up from her pedicure and gave me her full attention.

  “I was walking up the stairs lost in my own world when some guy came crashing into me and knocking our clean clothes all over the floor.” My story was very dramatic, and I waved my hands in the air to show all the different directions our clothes landed.

  Brooke leaned closer toward me. “Was he hot?”

  I wasn’t at all surprised by her response.

  “I’m not even sure how that is even relevant, but yes, he was incredibly hot.”

  “What did he look like?” she interrupted me.

  “Really, Brooke? I’m trying to tell a story here.” I acted exasperated even though I wasn’t.

  “Sorry. Please continue.” She waved her hand like she was the queen finally giving me permission to talk.

  “Like I said, he ran straight into me and our clothes were everywhere. He helped me pick them up.”

  “What a gentleman.”

  I gave her the evil eye, and she pretended to zip her lips and throw the key over her shoulder.

  “When I picked up the last shirt, I looked up at him, and he had my Spanx, my Spanx,” I pointed at my chest, “dangling from his fingers.”

  Brooke’s mouth was hanging open at that point, and I was highly surprised that nothing was coming out.

  “He asked me what they were.” By the sound of my voice, you would have thought he had asked me for a quickie on the stairs.

  “What did you say?” Brooke squeaked.

  “I did what any sane woman would do. I snatched them out of his hand and didn’t reply. His phone rang right after that and saved me from having to talk about it any further.”

  “Oh my God.” Brooke laughed.

  “Exactly. I just hope that he doesn’t actually live in this building. Maybe he was leaving a one-night stand.”

  Brooke laughed again and resumed painting her toes.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I hope you’re right because two super-hot guys just moved in next door to us,” she pointed to the wall to our left indicating the apartment that we shared a wall with, “and I invited them both for dinner tomorrow night.”

  2

  Friendly Neighbors

  Falling asleep that night was horrible. I tossed and turned and thought about how big of a fool I made of myself in front of my possible new neighbor. I was still praying that he was running out after a one-night stand, but knowing my luck, that wasn’t likely. He would probably be sitting across from me at dinner tomorrow night while I did my best to avoid looking at him.

  I pulled out my Kindle and relied on my latest book boyfriend to help me get out of my own head and fall asleep. It was a really bad plan because once I got started, I didn’t want to put it down. It was around one in the morning when I finally turned it off, and I had to be up early in the morning to meet my client for a shoot.

  The sound of my alarm blaring woke me up and I slammed my hand against my phone to shut it up. I felt like I had only been asleep for about ten minutes, and I had every intention to take advantage of the snooze feature. My alarm continued to blare, and after pressing every button on the phone I could find, I finally peeked one of my eyes open to see what the heck was wrong with the torture device.

  The light from my phone almost blinded me in my pitch-black room causing me to close my eyes again until I realized that I had just seen two twenty-five on the screen. I sat up in bed and looked around my room. The music was still blaring, and it took me a minute before I realized it was “Take Your Time” by Sam Hunt. While it was a song I loved, it wasn’t something I wanted waking me up in the middle of the night unless Sam himsel
f was there to serenade me.

  The lyrics were muffled but the beat of the song was clear, vibrating against the wall behind my head. I turned toward the wall and squinted my eyes as if they had enough hate power to get the music to shut off without me having to climb out of bed.

  The floor was cold as I walked like a zombie into Brooke’s room. I could barely see her through the hall light that was shining into her room, but I knew she was sprawled out in the middle of her queen size bed taking up all of the room. When we first moved in together, we had to share a bed until we could afford another one. It was the hardest few months of my life. I had never been cuddled so hard. We had fallen in love with the apartment, and we decided having the apartment was worth not having everything else in the beginning. I didn’t realize at that time that Brooke was a complete bed hog and would attempt to smother me to death in my sleep with her cuddles. In the year that we had lived here, we worked hard to furnish it in a style that was both Brooke’s and mine. So, it was half girly and half nerdy.

  “Shit,” I whisper yelled when I felt something stab my foot.

  I hopped on one foot and looked down at the eyelash curler that caused my foot to feel like it needed to be amputated. I had always thought that thing looked like it was used to cause suffering in its victims. Not beauty.