After spending more time with Dallas in the past six months than I’d spent with her in her entire life, I recognized her indecision about joining the family business had nothing to do with a broken heart or bad relationship. Not that I had taken steps to talk to her about it . . . until now.
“So sweet baby D, what’s been going on in your world?”
The bracelets on her wrists rattled when she crossed her arms over her chest. “My mom is hounding me.”
“About?”
“Cochairing a couple of charity events. Then she sends me real estate notices about new places that have come up for sale on the market. She’s even emailed me links to spiritual spa retreats in Bali. She doesn’t act like this is a real job.” She sighed. “I know her heart is in the right place. But I’m still dealing with the major aftereffects from the total solar eclipse, when Mercury was also in retrograde. It’s such a powerful celestial event when darkness falls on the sun. It forced me to shed the mask I’d been wearing as well as accept that I have to admit to the outside world I need to honor who I truly am and step into the light again.”
I leaned in. “Okay. Was that little segue supposed to reveal the real story on why you’re not working at LI? I’ve heard from everyone that you were instrumental in revising the intern program, and it’s been incredibly successful in all departments. Why aren’t you basking in your success and outlining the next phase?”
“You would just get to the heart of the matter, wouldn’t you?” She tipped her head and looked at me, yet beyond me. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. The need for truth eclipses everything in your world these days too, doesn’t it?”
Ironic she’d claim that, since I still hadn’t come clean on a crucial upcoming event, choosing to deal with mundane day-to-day issues instead. “This isn’t about me, Dallas.”
“It should be. You’re the owner of this business.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I paused. “Talk to me.”
Those unnerving blue eyes connected with mine. “I like being the idea girl. I love when what I envisioned falls into place and runs smoothly. What I don’t like? The pressure to have more ideas, better ideas on someone else’s time frame. I freeze up, Jax. Not a little. A lot. I nearly go into a catatonic state. Then no ideas, no words, no feelings come. At all. The people that I worked with, the team I supposedly helped rebuild at LI . . . when it happened, they didn’t support me; they turned on me. My inability to contribute—their words—was construed as laziness. I was a Lund; I could skate by and collect a check without being subject to performance review.”
My anger rose but I slammed a lid on it. “I imagine you tried to explain to them that in a collaborative effort everyone shouldered the blame when creativity slowed or even stopped?”
“Yes. But at that point they’d gotten so used to me contributing more than my fair share of ideas that they had no problem placing nearly all the blame for our lack of new progress on me. The negativity crushed me. I couldn’t function at all. The only way to get out from under any kind of expectations was to not subject myself to them in the first place.”
I took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell Ash. Or Annika. Or Nolan. Or Brady. Or my dad. None of our family have any idea what happened. They would’ve made it worse, going after the people responsible. Then it would’ve become a self-fulfilling prophecy; I did rate extra power and special treatment because of my surname. But it’s not really been a better solution, letting the family think I’ll return to the fold after I’m done ‘finding’ myself.” She locked those vivid blue eyes to mine again. “I found myself a long time ago, Jax. The only time I’m not myself is when I’m at LI, pretending to be someone else.” She paused. “And you get that, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. And that’s why I need your ideas for this space.”
“Mine?”
“You just said you love being the idea girl.”
“How do you know that I’ve come up with anything concrete?”
“You’ve worked here for a year. You just told me about the solar eclipse thingy that is forcing you to admit the truth.”
Dallas rolled her eyes. “Nice try. Simone told you I’ve been working on it, didn’t she?”
“Yep.” I grinned. “Now hit me with it.”
Barely a minute passed before she spoke. “I have two ideas. Not both for this space. One’s for the tiny storefront down the block. I think for this building, you should divide it into two separate entities. That way you can go for two entirely different demographics.”
“Keep going. I’m already intrigued.”
“The upstairs right now is used for karaoke and it’s hit and miss. Turn it into a barcade—which is exactly what it sounds like. Fill the space with classic arcade games and pinball machines, then customers can drink while they play Pac-Man or whatever. That vintage stuff is hot right now. Decorate the area like an ’80s arcade or like someone’s basement from that era. But no tickets-for-prizes type of machines, because they might as well go to Dave & Buster’s. Just tokens that they can trade in for drinks if they want or buy more game time.”
I let that sink in before I said, “It already has a separate entrance, so having two different spaces would be viable. That’s brilliant. What else?”
She beamed back at me. “This one is totally fun. Use the historical aspect of the main part of this bar and turn it into a speakeasy. Have a ‘dummy’ entrance. Heck, a small section of the front of the house could even be a coffee bar, which would be another moneymaker. Access to the speakeasy is by password only. It’d have to be a word that changes frequently. You might even take out online ads or buy phone app ads to direct customers where to find the password. So it’s all a game and yet it’s a tiny bit exclusive. If people show up expecting to get in, they can’t. You can’t buy your way in either. And the speakeasy itself . . . How fun would it be to have two-way glass? The people inside could see the ones on the outside trying to get in, but the ones outside couldn’t see inside. You could keep the time period intact by not allowing the use of cell phones, playing music from that era, having the bar staff dress in costume and play roles. God knows there’s enough wannabe actors and actresses in this town. Drinks are handcrafted and high priced. People who go to the trouble of finding the code to get in won’t mind paying for the experience. So you can have high-end clientele on one end of the building and trendy upstairs. The best of both worlds.”
My mind. Blown. I pantomimed that and she glowed. The light of excitement danced in her eyes, and I just wanted to hug the shit out of her.
So I plucked her off the barstool and did just that.
I might’ve whooped and spun her around a time or two, which caused her to smack me on the back and shriek, “Jax! I am not Mimi! Put me down.”
“I’m just so freakin’ excited, Dallas. I want to get started on this right now. Today. Close the bar down and start gutting the place.”
“Now hold on. There’s a lot of other side things to consider. You want to make a big splash with this; PR and marketing has to be on board before a single wall comes down. Word of mouth is what’ll sell these spaces. And that has to happen in stages. I’m not gonna lie, cuz. You need Annika to sign on for PR. She is head and shoulders above anyone in PR in this town. She will kill at this.”
I felt a tug of resistance. Lucy worked for Annika, and I didn’t want Lucy involved in this project. The fewer people who knew, the better. “Annika would need to freelance this project. Simone and I would have final approval on anyone who assists Annika.”
Dallas blinked at me—a slow blink where, swear to god, I felt like she was reading my mind. “At LI Lucy is swamped with the layout for the spring spa line. Annika won’t pull her off that. But Annika can’t do it alone either.” She flapped her hand at me. “We’re getting off track. First discuss these id
eas and changes with Simone. Then decide who does what. You’ve got a business degree, Jax. You know you need to set a budget, hire an architect and design firm—we both know who’s going to get that contract.”
Walker. My cousin whose construction company, Flint and Lund, specialized in restoration. His partner did the design work while Walker ran the construction crew. Not only would hiring family keep the concepts under wraps, Walker was the best in his field, so a win-win there.
Before Dallas started rattling off more ideas, I made the time-out sign. My poor head was spinning. “Okay, baby cuz, you’re hired.”
“Hired. But . . . hired to do what?”
“Implement ideas. You work well with Annika. And Simone. Walker adores you. You’re the logical choice to spearhead these projects since it’s obvious that you’ve been thinking about it for a while. And before you get that panicked look, I’ll let you decide your own level of involvement. If it gets to be too much, we’ll reassess, okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Yes!” She did a shimmy-shake thing that was her version of a fist pump.
I’d nearly made it through the swinging door, when I remembered Dallas mentioning the small empty storefront on the end of the block, so I stopped and faced her. “Oh, hey, you mentioned an idea for that tiny storefront too?”
“Yep. Ghost tours.”
I froze. Of all the things she could’ve suggested . . . how had she come up with that?
“This block is haunted, Jax. Like seriously haunted. I feel it. I did some research on the history, and there were a bunch of murders around here that never were solved. The Mill District has a violent and criminal past. Sharing those stories . . . lots of juicy stuff, and no other tour company is working this angle. It would be seasonal, so if we kept it open in the off-season, we could also sell books on local legends and period-authentic trinkets, which would fit into the speakeasy theme.”
“It’s something to consider after we’re done with the bigger projects.”
She smirked. “At least you didn’t say no outright.”
After I passed into the storage area, I pressed my back against the brick wall and closed my eyes.
Ghost tours.
I hadn’t thought about that in a long damn time.
Weren’t you just mooning over the first time you met Lucy? It shocked the hell out of you that she’d picked something so random for your third date . . .
* * *
• • •
Once again we’d met in the pizza parking lot. This time Lucy insisted on driving.
It’d rained off and on all day. The air remained oppressively damp with a heavy mist that created sporadic banks of fog.
Lucy wore a smirk during the drive to wherever she was taking us. A smirk and a trench coat. My mind drifted to a scene where lovely Lucy wore that trench coat, a pair of fire-engine red stilettos and nothing else except a naughty challenge in her big brown eyes.
“You okay over there?” she asked, ripping me out of the fantasy.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Sounded like you growled.”
Busted. “Nope. Just cleared the frog out of my throat.”
“Well, it’s the weather for it.”
This relationship was still too damn new for our small talk to revolve around the weather. “This miserable drizzle doesn’t put a crimp in our date plans?”
Her smirk bloomed into an all-out grin. “Actually it’s the perfect condition for tonight.”
“It’s pointless to ask where you’re taking me, isn’t it?”
“Downtown St. Paul.”
I’d spent some time in St. Paul—growing up in the Twin Cities, the suburbs flowed together. I’d spent the most time at the Xcel Energy Center playing hockey. I knew she wasn’t surprising me with tickets to a hockey game since the Minnesota Wild had blown their playoff chances the same as we had.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward, just there. That’s probably why I noticed steel guitars and tight harmonies drifting from the radio.
Interesting. I wouldn’t have pegged her as a country music fan.
Lucy took us straight into the heart of downtown and chose a nearly empty parking lot close to the capitol building.
Before we exited the car, I said, “Did you bring an umbrella?”
“Shoot. I forgot one.” She reached over and popped open the glove compartment, the underside of her arm brushing the inside of my knee as she rooted around for something. “Aha, got it.”
I eyed the piece of plastic that looked like a curved set of teeth. “How exactly is that supposed to keep us from getting wet?”
“It’s not.” She laughed and then twisted all that glorious hair into a knot at the back of her head and attached the big clip thingy. “There. Now at least my hair will be out of my face when we do get drenched.”
I felt desperate to know what she would do if I leaned in to taste her beautiful neck, trailing my mouth from the hollow below her ear down the side of her throat. Would she squirm away from me? Or melt into me?
“Come on, we have to check in.”
Please, god. Let us be checking into the Saint Paul Hotel just down the road.
She reached for my hand, and we started off at a good clip down the sidewalk. That’s when I noticed she wore rain boots. Not just any rain boots, but screaming-ass red rain boots dotted with sunflowers. That quirky touch was as damn sexy as my vision of her sauntering toward me in high heels.
If I didn’t get to touch this woman soon I might lose my mind.
We passed the Saint Paul Hotel—pity that—and crossed the street. The buildings here were a little worse for the wear, and I couldn’t imagine there’d be any date-worthy activity down here.
That’s when we stopped in front of a recently renovated storefront. The fancy lettering in the glass pane above the door read: HISTORIC TOURS.
I felt Lucy watching me and I met her gaze. “What’s this?”
“A ghost tour.”
“Seriously?” I paused. “Did you choose this because I mentioned you disappearing on me?”
“Maybe. But since neither of us are history fans, I figured taking a historically based ghost tour isn’t something we would do on our own, so this activity fulfills your date challenge to me, doesn’t it?”
I tried to hold back a laugh but couldn’t. “Jesus. You are a literal smartass.”
“Aww, Jax. You say the nicest things.”
I stalked her until she retreated with her back pressed against the big paned window. Although it was dark outside, a streetlight amplified the misty air, sending a soft wash of gold across the windowpanes, front-lighting her like an angel. “I’m glad you didn’t disappear on me.”
“Me too.”
“Still . . . I’m half-afraid you aren’t real.” Slipping my hand around the left side of her neck, I let my thumb stroke the sharp edge of her jaw from the tip of her stubborn chin to her ear.
“I’m real.” She blinked those enormous brown eyes at me, and I noticed condensation clinging to her long eyelashes. In that moment she was the most exquisite woman I’d ever seen. Nothing could’ve stopped me from leaning forward and tasting her lips.
Nothing.
I absorbed the dew on her upper lip in a slow slide of my mouth over hers. Then I let my mouth travel across her cheek, up to the corner of her eye, where I placed another soft kiss.
She rewarded me with a tiny gasp and her eyes fluttered closed.
By the time I’d finished exploring the planes of her face, her lips were parted as she exhaled rapid breaths. I increased my grip on the back of her neck and brought her mouth to mine.
Probably I should’ve eased her into this first kiss, but my hunger for her was overwhelming. After fastening my lips to hers, I devoured her. Each glide of m
y lips over hers forced her to open her mouth wider, to accept the teasing and plundering of my tongue.
That first taste of her made me ravenous. Reckless. I couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my head.
Her pulse leapt beneath where I’d pressed my thumb into her throat, and then I felt her fingers sifting through my hair as she pulled me closer.
The thought of ending the kiss had me gripping her tighter. She must’ve felt the same, because my scalp started to sting from her hands fisted in my hair.
A truck door behind us slammed hard enough to rattle the window I had her pressed up against. That startled us both into backing off.
But we maintained eye contact. Neither of us felt the need to play it cool, acting as if that explosive connection was no big deal.
The huge smile on my face had her responding with a grin of her own.
“Well, I guess that answers that question,” she said with a laugh.
“Luce. I—”
She placed her fingers over my mouth. “I want to do that again, and again, and again with far fewer clothes on. But I paid for that damn ghost tour, so put away that pout, Jaxson, and prepare for a fascinating history lesson.”
I nipped at her fingers until they fell away. “Oh, there’s a lesson in this all right.”
“What lesson is that?”
I angled my head and lightly sank my teeth into her bottom lip, watching her eyes turn molten.
“We might suck at history, but babe, we’ve got this chemistry thing locked down.”
* * *
• • •
Jax?”
The voice yanked me back to the present. I glanced up to see Simone looking at me strangely. “Yeah?”
I Want You Back Page 7