A slow smile spread across his face as his stomach twisted. “I didn’t go to bartending school. On-the-job training.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
Then she took a step back, her drink still in her hand. His eyes tracked her lips as she took another sip.
He was either going to have to go to the bathroom and deal with his down-south situation or take her home, because just being next to her was sending his hormones into overdrive, and right or wrong, he wasn’t ready to walk away.
“Well?” he asked. “Is it better than Lurch’s punch?”
Her eyes lit up. “I thought you didn’t care if I judged you.”
“I don’t, but you have to admit, it would have to be pretty bad to fall below Lurch’s standards.”
She laughed. “It’s better than what I get at Prohibition.” He’d been in town long enough to know that was a Roaring Twenties-style cocktail bar. A popular one. Then she added, “But don’t let it go to your head.”
He put the bottles back in the cabinet, then motioned to the back door. More people had filtered into the yard, and miracle of miracles, the goats were still contained. He’d left Diego in the bedroom, and he suspected Dottie was going to come back to a situation. Still, he’d done as he was told. “I feel like I need to make an appearance out there. Would you mind being my bodyguard?”
She gave him a puzzled look. Then understanding filled her eyes. “Because they’re staffers and you’re Buchanan management?”
He shrugged, not wanting to explain. There was a fine line between getting along with your employees and earning their respect, between being their friend and letting them take advantage of you. He wanted the Buchanan employees to respect him, but he also wanted them to feel comfortable coming to him if they had a problem. Which involved out-of-the-office interaction from time to time. He hadn’t wanted to come tonight, especially since he was literally picking his sister up at the airport tomorrow, after which his life would be devoted to getting her settled in. To making up for all of the things their mother had failed to be. But now…
Thank God he’d come.
“As for a bodyguard,” she said, “it seems like I need you more than you need me. Goose whisperer.”
He grinned. “I was thinking about the goat lady. I need you to be my harridan.”
A saucy grin lit up her face. “Oh, I can do that with one hand tied behind my back.”
An image of Maisie with his silk tie around her wrist sent his blood pooling south at a rapid rate, and he started to conjugate Spanish verbs in his head, a trick he’d learned in high school. It usually served him well, but for some reason it wasn’t working.
Maisie walked out the back door, leaving him to follow.
And he did, like before, only the pull was stronger this time.
At least he had the sense not to reach out and hold her hand or wrap an arm around her back like he was sorely tempted to do. Instead, he kept a small distance between them.
“So what does this mingling entail?” she asked as they passed a few people and stopped a few feet from the food table, which was all but destroyed. Jack hadn’t eaten much at lunch and had skipped dinner. He suddenly realized he was hungry.
“You know, the usual. Small talk.” But that seemed nearly impossible with Maisie next to him, and he’d sooner cut off his foot than walk away from her now.
“So should we approach someone?” she asked. Then her guard went back up. “Unless you think you should talk to them alone.”
“Don’t you dare leave me,” he said, and it took everything in him to keep from reaching out for her hand. “I need you to protect me.”
“From Stella?” She nodded across the yard toward the older woman, who had gotten out yet another canvas and was painting a naked Lurch riding a goat. Thankfully, Lurch was posing with only his shirt off, several feet to her side.
“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “What if she finishes the painting and decides she needs a new model?”
He was about to lead her over to a small group of employees when River and Georgie walked through the back gate, looking happier than ever, if that were possible. He’d seen the spark between them before anyone else, on the night of the will reading. Of course, Adalia and Finn were now running neck and neck for the happiest couple distinction, and while Jack was happy for his sisters, he realized there was a tiny spark of jealousy too. Some people took him for a loner, but that was more because he’d had to be alone most of his life than because he preferred it that way.
“Say,” Maisie said, “you want to get out of here?”
He glanced down at her in surprise. “You want to get a bite to eat somewhere?”
“No,” she said, her voice husky. “I was thinking my place. I have food…and other things.”
Those words were like music to his ears, but this was dangerous ground.
“Don’t think so hard, Jack,” she whispered. “There’s only one rule: this is just for tonight.” She tilted her head up, her eyes glimmering with mischief and lust, her full lips slightly parted. “Deal?”
She was right. For once, he was going to stop thinking with his head and think with his… “Deal.”
Chapter Three
They about-faced to cut back through the house, acting like bandits. And maybe they were—they were stealing away with Dottie’s clothes, after all. But Dottie was the only person who saw them, and she just caught Maisie’s eye and winked, which was basically like giving her blessing.
Not that Maisie had expected her to do otherwise. Dottie always seemed to be on a one-woman mission to get her laid. Or, as Dottie would put it, find her a man who was human. She suspected River’s aunt knew more than she let on, which was unusual—Dottie usually liked to pretend she knew more than she did, not the other way around.
Once they were inside, Maisie set the lemon drop martini down on the kitchen counter.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, but it turns out I’d rather take the bartender home than finish the drink,” she said, grabbing Jack’s bicep. It felt just as good as she’d thought it would. And as soon as she got him out of River’s shirt, she could stop thinking about the fact that it was his shirt, questioning whether her attraction to Jack was about Jack or whether she was projecting. She didn’t think she was. Not this time. Jack was sexy as hell, smart, and quick-witted enough to keep up with her. But she’d gone to see her older sister a couple of months ago, and Mary had told her, gently, that her last three boyfriends had looked like they’d come from an audition for the role of River Reeves. They’d even had the same kind of baggage. Broken homes, parents who’d adiosed.
Just like Jack.
Stop sabotaging yourself. A smoking hot man who can make you laugh also wants to make you moan. Forget River. Forget Adalia. And definitely forget Georgie. Tonight’s for you. You, and this man with the ridiculous arms.
“I can’t fault your decision-making,” Jack said with a grin.
She heard voices near the back door. If anyone came in right now, it would destroy the spell between them, this bubble they were making, so she grabbed Jack’s hand and tugged him toward the front of the house.
“You can follow me,” she said as she led him out the door. “If you leave your car here all night, they’ll assume you got eaten by Stella.”
“All night, huh?” Jack said, his voice husky.
She could practically feel the prickles rising on her back. “Well, I wasn’t planning on driving you back in the dead of night. Last I checked, I’m not a taxi service.”
She came to a stop in front of her Jeep, and he stopped with her.
“Hey,” he said, lifting a hand to her hip, his touch searing her. It had been much too long since she’d been touched like that, and she wanted those hands everywhere. They were strong hands, capable. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’m just feeling pretty lucky. It’s not every day a gorgeous woman invites me home.”
“You mean it’s only a o
nce-a-week kind of a thing?” she asked.
He shook his head slightly. “After the goats and the goose and Stella…I’d say this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.”
The way he was eyeing her up said he wasn’t just talking about the circumstances.
She wanted to kiss that grin off his lips, make sure the kiss in the kitchen hadn’t been a fluke—weren’t you supposed to preview the goods before you went all in?—but they were in full view of anyone in the street, plus maybe some of the people out back, and she didn’t want anyone to see them. She’d meant what she’d said: one night. The last thing she was equipped for right now was a healthy relationship. So she settled for touching those arms again, squeezing them.
“Which car is yours?” she asked.
He nodded to a Prius that had seen better days, and she reached around and patted her green Jeep, which had also seen better days.
“Nice car,” he said, and she just nodded. It wasn’t. But it had been her dad’s car, and her parents had been gone almost a decade now. She’d drive it into the ground and then some.
“See you there?”
“I look forward to it,” he said, in a deep, husky voice she felt down to her ovaries.
Down, girl.
He squeezed her hip and headed down to his car.
She drove carefully all the way home, checking her rearview mirror frequently to make sure he was still behind her. It had occurred to her belatedly that she should have given him the address, but Jack clearly knew his way around a car just like he knew how to stir a drink and calm a pissed-off goose. Every time she looked, she saw him there, right behind her. His expression looked intent, like he was planning all the things he wanted to do to her. Thinking about it gave her a full-body shiver. Her text alert went off a couple of times, and after she parked in her drive, she checked her phone.
They were both from River. Where are you? Dottie says there was an ‘incident’ with the goats, and you left. Someone stowed a goose in my old room, and I’m thinking of declaring the space a loss.
The second text was a picture of Diego sitting in the midst of a bunch of torn-up bedclothes and goose turds.
No mention of Jack. Somehow, she suspected it wasn’t because Jack’s absence hadn’t been noticed too, but because River would never guess she might do something as impulsive as take him home.
She was tempted to text back: Too bad. I stole the goose whisperer. Good luck getting the goose out now.
But a quick glance in her rearview mirror showed Jack was pulling up beside her, and she turned off her phone instead.
They got out at the same time, almost clicking doors. It wasn’t funny, not really, but she laughed anyway. Because she was feeling nearly giddy with the moment, something so unusual for her she felt a little beside herself.
Einstein must’ve heard the cars and her laughter—her corgi was old, not deaf—because he started barking at the door. Chaco, the little mutt she was fostering at home and leaning toward keeping, joined him.
“You know about the shelter, so surely this won’t come as a surprise,” she said to Jack, “but I have dogs.”
“I would expect nothing less,” he said. “How many do you have?” He grinned. “Five? Ten? Tell me you’re not a hoarder.”
“Just two at the moment,” she said. “My dog, Einstein, is getting up there in years, and he’s a grumpy old man. He doesn’t like other dogs hanging around, but he tolerates Chaco because she’s smaller than him.”
She grabbed the belt loops of his borrowed jeans and pulled him closer.
Their faces inches apart, she said, “We’re about to test your animal whispering skills on something other than geese.”
She was referring to the dogs, sort of, but she also wanted to see what magic he could work on her.
He spanned the distance between them and kissed her, a hungry kiss that promised things she very much wanted. She was the one who pulled away.
“Let’s go inside.”
But she kept her fingers in his belt loops, because she wanted to, and he slid his arm around her, bringing his hand to rest at the small of her back. The heat that pulsed from it promised of things to come.
As they walked toward the door, Jack looked at the house, taking it in with the same intensity he seemed to approach everything.
“Big house for just the three of you,” he commented. And even though he didn’t know, had no way of knowing, it still felt like a blow.
“It’s the house I grew up in,” she said simply. Because my parents are dead wasn’t exactly sexy talk.
Something told her that he might understand. That life had shoveled plenty of crap on him too. But that wasn’t what this was about.
He looked at her but didn’t say anything. It was like he was leaving her space to talk if she felt like it. That wasn’t Maisie’s way—if she wanted to know, she usually asked. But it was kind of nice, his discretion.
They reached the couple of steps leading up to the door, and Maisie put a hand on his chest—his incredibly firm chest. “Fair warning. You may have some sort of talent with animals, but Einstein doesn’t like men, especially men I bring home. I’m going to take him out to the clubhouse.”
Part of her wanted to see if her dog liked Jack—given his ability with that goose, with Jezebel, it seemed possible—but she also didn’t want Einstein to latch on to his ankle or stand at his feet barking up at him. It wouldn’t exactly create a good impression, or contribute to the mood.
“You have a clubhouse for the dogs?” he asked, the corners of his mouth hitching up.
“It used to be for humans, but now it’s just me. It would be kind of absurd to go out there by myself to, what, play solitaire?” She shrugged. “The dogs like it, and it gives me space for fosters if Einstein takes issue with them.” But she remembered how it used to be, back when there were other people here, and it made her ache to think about it.
This was why she didn’t bring men home much. Usually she went over to their places. That way she could leave whenever she wanted, and they couldn’t see more of her life than she cared to show. But Jack lived with Adalia, and although Adalia was almost certainly going to be at Finn’s house tonight, there was no way she wanted to answer the kind of questions she’d be asked if she tried to sneak out of the Buchanan house and found her friend in the kitchen drinking coffee.
“I’d want a clubhouse if I were a dog,” Jack said, straight-faced.
It was an absurd statement, and it made her smile at him, pulling her away from her thoughts of the house and its history.
“Of course you would,” she said. “Who wouldn’t want a clubhouse?”
He nodded to the door. “I’m ready if you are.”
The door was mostly glass, and she could see both of the dogs behind it. Einstein was barking louder now, his shrill bark—the kind he reserved for strangers—but Chaco had stopped barking and was wagging her tail maniacally.
“I leave Chaco to you,” she said. “She’s a bit of a sucker, and I think she’s already in love.”
She let go of him and opened the door, immediately swooping down and grabbing Ein. He stopped barking for long enough to lick her hand and then her face, but he immediately turned back toward Jack and let out a low growl. Apparently, Jack’s magic didn’t extend to slightly geriatric dogs. Or maybe the spell would simply take longer to set in. Ein was stubborn. He was a bit like her, which was one of the reasons she’d recognized he was her soul companion.
Jack had leaned down to Chaco, who instantly started licking his face, fuzzy tail wagging even faster.
He was speaking softly to her, his voice too low for Maisie to hear, and something about his gentleness moved her in a way she hadn’t expected. In a way she wasn’t supposed to feel about a prospective one-night stand.
He sang to geese and whispered sweet nothings to puppies. This man had hidden layers she’d only begun to tap, and part of her wanted to dig deep.
But Ein nudged her with his nose, an
d she shook the feeling off. “I’m going to take him out there,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Won’t he get lonely?” Jack asked. “Should we bring Chaco out there too?”
Was he worried Chaco would sit in the corner watching them while they got down to business? It bothered some guys, having dogs around.
But no. There was a look in his eyes that said he was earnest, and she felt a kind of burgeoning fondness.
“Good idea. You can follow me. She’s not going to run off.”
Because she didn’t quite trust Einstein not to harass Jack, she kept him wrapped up in her arms like she used to carry him around when he was younger—in that wounded time when they’d healed each other—and led the way to the clubhouse.
Jack whistled as they approached it. “Looks like a second house.”
“I guess it was, back in the day. The people who lived here before us used it as a guest suite. There’s even a bathroom. Not that I’d recommend using it.”
“Noted.”
She opened the door, letting out a musty odor with a strong hint of dog, and switched on the light.
“No perfume could cover that smell,” she said. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She’d told him what he was getting into.
“Doesn’t bother me,” he said. “It’s an honest smell. I’d rather smell dog than some of the things I ran into at the bar.”
She scrunched her nose. “I’ll bet.”
Chaco raced past her, heading straight for her favorite cushion and the koala bear chew toy she loved so much Maisie had bought her two, one for out here and one for inside. Yeah, she was a sucker when it came to them.
Ein whined a little in Maisie’s arms. She gave him a little squeeze and an admonishing look and set him down. He threw a final grumpy stare Jack’s way, seasoned by a low growl, then headed for his favorite bed. Chaco abandoned her perch to curl up at his feet.
Maisie shot Jack a look. But there was no hint of I-told-you-so in his expression. There was only heat. He held out a hand. “Shall we?”
Even though it was her house, and part of her was tempted to remind him of it, she shut the door to the clubhouse and took his hand.
Getting Lucky (Asheville Brewing Book 3) Page 3