Getting Lucky (Asheville Brewing Book 3)

by Denise Grover Swank

“You heard that, huh?”

  “Yeah, but thankfully not much else.”

  “I quickly steered the conversation to another topic. I was scared to death she was going to start asking me questions about you.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah. Me too. She really likes you, and I’d hate to ruin that if she thinks we’ve slept together.”

  “You think she’d be upset?” she asked in surprise.

  “She already barely tolerates Addy and Georgie. I’m not sure how she’d handle a girlfriend. And right now, you’re pretty much the only person she likes here in Asheville. I’d hate to take that from her.”

  Disappointment flickered on her face, but she gave him a wry look. “Just so you know, she really likes Beatrice, so there are two of us.” Then she added, “But I understand.”

  Part of him wished neither one of them understood, that they’d say to hell with it and decide this thing between them was too powerful to deny. That love conquered all. But they weren’t in love, just lust, and lust never conquered anything.

  So why did he feel the loss deep in his soul instead of down south?

  They carried the final nightstand down and found Iris in the kitchen, pulling plates out of the cabinet. “Do you want to eat now or after we haul the new stuff upstairs?”

  “I’m starving,” Maisie said, “but now I’m dying to see what my sister sent me. What if I hate it?” She said the last part with a grin, making it obvious she didn’t expect to hate it, but he wasn’t surprised she wanted to see it before going all in. He certainly would.

  “Let me go unpack one of the nightstands. Then you can look at all of it.” He glanced at Iris for her blessing.

  “Good idea,” she said, placing the plates on the table. “I’ll help him make sure it’s presentable.”

  Maisie laughed. “Presentable? I would hate to catch it with its pants off or without lipstick. Go work your magic.”

  Iris laughed. “Careful, or I’ll make him box it all back up.”

  Jack headed outside and started working on the nightstand box as Iris surveyed the rest of the furniture. The headboard was lying on part of the box it had come in, and the dresser was perpendicular to the front door.

  “I really wish we could get all of this upstairs before she sees it,” Iris said wistfully. “But Maisie’s right. I doubt I can help you get the dresser upstairs.”

  “I think she’ll be fine seeing it outside, Iris,” he said as he tore part of the box from the nightstand. “She’s curious and doesn’t want to wait. I can’t say I blame her.”

  “But it’s her Christmas present, and she didn’t even get to unwrap it.”

  Crap. Why hadn’t he thought about that? What if she’d wanted to unpack these things herself?

  “You like her,” she said softly, staring at him intently.

  “What?”

  “You look like someone stole your precious Prius. It bothers you that we might have ruined her present.”

  “I think that makes me a good person,” he said.

  “I already knew you were a good person,” she said, then shifted her weight and asked, “Were you dating her before I moved here? It’s obvious you’ve been here before.”

  And there it was. “Would it bother you if I had dated her?”

  She hesitated. “I’ve never really known any of your girlfriends before.” Her eyes widened. “Is that why she’s so nice to me? Because of you? You two were flirting in the parking lot.”

  “No, Iris. We haven’t dated and she genuinely likes you.” Both things were true. He couldn’t call their night together dating, and he wasn’t about to admit they’d hooked up. “And we have mutual friends, remember? She’s friends with River, Finn, and Addy.”

  “Not Georgie?”

  He hesitated. “I’m sure they’re friends too. But she and River and Finn have been hanging out for years. And the girls’ nights with Addy started this fall before you moved here.”

  “Are you dating her now?”

  “No. I’m not dating anyone.” But his heart sunk, because it was obvious the thought of him dating Maisie bothered her. “How about I hold the headboard upright so she can get a better idea of what it looks like?”

  “That should help,” she said, slightly subdued. “I want it to be perfect for her.”

  “Sometimes we can’t have perfect,” Jack said. “Sometimes we have to settle for second best. Especially if the people involved are doing the best they can.”

  She gave him a long look. “Are you talking about you and me now?”

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s true just the same.”

  She pushed out a sigh. “Lift up the headboard, and then I’ll go get her.”

  “Okay.”

  She went inside and he had the headboard upright by the time Iris walked out the door, tugging Maisie behind her. Maisie was covering her eyes with her fingertips and the dogs were jumping up on her, barking in excitement.

  “If you let me trip, I’ll give you poop duty at the shelter for two solid weeks,” Maisie grumbled, but Jack heard the grin in her voice.

  “I’m not going to let you trip,” Iris said in an exasperated tone as she led her down the steps. “Okay. Stop right there and look.”

  Maisie dropped her hands and took in the furniture, showing no reaction.

  Jack told himself he hadn’t picked it out for her, so he had nothing invested in this, but he found that wasn’t true. She’d said she was attached to the furniture in her house because of her parents, and this new set was vastly different from the stuff they’d hauled downstairs. What if she didn’t like it? Would she feel obligated to keep it? He didn’t want her to be unhappy.

  But then a small smile lifted those kissable lips, and she glanced at him. Was she thinking about the new memories they could make in this bed? Was it wrong that he was?

  “Well?” Iris asked, obviously wanting her to like it too.

  “Relax, kid,” Maisie said. “I like it.”

  “Whew,” Iris said dramatically. “But obviously you can’t use your old bedspread. You need a new one. And curtains too. It’s a total redo.”

  “Slow your roll,” Maisie said with a laugh. “One step at a time.”

  “How about you help Maisie figure out how to redo her room, and she can help you with yours?” Jack suggested, trying to sound nonchalant. But Maisie and Iris were coming to mean something to each other. And he sensed both of them needed this.

  Iris gave Maisie a questioning look, and Maisie shrugged in response. “I’m game if you are.”

  Iris hesitated. “Okay, but we do your room first.”

  Maisie snorted. “That’s a load of crap. We’ll do it at the same time. Now let’s eat this disgusting pizza combination that your brother picked out, then haul the furniture upstairs.” She turned around to head inside, calling over her shoulder, “You’re lucky I’m letting you eat before you finish the job.”

  “Hey!” Iris said as she followed her inside. “We paid for it!”

  Jack laughed, loving that Iris liked her so much, not that he was surprised. Maybe the idea of the two of them dating would grow on her.

  They grabbed slices of pizza as they sat around Maisie’s table, the two women giving Jack grief about requesting pineapple, although Maisie conceded it wasn’t that bad. But the best part was that Iris was acting happy. Genuinely happy. Maisie was obviously good for her.

  When they finished eating, they hauled the new furniture in, which was a lot sturdier than the stuff they’d brought down to the living room. The nightstands, headboard, frame and even the mattress and box spring had gone up okay, but the dresser was tougher. They had to stop multiple times for Maisie and Iris to shift their grip or take a break before they got it up the stairs and into the room.

  They’d just gotten the dresser in place when Jack’s phone rang. He fished it out of his back pocket, surprised when he saw Adalia’s name on the screen. She usually texted.

  “Hey, Addy,” he said, wipi
ng the back of his arm across his forehead. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything is far from okay. It’s a freaking disaster.”

  A million worst-case scenarios ran through his head. Jezebel had gotten into a fight with Tyrion. Or Dottie had decided to deep-fry Twinkies in the back yard. Or, God forbid, Lurch had peed in the kettles again. “What happened?”

  “They’re coming,” Adalia said, her voice strained.

  “What?” he asked in confusion. “Who’s coming where?”

  “Victoria and our father. They’re coming to Asheville, Jack.” She paused. “They’re coming to the engagement party.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Our plan backfired,” Adalia said, aghast. “Now we have to spend Christmas with them.”

  “Well, technically Christmas Eve,” Maisie said. “Hopefully Santa Claus will take pity on us and whisk them away at midnight instead of leaving gifts.”

  “This is no laughing matter!” Adalia insisted, her voice so adamant, her curls bobbed.

  Which only made Maisie want to laugh—not at her friend, but because it was sort of funny that a couple of yes RSVPs had led to this emergency summit in Beau Buchanan’s old living room. How bad could two people be? Prescott Buchanan might think he was some kind of god, but he was just a man, like any other. And Victoria? Her boyfriend might let her boss him around, for yet-to-be-determined reasons, but she didn’t scare Maisie.

  Except Maisie didn’t laugh, because her gaze found Jack. He’d gone silent and pale upon learning about his father’s holiday plans. And why shouldn’t he? Prescott might have been a bad father to the three children he acknowledged, but from what she could tell, he’d been a nonexistent father to Jack.

  Great, you found another one with parent issues, she could practically hear Mary saying, but Mary could stuff a sock in it. It sucked, the way the Prescott news had punctured the little bubble she and Jack and Iris had been in all evening. They’d found their way to a comfortable place where Iris didn’t feel the need to act out, and Jack and Maisie didn’t feel the need to define whatever was growing between them, and then suddenly it had fallen apart. Iris’s glower had come back the second she learned an “emergency” family issue had come up—“They’re not my family,” she’d said—and Einstein, who’d been tolerating Jack all evening, had randomly started barking at him until they left, all of them, for Beau’s old house.

  Finn still wasn’t back from Charlotte, so Maisie was standing in for both best men. Except she was currently sitting, watching Adalia as she paced the living room, followed by Tyrion, who seemed to have picked up on her anxiety. Jack sat on the sofa next to Maisie, although he’d put a healthy distance between them, she’d noticed, and Dottie sat in a chair across from them, knitting an animal sweater. Given the size, she suspected it was for Tyrion, something that was completely unnecessary considering his thick coat. Jezebel watched them all imperiously from atop the kitchen cupboards.

  They hadn’t invited River and Georgie for the conversation. Adalia had insisted they develop a “strategy” before taking it to the happy couple.

  In all honesty, Maisie could understand why Iris had run up to her room the second they’d arrived. Although Iris was technically in the wedding party, she’d only agreed on the condition that she didn’t have to talk about the wedding up until the actual day. Which was a deal Maisie kind of wished she’d thought to ask for.

  “I will not let them ruin this for Georgie,” Adalia continued.

  “Or River,” Dottie said. She shot a look at Maisie, and it was obvious she was thinking about the holiday season many years ago when her niece had come to visit and then frittered off to places unknown, leaving her son behind. Maybe she assumed Maisie was thinking about that too, but actually her mind was on Jack. On what it would be like for him to drink beer and eat canapés with the father who’d so soundly rejected him.

  “So we warn them off before the party,” Maisie said. “I’d be more than happy to give this Victoria a talking-to.”

  There was that rueful half-smile on Jack again, and Maisie promised herself she’d get another full one before the night was through.

  Dottie set aside her knitting and took a sip of her tea, which she’d doctored with a healthy pour of whiskey, Maisie had noted—she’d offered one to everyone, but Maisie had declined. She’d had one of Dottie’s “medicinal teas” before, and it was not possible to operate a motor vehicle afterward. In fact, she’d probably have to end up driving Dottie home.

  “This may be an opportunity, my dears,” Dottie said. “No one’s mentioned a bachelor or bachelorette party. We so rarely get to see our Lee.” To Maisie’s understanding, Dottie had met him all of once, but she spoke about him as if he were a dear friend. The lost Buchanan child. “And this may be our only chance to celebrate Georgie and River like they deserve, with the full wedding party.” A crafty look stole over her eyes. “If we have the bachelor and bachelorette parties before the engagement party, it will give us a chance to talk to Victoria and Prescott individually. They need to understand, in no uncertain terms, that they are to behave or bear the consequences.”

  Adalia, who’d just taken a large gulp of the tea she was carrying on her walkabout, nearly choked.

  “Wait a second,” Jack said, and it struck Maisie that it was one of the first things he’d said since they’d arrived. “We’re still ironing out the plans for the engagement party, and now we’re planning more parties? This is all going down in less than three weeks.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Dottie said, waving a hand. “Adalia’s the maid of honor. She’ll plan the bachelorette celebration, and Finn and Maisie will handle the bachelor party. I’ll help all of you in an advisory capacity, of course”—meaning she’d try to take over—“but I plan on asking Prescott to have dinner with me that night so you young people can have your fun.”

  She said it in a way that charged up Maisie’s curiosity. From what she’d heard, Prescott hadn’t bothered to hide his disdain for Dottie at the will reading. Why was she so sure he’d accept her invitation? The implication was that Dottie had something on him…but what?

  “Why don’t we just have a joint party?” Jack asked.

  “Because we need to separate Victoria and Lee if we’re going to give her a talking-to,” Adalia said, her eyes shining. “And because Dottie needs to work her magic on our father.”

  She said it with the faith of a convert.

  “So you’re on board with this?” he asked, his gaze starting on his sister and ending on Maisie.

  She shrugged. “Sure. I won’t have to spend time with either of them if Victoria’s at the bachelorette party and your father’s with Dottie.”

  “Oh no,” Adalia said, setting her doctored tea down on the coffee table with an emphatic smack that implied she’d already imbibed plenty of it. “You’re not turning your back on the bachelorette party.”

  “But I’m the co-best man!” Maisie objected. She waved a hand at Jack. “And River and Jack need a buffer.” She’d meant they needed a buffer from Prescott, should he join them, but it hadn’t come out right. A little rush of panic reminded her that this was River’s bachelor party. She was supposed to be upset about that, wasn’t she? Did she really want to be there with Jack? It sounded like a cluster of epic proportions.

  “I need your help with Victoria,” Adalia said. “If the message comes only from me, she’ll go crying to Lee.”

  “And Lee doesn’t know who I am,” Maisie finished, inclining her head.

  “Something tells me he’ll know soon enough,” Jack muttered, but he’d said it almost proudly, and Maisie felt a little swell in her chest. “But I would like it if you came to the bachelor party too.” The swell got bigger, but his next words deflated it right back down. “And I’m sure River will be disappointed if you’re not there.”

  “Okay,” Adalia said, grabbing her drink and starting to pace again. Maisie couldn’t help but smile when Tyrion, who’d sat down to rest,
immediately leapt to his feet to join her. Oh, he was a loyal one. “So Dottie will take care of Dad, and Maisie and I will be on Victoria duty. We’ll send Maisie over to your party after she helps with ours.” She nodded resolutely. “We can do this. I’ll call Georgie and tell her our plan.”

  Again, Maisie felt a compulsion to laugh, but she didn’t. Because she did want the wedding to go well. She wanted it for River. And hell, she wanted the engagement party to go well for Jack’s sake too. Something told her he was depending on it. He’d told her and Iris a little about the arrangements he made earlier, and it was charming, beyond charming, that he was going to so much effort.

  Adalia walked off, apparently intending to call Georgie now, and Dottie finished off the last of her tea.

  “Maisie, will you be a dear and drive me home?” she asked, just like Maisie had predicted.

  “Of course,” she said, but even as she went to grab her keys from her pocket, Dottie shook her head.

  “No, not quite yet.” She lifted the green sweater on her knitting needles. “Jezebel’s run off somewhere, and I need to find her to make sure the armholes fit.”

  “Um, Dottie, that sweater’s a little big for a cat. I figured you were making something for Tyrion.”

  Dottie clucked her tongue, getting to her feet. “Huskies don’t need sweaters, dear. I would have thought you’d know that. This is a dress.”

  She disappeared into the house, leaving Jack and Maisie looking at each other. He had a flat expression, but she’d come to realize he looked like that when he hadn’t yet decided how to react. So it didn’t surprise her much when he smiled. This wasn’t one of his big, unstudied smiles from earlier in the night, though—this one took work.

  “A dress for a cat, huh? Maybe she’s onto something.”

  “Probably not.” She leaned into him a little before realizing what she was doing, pulled by the electric current between them. “I’m sorry he’s coming.”

  “Who, River? He has to, given it’s a celebration for his wedding and all.” He’d meant it as a joke, obviously, but it still made her feel self-conscious and raw, which was probably the way she was making Jack feel by bringing up his father.