Maybe This Time--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel

by Nicole McLaughlin

  Jen’s lips pursed in fury, but she refused to be baited into this conversation. Here she thought they might finally have a bit of a heart-to-heart.

  “Have you ever stopped to consider what I’ve gone through as a mother, Jen? You weren’t always kind to me either. You have never liked to be close, didn’t seem to want me to help you in any way, or be around you. You’re like that with all people. The guys you do bring home aren’t good for you. You know that. But you don’t like to feel anything, Jen. You can be cold sometimes. And that’s not all my fault.”

  Well. So much for opening up and sharing their feelings. Jen spoke quietly, trying to keep her hurt and anger in check. “Wow, Mom. You’ve never told me you thought I was a misguided, cold-hearted bitch before. If I’d only known I was just unfortunate enough to be born that way. I guess I was under the illusion it was the mother’s job to initiate the closeness. I’m sorry I ever thought my childhood had anything to do with how fucked up I am.”

  She stood up again, and this time she headed for the door and opened it. Before she walked out, she turned back. “Just so you know, cold and unfeeling daughters don’t bring their ungrateful mothers strawberry smoothies.”

  Slamming the door behind her, she headed for her apartment, holding in tears. Nobody deserved this kind of shit, not even from their dying mother.

  * * *

  Monday morning, TJ sat in his office listening to the slapping of Jen’s sandals on the old wooden floors in the main area of the Stag. Since he was a pathetic idiot, he could picture her feet clearly, just as he could any other part of her body. Her toenails were painted in one of two colors: black or bright red. She had a tattoo of three little hearts running up the side of her foot, and a tiny puckered scar on the back of her left ankle.

  Yep, definitely pathetic. Even more so because he’d yet to have the balls to go out and face her today, which was killing him. He wanted to see her. Check on her finger. Make sure she’d kept it clean and dry, and that it didn’t look infected.

  But a part of him feared Jen’s backlash from Saturday night. The two of them had adopted completely new roles when they’d stepped into that hospital. Jen had let her guard down, which he knew, once she reflected on it, would piss her off.

  He’d seen Jen cry one other time, although she had no idea. It had been during a wedding—the father-daughter dance—and he’d glanced behind the bar to catch her wiping a tear from her eye. It had been beautiful and intimate, and he’d never forgotten it. He knew that crying in front of him was something she would regret.

  But they’d both given up a piece of themselves to each other. In his case he’d been vulnerable by letting her see that she was important to him. What she made of that, or how she’d interpreted it, he didn’t yet know. But one thing was certain, TJ had reveled in taking care of her. Holding her while she’d cried, which had been so unexpected and raw, he still had trouble believing it had happened. And then, of course, holding her hand while her wound had been scrubbed clean and stitched up.

  “Look at me, Jen,” he’d said in the ER while the doctor prepped his needle. TJ was nearly certain she’d cut off circulation in his hand for five minutes, but there’d been no letting her go as he spoke quietly to her. “I’m right here with you.”

  She’d nodded at him, eyes shining, a look of fear but also trust in her eyes that had nearly undone him. How long had he wanted Jen to turn to him? Need him? And not as the man who signed her paycheck—he knew she needed that from him, but he wanted more. Wanted to be the man she turned to, to take care of her.

  But he had two problems. One, it had become glaringly obvious that he needed to end things with Brooke. Regardless of what happened with Jen, it wasn’t fair to continue with things as they were, knowing he wasn’t in it for the right reasons. In fact, last night had made him feel like his father, which he hated. Using a woman was not okay, and although they’d been keeping it casual, Brooke was starting to hint at exclusivity, and he needed to end it before he hurt her.

  His second problem was Jen herself. As much as he wanted her, she didn’t do need or trust very easily. Exactly why he was inclined to keep his distance today. If he walked out there and picked up where they left off at her doorstep Saturday night, her walls would go up so fast his head would spin.

  Tapping his pencil on the desk, TJ listened as she answered a phone call out at her desk. Her voice was light and friendly. She laughed, and he caught his lips quirking at the sound of her happiness.

  For years Jen had been the primary-event bartender. But about a month ago she’d started a temporary position as their receptionist and bridal consultant, in addition to bartending on the weekends. When she’d asked to fill in for Tara while she was on maternity leave, it had been an easy yes for TJ, and thankfully for Dean and Jake also.

  And Jen had slid into the job with such ease, it was going to be hard to let her go when Tara came back in a couple of months. Not that Tara wasn’t great, she was, but Jen was just electric when she dealt with people.

  He got up and walked to his office door so he could hear her voice as she spoke on the phone.

  “Oh my goodness, that is a beautiful idea. I’ve never seen it done here in the Stag but I know we can accommodate you. I will make sure that’s all set up on your date myself. I can already tell your wedding is going to be amazing,” she said.

  TJ almost laughed. Who would have thought snarky and opinionated Jen had a gift for customer service? Then again, she’d been tending bar and schmoozing for tips for years. She was also an actress, so the more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense.

  “Of course, I totally understand. And like I said, this is totally doable. I’ll get everything we just discussed typed up in your contract and email it to you. Oh, and I’ll shoot this invoice and receipt over today. Perfect! Thanks so much, Anna. Okay, bye.”

  He wondered what she was cooking up. Jen had been surprising all of them by taking it upon herself to reach out to a few area vendors they didn’t work with often or hadn’t yet, to form relationships. She’d even set up a little tour and tasting for curious vendors the week before, and about twelve people attended. TJ was impressed with her business sense, which he would not have guessed she’d had in her. And it was so darn adorable to watch her get excited when she told the guys about all that she was accomplishing.

  If there was one thing Jen lacked, it might be modesty. If she felt like she’d done something worth celebrating, she was sure to let him, Dean, and Jake know. Twice if she felt it necessary. And they didn’t mind, because she was Jen and her occasional self-celebrations were part of her personality. It was charming.

  At least he thought so.

  Her footsteps sounded again, and this time he knew they were definitely heading his direction so he turned, rushed back to his desk, scooted around the wood, and slammed down into his seat. He cleared his throat—just in case, although she could be going to talk to Dean—and ran a hand through his hair.

  The minute she came around the corner, she fell against the doorframe, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him.

  “I’ve been here over an hour. You haven’t come to check on me.”

  TJ raised an eyebrow. His heart was pounding. Was he breathing heavy? Taking a breath before he replied to this loaded statement, he picked up his phone, hit a random app, closed it, and then looked back up at her. “I wasn’t aware you were waiting on me.”

  Jen rolled her eyes, dropped her arms, and then walked across the small room and up to his desk. He watched quietly as she picked up a tiny Stag shot glass that sat to the left of his computer monitor. Her pinky stuck out as if she didn’t want to bend it, but he was pleased to see a clean injury beneath her four little stitches. He watched her dump several quarters he’d put in the shot glass at some point into her hand and then drop them back into the glass. He just watched her in silence.

  “Well, my finger is doing fine. Thanks for asking,” she said, holding up the stitched p
inky, but not meeting his eyes.

  “I’m glad.” He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his seat, eyes roaming over her body as she snooped through the items in his pen holder. Today she had on tight jeans and a flowy striped top that was currently dipped down enough to reveal the tiniest hint of her black lace bra. The sheer sleeves allowed him a peek of the fairies and vines on her shoulder and arm. He was always imagining what she’d look like bare beneath him. He would love nothing more than to trace those vines and find out exactly where they lead.

  Still sifting through his collection of pens and pencils, she pulled out one of his favorites, clicked it a couple of times, then held it up. “I’m taking this to my desk.”

  “Don’t lose it.”

  She held it up, analyzing it. “Is it expensive?”

  “For a pen, yes.”

  “You could tell me no.”

  “I could.”

  She smirked at him. They both knew he was not going to tell her no. “Seems like a waste of money,” she said, clicking the pen a few more times.

  “I like good pens.”

  “Not a surprise. You’re geeky like that.”

  TJ’s lips pursed. Yes, she’d known him during a few of his … less than cool years. Seventh and eighth grade were particularly rough, but he knew she was trying to egg him on with that comment. He was not falling for it.

  “Use that pen for a day and tell me you don’t agree that it’s worth it.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Challenge accepted. But you must realize that most people can’t afford expensive pens no matter how wonderful they are.”

  He paused at that, unsure of how to respond. Yes, he was very aware of his privilege in life. Was grateful for it and tried to use it for good. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he looked down at her.

  “How mad was tiny cheerleader last night?”

  The change of subject caught him off guard, but he appreciated not having to address her previous statement. He propped his elbow on his armrest, cradling his chin between thumb and forefinger, as he watched Jen walk around to the side of his desk—closer to him—and began straightening his things. She tapped a stack of papers into a neat pile, moved the calculator, and set the cocktail of the day calendar Tara gave all of them for Christmas last year to the correct date. He’d almost forgotten it was there.

  His chair squeaked as he pivoted to face her, and in his mind, he fantasized about parting his knees and drawing her down into his lap. She’d never come in here before just to talk, and certainly never gotten so close, or so … familiar. Every time she touched something on his desk, it felt intimate.

  “I didn’t go back to Brooke’s Saturday night, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  She shrugged. “None of my business. Just curious if she was upset it took you so long.”

  Truth was, she had been a little miffed, and hadn’t even tried to hide it. He really couldn’t blame her, considering he’d bailed on her to care for another woman, and she’d implied just that in a not so subtle way when he’d called her that night. But in his defense, Jen was his employee. She’d injured herself on the job. If someone needed to give her a hand, why shouldn’t it have been him? But yeah, he was going to have to end things with Brooke. Soon. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Her eyes cut to his. “So, she was mad.”

  “A little, yes. But don’t feel bad.”

  She gave a little shrug. “I don’t.”

  Typical Jen. TJ just laughed and shook his head.

  “I mean,” she started as she walked around the front side of his desk and rested the edge of her butt against the wood not three inches from his knee. TJ swallowed. “It’s not like we did anything wrong.”

  “True.” He forced his eyes off of her thighs, so close he could touch them without any effort at all. “I think for her it was more disappointment that we hadn’t been able to be together.”

  “Hmm. Probably. You still could have gone over. It was only eleven when you left me.”

  But it had been a quarter after eleven when he finally got the strength to drive out of her complex parking lot after sitting in his car talking himself out of going up and kissing her good night like he’d wanted to when he walked her to her door. Something about last night had changed things between them, and part of him had wanted to just test it out. See if she was feeling what he was. Thank God he’d talked some sense into himself. Besides, the last thing he wanted was Jen to turn to him out of a need to assuage her frustration and grief. He wanted her to want him for him. Which would likely never happen, so either way he’d made the right decision.

  “I guess I didn’t really feel like it after that. Taking care of you is exhausting.”

  “Please. I’m the least high-maintenance person.”

  “You think?” He smirked, wondering if she truly believed that.

  “I know. No one has ever had to take care of me.”

  He looked up at her, and the certainty on her face made his heart ache. “What about Diane?”

  Jen just laughed and looked at her fingernails, which were currently painted a soft pink. Interesting. He’d never seen her in that color before.

  “I mean, sure, she changed my diapers, fed me, and kept me alive once upon a time. But the minute I could fend for myself, I did. I don’t mind.”

  TJ bit at his bottom lip, trying to decide what to say. The only thing he could come up with was Let me take care of you, but he could only imagine how well that would go over. “And now you’re taking care of her.”

  “Crazy, right? I’m not even sure if she wants me to.”

  “Of course she does, Jen,” he said.

  With a heavy sigh, she pushed off the desk, and TJ just barely kept himself from reaching for her hand.

  “Anyway. Thank you again. For the other night. Driving me to the hospital.”

  “You’re welcome. The hand feeling okay?”

  “It stings a little when I move it a certain way, but it’s fine. Still can’t believe I did that.”

  “I’m surprised you did, too. I’ve watched you cut fruit a thousand times,” he said, instantly wondering if that gave too much away. He often watched her, even if she didn’t realize it.

  “Yeah, well, I won’t be cutting it for a week or two. By the way, I asked Tony if he could bartend Saturday for me. He said yes. You okay with that?”

  TJ’s lips pursed. Yes, she was told it would probably be best not to bartend until the stitches were out, but he knew Jen. If she’d wanted to work, she would have. This was about getting off so she could go to Shakers Saturday night. He stood up and slowly walked toward the door where she stood.

  “You’ll have to let John know. He’s on for this weekend’s wedding, and he’s still new to it.” John had only been hired a few months earlier as Dean’s distilling assistant, and as if things around the Stag weren’t already interesting enough, he was also Charlotte’s ex. Thankfully, so far things seemed to be working out just fine between the two distillers. “Might be nice if you were there for backup.”

  She frowned. “I think he can handle it. He literally just has to be in the building. Plus, this wedding has a planner.”

  A planner did make their job a lot easier as they oversaw just about everything. Clearly there would be no changing Jen’s mind. She was going to Shakers whether TJ liked it or not. “Fine. Whatever. But just let him know.”

  “You going that night? I don’t know if you remember, but Ant went to high school with us.”

  “Yes. I do remember.” TJ also remembered the guy playing the lead in Grease opposite Jen as Sandy. Which meant he’d gotten to touch her. Spend lots of time with her. Sing and dance with her. Kiss her. And although TJ had never desired to act or sing in his entire life, he’d been insanely jealous of Anthony Carmichael.

  “Then you know how amazing he is. Should be a good show.”

  “That’s why you’re going then?” he asked, taking a small risk that he might ap
pear over-interested.

  “Partly. Free drinks and a potential hookup also sound fun.” She grinned, and TJ died a little inside. It certainly was not the first time Jen had referenced her sex life so brazenly, but today it hurt even more.

  He turned and headed back to his desk. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s my scene or not.”

  “Oh come on, TJ. Don’t be a party pooper. I want you to go, too.”

  Stepping behind his desk, he looked at her. “And why would that be?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Because. You need to get out more. For me. It will be fun.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun without me.”

  “Well … yeah. But I want you to come.”

  Why was she insisting? She’d just admitted to wanting a hookup with Bodisto, and TJ wasn’t really interested in a front-row seat to them flirting with each other. The thought made him sick. And furious.

  But she was asking, and he was not strong enough to flat out say no. “We’ll see. Okay? Just … leave it at that.”

  Six

  “I’ll just take a side salad with ranch,” Jen said to the server at Sylvia’s Café, a new restaurant on the square. It was Wednesday afternoon and she was dining al fresco on the patio with Charlotte.

  “Oh no, get more than that. You have to be starving.” Charlotte put up a finger to the woman in the Sylvia’s polo shirt. “Can we have one more minute?”

  The woman nodded and walked away. Charlotte leaned in. “Get the Chicken Avocado Club. It has peppered bacon made from a local butcher. It’s so good.”

  Jen made an uncertain face, as if this were even an option worth considering. If she wasn’t careful with her money for the next two weeks, she wouldn’t make it until payday. As things stood, she wasn’t sure how she was going to pay the credit card bill due Friday and a couple of other bills she was already behind on. “I’m really fine with the salad.”