by LuAnn McLane
Okay, maybe she would.
Jessica pulled away and almost had her emotions under control when she spotted Aunt Myra and Owen sitting on tall stools up at the bar. Her beloved aunt had her arm linked through Owen’s and was swiping at her eyes with the back of her other hand. Jessica gave them a trembling smile and a wave, and when Owen leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Aunt Myra’s forehead, Jessica had to forcibly swallow hot tears gathering in her throat. Soft-spoken Owen and her outspoken aunt made an unlikely pair, but were so in love that it made Jessica’s heart swell with pure joy.
“Love can find you at any age,” her aunt had recently said to Jessica, and had given her a meaningful look that she knew was meant to give her hope, but had only made her sad. As a child, Jessica had loved fairy tales and happy endings . . . but she had given up on finding her own Prince Charming a long time ago.
“Aunt Myra has been planning this for weeks,” Madison whispered in her ear.
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “So that’s what you two have been whispering about! I thought she had been telling you more of her dirty jokes! I’ll have to get her back good too,” Jessica added, and then shook her head accusingly at her aunt, who raised her palms upward innocently, causing the crowd to laugh. The three of them had tackled life together, Aunt Myra with her hardworking ethics and bawdy humor, Madison with the innocence of a child but old-soul insight. They were a team, and although Jessica was so thrilled that her aunt and daughter had found love, she was feeling somewhat lost without them, and no amount of work seemed to ease her loneliness.
But even though she was trembling with nerves and emotion, seeing the room filled with smiling faces on her behalf touched Jessica’s heart. Now, more than ever, she was glad she had made the decision to return to Cricket Creek.
Bar owner Pete Sully, who could be a stand-in for Charlie Daniels, came lumbering forward and thrust an ice-cold longneck into Jessica’s hand before giving one to Madison. “Happy birthday,” he said gruffly, and then turned and raised his own brown bottle in the air. “A holler and a swaller for our birthday girl, Jessica Robinson!”
Beer bottles shot upward, followed by a loud, “Yeehaw!” and then a collective tilt up to the lips. Jessica joined in and took a long pull from her cold beer. It felt so good to toss back her head and laugh, and when she turned to Madison and tapped her bottle against her daughter’s, there was happiness shining in the depths of Madison’s blue eyes. While her life hadn’t been easy, Jessica had been truthful when she told Madison that she wouldn’t change a thing. But that didn’t ease the hurt of her parents disowning her and ignoring the existence of their only granddaughter. Jessica smiled to the crowd and wished she had parents sitting there beaming back at her, but her father had been an angry, judgmental man who had been forced to marry the waitress he had gotten pregnant. He had broken her mother’s gentle spirit, and Jessica despised him for it. When William Robinson had found out that Jessica was pregnant, he had darkly announced that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree and that his daughter was no better than white trash. Jessica had always found his uppity outlook on life odd, since he had come from poverty and had built his fortune from the ground up.
And so Jessica had packed her bags and left, never to return to the big, pillared house on the hill that was so full of beautiful furniture and ugly memories, and she hadn’t spoken to them since. Once in a while, Jessica would catch a whiff of Chanel No. 5 and she would look up, hoping her mother had finally come to see her and Madison. After a while she had given up hope, but to this day, the aching hurt remained.
“I want to propose a toast!” Madison announced over the noise of the crowd, and then waited for silence. She swallowed, glanced at Jessica, and said, “Actually, two toasts . . . so y’all stay with me on this, even if I start to choke up. Okay, first I want to salute my mother, who is the most amazing woman on the planet. She is selfless, hardworking, talented, and beautiful from the inside out.” Madison blinked rapidly and continued. “I am good with words, but I could never, ever find the ones to express how proud of you I am. Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.”
Madison turned and hugged Jessica while cheers and whistles thundered in the background. After taking a swig of her beer, Madison held up her hand. “My second toast is to Cricket Creek, Kentucky. Times might still be tough, but we decided to thumb our noses at the economy and build a baseball stadium instead! Thank you, Noah Falcon, for coming home and making it happen. I already have season tickets! And, Jason, I promise to learn the right time to shout, ‘Good eye!’” After the laughter died down, Madison said, “Noah, stand up and take a bow. Olivia Lawson, you too. We all know the real reason Noah built the stadium was to impress you. Right, Noah?”
Jessica laughed when Noah stood up and put his arm around Olivia Lawson, the sweet drama teacher whom he had starred with in Madison’s play last summer. When Noah tilted his handsome head sideways and nodded his agreement, the crowd burst into laughter, followed by applause. Noah tipped his Cougars baseball cap and then said, “There’s a box of hats over by the birthday cake. Make sure you get one, and if we run out, I have more in the trunk of my car.”
Madison nodded and then held up her hand for silence again. “Okay, one more announcement before the music starts. I said no presents, because I knew Mom would get ticked if y’all wasted money on droopy-boob gag gifts, but you can make a donation to the Beautification of Cricket Creek fund instead. The money will go toward flowers and seasonal decorations on Main Street and in the city park. And speaking of cake—the lovely confection was baked and donated by Mabel Grammar from her amazing bakery, the other reason that Noah Falcon stayed in Cricket Creek,” she added with a wink. “And she will be making my wedding cake, unless Jason rethinks his decision to marry me.”
“Never, baby!” Jason shouted, and the crowd roared their approval.
“Okay, I really will shut up now,” Madison promised. “Oh, one more thing . . .” She paused and then shouted, “Just dance!” She pointed to the DJ, and the Lady Gaga song of the same name started thumping through the speakers. Madison grabbed Jessica’s hand and tugged her onto the dance floor. Jessica laughed as she tried to keep up with Madison’s robotlike dance moves.
Jessica crooked her finger for Aunt Myra and Owen to join them. Owen shyly shook his head, but her aunt sashayed up to the dance floor, grabbing Olivia along the way. The four of them danced in a circle, bumping hips and laughing like crazy. Jessica observed that Olivia, Madison, and Aunt Myra seemed to glow with happiness, and she wondered what it felt like to be so in love that it showed physically.
At the end of “Just Dance,” they left the dance floor and picked up their longnecks for a much-needed swig. But when “It’s Raining Men” started playing, Aunt Myra laughed. “We have to dance to this! Come on, girls!” she shouted over the music.
“You’re right, Aunt Myra!” Madison clinked her bottle to her aunt’s. “Let’s go!”
After another swig, they thumped their bottles down in agreement before dancing and singing their way back onto the dance floor.
“It’s raining men!” Jessica did a little spin while raising her hands in the air, and shouted, “Hallelujah,” at the exact moment when Ty McKenna walked through the front door not more than fifteen feet away.
“I had hoped for that very reaction from you,” he quipped with a grin, and although Jessica pretended to get all huffy, her aunt Myra had the nerve to laugh. “I guess my prayers were answered,” he said as he took long strides toward her. “Or maybe yours were,” he added when he was closer to her ear.
“You need to get over yourself,” Jessica retorted, but as always, a little thrill shot down her spine at the mere sight of him. His warm breath tickled her skin, and her wildly beating heart had little to do with the dancing.
“It’s you I can’t get over,” he said so that only she could hear. Jessica opened her mouth to give him a sassy comeback, but the smile on his face seemed sincere, and her sharp words die
d in her throat. She sternly reminded herself that he was a flirting machine, but the flutter in her stomach refused to go away. “Ladies, may I steal the birthday girl for a few minutes? Seems to me that I owe her a martini.”
Ty gave them a dimpled grin that no woman could refuse, causing them to nod mutely, except for Aunt Myra, who said, “Whatcha owe her is a long, hot kiss.”
“Aunt Myra!” Jessica sputtered.
“I’m just sayin’.” Aunt Myra flipped her long braid over her shoulder, causing the multiple bracelets on her wrists to jingle. In her midfifties, she remained a free-spirited hippie with a sweet Southern flair, but was always outspoken and truly loved to raise eyebrows. Down-to-earth Owen was in for quite an adventure, but he appeared to be loving every minute of it.
Ty winked at Aunt Myra. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Jessica glanced at him to see if he was serious or being flippant, and for the life of her, she couldn’t decide, so she looked to Olivia and Madison for help. Olivia mouthed Go! and widened her eyes in an are-you-crazy way that almost made Jessica laugh. Madison, like her aunt, was much less subtle, and made visible shooing motions with her hands. “I—I should mingle,” Jessica protested, but in truth she was not a good mingling person. But then again, she was clueless at flirting. Damn!
Ty crooked his arm in invitation. “I like to mingle. Let’s get that martini and mingle together. What do you say?”
“I seem to remember that you can work a room,” she replied darkly, and reminded herself that he was a womanizer and she shouldn’t fall for his abundant charms. She was thinking of how to politely back away when he reached out and tucked her arm through his. The warmth of his smooth skin made her fingers tingle, and the steely, hard bulge of his biceps made her want to squeeze the muscle and sigh with feminine appreciation. He smelled divine too . . . clean with a hint of something expensive and masculine.
“Relax, Jessica,” Ty said in that low and soothing voice that made her want to lean against him and purr. But instead she held on with a light touch and tried to appear cool, calm, and collected, even though she was none of those things.
Friends smiled, waved, and gave her high fives as she headed to the bar. She wouldn’t lie. It felt great to be on the arm of a sexy, handsome man. Not too shabby for a fortieth birthday, she thought and told herself to relax like Ty had suggested and simply have a good time. Really, what harm is there in that?
When Pete Sully spotted her, he slapped his dish towel over his thick shoulder and hurried over to her side of the bar as fast as a guy his size could manage. “What can I get for you, sugar?”
“I’ll have a Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale,” Ty answered with a grin.
“You ain’t anywhere near sweet enough to be called sugar, Mr. Triple Threat,” Pete said in his sandpaper-rough voice, but then reached over and shook Ty’s hand. “I was talkin’ to the beautiful birthday girl. Sugar, another beer or anything you want is on the house.”
“Thank you, Pete,” Jessica replied, and then looked at Ty with surprise. “You know about Bourbon Barrel Ale? It’s a favorite of Kentuckians, but only well-known throughout the Commonwealth. Kentucky Ale, Kentucky Light, and Bourbon Barrel are considered the triple crown of beer around these parts. I’m going to serve it on tap at Wine and Diner. Pete, instead of a martini, I’ll have the same.”
Pete nodded. “Excellent choice, if I must say so myself. Kentucky Ale just took the silver medal in the World Cup of beers, I’ll have you know.”
“It sure deserves it,” Jessica agreed.
Pete gave her a wink. “Beautiful and knows her bourbon and her beer.” He gave Ty a look that said he’d better be a gentleman, before turning to fill their order.
Ty arched a dark eyebrow. “Apparently, Pete thinks he’s your bodyguard.”
Jessica shrugged one shoulder. “It can get a bit rowdy around here on any given night. But he looks out for Madison and me.”
“Good for him.”
“Not that I can’t take care of myself,” she felt the need to add, along with a lift of her chin that she hoped conveyed that she did not need a man for protection or anything else, for that matter. So what if he smelled divine and she really wanted to touch the golden skin exposed by the three open buttons of his shirt? The image of him bare-chested slid into her brain, and she physically shook her head, making her ponytail flip back and forth. It landed playfully over her shoulder, and she hoped it was a flirty move. She reached up and touched the whippy ends, adding to the flirt factor, but then felt silly and folded her hands on the edge of the bar. “So, you like the Kentucky Ale, huh?” So much for flirting . . .
Ty nodded, and she envied how at ease he seemed. Did the man ever get intimidated by anything? “Noah turned me onto it a few weeks ago when we were debating what beers to have on tap at the stadium. I understand it’s a microbrewery out of Lexington, but is really becoming popular.”
“You’re right,” Jessica said. “It’s being marketed in some grocery and liquor stores and is popular at festivals and events. Many high-end restaurants now carry it on tap. It’s my plan to use as many Kentucky products and recipes as possible and showcase them on my menu.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” He nodded, but Jessica wondered if he was merely being polite. “Both tourists and locals should get a kick out of that.”
“I’ll include the history,” she added, and then trailed off, thinking she was going to put him to sleep any minute now. Thank goodness their drinks arrived so she could quit babbling on and on! And yet when Pete placed the snifters in front of them, she thanked him, turned to Ty, and said, “Snifters are the only real way to serve Kentucky Bourbon Barrel. The narrow opening concentrates the aromas and the seductive nose of a smooth, aged bourbon. The glass also adds to the elegance, reminding you that this is a sipping beer much higher in alcohol content. I bought several dozen for the diner.” Babble, Jessica thought with an inward groan, and then glanced away while she took a sip. She searched her brain for something else to talk about other than something Wine and Diner–related and came up empty. In a bit of a panic, she looked around for Madison and Olivia, but they were back on the dance floor, dancing to “I Will Survive.” Aunt Myra was in the middle of the circle, shaking it like a saltshaker and singing every single word at the top of her lungs. Noah, Owen, and Jason were at a nearby table, probably chatting about baseball, and were too engrossed in the conversation to allow her to catch their eyes.
“You can taste the subtle flavor of vanilla and oak from aging in the charred barrels,” Ty surprised her by commenting. “This could actually pass for an after-dinner drink,” he added with an appreciative nod
“I’ve thought the same thing.”
“Why are you looking at me with such wide eyes?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “You should know by now that I appreciate excellent food and drink.” When he lifted his snifter to his lips, Jessica marveled at his long, masculine fingers cradling the delicate glass, and for some reason found it incredibly sexy. She had the sudden urge to slide her hand up the corded muscle of his forearm to the biceps that strained against the short sleeve of his shirt, but then frowned, thinking that the ale must be going straight to her head.
“I suppose that’s why you eat at Wine and Diner several times a week,” she commented with a slight smile.
“Not the only reason,” he answered slowly, making her heart beat faster.
“You are one smooth operator,” she teased with Bourbon Barrel boldness, and would have put her hand on his arm, but his smile faltered and he glanced away.
“You think so, huh?”
“I know so. I’ve seen you in action.”
Jessica expected a comeback, but after a moment of silence, he took a sip of his drink and then said, “Hey, I think I’ll head over and talk some baseball with Noah. I shouldn’t keep you from your guests anyway.” He pushed away from the bar.
“Okay,” she said, and then swallowed another sip of her drink, thinki
ng she truly sucked at the whole flirting thing. Had she offended him? “I should mingle,” she said with a nod that was more enthusiastic than she felt, and glanced down at her snifter.
“Save a dance for me later?” he asked.
Jessica looked up in confusion, but nodded and forced a smile. “I’m certain that Madison has a full playlist of dance music.” She lifted her snifter. “After I finish this, I’m sure I’ll be busting a move. Just don’t let me break-dance. Please?”
“I promise,” he said, and Jessica held her breath when he seemed about to say something else. But he picked up his drink and turned away.
Jessica wanted to grab his arm and demand to know what she’d said that bothered him, but maybe he had simply lost interest in her ramblings about beer and wanted to talk baseball instead. She sighed, thinking that she was pretty damned dull at the ripe old age of forty. Maybe she deserved some droopy-boob gifts and reading glasses, after all. She looked over at the dance floor, considering joining Madison and company, but just when she took a step away from the bar, a low, masculine voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Please don’t tell me you’re leaving.”
Jessica turned around and looked into amazing sky-blue eyes and one eyebrow raised in question. He tilted a beer bottle up to a full, sexy mouth made for sin and then gave Jessica a slow grin that made her swallow hard. With shaggy, blond, streaky hair and a tan you wanted to touch, Mr. Blue Eyes looked like he should have just walked off a California beach with a surfboard tucked beneath his arm. She was about to answer him when she realized he couldn’t have been more than in his midtwenties if he was a day, and therefore had not been talking to her. She looked over her shoulder and expected to find some sweet young thing standing behind her, and was grateful not to have made a fool out of herself yet again.