Prescott snorted. “Respect is earned, and letting my daughter fund your little brewery escapade reeks of opportunism, not that I’m surprised.” Contempt filled his eyes. “You’re a leech, just like your white trash mother, and while my father may have given you part ownership of a run-down brewery, you turned down the only offer you’ll ever get from me.”
Good thing Jack didn’t want anything from him. A long time ago he’d wanted a father, but Prescott had made it crystal clear that wasn’t on the table, and Jack had accepted it before he’d even turned ten. His mother had arranged those early visits from Prescott, but Jack had never asked for that. He’d never asked for anything, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He opened his mouth to tell Prescott just that, but the front door opened, and Lee walked out onto the porch, his gaze firmly on his father.
“Dad. What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise.
Prescott turned his back on Jack and gave his attention to his son—the real one. “I finished my business and came by to check on things since you weren’t answering your phone.”
Lee crossed his arms over his chest. “I was busy.”
An incredulous look washed over Prescott’s face as he gestured to the house. “Busy in there…with them?”
“I told you we had plans.”
Prescott’s gaze narrowed. “Just because your sisters and the men they have lowered themselves to associate with feel they can take a day off, doesn’t mean we can as well.”
“It’s a Saturday,” Lee said, becoming irritated. “I’m spending time with the men my sisters are planning to marry.”
Prescott’s brow lowered and he gruffly said, “Adalia is not engaged.”
Jack was still in the side yard, and while Prescott knew he was there, Jack was fairly certain Lee didn’t. Should he make his presence known? Should he slink around the other side of the house so he didn’t interrupt them? He decided he’d been there first, so he’d stay put.
Lee shook his head. “If you paid your daughters any attention at all, you’d see that Addy’s crazy about Finn, and he’s just as crazy about her. They’re going to get married, Dad. It’s just a matter of time.”
Prescott’s cheeks reddened. “Then you need to break them up. That boy encouraged her to drag our name into that article.”
Jack nearly intervened—presumably by “that article,” Prescott meant the New York Times piece about Alan Stansworth, the sleazebag who’d stolen Adalia’s art—but then Lee surprised him.
“That’s not happening,” he said, shaking his head. “Finn makes Addy happy, and contrary to what you might think, she deserves happiness.”
Prescott clenched his fists at his sides. “I gave you a simple job, Lee. Put a stop to Georgie’s marriage before the engagement party tomorrow night. Have you made any progress?”
“No, Dad,” Lee said, dropping his hands to his sides. “While you might have told me to break them up, I never agreed. I’ll admit I had reservations about the guy, but after talking to him, I think he really loves her.”
“Love?” Prescott asked in an ice-cold voice. “A good marriage is built on what each person has to bring to the table. Take Victoria.”
Lee shook his head with a look of disgust.
“Victoria is an intelligent woman with important connections,” Prescott continued. “She comes from a solid family. Marrying her will serve our business interests.”
“I told you I don’t care about that crap, Dad.”
“Well, you should,” Prescott snapped bitterly. “I thought I loved your mother, but all it got me was a house in the suburbs of Connecticut and three ungrateful children. Get your head screwed on straight, Junior, because Victoria’s mother is planning your engagement party for New Year’s Eve.”
Lee’s face lost all color, and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but Prescott turned on his heels, his shoes clicking on the sidewalk. He couldn’t be bothered to give Jack a parting glance—confirming Jack’s insignificance in his eyes. Good riddance.
Lee watched his father get in his car and drive off in silence, waiting several seconds before he sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders as though preparing to go into battle. But as he started to turn, he caught a glimpse of Jack and he froze.
“How long have you been standing there?” Lee demanded, his voice filled with rage.
“Long enough.”
Lee’s face reddened. “Do you make a habit of spying on other people’s private conversations, asshole?”
“I wasn’t spying. Your father knew I was here the entire time,” Jack said, his back stiff.
Lee’s jaw squared and his voice shook. “You may have fooled my sisters into believing you’re part of this family, but make no mistake: you never have been. And you never will be.”
Jack felt the pain of Lee’s words as sharply as if he’d been stabbed with a dull knife.
Lee turned around and headed back inside, leaving Jack and Tyrion in the yard.
Jack drew a ragged breath, wondering again why he cared what either Buchanan man thought about him. For a split second, he wondered if he should relinquish his one-fourth share of the brewery, but he reminded himself that Beau had wanted him to be an owner. In this one respect, he was equal to his half-siblings.
Still, he had no interest in spending the evening with Lee. He wanted to go home—to whatever one-fourth section he owned—and forget Lee Buchanan existed.
He pulled out his phone and sent Maisie a quick text, softening his message.
I’m going home, Maisie. I don’t belong here.
Her response was quicker than he’d expected. Don’t go anywhere. I’m leaving now.
He cast a glance at the house, willing himself to go in, to be the bigger person and show Lee that he couldn’t care less what he thought, but he couldn’t muster the energy to do it. He didn’t want to fight the Buchanan men. All he’d wanted was to finally have something of his own. To feel like he belonged somewhere. But they hadn’t allowed him even that.
He tugged on Tyrion’s leash. “Let’s go home, buddy.”
But for the first time since he’d arrived in Asheville, Jack felt the tiny prick of conviction that maybe Asheville wasn’t his home after all.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
River had called her twice within a matter of seconds, and even though she’d just dropped Dottie off and was on her way to Finn’s place, she pulled over to take the call. Because she didn’t have Bluetooth—another reason Mary had offered to give her a barely used minivan before her trade-in last June—and she’d promised herself years ago, after her parents’ accident, she’d never take a call while driving.
“I’m on my way,” she answered. “Everything okay?”
“No,” he said bluntly. “I…I know something’s going on with you and Jack. So I thought you’d want to know he just left the house. I’m not sure what happened, but I think he had words with Lee.”
So much for Dottie’s lost child theory. A surge of righteous anger took hold of Maisie. “I see. And where is Junior?”
A huff of laughter. “Finn took him outside to show him the back yard. I doubt it’ll buy me much time. You know what Finn’s back yard looks like.”
“I thought Adalia was helping him plant things.”
“Sure, but it’s the end of December, and he still has a black thumb. It just took the plants longer to die this time.”
Part of Maisie wanted to drive straight to Finn’s house so she could let Lee know exactly what she thought of him—and also so she could save River from what had to be the worst bachelor party ever. Except Lurch would be there soon to take them on the Brews and Bites tour, and River had Finn. Jack had no one.
No, he had her.
“River, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late to the bachelor party. We’ll meet up with you later in the evening.”
“He’s special to you, isn’t he?” River said.
“He is,” she confirmed.
“I fee
l like I should tell you…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’ve always been good to you, Maisie. When we were younger, I let you be there for me in a way that wasn’t fair. In a way that maybe held you back. That’s never what I intended.” Another pause. She fought the compulsion to fill it, her heart hammering. “I know you think I forgot about the time I almost kissed you, but I didn’t. I just…you were right. You’re family to me, and if anything had happened between us back then, it would have broken that. And that would have broken me.”
“Did someone tell you?” she said softly, thinking of Georgie. She’d gotten the sense Georgie had been cool about the whole thing, but maybe she was wrong.
“No,” he said. “I did some thinking after you avoided me this summer.” He huffed a laugh. “And when I was feeling low about you blowing me off, Dottie suggested I ‘dust’ her old photo albums. I noticed something in those pictures. We looked at each other a little differently back then. Both of us. The things that happened that year…your parents dying, my screwups, it changed everything. I think we leaned on each other too much. But things changed after that day in the clubhouse… You opened the shelter, and I found Finn. And we both grew up. We changed. But you and Beau and Dottie…and Finn when he’s not accidentally messing everything up…you’re my family. You always will be.”
“It’s not what you think,” she blurted. “I mean, yes, it messed with my head when you met Georgie. Neither of us had ever been serious about anyone else before. It was always you and me, together against the world. The people we dated were there, but they were in the background. They weren’t important. And then there was Georgie, and suddenly you and I weren’t us anymore, and I didn’t know what to do about that. You’re right, it wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t want it to change. Or I didn’t think I did. You know how I am with change.”
“I do,” he said. “That’s why I asked you to be part of the wedding. I thought it might help us work through this.” He huffed out a breath. “Or, hell, maybe I was just being selfish again. I didn’t want you to pull away. And I wanted you to get to know Georgie.”
“I talked to her today,” she said. “I like her, River. She’s right for you.” She didn’t bother adding in a way I never was, because they both knew that. “And Jack…” She swallowed, then admitted out loud what she’d scarcely even admitted to herself: “I’m falling in love with him.”
A pause, then he said, “I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m happy for you, Maisie. I…I don’t know him much, but he seems like a good guy. I’d like to get to know him better, for you and for Georgie. I should have done a better job of looking out for him today.”
“It’s your bachelor party,” she said simply. “I want you to enjoy yourself. We’re going to come. I don’t know when, but we will. Fair warning, though. If Lee’s still around when I get there, he might end up with a drink in or around his face.”
“As long as I’m not the one to do it,” he said, his tone not without amusement.
“Goodbye, River.” Somehow it felt like more than a normal goodbye. Which was silly. She’d be seeing him later that night. But she was saying goodbye to the old way of things—to the days he’d described, when they’d leaned on each other so hard. Codependent, Mary had called it. It felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders, but it crashed back down at the thought of the whole Jack and Lee episode. Why had Dottie managed to convince them it made sense to spend any more time than necessary with the other half of the Buchanan family?
“Bye, Maisie.”
He hung up, and she tapped her finger on the side of the phone for a second before shooting off a quick text to Finn.
Whew, what a day. I’m handing you the best man baton. I’m going to be late. Jack and I will join you guys later. She paused, then added, Get Lee drunk or get rid of him. I don’t want him to ruin River’s night.
Finn’s response was immediate. Are you and Jack involved? A pause. Sorry, but Addy told me she thought there might be something between you two, and if there is, I think that’s great. Another pause. I know, I know, we shouldn’t have been talking about you, but it was in a good way, I swear. Duly noted about Lee. I’ve never seen him like this. Which, I guess I’ve never actually seen him before, but we’ve had video chats. I know you think he’s just a dick, and honestly, maybe he sort of is. But something is up with him.
Didn’t need a novel, Finn, she texted back, smiling in spite of herself. She could imagine Finn texting up a storm while Lee feigned an interest in his shriveled evergreens or whatever—what even grew in December? Couldn’t Finn have thought up a better excuse? Just take care of it. Over and out.
She thought of texting Jack, but she didn’t want to give him the chance to tell her not to come over. Better to just go there in person. Talk it out.
So she drove straight to the Buchanan house and parked in the drive next to Jack’s car. She’d had an image of hammering on his door, insisting he came out, but he was sitting on the porch with Tyrion at his feet and a purple ukulele in his lap. Strumming out a song. Which was so unexpected, she was a little thrown.
His eyes widened as she got out of the car, purse slung carelessly over her shoulder. He stood up and set the ukulele aside, which was when she caught sight of Jezebel’s flashing eyes. She’d perched on the chair next to him, but she slunk to her feet too, falling in on the other side of him from Tyrion. It was almost like they’d appointed themselves his guardians, and if there was anything sexier than a man this loved by animals, she wasn’t sure what it was.
He stared at her, eyes intense and dark and full of flickering emotion. And she knew she should probably explain why she was here, or maybe ask him what had happened with Lee, because River was right, obviously something had. Instead, she hurried up the steps and pulled him to her, right there on the porch, in front of whoever cared to look outside their windows or walk by, and kissed him, weaving her hand in his dark hair to pull him even closer. Pulling it a little too hard, maybe.
He released a little sigh—a sound of satisfaction or comfort—and kissed her back, his impossibly strong arms wrapping around her like she was his lifeline, pressing her to his body. His beautiful, hard body. Still, it wasn’t close enough. Their kiss quickly became desperate and frantic, mouths clashing and moving like the kiss itself was an alive thing—something they could barely control. And then they were backing up into the house, Jezebel shrieking and darting inside when Maisie nearly stepped on her tail, Tyrion wagging his tail as if in approval as he ambled in after them. Jack went to pull away from her to close the door, but she refused, clinging to him, and instead he backed them up so their entwined bodies closed it, then reached out to flip the lock.
“I want you here,” he panted.
“Good, because I’m not going anywhere,” she said. He’d meant he wanted her against the door, she knew, and God, she wanted that too. But her words meant more than that, and the flashing in his eyes said he knew it. Those eyes saw everything, and right from the beginning, from that first day, they’d seen her.
She reached over to pull the curtains on the sidelight windows flanking the door and then grabbed the hem of his long-sleeved thermal shirt and pulled it over his head, biting her lip at the sight of his chest and his arms, as sculpted as any statue. She’d spent many, many hours dreaming about this—about the beauty of him unclothed—after not having appreciated it enough the one day she’d seen all of him.
“Quid pro quo,” he said, reaching around to expertly unzip her dress. His hungry gaze took her in as if she were a feast for the eyes, and it struck her he’d always looked at her like that—even when he’d tried to stay away.
Another maneuver, and her bra joined the dress on the floor.
She reached for his belt, unfastening it as he stared at her with those beautiful dark eyes. Taking in the straining against his pants.
“Please tell me you have a condom.”
He gave her a wicked grin that pumped heat throug
h her. “You mean you’re not willing to wait for Instacart?”
Afterward, they pulled on their clothes—Adalia’s plans would keep Jack’s sisters out of the house for another couple of hours, but it was possible someone might show up—and lay on the couch next to the Christmas tree, the twinkle lights casting a warm glow on them. Tyrion had curled up beside the tree, Jezebel perched on top of him like he was an ottoman.
“I’m glad you’re here. Obviously. But I feel like I should ask why you’re not at the bachelor party,” Jack said, playing lazily with a lock of her hair.
“I guess I should be, technically speaking, but it was more important for me to be here with you,” she said, turning so she could look at him. “River told me you left.”
“Yeah.” He sat up, pulling her with him. “Prescott stopped by to cause trouble, and I overheard him and Lee arguing. Turns out Prescott only came to Asheville because he wants to set up roadblocks for the wedding. He doesn’t think much of Finn either.”
“That’s not exactly a shocker. Prescott called River a few days ago, and he basically told him as much.”
Everyone knew Prescott was a dick—even she knew that, and she’d never had the displeasure of meeting the man. But she was pretty sure Prescott’s dickishness hadn’t been what sent Jack running. No, that had something to do with Lee.
“How does Lee fit into this?” she asked softly, reaching up to touch his stubble.
“Honestly, Lee surprised me. He actually stood up for Georgie and Adalia…” He stared off into the distance, his eyes glazing over.
“But?” Because with Lee, of course there had to be a but.
“But then Prescott left, and Lee told me what I already knew. He said I’ll never be part of the family no matter how hard I try.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care, but it obviously stung.
“Well, he doesn’t get to decide that,” Maisie said tightly. “And he doesn’t deserve you. I plan to tell him as much later tonight.”
He smiled at her, then leaned in and kissed her neck, nipping a little.
Getting Lucky Page 24
