Getting Lucky

by A. R. Casella

  She moaned because it felt good—beyond good—but she pulled back. “We need to talk about this. You said you didn’t feel like you belong here, but I have news for you. You already belong. You and Iris. You’re part of our crew.”

  She’d said it to encompass their group of friends. Finn and Adalia, River and Georgie. But she’d also meant her specifically, and the dogs. And she saw again that image of them stringing lights together next Christmas.

  His eyes warmed, and he pulled her closer. “Thank you. I was feeling pretty low when I came inside with Tyrion, but as soon as I walked through the door, Jezebel knocked over the ukulele in the living room, and I found myself bringing it outside. Dottie left it on the porch for me a few months ago—one of her just-because gifts.”

  He traced a finger along Maisie’s collarbone. “My grandmother always used to sing with me. I don’t buy into Dottie’s woo-woo stuff any more than you do, but it was almost like she knew. Anyway, I found myself thinking about Dottie and my sisters.” He met her eyes. “About you. And I realized that I have the good opinion of everyone who matters. I shouldn’t care about Lee any more than I do my father. It’s just…I found out about Lee when I was still just a kid. I didn’t have a father, and there weren’t any other men in my life. So I had this image of a big brother who’d back me up and teach me things. Part of me still wanted it to happen.”

  “Oh, Jack,” she said, and because she needed to, she leaned in and kissed him. “Trust me, I get it. I kept a moth-eaten Santa beard for ten years. And let’s not get started on my closets. I’m going to recruit you and Iris to help me go through what’s left. I’m pretty sure my Girl Scout badges are in there. It’s hard knowing what to hang on to and what to let go.”

  She was tempted to tell him about her own struggle—about how hard it had been to see River find happiness with someone else. But she didn’t want him to misunderstand. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore, did it? It was in her past, and she’d moved on.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you away because of Iris,” he said. “I meant what I said in the note I left you after Dottie’s party.”

  She lifted her brows. “It’s a little late for you to tell me you just want to be friends.”

  “No, not that part of the note,” he said, sounding a bit confused. “I’m talking about what I said at the end.”

  Ah, the mysterious end of the note, which had met its demise in Einstein’s digestive system. She told him, and he laughed. “That’s the equivalent of saying a dog ate your homework. I figured you weren’t interested.”

  “Oh, I was, but I might not have been ready yet.”

  He gave her a look, like he maybe wanted to press her on that, but instead he played with another lock of her hair. “Iris will get used to the idea. I think she’s mostly just worried that I’ll mess things up, and it’ll make things weird between the two of you.”

  “So don’t mess things up,” she said with a grin. “Speaking of Iris, she gave me a note for you.” She got up and grabbed it out of her bag, then handed it over.

  He read it, his eyes dark and full of emotion. When he was done, he silently handed it over to Maisie.

  Jack–

  I wasn’t sure I wanted you to date Maisie at first, but that’s only because I worried you weren’t serious about her. You’ve never looked at any other woman the way you look at her though, and don’t even get me started about the way you went off like a knight on a quest to get those Christmas lights. Maisie deserves the best. And you’re the best. I just don’t want to lose her. You’ve convinced me you’re serious though, so you better make a move fast. Because people like her are rare.

  I know you’re worried about finally having a life of your own. Don’t be. I’m almost eighteen, Jack, and I don’t want you to be left with nothing when I go to college. I’m sorry I was a brat about it in the beginning, but I’m glad you came here to join the brewery. You did the right thing. And Georgie and Adalia aren’t nearly as bad as I thought they were. Okay, fine, I’ll admit it. They’ve grown on me.

  This is where I should tell you that I got accepted to Northwestern, early acceptance. I know you’re probably freaking out about the scholarships I probably wouldn’t qualify for. But let’s go back to the adult thing. I’m old enough to solve some of my own problems. I know you probably won’t approve, but I got in touch with my father. He agreed to pay for my tuition, all of it, as long as I sign a nondisclosure agreement the moment I turn eighteen. Easy, since the last thing I want anyone to do is associate my name with his. I know you turned down Prescott’s offer to send you away to school, so you probably won’t be happy about this. You’ll think I’m doing him a favor, but I wasn’t going to claim him anyway. Let him think he won. That’s not to say you should do the same thing. Your situation is different, and your deadbeat dad is making life miserable for your other siblings too. You want to fight him? Fight him. No one is as strong as you.

  I love you, Jack. But I don’t need you to be my father anymore. I’d like you to be my brother instead.

  —Iris

  So that was the good news Iris had received.

  Maisie glanced up at Jack. His eyes looked glassy, like he was holding back tears. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s right. About everything. It’s hard for me to see her as anything other than a kid. I’ve always thought things would be so much easier when she could take care of herself, but part of me feels a little lost when I think about her going away to school. Like I don’t know who I am anymore without that role.”

  Which was the story of her life, really.

  “But you came here anyway. You came to Asheville to stake a claim on your future. I know how hard that must have been, especially when you thought you’d have to leave her behind.” She reached out and smoothed his hair. “After my parents died, I felt like the whole world turned against me. Mary was in her second year of law school, and she was going to leave Virginia so she could come home and take care of Molly and me. Maybe I should have let her, but she was engaged to Glenn already, and it would have totally disrupted her life. I was just partway through a liberal arts degree, and I lived on the other side of town. It had to be me. I wanted it to be me. Mary was always the responsible one, but I wanted to show her she didn’t need to take it all on her shoulders. But getting Molly through high school, helping her with her college applications, it helped me get through the worst time in my life. I put my grief aside so I could get her through hers.”

  Suddenly self-conscious—was she talking too much?—she looked into his eyes, but his gaze was locked on her, his attention riveted. “I was only going to take a semester off, but then it became two and three, and then I got the idea for the shelter. By the time Molly left for school, I was fixed on getting the shelter up and running. So I had something else to focus on. I was worried that all the closeness we’d built would leak away, that we wouldn’t need each other anymore. But Jack, that part doesn’t change. Molly might live across the country, but we’ll always have a special relationship because of that time when it was just the two of us against the world. That kind of bond doesn’t go away. It’s for life.”

  “You’re right.” He touched her cheek, his hand impossibly warm. “When did you stop putting it off?”

  “Putting what off?”

  “Your grieving.”

  The words pierced through her, a ray of light that both hurt and brightened. It made her see what had been happening these last months in a way she previously hadn’t. The emotions she’d been experiencing were part of a process that had stalled out years ago.

  “I guess part of it is happening now,” she admitted.

  Clearing out the house. Letting go. Choosing to be happy.

  His fingers trailed down to her chin and cupped it. “I’m glad you can be as strong for yourself as you were for your sisters.”

  “So am I,” she whispered. “And I’m proud of Iris for being strong too.”

  He looked down at the note, and hi
s mouth ticked up into a small smile. “So am I. So damn proud. She’s smart, and it was her decision to make.”

  “And what decision are you going to make?” she asked, tilting her head and studying him.

  “About Prescott?”

  “Yeah, because I’m pretty sure Dottie has some real dirt to dish. And I know exactly where they’re meeting and when.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jack had never been a fan of sneaking around and secrets, likely because they formed the scaffolding of Genevieve’s life. “I’m not hiding behind some bush to eavesdrop on Prescott Buchanan. That would imply I give a shit about what he has to say, and I don’t.”

  “Maybe so,” Maisie argued, “but I could tell Dottie has a reason for wanting you there. She may be a little eccentric, but there’s always some method to her madness.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I think you have this picture in your head of us ducking beneath bushes like someone’s nosy neighbor. There’s actually a bar behind the greenery. Besides, I owe you a drink.”

  “We’re supposed to be on the brewery tour you planned, which technically qualifies as you giving me a drink.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious why Dottie wants us to come?”

  She clearly was. It was hard to deny her when she looked at him like that, her emerald eyes sparkling, her mouth twisting with barely contained mischief. And, truth be told, he was a little curious too. Dottie had been with Beau Buchanan for decades. Who knew what kind of dirt she had on Prescott. A small part of Jack, inherited perhaps from Genevieve and Prescott, longed for the power to put Prescott in his place. In the end, though, he didn’t agree because Maisie looked especially sexy when she was up to no good, or because he wanted to ruin his father. He agreed because Prescott was determined to break up Georgie’s engagement. If Jack found some dirt on him, he could hold it over his head to get him to leave Georgie and River alone—and Adalia and Finn for good measure.

  They got dressed, and he let Tyrion out to pee before he put the pouting dog in his kennel.

  “Hey,” Jack said as he latched the door and then handed the dog a chew stick through the slats, “if I had my way, I’d be home with you all night. But you can’t always get what you want.”

  Tyrion took the stick and seemed to forget his unhappiness, but Jack’s disquiet didn’t release its hold so easily. This thing with Maisie was new and exciting, but it still felt fragile. He wanted to let it evolve without bringing his messy family business into it. Then again, his messy family business was part of him. There was no escaping or hiding from it.

  When he returned to the living room, she was standing beside the tree, smiling at an ornament Iris had ordered from one of those photo printing websites. It showed a shirtless Jack holding Ruby.

  “Can I get one of those?” she asked, turning to him.

  He pulled her into his arms. “Why settle for the picture when you can have the real thing?” He kissed her, slow and lazy, taking the time to do it thoroughly, while he pulled her body flush with his. “We don’t have to leave,” he said. “There are dozens of other locations in this house besides the back of the front door.”

  “While I’d like to explore all of them with you,” she said breathlessly, brushing her fingertips along his cheek, “we can’t stay here anyway. The ladies are having a slumber party. We’re lucky they didn’t walk in on us while we were sprawled out on the sofa.”

  “Then we can just go over to your place.”

  Her mouth twisted to one side, and for a moment he thought he had her, but she said, “Later. After we join the rest of the brewery tour.”

  “You still want to do that?” he asked, surprised.

  “Kind of?” She shrugged, then pulled back and grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d tossed it. “I did plan it with Finn, plus I don’t want to completely bail on River. What if Lee goes off on him?”

  Jack pushed out a sigh. She was right, and he felt like a heel for suggesting they skip it.

  “Well, as long as you don’t comfort him like you just comforted me, we’ll be okay,” he teased.

  Her eyes widened slightly. She started to say something, but her phone rang. Grimacing, she pulled it out of her jeans pocket.

  “It’s Dottie.” She answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes, we’re coming. We were just about to leave.” She bent down and picked her purse up off the floor. “Okay. We’ll hurry.” She hung up and snagged Jack’s wrist, pulling him toward the door.

  They went in her car, leaving his Prius in the driveway. They were both quiet in the car, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Jack didn’t want to sit in the same room as Prescott, let alone listen to him talk. He’d prefer to go back to a time when his father was nothing but a bad memory.

  Maisie finally broke the silence. “Dottie said dinner was going faster than she’d planned. She escaped to the bathroom to make the call, but they’ve almost finished eating.”

  “So they had an entire dinner without discussing whatever she wanted to talk about?”

  “She said she wanted to enjoy her meal first.”

  What could Dottie have to discuss with Prescott that would ruin her meal? She had to be the most patient, understanding, and forgiving person he knew.

  Maisie got lucky and found street parking a half block from the restaurant and practically jumped out of the car.

  “Come on, Jack!” she said, snagging his hand and sweeping him along toward the entrance. He matched her pace even though it went against his every instinct. He told himself he was doing it for her.

  She rushed past the hostess and took him straight to the bar, claiming a high-top table next to a wall of fake greenery. He went for one of the chairs, but she steered him into the other.

  A waitress came over to take their orders, and Maisie leaned in to give her drink order in a near whisper.

  “Lemon drop martini for me, and…?” She raised an eyebrow to Jack.

  “Bourbon. Two fingers. Neat.”

  The waitress nodded and turned away, while Maisie leaned her ear closer to the plant wall. It would have been adorable if he weren’t acutely aware his father sat on the other side.

  “How do you know we’re at the right table?” Jack asked in a lowered voice.

  “Because Dottie told me where to sit,” she answered as she tapped her phone a few times, then set it facedown on the table.

  Of course she’d planned it down to the table where she wanted them to sit. Maisie had probably texted Dottie that they were in position and ready.

  Sure enough, Jack heard Dottie’s voice clearly on the other side of the bush ‘wall.’ “Prescott, I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner this evening.”

  “Are you senile?” Prescott replied in an arrogant tone. “I’ve asked this exact question about ten times over the course of the last half hour.”

  His voice was louder than hers. And sure, he’d probably spoken louder, but from the crisp quality of the sound, Prescott was directly next to him, their seats separated by just the plant. Maisie had pushed him into this chair, which meant Dottie had even planned the seating.

  “And as I told you, good things come to those who wait,” Dottie said cheerfully.

  “So something good will come from this?” he asked. “What could you possible give me?”

  “Peace of mind,” Dottie said in her soothing voice. “The knowledge that your eldest daughter will be marrying a good man. A man who loves her to the moon and back.”

  “A man who just happens to be your great-nephew,” he sneered. “You’re both after my money.”

  It sounded like Dottie blew a raspberry. “I don’t want your money, and River certainly doesn’t either. He wants to make a life with the woman he loves. Love makes a person rich, Prescott, not money, but you never have understood that.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk. You stuck to my father for decades, hoping he’d cave and finally marry you. You were after his money. My father
had many faults, but he was sharp as a tack. He saw you as a gold digger and strung you along, hoping to appease you without marriage.”

  Dottie let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, Prescott,” she said while trying to catch her breath. “That was quite a story for such a droll, unimaginative man.”

  “You think this is funny?” he asked in a tone that probably made his subordinates quiver in their overpriced Italian shoes, but Dottie only laughed again.

  “Some parts are humorous, and others are tragic. I still don’t understand how the Buchanan good humor passed you by and went straight to your children. Your father was always such fun.”

  “My daughters might be flighty like their mother, but Lee is exactly like me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” she said, her amusement fading. “Lee just needs a chance to breathe.” She paused, then said, “And Jack…he’s a good man too. Your father tried to push you to have a relationship with your son, but I told Beau it would never work. Especially not with the strings he attached. You’re not the kind of man who likes being forced to do anything, even visit your own child.”

  Beau was the one who’d made Prescott come visit him? That meant Beau had been aware of his existence for far longer than he’d realized.

  “I told Beau you had to want it,” Dottie continued. “That all you’d do was hurt the poor boy, but he was so insistent. It was one of the few things we disagreed over.”

  “There were only a few?” he asked in a snide tone.

  “Believe it or not, Prescott, your father asked me to marry him many times. I was the one who always turned him down. I needed my independence.”

  “That, and his money was gone.”

  “Funny, he asked me while he still had it,” she said. “He couldn’t bear to ask me again after he gave you money the last time. That was most of what he had left.”

  Maisie’s eyes widened and her gaze pinned Jack. He was just as stunned. Beau had given Prescott most of his money?