Getting Lucky (Asheville Brewing Book 3)

by Denise Grover Swank

  They walked back to the house like that, hand in hand, almost like they were a couple instead of…well, whatever this was. It had no business feeling this nice. So Maisie turned to him with a wicked glint in her eyes.

  “Want to play strip poker?”

  He grinned back. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Four

  Jack had played strip poker once at a wild after-hours work party, back when he was busing tables at a chain restaurant his senior year of high school. No good had come out of it. He’d gotten drunk off his ass and lost everything but his underwear. But this was a different situation. Best-case scenario, he’d watch Maisie take her clothes off piece by piece, although, to be fair, there weren’t many pieces. Worst-case scenario, he lost all of his. He couldn’t think of a downside.

  “You know how to play poker, right?” she asked with a sly grin as she climbed the porch steps. She started to reach for the door, but he stretched out his longer arm and opened it.

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  Turning around to face him, she took a backward step into the house. “And a gentleman too. Let’s hope you’re not so gentlemanly between the sheets.”

  When had he ever had this much fun with a woman? Okay, a woman who wasn’t related to him, because Adalia could probably make a monk laugh in the middle of a week-long silent meditation retreat. “I can pretty much guarantee I’m not.”

  She sucked in a breath and he loved that he’d gotten the better of her, even if he was sure it wouldn’t last longer than a second or two, three at most.

  “Does that guarantee come with a return policy?”

  He grinned. There it was. God, she was fun. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”

  “Promises, promises.” She continued walking backward into the living room. The furnishings were older and well-worn, but the place was neat and orderly, with the exception of a few dog toys scattered around.

  “You got a deck of cards?” he asked.

  “Would I have suggested strip poker if I didn’t?” she snorted, finally turning around and heading into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”

  He watched her as he walked, the dress showing her upper thighs. “Got any bourbon?”

  She gave him a surprised look over her shoulder. “No, but I have whiskey and gin.”

  “Whiskey will do.”

  “Goin’ for the hard stuff,” she said as she opened her fridge and pulled out a screw cap bottle of wine. She grabbed a wine glass out of the cabinet, gesturing to the fridge with her free hand. “The whiskey’s up there. Just like Dottie’s.”

  “Most people store their alcohol above their refrigerators,” he said, reaching for the cabinet and sorting through the bottles. Some of them looked dusty and old, like maybe they were older than Maisie. Why had she kept them? “But the heat from the fridge can damage it. Especially opened bottles. It’s better to store them somewhere cool and dry.”

  She gave him a sardonic look as he pulled out the Jameson. “Are you here to play strip poker or give me a lesson on storing alcohol?”

  He turned back toward her and wrapped his free arm around her lower back, tugging her to his chest as he searched her face. “Definitely the former. The latter is pure bonus.”

  She studied him for a moment with an Is he for real? look. Then her eyes lit up. “You’re just full of surprises.”

  “You have no idea.” He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss, then sucked her bottom lip.

  She reached her arms around his neck, eagerly kissing him back, but he took several steps backward, just out of reach. “Just giving you a sample of the goods.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Like I said. Full of surprises. You gonna pour that whiskey into a glass or drink straight from the bottle?”

  He reached into the cabinet and got a juice glass, pouring a finger. He had no desire to get drunk. He wanted to experience every moment with her with his full faculties, yet there was no denying he liked the taste of bourbon. Or whiskey, in a pinch.

  After she poured herself a glass of white wine—a moscato, he noticed—she opened a drawer and pulled out a deck of cards.

  Holding his juice cup, he reached for her wrist, going for the hand holding the cards, and tugged her back to the living room while they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “Where do you want to do this?” he asked. “The living room or in your bed?”

  Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. “My room.”

  “Tell me where we’re going, Maisie.”

  “Or I could lead,” she said in a challenge.

  He’d suspected she had a strong independent streak, but this confirmed it. A slow smile spread across his face as he spun her around to be in front.

  She headed up a staircase and led him into a simple room—a bed that looked too small for the space with a gray quilted bedspread, a nightstand with a modern-looking metal lamp, and a beaten-up dresser that had seen better days. Kicking off her shoes in front of what he presumed was her closet door, she set the wine glass on the nightstand and sat on the bed. She scooted backward, crossing her legs, and gave him the tiniest sliver of her black panties to view.

  Patience.

  Setting his glass down beside hers, he slid off his shoes next to the bed and sat in front of her, crossing his legs too. “You do know I have the advantage here,” he said, taking the box and dumping out the cards. He started to shuffle them against his knee. “I have more clothes on than you do.”

  “Call it a handicap,” she said, reaching for the cards and then launching into some fancy shuffling.

  “Why do I feel like I’ve been suckered?” he asked with a laugh.

  “One born every minute.” She started passing out cards. “Five-card draw or Texas Hold’em?”

  “Five-card draw.”

  She stopped shuffling. “Do you need a refresher of the rules?”

  He laughed. “Deal already. I’m eager to get that dress off of you. I say the winner gets to pick the article of clothing that gets removed.” He smirked at her. “And they get to take it off as well.”

  Her eyes lit up and she dealt them both five cards. “I can agree to those terms, and since we’re not betting, we only get one chance to draw new cards.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He picked up his cards, relieved when he saw he had a pair of fives, along with an ace of hearts, a ten of spades, and a three of clubs. He kept the fives and dumped the rest and drew three more. They were junk cards, but at least he had a pair. He glanced over at Maisie, who only exchanged one card.

  “Okay,” she said. “Show me what you got.”

  He lowered his hand. “A pair of fives.”

  Grinning, she laid out her cards—three eights, a ten of diamonds, and a king of hearts. “Like I said, show me what you’ve got.”

  He held his hands out to the sides. “I think the rules say you get to do the honors.”

  She shifted her legs, closing the gap between them, and leaned over. Placing a hand on his chest, she slowly lowered her hands down to his waist. She lifted the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head.

  He resisted the urge to help, mesmerized by the sight of her. When he’d driven to Dottie’s tonight, he’d never dreamed he’d end up sitting on Maisie O’Shea’s bed, letting her undress him. Life had long stunned him with its ability to dole out unpleasant surprises, and it was a nice change of pace to realize it could go the other way too.

  Pulling the shirt free from his arms, she tossed it to the floor, then placed her hands on his shoulders, running them slowly down his arms.

  “Why, Jack Durand. It should be illegal to hide these arms under sleeves.”

  He laughed. “I’d hate to distract the employees at the brewery. Imagine what Lurch might do if he were blinded by my biceps. Peeing in the kettles was child’s play.”

  Something he was only able to joke about now because they’d used that incident—vandalism? assault by piss?—to relaunch the brewery with
all new beers. Everyone agreed it had been a genius relaunch, and only a few people knew the story behind it.

  “Lurch doesn’t work there anymore,” she teased. “You really should keep up with the employee roster.” She sat back down and scooped up the cards, then shuffled. “I think it’s your turn to deal.”

  He took the cards from her, letting his fingers linger on hers. He really, really wanted to see what she was wearing under that dress. Did her bra match her panties?

  He shifted to relieve his growing bulge, then shuffled and dealt. This time he had a jack and a queen of diamonds, plus a king of hearts and a two and a six. Maisie glanced up from her cards and looked at him, her gaze dipping to his chest and then lower. Her eyes lifted back to his and she smirked. “A girl can appreciate the view.”

  “She can touch too.” He liked that she thought he was worth watching, worth noticing. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in over a year, and he’d lost the last one because she’d gotten sick of competing for his attention. “Any woman in your life will always be second,” she’d said, and since contradicting her would have been a lie, he’d let her leave. There’d been a few casual entanglements since, too short to be called relationships, but somehow they had only made him feel more alone. Being alone was something he understood, though, something he could accept. For now. Iris was almost out of high school. Out of his mother’s clutches. Once she was free, he could relax, perhaps have a life…

  He’d decided to jumpstart the process when his grandfather left the brewery to him and his half-siblings. It had seemed like his chance to make something of himself, but then his mother had gone off the deep end—again—and he’d been forced to sue her for guardianship. And now Iris was about to move to Asheville, something Adalia was on board with, thank God, which meant there’d be no time or room for a girlfriend. He’d spend the nine months before she went off to college trying to make up for leaving her with their mother and thinking it wouldn’t come to this.

  But watching Maisie now, realizing how absolutely perfect she was…filled him with a deep sense of loss. He may not have slept with her yet, but he already knew how hard it would be to leave in the morning…if she let him stay that long. God, he hoped she let him stay that long. He wanted every last minute he could get.

  Suddenly, he didn’t want to play this game anymore. He wanted her.

  He reached over and took the cards out of her hand and tossed them down on the bed.

  “Hey!” she protested. “I was about to take off your pants.”

  He cupped the side of her face, his fingers sinking into her red curls. “You don’t need a deck of cards to get my clothes off, Maisie.”

  Her breath hitched and turned shallow.

  “But we’ve got a major issue we need to deal with before they come off.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, sounding like she was trying to be playful, but her voice was slightly strained.

  “I only have one condom, and I plan to have you multiple times before I leave in the morning.” He grinned. “Do you think you can order condoms on Instacart?”

  She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Then laughter spilled out of her, a rich, warm sound that stirred something deep down in his chest.

  “Because if we can’t,” he said, “—and trust me, I’m willing to pay the extra fee for a small order—I’m going to have to go buy some.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “I’ve got you covered. Literally.”

  He laughed. God, she was perfect, but he’d spent his whole life waiting, and he didn’t want another minute to tick by without seeing all of her. He pulled her to her knees, then rested his hands on her upper thighs and slowly slid them up and over her hips, dragging up the hem of her dress.

  It was like unwrapping a gift. Her black panties were exposed first, then the creamy skin of her abdomen.

  She was still, her expression serious as he pulled the dress over her head. He let it drop to the bed, mesmerized by the sight of her, the way her black bra clung to her breasts.

  “Jesus, Maisie. You’re gorgeous.”

  Her skin flushed, and she looked away, and he wondered how often men had actually told her that. Had they been blind or stupid? But the thought of her with another man soured his stomach. Maybe it was foolish given what they were doing here, what they’d agreed to, but he didn’t want to think of her with anyone else.

  He let his hands roam over her soft skin, then cupped her lace-covered breasts.

  “You’ve got too many clothes on,” she said, her voice rough.

  “That’s easily taken care of.” He slid off the bed and quickly slipped out of his jeans before he sat down on the edge of the mattress, reaching for her.

  His mouth covered hers, hungry and demanding. She hooked an arm around his neck, holding on to him as she let him know how hungry she was too.

  He intended to spend all night showing her she was gorgeous.

  His phone’s alarm went off the next morning and he groaned, dragging himself out of a deep sleep. He hadn’t slept much, and all he wanted to do was hold Maisie one last time before he left. He was already debating whether to skip going home to change before he drove to Charlotte to pick up Iris from the airport. But when he blindly reached for Maisie, he found her side of the bed empty and cold.

  He sat up. Where was she?

  Einstein and Chaco were on the floor, watching him curiously as he got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Jack and Maisie had brought the dogs back to the house sometime after midnight. Einstein had released a low growl at Jack, but he’d settled down quickly enough in response to Maisie’s whispered words. Who knew if they were sweet nothings or threats—either would move a smart man, or dog, to listen to her. If her dogs were still here, maybe she was downstairs.

  He headed down in his boxer briefs, the dogs trailing behind. She wasn’t in the kitchen, and when he looked out front, his stomach sank. Her Jeep was gone.

  Had she left already and not said goodbye?

  “There’s only one rule,” she’d said. “This is just for tonight.”

  That had been the agreement, and he’d already reminded himself a half dozen times since their unfinished game of strip poker that he wasn’t in a position to start a relationship, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. He really liked her, and he would have at least liked to say goodbye.

  Maybe it was better this way. Somewhere around four in the morning, he’d wondered how he’d find the fortitude to leave her. Looked like she’d done it for both of them.

  He went back upstairs and got dressed, then found a notepad and pen in her kitchen.

  Maisie,

  Confession: I really suck at this one-night stand thing. It seems crass to tell you last night was incredible, even if it was. I hate not being able to tell you goodbye, but I understand. I hope things aren’t awkward between us, and maybe we can be friends.

  “Really, Jack?” he said out loud. “You seriously just used the let’s be friends line?”

  Einstein released a low growl.

  “I know, buddy. I’m a fricking idiot.”

  What he really wanted to say was, Maisie, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I want more than just one night, and I think you do too. Because sometime in the night she’d cuddled close to him, placing a hand on his chest like she wanted to feel his heartbeat. But it didn’t matter, did it? He couldn’t start anything. Not now. And the only rule she’d set was that their entanglement couldn’t go on past a single night. He needed to suck it up and accept her terms.

  Right?

  But then something took hold of him, and before he could stop himself, he wrote:

  But I don’t want to just be friends. I want more. Much more. My life is a shitstorm right now, but you’re the kind of woman who comes along once in a lifetime, and I don’t want to lose the opportunity to see where this might go. If you can be patient with me, we’ll find a way to make this work.

  Still, this is about you too. You
only wanted one night, and I agreed to that. It’s not your problem that I suddenly want more. So if you want more too, let me know. But if you don’t, we’ll pretend like this never happened.

  This is your choice, Maisie, even if I want you to say yes more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.

  Jack

  He read the note, analyzing all the ways she could poke fun at it. Still, he wasn’t sorry for laying his heart on the line.

  Chaco jumped up on his legs and released a little whine. He squatted down and rubbed the little dog’s head, but Einstein, who’d been right next to her, backed up, cowering, and eyed his hand like Jack might hit him instead of doling out pets. “I’d never hurt you, buddy,” he said softly. “Hopefully, this isn’t goodbye. If your mom lets me, I’ll bring you treats next time, okay?”

  Chaco looked up at him with adoring eyes, but Einstein still eyed him distrustfully. “I like you too, girl. And I’ll find a way to win you over, Ein. If you and your mom just give me a chance.”

  Then he stood and walked out the door. He might be leaving a piece of himself at Maisie’s, but he couldn’t dwell on that at the moment. Now he had to find the fortitude to face his sister.

  Chapter Five

  You weren’t supposed to sneak out on a one-night stand if it was your own house. That was how you got burgled, or went home to find all the flour bags had been emptied onto the counter and the guy had finger-written expletives in it. Not that either of those things had happened to her, but her little sister, Molly, worked for a dating blog in Seattle, and she had stories.

  Of course, Maisie knew Jack wouldn’t do any of those things. It was far more likely she’d come home to find he’d cooked her breakfast.

  The thought of coming home to find him in her kitchen, hopefully nothing on him but an apron, cooking pancakes or fake bacon, lit a little flame of hope inside her. That stupid flame was the reason she’d left like that, without leaving a note. Which was, objectively speaking, a shitty thing to do. She’d needed to leave—someone had found a two-month-old puppy locked in an empty apartment, and it had needed a foster home stat—but she could have woken him up. Or done something.