Getting Lucky (Asheville Brewing Book 3)

by Denise Grover Swank

  The reason she hadn’t was because she was afraid—an emotion she reserved solely for her romantic life, it seemed.

  Last night, she hadn’t thought much beyond scratching an itch. Having some fun. Making the kind of memories that would get her hot and bothered the next time she needed a little self-pleasure. But it had backfired on her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. And she wasn’t just thinking about his head between her thighs, or the way those amazing arms of his had pinned her to the wall for their third round. No, she was hung up on his smile. On the way he’d cradled Chaco to his chest, humming softly, when they brought the dogs inside. How he’d announced, “Your sex banishment is over, kids!” and made her laugh so hard she actually snorted.

  She wouldn’t mind having him around some more. In her mind, she could practically see Molly rolling her eyes at her. “It’s okay to admit you like someone, Maisie. The world won’t end.” Mary would pipe in, “If she hasn’t told River after ten years, she’s not gonna tell this guy after one night.”

  You said just one night. No takebacks.

  Except it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, wasn’t it? And sure, Jack was Georgie and Adalia’s brother, but maybe that didn’t matter. She’d be seeing Georgie anyway if she intended to continue her friendship with River. And continuing their friendship would be so much easier if she was seeing someone else.

  So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Jack hadn’t taken the hint and left.

  He won’t still be there, she told herself. He’s a sexy, confident man. The last thing he’s going to do is stick around where he doesn’t think he’s wanted.

  When she neared the house, she saw there was a car in the drive, and for a second her heart lifted. It was the same color as Jack’s car, but as she got nearer, she realized it was River’s car.

  He stood on the porch waiting for her, wearing a thermal just like the one Jack had worn last night, plus a pair of old jeans. Acting for all the world like it was normal for him to just show up. Which it had been. For years. Back in high school, they’d spent half their time out in what was now the dogs’ clubhouse. Most of it had been spent studying, with Maisie tutoring River to help him catch up. His mother’s free-range parenting had extended to education, and River’s reading had been two grade levels behind, something that had filled him with shame. Although Maisie had quickly made it known she would eviscerate anyone who thought they could call him stupid and get away with it, she hadn’t wanted him to believe it. But it hadn’t just been studying. They weren’t angels. They’d smoked the occasional joint in the trees beyond the clubhouse, hiding from Mary as much as they were from her parents. Snuck beers from Beau’s stash.

  But things had changed after high school. Her parents had died, and River had gone off the rails, hopping from job to job, mistake to mistake, and the only thing holding them together had been each other. Once, when they were twenty-one and a little tipsy off of Beau’s beer, sitting in the clubhouse so their carousing wouldn’t wake Molly, River had leaned in to kiss Maisie. She’d pulled back. Told him that she’d rather be his friend than one of his many ex-girlfriends.

  He’d thanked her for that afterward, and then he’d seemed to forget all about it. But she hadn’t forgotten. She’d had a crush on him at the beginning, when he’d shown up to Asheville Middle with his hair tucked behind his ears and those big brown puppy dog eyes with more than a hint of defiance in them…and their almost kiss had sparked something in her. Something that had waxed and waned over the years but never fully gone away.

  Except when she saw him standing there now, so handsome in the morning light, she wished she were seeing a different man.

  Sucking in a breath, she parked the car and headed toward the porch. Ein and Chaco were waiting behind the door, whimpering and padding the glass. River was the one man Ein loved, unabashedly, as if he took his cues from Maisie.

  “This is a rather extreme reaction to an unanswered text,” she said.

  River reached for one of the disposable coffee cups he’d set on the little table between the Adirondack chairs. There was a paper bag there too.

  At least someone had brought her breakfast. But she had that strange ache again, like she wished it had been Jack. Which was crazy. Jack didn’t know that she liked the blueberry muffins from Beans and Buns. He didn’t know anything about her—just like she didn’t know anything about him.

  Except that wasn’t quite true.

  “Better be the right one,” she griped weakly, glancing at the bag.

  “Yeah, yeah, got you the wrong muffin one time, and I’ll never hear the end of it. What happened to you last night?”

  She opened the door to let the dogs out. Ein raced over to River, tail wagging so wildly it looked like it would fall off. But Chaco didn’t approach either of them—she just went to sit at the top of the steps, looking down at the drive.

  Almost like she missed Jack.

  Her first thought caught her off guard: she’s not the only one.

  Which was crazy, really. She didn’t know him well enough to miss him, and Chaco had probably just seen a squirrel. Although she loved the little dog, not much of an argument could be made for her intelligence.

  Except Chaco had been around for going on two months now, and Maisie had gotten to know her habits. If she wasn’t looking for Jack, she was doing a good impression of it. And if that didn’t tug the old heartstrings…

  “Last night?” River prompted.

  She settled into one of the chairs, motioning for him to do the same.

  “I caught a whiff of Stella’s pheromones, and it sent me running.”

  River chuckled as he picked Ein up. Her dog settled in his lap, sweet as pie now that he was with River. “You should have seen the nude painting she did of Lurch. Aunt Dottie kept going on about how accurate it was…which made me wonder how she knew.”

  “Maybe she and Beau were swingers,” Maisie suggested. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the flavor and the kick of caffeine. God knew she was going to need it. She and Jack had only gotten a few hours of sleep. “The lurch he helped them out of might have been a sex drought in their relationship.”

  He gave a dramatic shudder. “Now that’s an image I didn’t need. She says she wants Adalia to put Stella’s painting in the next Art Display.”

  “I’d say we should warn her,” Maisie said, “but I’d prefer to see the look on her face when she sees it for the first time.”

  “Probably pretty similar to her expression when Finn showed her his grandmother’s ring.”

  Maisie laughed because it was funny, but honestly, Adalia hadn’t been all that freaked out. She may have turned down Finn’s hilariously quick proposal, but she was pretty much on the cusp of living with him. The only thing holding her back was Jack and his soon-to-arrive sister, whose name she hadn’t thought to ask.

  Was Jack back home with Adalia? If so, she would surely ask him about the party. What would he say?

  She knew better than to think he’d tell his sister the truth. Which was good. Because she was about 99.5% sure that Adalia knew about the whole River thing. Finn had guessed, and even though he’d refrained from telling River, he wasn’t exactly known for being a steel vault.

  Something a little like panic stole over her. She really, really didn’t want Jack to know, but she couldn’t exactly ask Adalia not to say anything, if only because she and Adalia had never actually talked about it.

  And what did it matter anyway? Jack was gone. Their deal was at an end. She’d have to see him again, obviously, and their secret would always give them a bit of a dirty thrill, but that was that. She shouldn’t be thinking about him.

  What if he left a note? a voice inside her whispered, kindling a little flame of hope. Chaco whimpered, still looking off in the distance.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  River was looking at her, really looking at her, as if trying to dig deep into her thoughts.

  No, thanks. Fi
nn and her sisters had advised her to talk things out with River, to be open with him. But she couldn’t see any upside to that. He was clearly in love with Georgie. Maisie accepted that. Hell, she’d encouraged him, because at the end of the day she loved him, whatever that love meant, and she wanted him to be happy. Telling him about her feelings—her confusing, twisting, seething feelings, which even she didn’t fully understand—would only make him feel like crap.

  “You didn’t take home that goose and cook him for dinner, did you?” she asked. “You know you’re not supposed to do that with animals who have names.”

  He shook his head a little, acknowledging the joke with a small smile, but she could tell he was hurt. She’d iced him out for most of the summer, and although they’d since resumed their Tuesday Bro Club dinners with Finn—a tradition the three of them had carried on for years—there was a new distance between them. River was the one in a new relationship, but she was the one who’d inserted the space between them. For self-preservation. He didn’t understand, of course, and thought it came down to a dislike of Georgie. Or some random gripe against him.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said in a rush, putting Ein down and getting to his feet. It was so like what she should say to him that her heart started pounding faster in her chest. Maybe he knew after all. What if he was going to tell her they shouldn’t be friends anymore? Because that was one of her fears too—that he might decide it wasn’t fair to Georgie for them to see each other.

  Maisie hated feeling weak and vulnerable. Hated it. But there it was. She didn’t want to lose him. She’d already lost so much.

  “Oh?” she asked, standing too. Because she wasn’t the type of person who took bad news sitting down. She’d rather be standing up, ready to launch into battle.

  “I know you don’t like Georgie…”

  She opened her mouth to respond, although she wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he saved her from saying anything. “I get it. I know it was weird in the beginning, her being my boss and all, and you were just trying to be a good friend. But I love her, Maisie, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  With those words, it felt like he’d ripped all of her progress away, like tearing a Band-Aid off a raw wound.

  What was it Josie had said?

  The man she loved would marry someone else, and she’d die alone. Well, even a busted clock was right twice a day.

  She’d expected this. Of course she had. She’d expected it from the day he’d come into the shelter beaming, talking about Beau’s granddaughter like she was the Second Coming. But it still burned. Part of her had always thought they’d end up together in the end. That River would work out his abandonment issues. That he’d realize he was ready for a real relationship. That he’d try to kiss her again, only it would actually feel right this time.

  But it hadn’t happened like that. Because it had been a child’s hope, one that didn’t fit the woman she’d become. Still, the disappointment felt no less crushing.

  She’d been a fool to think she could start something with Jack. Why would a man like him want a woman who was still hung up on his future brother-in-law? He wouldn’t.

  Einstein barked, as if picking up on her agitation, and jostled her to attention. She realized River was staring at her, waiting for a response.

  She made it glib because she had to. “I feel like I’m the godfather and you’re asking for my blessing.”

  “I am.”

  “You have it,” she said. She meant it, too. It wasn’t his fault she felt messed up. Nor was it Georgie’s.

  He cleared his throat, then said, “I want you and Finn to be my co-best men.”

  She laughed, both because of the way he’d put it, and because of the horror he was unconsciously putting her through. He wanted her to stand up with him while he married someone else. She knew what Mary would say—You set boundaries with everyone else. It’s past time you got started with him. He won’t spontaneously combust if you tell him no.

  But River looked so hopeful, so intent, and if she said no, he’d want to know why she’d said no. She could pretend this really was about Georgie, but then it would drive a permanent wedge between them. And their friendship really was more important to her than these feelings she’d never asked to have.

  So she looked him in the eye and said, “Does this mean I get to wear a tux?”

  “If you want,” he said, beaming at her. “I thought you were going to say no.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said. “I technically haven’t said yes yet. And I’m pretty sure I can’t until you’re engaged.” She lifted her brows. “For all you know, Georgie could say no.”

  But they both knew she wouldn’t. River just shrugged and said, “Fair play.”

  “But I do intend to say yes once she does…on one condition.”

  “Why was I sensing there was a but?”

  “I’ll only do it if Hops is the ring bearer.” Hops being the dog she’d basically forced River to adopt, not that he was complaining. Hell, Hops was now one of the mascots of the brewery, the other being the surly Jezebel, who represented their line of sours.

  They started imagining out loud what Hops would look like as the ring bearer. Did they make canine tuxedos? (A quick internet search on their phones revealed the obvious: they did, and they came in all colors of the rainbow.) Would Hops carry the rings attached to the old sandal he’d imprinted on after River first took him home?

  They ate breakfast, chatting, and some of the hurt and confusion Maisie felt drifted away, buried in the normality of the scene. She’d spent countless mornings just like this with River. Eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Bantering.

  They said goodbye, and he hugged her, something she’d successfully avoided for months now. It felt crazy good—like stepping into your house after a long vacation—but it didn’t make her want to ravage his mouth. Or lead him up to her bedroom.

  Which only confused her more. She felt those things for Jack. Did that mean she was finally ready to move on?

  But if that was so, why did it still hurt to think of River with Georgie? Of the two of them getting married?

  “Good luck,” she said softly.

  “I make my own luck,” he said with a grin. It was what she’d always said to him when they were younger.

  After River left, she walked inside with the dogs, feeling every last minute of sleep she’d missed. The coffee wasn’t helping, and the muffin had tasted like chalk.

  Little bits of ripped-up paper littered the floor.

  After glancing back at Chaco, the usual perpetrator of messes—Einstein was a senior citizen, after all—she followed the trail to see where it took her. Another ripped-up book?

  But she found a torn and bitten note in Einstein’s bed. The handwriting wasn’t familiar, and her heart quickened in her chest. Jack. He had written a note after all.

  She read it quickly, in a great gulp of words, but it ended on a cliff-hanger. He’d said something about being friends, then had written, But I don’t.

  But I don’t what?

  She wanted to find him, to ask. Or maybe piece together the tiny bits of shredded paper Einstein had so uncharacteristically left all over the house, but maybe it was best to just leave things as they were. To accept that he’d taken her at her word, and maybe feel grateful for it. Because if she was going to be the co-best man at Georgie Buchanan’s wedding, odds were she would be seeing a lot of Jack Durand. And she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that.

  Chapter Six

  Jack barely had time to shower before he ran right back out the door, grabbing two travel mugs of coffee from the pot he’d started as soon as he got home. He couldn’t afford to get sleepy on the road.

  He had a little over two hours to think about his night with Maisie, wondering if she’d read the note yet, hoping she’d text him some smartass reply.

  You want more of this? It’s gonna cost you. Or something equally sassy, to which
he’d say, I’m open to negotiations.

  But his phone stubbornly refused to beep, and he belatedly realized he hadn’t put his number on the note.

  What a moron. Maybe she’d find a way to reach out to him anyway. Come by his house. Get his number from Adalia.

  But right now he needed to focus on Iris.

  He hadn’t been thrilled by his mother’s announcement that she was giving him a sibling, but to be fair, he’d been an eleven-year-old boy, more interested in his new PS2 gaming console than in babies. Besides, his mother barely seemed to notice him. How would she handle a baby? And did the new addition mean he’d get even less attention from her? Even then, he’d known the cold, hard truth. She’d never wanted him for anything other than for the large child support check Prescott Buchanan sent her every month.

  One afternoon, his grandmother had sat him down at her worn kitchen table with a batch of snickerdoodles—his favorite—giving him her We’re about to have a serious conversation look.

  “Jacques,” she said slowly, pronouncing his name with her heavy French accent. “For the longest time, it’s only been you and your mother.”

  “No, Mémère. It’s been mostly you and me. Mom is too busy with her job and her love life to be bothered.”

  Which was a fair assessment. His mother couldn’t seem to live without a man, and following her affair with Jack’s biological father, she’d gotten a taste for men with money. And men with money didn’t want a kid underfoot. As she got older, she didn’t want a kid underfoot either, for fear it would reveal her real age. Rich men wanted hot younger women, and while Genevieve was still a beautiful woman, she was already fearful of losing her youth. So Jack lived with his grandmother most of the time, and he preferred it that way.

  “Yes,” she said slowly with a distant look in her eyes. “It has always been you and me, and you’re the best gift your mother has ever given me. But soon, it won’t just be the two of us. There will be three. And the new baby will be tossed into your mother’s craziness. It will be up to you to make sure he or she feels loved.”