Taming My Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  “That could be huge,” one of the other women said.

  “I don’t care how huge it could be,” Jace said firmly. “We signed Dixie Whiskey as the face of Silver-Stone, and that means something.”

  “With all due respect,” Leni said, “I don’t even think it’s possible for one model to do a show of this caliber.”

  “Not to mention that she’s not a model,” Maddox reminded him.

  “Turning this down would be like cutting your legs off at the knees,” Leni urged. “It’s impossible to get in on Fashion Week this late in the game. They almost never—”

  “I know how big a deal this is,” Jace interrupted. “That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like the idea of it.”

  “Jace.” Maddox leveled him with a stare and said, “Be reasonable.”

  How could he be reasonable when his mind was fucked beyond repair? He pushed to his feet and paced by the windows. “Clear the room,” he demanded. “I need a minute with Maddox.”

  As the others gathered their things and filed out of the room, Jace tried to get his head on straight—an impossible task.

  Maddox closed the door and crossed his arms, watching Jace pace like a caged tiger. “You’ve been acting blue-balled and bitchy since we met in Boston last week. I’d tell you to take the day off, but we’re signing the Boston deal at five. I think you’d better tell me what’s going on with you.”

  He looked at the man who had been there for him since he was a cocky kid, his brilliant mentor who had turned into a loyal friend and trusted business partner. For the first time in their dealings, Jace was at a loss for words. He sank down to a chair and said, “We gotta talk. I’m so fucked…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  WEDNESDAY MORNING DIXIE sat on an Adirondack chair behind the cottage she’d rented, gazing out at Cape Cod Bay with a book in her lap and several hours to kill before Justin’s show at the gallery. She planned on spending it in that exact spot, with the sun warming her cheeks, the bay lapping at the shore, and the sounds of families on the beach floating up the dune with the afternoon breeze. Her mother had been right. Coming to the Cape early had given her the space she needed to try to begin clearing her head, even if it hadn’t touched the hurt in her heart. She’d decided not to stop in Mystic and had driven the whole ten-plus hours straight to the Cape. She’d settled into the adorable one-bedroom cottage Monday evening, and then she’d wallowed in self-pity for the rest of the night. But yesterday morning had greeted her with a nudge in the right direction when she was walking along the edge of the dunes and Daphne’s almost two-year-old daughter, Hadley, had toddled over for a visit.

  Daphne and her daughter lived above the offices of the resort. They had been on their way to have breakfast with their friends who owned Summer House Inn, the property next door, when Hadley had spotted Dixie and detoured in her direction. Hadley had clung to her with a serious scowl on her adorable face. Apparently the precious little girl didn’t smile very often. Daphne had invited Dixie to join them for breakfast with their friends, and she introduced Dixie to more of the women she knew from their online and video book club chats. She also met a few of the women’s significant others, and it was obvious how happy those couples were. Dixie had hoped to find that kind of happiness with Jace, and she’d felt herself slipping back into a dark abyss. It was then, while sitting with her new friends, with sweet little serious-faced Hadley on her lap, that Hadley had surprised her with a smile. Dixie’s heart had melted, driving home how much she wanted a family of her own. She’d realized that life was too short to wallow in heartache and had vowed once again to try to find a way to come to grips with the fact that she and Jace were done and move on.

  It would be one thing if Jace had lied to her or had led her on and then broken her heart, but he hadn’t done either of those things. Even if she was never able to love another man, she couldn’t allow herself to be miserable over her own stupid mistakes forever. She’d forced her own hand yesterday and given herself a push in the right direction. Instead of shutting out the world, she’d called her aunt Reba, her father’s sister, to say she’d arrived in town early and would like to hang out. Reba was very much like Dixie’s own mother: strong, loving, and unwilling to put up with bullshit. As the wife of a Dark Knight, she couldn’t be anything less. Her aunt had said, “Say no more, sweet pea. Get your butt over here.” It turned out that her mother’s bragging about the auction and Dixie’s appointment as the face of Silver-Stone had traveled quickly through her family. It had been as exciting as it was difficult to relive those events with her cousins and friends, but she’d spent the rest of the day surrounded by family, and it had been the perfect remedy for her aching heart.

  Until she returned to her cottage and the silence had pressed in on her.

  She’d spent the evening looking at the pictures she’d brought with her. One picture of Jace—her favorite of the ones Hawk had taken, in which Jace was leaning against the wall talking on his phone—and a picture of her family and friends. First, she’d admired the picture of Jace until she’d missed him so much her chest hurt. Then, to soothe the ache, she’d looked at the picture of her family and friends that was taken at the hospital the night Maggie Rose was born. That picture never failed to make her happy. She knew how messed up it was that she’d brought Jace’s picture with her, but she wasn’t trying to forget him. She was only trying to come to grips with going back to being friends and not lovers. The truth was, she hoped she’d never forget a single second of their time together.

  That endless cycle of stabbing a dagger in her heart and then soothing the wound, only to stab herself again, had gone on until she’d fallen asleep hugging the pillow as if it were Jace.

  The whole night had pretty much sucked, which was why she was trying a different tactic this morning—getting lost in the romance novel her book club was reading. It was actually working, at least part of the time. She’d get drawn into the story, which was a great distraction, but then she’d come to a sexy scene and immediately replace the hero and heroine with Jace and herself. That got her hot and bothered, which led to reality, and then, inevitably, to sadness.

  A gust of salty air swept up the dune. Dixie tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and picked up the book, diving into her next distraction.

  SPENDING THE DAY reading in the sun had helped ease the tension that had been Dixie’s constant companion for the past several days. As she sipped her champagne at Justin’s art show later in the evening, she was glad for the reprieve, even if she knew she’d be sucked right back to sadness when she returned to the cottage. She’d been at the gallery for hours, and it was still standing room only. The Dark Knights had turned out in droves, as had local residents and tourists. Justin’s sculptures were a huge success, and it was wonderful to see him honored by so many people. Justin was incredibly talented, although his artwork had always tugged at Dixie’s heart. Every piece looked a little bit tortured, like the one Dixie stood before now, depicting a naked, armless woman lying on her back on top of what appeared to be waves. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, her delicate features beautifully crafted. Thick straps of stone wound around her torso and legs like a flat python squeezing its prey. She looked at another piece a few feet away, an enormous sculpture of a woman’s face emerging from chipped and textured stone. Her lips and nose were smooth, polished, and well defined, but the area from the apple of her right cheek to the bridge of her nose appeared to have been broken off, as though the woman had been battered and that part of her face had crumbled to pieces. His other sculptures were equally interesting and powerful.

  Dixie set her empty glass on a tray and glanced across the room at Justin surrounded by a flock of pretty women. All of the Wicked brothers were big and brawny, even Justin. Though he had been adopted, he looked like he was made from the same strong stock. Like most of the Dark Knights, they were tough, mouthy, and fearless.

  Justin glanced over, and that fiendish grin he was known
for slid across his handsome face. He lifted his chin, excused himself from his harem, and headed for Dixie. Justin didn’t walk; he swaggered. He was broad shouldered, sported plenty of tattoos, and depending on his mood, he was either cocky and playful or he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Antarctica, which went well with his ice-blue eyes. His dark hair always looked like he’d just made out with someone, and his beard was short and neat.

  He sidled up to her and said, “Hey, Dix. Which piece is your favorite?”

  “I think that one.” She pointed to the woman tangled up like prey and said, “But you know I love all of them. Which is your favorite?”

  His gaze moved to Chloe Mallery, the regal-looking blonde holding a champagne flute across the room. Chloe had started the book club with Daphne. Dixie knew her through their chats, and she’d met her in person at breakfast yesterday. Chloe was funny, sharp, and definitely the type of woman who would call Justin on his shit, which made sense since she’d told the girls in the book club that she would never date a bad boy. She was also there with a date, whom she’d met on a dating app.

  “Does she know that?” Dixie asked.

  Chloe looked over before Justin answered, and the distance between them practically caught fire before her cheeks pinked up and she turned away.

  “You tell me,” Justin said arrogantly.

  Dixie laughed. “How well do you know her?”

  “Well enough to know she’d be hot in bed.” Justin finished his champagne.

  Dixie rolled her eyes. “Then you know she won’t date a biker.”

  “This pretty-boy Ken-doll shit is just a phase. She’ll get tired of hanging out with guys with training wheels soon enough. When she’s ready for a real man, I’ll be there to welcome her to the club.”

  “Good luck with that,” Dixie said, as Zander, one of Justin’s younger brothers, joined them.

  “Hey, Zan,” Justin said, bumping fists with his brother.

  “Great show,” Zander said, his eyes dancing with mischief as he nodded toward the door where their brother Zeke was talking with two pretty brunettes. “Zeke and I are heading out. We’ll catch you at the Hog later, okay?” Their aunt and uncle owned a restaurant/bar called the Salty Hog, and they were throwing a big celebration in Justin’s honor after the show.

  Justin’s face grew serious. “Definitely. Who are the babes?”

  “Tourists.” Zander waggled his brows. He was the playboy of the family, and he had a knack for finding trouble.

  Justin frowned and said, “You treat them well, you hear me?”

  “That’s the only way I fly, bro.”

  “Dix, excuse me for a minute.” He grabbed Zander’s shirtsleeve and dragged him away.

  Dixie chuckled at the pot calling the kettle black. She spotted Madigan coming her way and waved. Madigan was in her early twenties, the youngest of Justin’s siblings. With wavy mahogany hair and eyes the color of a spring sky, she was as sweet and slight as her brothers were tough and brawny.

  “What did my brother do now?” Madigan asked, watching Justin lecturing Zander.

  “Zander’s just being Zander.”

  “I see nothing’s changed while I was away.” Madigan was a puppeteer and a greeting card designer. She’d returned to the Cape a few weeks ago after being away for several months touring the country for her puppeteer business. “Did you meet Justin’s friend Gavin before he left? That man is tasty, isn’t he?”

  Dixie had seen the tall, handsome, clean-cut man with wily green eyes who had caught the attention of every woman within a twenty-foot radius. “He was hot, but too squeaky clean for me.”

  “I forgot, you like your boys rough.”

  “Men, Mads,” Dixie corrected her as two of Madigan’s brawny and bearded cousins, Tank and Baz Wicked, strolled through the door, drawing the eyes of just about every female in the room.

  Tank was the eldest of Madigan’s three Wicked cousins, and at six four, he was also the biggest. He had dark hair, a body full of tattoos, and several piercings. As usual, he was wearing his leather vest sporting the Dark Knights patches. He had a couple of inches on Baz, a handsome veterinarian who ran an animal rescue with their youngest brother, Dwayne. Though they weren’t related to Dixie by blood—their father and Madigan’s father were brothers—they were all one big family through the Dark Knights.

  Baz greeted a woman by the door with a hug as Tank made his way to Justin. Baz had longish dirty-blond hair and puppy-dog eyes. Women around town called him prime husband material. Baz, however, had other plans for himself.

  “I’m glad Tank made it,” Dixie said. “How’s he doing?”

  Tank hadn’t been around yesterday when she was visiting with her cousins and Tank’s family, and she was worried about him. Their younger sister, Ashley, had committed suicide several years ago. While it had taken everyone a long time to move past Ashley’s death, Dixie knew some of the Wickeds still hadn’t fully dealt with their grief, Tank included.

  “He’s still trying to save the world,” Madigan said solemnly. Shortly after his sister had passed away, Tank had joined the fire department, making it his life mission to rescue everyone.

  “I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “We can only hope. Who knows for sure, though, right? You know Tank. He’s not big on sharing his feelings,” she said as Tank cut through the crowd, heading toward them.

  Dixie was glad to see a smile lifting his lips as he joined them, though the bottomless pain in his eyes remained.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, chili pepper,” Tank said as he draped an arm over Dixie’s shoulder, hugging her. He smelled like leather and fresh air, and he had called Dixie chili pepper forever. When they were young he’d called her Red and Dixie’s mother had been quick to nip that in the bud.

  “I could say the same about you,” Dixie said.

  Tank kept his arm around her neck and said, “I’ve got a chair with your name on it in my shop. You going to let me tattoo you while you’re here?” In addition to volunteering as a firefighter, Tank owned a tattoo parlor.

  “We’ll see. I just got inked a few days ago.” She showed them her new tattoo.

  “Oh! That’s beautiful,” Madigan said.

  Tank whistled, studying the tattoo. “Nice line work. Who did it?”

  “A friend,” she said, trying to ignore the quickening of her pulse.

  “I hear you’re a supermodel now.” Tank leaned closer and said, “And that your brothers just about had coronaries the other night at the auction.”

  “It was interesting, that’s for sure,” Dixie said lightly.

  “I’ve got to give it to Jace Stone. He’s got big ones,” Tank said. “I guess he really wanted you for that calendar.”

  A knot tightened in Dixie’s chest.

  “I’ve known Jace from Bikes on the Beach since I was yay high.” Madigan put her hand out about two feet from the floor. “That man is better than crunchy peanut butter.”

  Tank scowled. “And he’s old enough to be your father.”

  “I don’t want to date him. I’m just saying he’s hot. Anyway, Dix, I’m so proud of you!” Madigan said. “You’re brave standing up to your brothers and your father like that. Your mom told my mother that she’s never been prouder of you. I could never do anything like that.”

  Tank arched a thick dark brow and said, “You’d have to stick around long enough for them to give you a hard time first, Mads.”

  “Aw, Tanky, did my big ol’ cousin miss me while I was gone?” Madigan put her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  “You caught me,” Tank said.

  Madigan flashed a cheesy smile.

  Tank chuckled. “I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you anything?”

  “No thanks,” Dixie and Madigan said in unison.

  As Tank walked away, Madigan peered around Dixie and said, “So, Dix, exactly how many dates does forty grand get a guy?”

  “One. Why?”

  �
�Because someone’s looking at you like he’s here to collect his due.” Madigan pointed toward the door.

  Dixie spun around, losing her balance at the sight of Jace striding determinedly through the gallery, his eyes locked on her. She grabbed hold of Madigan’s arm to steady herself, wondering what the hell he was doing there and why he looked angry.

  JACE CUT THROUGH the crowd toward Dixie, who was stunning in a sexy black miniskirt, a dressy white tank top, and the leather boots she never seemed to be without. She appeared oblivious to the other guys in the gallery who were checking her out, but Jace wasn’t. The tension in his gut was gnawing away at him. Her mouth twitched, as if she wasn’t sure if she should bare her teeth or smile.

  “Hi, Jace,” Madigan said excitedly, leaning in for a hug. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “Neither did I,” Dixie said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Taking care of business,” Jace said as evenly as he could when every muscle in his body was corded tight.

  Dixie put her hand on her hip, lifting her chin as she said, “Of course. Why else would you be here?”

  “Geez, Dix.” Madigan looked disapprovingly at her. “The way Jace made a beeline for you, I was sure he was here to collect a second date for all that money he plunked down at the auction.”

  “I’ve already paid that debt,” Dixie said coldly.

  Jace gritted his teeth and quickly schooled his expression. “You may have paid your debt, but we still have unfinished business to discuss.” He took hold of Dixie’s arm, feeling her go rigid, and said, “If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Madigan.”

  He led Dixie toward the door as she snapped at him in hushed, angry whispers. “What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to be in LA. Answer me, Jace. Jace?”

  She was so mad, and though he hadn’t known what to expect, he hadn’t expected that reaction. Had he made a mistake by coming there? After flying across the country from LA to New York, picking up his bike, and driving straight to the Cape, he was exhausted and didn’t trust himself not to snap right back at her, so he bit his tongue as he pushed through the door.