Make Me Beg (The Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

  Connor looked at Mack. “If you can’t handle it, you can always turn the reins over to me.”

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “I can’t let you run this place into the ground.”

  So what if it emptied her bank account? So what if she’d lose the safety net she’d worked so hard to build? She didn’t even know what Connor would say about the bar she had in mind, but she couldn’t lose this chance.

  She turned to Sam. “I’m in.”

  Chapter Two

  Connor opened the app on his phone as he waited for his best friend Austin to meet him at the bar. Not the Dipper, but a dark, seedy-looking spot on the outskirts of Gold Mountain. He’d called Austin as soon as he could get away. He had things to talk about, and in a small town like this, he didn’t want word getting around.

  He had four new messages—not bad for a Monday. But he skipped them and pulled up the search bar. Mackenzie Ellinsworth.

  He didn’t know what shocked him more about his day—that he’d agreed to open a new bar and restaurant, that he’d agreed to open a new bar and restaurant with Mack, that Mack was on a dating site, or that Mack had been looking up him.

  But there she was, definitely testing the waters.

  Her profile picture showed her behind the bar, opening the tap on a beer, tilting the glass as she poured. She had a silver band around her middle finger and another one on her thumb. The diamond stud in her nose sparkled in the light, and her lips were parted, caught at the start of a laugh.

  He had to admit, it was a good picture.

  A really, really good picture.

  She had a great smile—when she wasn’t laughing at him. And then there was that hint of curves in the button-down shirt she was wearing, opened so low that another button would show everything she was hiding underneath. Add in the badass boots she wore behind the bar, the ones with the heel that made a strike against the floor so he could always tell when she was coming, and he had to remind himself to stop staring.

  It was just a picture. And it was Mack. He’d have better luck cuddling up to a porcupine than getting close to her.

  “On that app again?”

  He darkened his screen quickly as Austin came up behind him, carrying a pint of the same generic, shitty beer Connor was drinking.

  “We’re in a different part of town,” he said casually. “You never know who might come up.”

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  Connor grinned. “I’ve had more than one woman say those very same words to me.”

  Austin shook his head, but he was laughing. “You and the tourists—I’ve never known someone with your kind of luck. But I know you didn’t drag me all the way out here to drink this watery stuff just so you could expand your radius.”

  He took a seat across from Connor, leaning forward expectantly. They were in a corner of the darkened bar, but even so Connor looked around to see who might overhear. Not like he had to go all stealth mode. But still.

  “You must know Sam made Mack and me her offer today,” he said.

  Austin slapped the table in excitement. “Finally! You’re going to do it, right?”

  Connor took a deep breath and said yes.

  But Austin seemed to sense his hesitation, the uncertainty he hadn’t let himself show in front of Sam or Mack. “It’s a huge commitment, and I know that’s not really what you’re looking for. But haven’t you always wanted to do your own thing?”

  “I know.” He pulled on the scruff of his jaw. “And I don’t want to sound ungrateful. Really, it’s an amazing opportunity. But doing this with Mack?”

  He expected Austin to sympathize. His friend was a skier and a racing coach. He of all people should get that “doing your own thing” meant alone, solo, without someone else breathing down his neck. It was the whole reason Connor had left New York after culinary school, despite the job offers coming his way. He’d promised himself he was done following other people’s rules.

  But Austin leaned back, holding his glass in his hand, a look on his face like he was trying his damnedest not to laugh—and very much losing that battle.

  “So you’re going to tell me that wasn’t Mack you were looking up when I walked in?” he asked.

  Shit. Connor hadn’t been fast enough.

  “I caught her looking at my profile this morning,” he admitted. “Not like that,” he added quickly when he saw Austin’s face. “You know as well as I do that Mack’s…”

  He wasn’t sure what to say next.

  “That she’s what?” Austin asked. “Only on the market for serious relationships?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Is ‘totally in love with you’ another?”

  Connor nearly spit out his drink. Sure, things had gotten flirty with Mack earlier. But things were always flirty with Mack. In an I want to throttle you kind of way.

  “It’s true,” Austin said while Connor was still choking. “Why else would she be looking you up?”

  “How should I know? But whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.” Something terrifying crossed his mind. “And if you think that’s why I was looking—”

  Austin held up his hands. “Relax. I know Mack doesn’t do casual. And I’d never dream of thinking you of all people might ever settle down.”

  He said it with a smile, but Connor couldn’t help hearing the rebuke. What was it Mack had called him? A man-whore?

  What did that even mean?

  He thought of what his mentor at culinary school had said when Connor announced he was leaving New York. “You can make something of yourself, Connor. But first, you’re going to have to want to.”

  He knew he’d done plenty of bouncing around from place to place, job to job, and yeah, he could admit it. Bed to bed.

  But he’d been in Gold Mountain for three years, working in the same kitchen that whole time. He knew Mack’s opinion of him. The surprise was hearing that his best friend thought the same thing.

  “I didn’t want to meet here to talk about Mack,” he said, trying to get back on track. “I wanted to run my idea for the restaurant by you before I tell her. Make sure I’m not missing anything, you know?”

  “I’m all ears,” Austin said. “But I think you should wait.”

  “What? Why?” Sam had been clear that they needed to move fast. He’d been hoping they could hash this out tonight.

  But Austin gestured for him to turn around, and when he did, he froze. They were all the way on the outskirts of town, at a mediocre dive bar that was perpetually empty. So what was Mack doing walking in with two of her friends?

  She paused as soon as she caught sight of him—but only for a second. Then she walked right up, her signature black boots making a hard sound as Abbi and Claire followed close behind.

  “Our one night off and this is where we both wind up?” she said.

  “Great minds think alike,” Connor said. “Or something.” He eyed her up and down. She’d changed into tight black jeans and a silky, smoke-colored top. He imagined her friends telling her how great she looked and snapping a picture so she could put it on her profile, and something unexpectedly raw in him rose at the thought.

  But that was absurd. Why should he care whether other guys were checking her out? And since when did he notice what she was wearing…or how well it fit her body?

  “Um,” Austin said, and Connor felt a sharp kick under the table. Was he that obvious? He jerked his gaze away.

  “You want to pull up a chair?” he asked. He slid over to make room at the small table while Mack went to grab a pitcher of beer.

  By the time she came back, the only seat was next to him. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed. He’d long ago stopped thinking about her that way.

  But when she sat down, he felt the press of her leg against his, the brush of her arm as she reached for her glass. He tried to shift over, put some necessary space between them. But there was no place to go.

  “I should see if Sam can get
off work and come join us,” Austin said, pulling out his phone.

  Abbi peeled a splinter of wood from the table with her fingernail and said, “Or we should meet her somewhere else. Since when do we hang out here instead of places we actually like?”

  “Sorry. I hadn’t realized we’d have company.” Mack nodded toward Connor.

  “Trying to get away from me?” he asked.

  “Funny, I could ask you the same question. What are you doing all the way out here?”

  She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. He could make up some vague “guys’ night out” or whatever, but he doubted Mack would buy it. And wasn’t the whole point of taking on this renovation to prove that he could do it?

  “I have a restaurant to try to figure out,” he told her truthfully. “I thought my inside source here could help.” He raised his glass to Austin.

  “Uh-oh,” Mack said. “Let’s hear it.”

  It wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on making his pitch. But no time like the present to start looking like he knew what he was doing. He cleared his throat and held up his palms in a picture this pose.

  “Gold Mountain has fine dining at the Cascade”—that was the fancy hotel on the mountain that Sam’s company was also renovating—“but it’s stuffy and geared toward people staying at the resort. We can do something elegant but more for people in town and anyone coming in from Seattle or Bellingham or wherever to eat. Fine dining with a local spin. The kind of thing that won’t just save what we have, but help put Gold Mountain on the map.”

  He paused, looking around the table. Oh, who was he kidding. Looking at Mack.

  She was staring at him—but not in a good way.

  “You want to do something elegant?” Her mouth hung open like she was waiting for him to say, “Surprise!”

  But he wasn’t kidding. At all.

  “You’d rather work in this shithole?” he asked, flicking the splinter across the table.

  “Since when are those my only options?”

  “No offense, Connor, but I’m with Mack. I’m sure the food would be good, but ‘fine dining’ is about the last thing I was expecting you to say,” Abbi said.

  “You know that’s what I’m trained in, right?”

  “I thought you wanted to leave that world behind,” Mack said.

  “I do,” he said. “I mean, I did.” Dammit, he was getting flustered at the way she was looking at him. How could he explain that things were different now? His little brother was married, his best friend was engaged, and just that weekend he’d seen a review in the New York Times praising a new restaurant one of his former classmates had opened, calling it “innovative” and “the best new offering this year.”

  Connor knew he was a better chef, but what did he have to show for it? His independence, sure. But no one was going to write glowing reviews about that.

  He tried another tactic. “Sam said we have to change things. This would definitely be different.”

  Mack drank her beer, appraising him. “Different,” she finally repeated. “Not out of left field.”

  “Fine. If you’ve got all the answers, then what do you want?”

  He didn’t know why he thought she might not have an answer. Of course she already had a plan. Hearing it was only going to make him groan.

  She looked around the table. “Here’s what I think we should do. We update the interior to put in dark wood. Low lights. It’ll be nice, but not white linen nice. Instead of the ski lodge vibe the Dipper has, it’d have more of a timeless feel. The kind of place where you want to hang out with your friends and just be comfortable.”

  It wasn’t bad in theory. But as a replacement for the Dipper? Connor shook his head. “That’s too much like what we have now. I bet you still want to name it Mack Daddy’s and everything.”

  He meant it as a joke, but even in the low light he couldn’t miss the flush creep up her face.

  “You’re kidding,” he said.

  “Is that really your plan?” Claire asked.

  Mack took a deep breath. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was nervous. “Actually,” she said, taking a huge swallow of beer, “I was thinking more like Mackenzie’s.”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed so hard that the few people scattered across the bar turned to see what was going on. She couldn’t be serious. Naming their bar and restaurant after herself?

  Oh God. She wasn’t laughing. Her jaw was set and she looked like—

  Shit. She looked like she was about to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to backpedal even as he couldn’t stop another laugh from bubbling up. “It’s just—”

  Abruptly Mack pushed back her chair. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  He called her name as she crossed the bar and disappeared down the darkened hall, but she didn’t turn around.

  “Nice one,” Abbi grumbled. “Looks like this project is off to a great start.”

  “I’ll go after her,” Claire said, getting up, but Connor told her to stay. Whatever had just happened was clearly his fault.

  He just couldn’t believe she honestly thought slapping up some new wood panels and changing the name would be enough. He’d talked to his dad that afternoon about the money for the investment, money his father had once offered him when he finished culinary school and that he’d been foolhardy enough to turn down. Connor had promised him—just as he’d promised Sam—that the new restaurant would draw people in and keep them coming back. It would be worth the financial risk he was asking.

  Mack may have robbed a bank or won the lottery or had some giant inheritance she could play with, but Connor had people to answer to. He felt bad she was upset, but she had to face reality. Her idea wasn’t going to cut it.

  She was opening the door to the unisex bathroom when he reached over her and closed it before she could walk in. She whirled around, her petite frame wedged between him and the door, his arm extended so she couldn’t escape.

  “For fuck’s sake,” she said, huffing in exasperation. “You want to come in there with me?”

  “You can’t seriously be mad that I don’t want to name the place Mackenzie’s.”

  “Uh, yes I can. Especially if your plan is to open up some five-star restaurant none of our regulars can afford. If the goal is to prove yourself to your old friends, why not go back to New York?”

  Connor hoped it was dark enough that she couldn’t see him wince. Just because it was sort of true didn’t mean she had to phrase it like that. “We’ve been making the same recipes for so long now, Mack, but we’re better than that. Both of us.”

  “I don’t want to be—” She stopped and took a breath. When she spoke again, she sounded careful, almost strained. “Of course we’re good at what we do. But we can improve on what we have without changing all the parts that work.”

  “So my opinion doesn’t matter?”

  “Connor.” She folded her arms. “You barely know where you’re going to be six months from now. You’ve said yourself that no one should plan around you. Sorry, but that doesn’t make me want to drop everything and follow some crazy idea for a place I’d never want to work at—that I don’t even think you’d want to work at, either.”

  She looked at him pointedly, daring him to dispute what she’d said. But Connor knew what he had to do, and it didn’t involve spending his father’s money on some dark, lifeless bar named after a woman who’d literally called him a whore.

  “I’d rather work there than Mackenzie’s,” he said, hearing the edge in his voice. “So don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

  “I’d never be that lucky,” she said. “Now can I pee already? Or are you going to hold me hostage here some more?”

  He stepped back and gestured toward the door. “Be my guest. But I’m serious.”

  “You?” And then for all that she’d seemed offended by his reaction to her proposal, she laughed in his face. “I’ve never seen you be serious about anything.”r />
  He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she had no idea what she was talking about. Or else make it into a game. Throw her off her guard. Press her back against the door and pin her there. Tell her how Austin thought she was secretly in love with him and would she be less of a pain in the ass if he helped her find a way to…unwind.

  But he knew the joking was over. The way they’d been that morning, the surprise press of her body against him—that was over, too.

  She stared at him a beat too long, like she could tell exactly what he was thinking—and she didn’t much care. Because all she did was give him a shrug like this was his problem.

  Then she walked into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

  Chapter Three

  Mack locked the bathroom door and pressed her forehead against the wood. She didn’t let herself exhale until she saw the shadow under the crack in the door disappear and knew he was walking away.

  What. The. Fuck.

  She’d expected Connor to balk at opening a place called Mackenzie’s. But she never imagined he’d flat-out refuse. And fine dining? She’d laugh if she didn’t feel so close to crying.

  She killed as much time as she could reading the graffiti on the walls, practicing her best nothing bothers me mask. Not the fight about the restaurant. Or the fact that he’d practically followed her into the bathroom. Or that he’d stood so close, she could have pulled him to her and—

  And what?

  What exactly did she think she was going to do with Connor Branding in the dark corridor of a dingy bar while he made fun of the very thing she’d wanted for so many years?

  Nothing. That was what they were doing, and that was what Connor was going to get.

  She sighed. She couldn’t camp out in the bathroom forever—and anyway, it smelled. She walked back to the table before she lost her nerve. But the guys had already left.

  “What happened in there?” Abbi asked. “Connor came back all flustered and said they had to bounce.”

  Mack shrugged and slid into her seat, pushing aside the now-empty chairs. “No idea.”