And it still grated that she was the last to know he’d been seeing someone. TJ never dated. Well, he probably had gone out on a date in the last several years they’d worked together, but she’d never heard about it, and he’d certainly never gotten serious with anyone.
But God, if Jen had ever tried to guess his type, it probably would have been this woman exactly. Sophisticated, beautiful, toned calves, cute little nose, pricy handbag. Blah, blah, blah. She’d already known he was predictable, so why was she so irritated?
Jen smiled at Jordan as she handed him another Stag Signature Bourbon and Coke. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to while I work,” she said.
He smiled at her. “I seriously doubt you hurt for male attention.”
She liked that he was a straight shooter, like she was. The fact that he was tall and had large biceps didn’t hurt either. She bet he played football in college. Was he her type for a serious relationship? Not a chance. Especially since relationships were for squares. But he could be fun for a night or two.
“Okay, you’re right. I get my share of male attention. But it’s nice to have attention I feel inspired to return,” she said.
His lips quirked. “Glad to hear you feel that way.”
Jen’s eyes narrowed in on TJ and his date, who stood with their backs to her not five feet away from Jordan, talking with Jake and Alex. As his date’s hand slid down his back toward his perfect butt, Jen felt her insides clench. She couldn’t take her eyes off the perfectly manicured fingers, the way they began to curve down, apply pressure.
“TJ,” she called out without thinking. He jerked around, effectively forcing the woman’s hand to fall.
“Yeah?” he asked, almost coolly. No surprise, he was easily annoyed by Jen. Always had been.
She nodded her head at Jordan, who had turned slightly on his bar stool. “I thought you might like to meet Jordan Bodisto. Owner of Shakers.”
Jordan turned fully and stuck out his hand the same time TJ put his own out. “Absolutely. Nice to meet you, man,” TJ said, turning on the charm. Did they learn that in good-ol’-boy finishing school?
“Likewise. Sorry it’s taken me so long to stop in.”
TJ gave his world-class smile. “No problem. We’re glad you came by.” He turned to tiny cheerleader who was smiling at the two of them. He faltered as he spoke, his eyes flashing quickly to Jen. Interesting. “This is, uh, my date, Brooke.”
Jordan shook her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Brooke.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” she crooned. Jen mentally gagged.
Jordan looked past Brooke to the rest of the group, so Jake—who had obviously already spoken with him—introduced him to Alex. Once everyone had said hello, Jordan glanced at Jen and grinned. “You guys have got quite a good thing going for you here. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this building and your setup is amazing.”
“Thank you. We’ve put a lot into this. All three of us,” TJ replied. “It’s nice to finally have all of our products out for distribution.”
“Yeah, and they’re really good.” Jordan nodded at Jen. “Your fantastic, and very enticing, bartender has made sure I tried everything. I may become a customer just to have an excuse to come over and see her.”
Jen faked embarrassment and batted her eyes as she swapped out her lemon pan on the bar. “So many pretty words,” she said on an exaggerated sigh. Jordan winked at her, his expression full of amusement. He thought she was entertaining. And she was, damn it. When Jen’s eyes cut to TJ, he had one eyebrow lifted, the other one narrowed. Jen wrinkled her nose at him, because she was a mature adult. And because she was so sick of him judging her.
TJ cleared his throat. “So, does that mean we’ve enticed you into offering Stag products at your bars?”
Jordan chuckled. “That I can’t promise. My father likes to have input on all those decisions.”
“Yeah, about that. I’ve always been curious as to why he’s chosen to give us the shaft for the past five years,” TJ said.
Everyone got quiet, eyes bobbing back and forth between the two men. Jen stared at TJ, a little shocked at his aggressive comment. He was normally diplomatic to a fault.
Jordan took another sip of his drink and then turned fully. “I honestly have no idea why my father does what he does or doesn’t do.” He shrugged. “I just do my job. But I plan on putting a good word in for you guys next time we talk.”
If Jen had to guess based on that response, Jordan and his father didn’t have the most loving relationship. She could understand that, but TJ—the prodigal son—probably couldn’t. When her eyes cut to him, he was nodding.
“Understood. And I appreciate the good word,” he said.
“Tell you what I can do. Repay your hospitality. We have a band coming out next Saturday evening at Shakers on the square. Drinks are on me if any of you would like to come by.”
“Oh, that would be so fun,” tiny cheerleader said, smiling up to TJ. “We should go.”
Jen continued to restock her garnish station, but she could tell by the look on TJ’s face that he wasn’t so sure about the idea. However, the others in the group seemed interested. Except Alex, who quietly mentioned she wouldn’t be in town.
“What band?” Jen asked as she grabbed a couple of limes to slice.
Jordan looked back at her, leaning on the bar. “Four Deep.”
“No kidding?” Jen said, surprised. She cut her lime in half. “Anthony Carmichael is a friend of mine. We went to high school together. TJ also,” she said, nodding at him. He didn’t reply, just stared back at her.
“Sounds like you need to be there,” Jordan said, his voice low and suggestive.
She grinned at him. “I could possibly be persuaded,” she teased, before going back to her slicing.
“She has to work Saturday night,” a deep voice interjected. “Sorry.”
Sorry? How dare he speak for her. Frustrated, Jen shoved her knife down on the lime to make her next wedge, only for it to slice right into the fatty base of her pinky finger. She sucked in her gasp, dropped the knife, and instantly curled her hand closed. The lime juice bit into the wound, pain zinging through her finger. Her heart began to pound in her ears, whooshing in her head, and she wobbled as she turned to face the back of the bar.
She vaguely heard a voice behind her, but the pain and dizziness had her tuning everything out. Acting on instinct, she walked quickly down the length of the bar, out the end, and headed straight for the small hallway at the back of the room that housed the restrooms.
Without knocking she tried the women’s door only to find it locked. Glancing down she saw a drop of blood on the floor. “Oh God,” she whispered. She turned and tried the men’s bathroom. Open.
A large body came up against her side and she dazedly looked up to find TJ’s face, full of concern. “Let me see it,” he insisted.
“No,” she whispered. Her body suddenly felt cold and listless. Jen considered herself tough as nails when it came to most everything, or at least she tried to appear that she was. But she did have a kryptonite. Injury. Mainly the kind that arose out of tragedy, and usually included mangled limbs, gashes, blood, or all of the above. Just the thought of it could send her into panic mode.
“Come on,” TJ said, leading her into the men’s bathroom and straight to the sink. He grabbed her hand, but Jen held it closed tight, not wanting to see the results of her stupidity. She knew how to use a knife, and she’d let her emotions make her careless. Because of him.
“Open up. I have to see how bad it is,” TJ said, gently prying her fingers apart. They were covered with blood that was now dripping into the sink, swirling down the drain with the water. Jen swayed on her feet, but TJ quickly grabbed her around the waist with his free arm. “Jen, it’s okay. Just let me see.”
Finally, she let him open her hand fully, but she looked away, squeezing her eyes shut. “This is your fault.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “How do you come up with th
at?” He led her hand under the faucet and the minute the water hit it Jen gasped and yelped in pain.
“If I want to find someone to work for me next Saturday, that’s my business.”
She heard him sigh as he held her hand under the water. “It’s not so bad. A little deep, but a clean cut. I’m going to use soap.”
“No! It will sting.”
“Hush. Focus on how pissed you are at me. That should keep your mind very busy.”
That almost made her smile, until the soap hit her cut. She yelped, but he held her steady.
“Deep breath, Jen. I’ve got you.” He put her hand back under the warm water.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, still not looking at the cut. TJ however pulled it up so he could look closer. “Can you just get me a Band-Aid?”
“No, but I can drive you to the hospital to get stitches.”
Jen’s eyes went wide. She shook her head. “No. No, no.”
He turned off the sink and grabbed a wad of paper towels. “Yes. Right now.”
“You said it wasn’t so bad. That it was a clean cut.”
“I did. But it’s not in a good spot on your finger. It needs to be stitched closed. It gapes.”
“Oh God, no, don’t say that,” Jen moaned.
“You don’t do blood, huh?”
Why the hell was there a hint of amusement in his voice? “Shut up,” Jen said, starting to pant. She was still lightheaded. How much more awful could this be? If she didn’t focus, this would turn into a full-blown panic attack—and she’d had some doozies.
She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly while TJ patted her finger dry and assessed it a little more as he cradled it in his own hand. She continued to breathe, and also watch his face as he stared down at her injury. His eyelashes were so long this close, and his upper lip was just slightly poutier than the lower one. He pressed the paper towel against her cut again and then he glanced up, locking eyes with her.
They’d never ever stood this close before. So close that she could see the tiny strands of brown that surrounded his pupils like wavy rays on a sun you drew when you were a child. God, they were intense. And perfect.
“Everything okay?” a feminine voice asked from the doorway.
TJ stepped back a foot. “Yeah. But she’s going to need stitches.”
Brooke gave Jen a friendly look of pity. “Oh no! I’m so sorry.”
Jen’s tight-lipped smile probably wasn’t that friendly, but she really couldn’t care less under the circumstances. Her finger still throbbed and stung, and for some reason Brooke’s presence made the pain intensify. “No big deal,” Jen said. She looked at TJ. “Guess you’ll have to close the bar down for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “No, I’ll drive you. You shouldn’t go alone.” He looked over at Brooke. “I’m sure it won’t take long. Do you mind?”
Brooke looked shocked, but she quickly collected herself. “Of course not. Come over after?” She pleaded, her eyes cutting to Jen.
“Sure. Okay,” TJ said.
“You really don’t have—” Jen started, but TJ cut her off.
“I’m going to tell Dean and Jake what happened. Meet you in the alley in five?”
“Fine.”
“You okay to walk?”
Jen glared at him. “I didn’t cut a leg off.”
He nodded, stared at her for a fraction of a second longer, and then before Jen could protest further, she watched him place his hand on Brooke’s lower back and lead her out the bathroom door and back toward the party.
Jen risked a peek at her cut, but the minute she saw the raw inside flesh exposed she squeezed her fist closed again. The pain surged once more. In that moment, standing alone in the men’s bathroom with a gash in her finger, Jen felt helpless and afraid. The worst part was that she wasn’t quite sure which was more painful. Her finger, or the fact that TJ was seeing a beautiful woman he would go home to tonight. He would touch her. Probably have sex with her. Probably already had.
Jen shook her head. Of course they’d already had sex, why wouldn’t they? She needed to let this go. Her jealousy had already caused her to act foolishly.
“Oh, sorry—”
Jen opened her eyes to find the mayor of Maple Springs standing in the doorway looking flummoxed to find a woman having a bloody meltdown in the men’s restroom. “No, sorry, my fault.” Jen smiled and stepped toward the door. “I was just leaving.”
He stepped out of her way, and Jen headed toward the bar. Jordan was waiting for her. “You cut yourself?” There was concern in his voice and she smiled up at him.
“I did. I’m not usually so clumsy. Guess TJ’s driving me to the ER. I need stitches.”
“Damn,” his eyes narrowed. “I’ve had bartenders do that before. You want me to take you?” He looked eager to do it for her, and for a second she considered letting TJ off the hook.
But she didn’t want to. Also, it would be uncomfortable to go with a man she’d just met. “No, but thank you.” She smiled. “I enjoyed talking to you this evening.”
The handsome quirk of his lips, and the way he stepped closer to her, almost made her forget about the throbbing in her finger. For a moment. “Not as much as I enjoyed talking to you,” he replied. “Promise you’ll come next Saturday. Even if it’s late. The band doesn’t get started till about nine anyway. I’d like to see you again.”
“I’d like that, too. And I’d love to hear Ant play. We used to do theater together. It’s been awhile.”
“Theater, huh?” He smiled. “I can see that.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but she just laughed it off. He gave her a wink, and walked toward the elevator just as Jen caught sight of Charlotte rushing toward her.
“TJ said you cut yourself. Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Or I will be, after I get it stitched up.”
Dean came up behind Charlotte. “How’d it happen?”
“I was just being … careless I guess.”
“You sure you’re okay with TJ taking you?” Charlotte asked, giving Jen a knowing look. “I’ve gotten all the important photos of tonight. I can take you.”
“No. It’s fine. But I appreciate the offer.” And she did. It was a friendly thing to do, but she couldn’t deal with the pain and her conflicted feelings about her friendship with Charlotte at the same time. Plus, she couldn’t deny feeling excited about alone time with TJ. So silly of her.
“We’ll shut down the bar for you tonight.” Dean interjected. “Most people are winding down anyway. You just get home and rest after you get fixed up.”
Jen smiled at Dean. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
After grabbing her purse and awkwardly arranging it on her arm so she could continue to hold the paper towel against her hand, Jen hurried down the stairs. She quickly cut through the back room and out to the alley.
TJ had pulled his shiny white Camaro up to the stoop, and when Jen walked out he got out of the car and opened the door for her.
“Wow, romantic,” she said in a flat voice.
“Quiet. It’s the least I could do since you’re maimed.”
Jen couldn’t hold in her smile as she angled her body and fell into the car. Literally, since it was so close to the ground. “Good grief, this isn’t a pain in the ass to get into or anything,” she said sarcastically, pulling each leg into the vehicle. “Didn’t you have to take Brooke home?”
“She met me here.”
Okay. As soon as she was situated, he shut the door. Jen used the few seconds to glance around and inhale the scent of TJ, a spicy cologne, and leather seats. He had the AC blasting, the stereo on low, and there was a pack of gum in the console cup holder that sat between them. Jen picked up and read it. SWEET MINT. So that’s what TJ would taste like.
She dropped it back into the cup holder just as he opened the driver’s door.
“Seat belt,” TJ said sternly, as he sat down.
“Yes sir.”
Jen went to reach for her belt with her right hand, then realized that without the help of her left, she wasn’t going to be able to do it. She turned to look at him. As soon as their eyes met, he realized her predicament and leaned to the side to help her.
“Can you pull it toward me?” he asked.
Jen yanked it down and passed it off to him, then scooted her butt over so he could reach in between her and the console to lock her in. His hand brushed her outer thigh as he pulled it out.
“Thank you,” she said quietly then turned to look out the window.
“Hey,” he said. Jen looked over at him. “You okay? Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Not too bad if I keep a fist. Just throbs. That lime juice seemed to have soaked into my bone.”
He winced, nodded, and pulled out onto the main street. They drove in silence for a few minutes as he headed for the hospital on the edge of town. The sun was just starting to touch the horizon. She glanced at the dash to see it was just past nine o’clock. He wouldn’t get back to Brooke until late, no doubt. Nothing at a hospital was ever speedy.
“Sorry to ruin your evening,” Jen said.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” His voice was low and quiet, almost hard to make out over the whooshing of the air conditioner.
“Feel free to just drop me off.”
“Jen, I’m taking you and staying. Accept it.”
She felt relieved to hear him say it, but still felt a little awkward. “I know tiny cheerleader wasn’t happy about you ditching her to do this.”
When Jen heard his quiet chuckle, she turned to watch him, his lips quirked, eyes creased with amusement.
“What?” she asked.
He angled his head enough to give her a typical TJ eyebrow lift. “Tiny cheerleader?”
“Oh please. I saw her calves and her white-strip smile. Tell me she wasn’t one?”
He was silent, just shook his head.
“I knew it!” Jen said. “God. I swear I can read you like a book.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means I knew exactly what your type would be.”
“You have no idea what my type is.” He sounded so sure, but Jen was skeptical.
Maybe This Time--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel Page 5
