by Lucy Score
Can you meet me on the porch?
Joey frowned at the screen and looked at her front door.
“What’s wrong?” Gia asked.
Joey shook her head and got out of her chair. “Nothing, I’ll be right back.” She ducked out the door, closing it behind her. Jax was standing on the porch steps his breath a cloud in the soft glow of the porch light. He had one hand behind his back.
She crossed her arms to ward off the chill. “You’re interrupting Girls Night, Ace.”
He smiled, that slow, sexy, underwear-disintegrating smile. “I have something for you.”
“I already got the bacon.” The roses were a beautiful cliché, but the bacon? God that man knew her vices.
“Something else. Something you’ve wanted for a long time.”
“Don’t you dare take your pants off,” she hissed. “There’s a houseful of women staring at you!”
“Interesting and flattering that that’s where your mind goes, but I’m talking about this,” he tugged on a green lead he had tucked behind his back. A wire-haired mutt scampered up the steps stopping neatly at her feet. The dog was wriggling with excitement.
“This is Waffles,” Jax said. “He’s yours.”
Waffles stared up at her with bi-colored eyes, his furry head cocked like he was waiting for her to say something.
“You got me a dog?” Joey asked incredulously. “A dog named Waffles?” The dog’s tail swished.
“As soon as I saw his name I knew he was yours.”
He remembered. Jax remembered. She had been nine when she asked for a dog for her birthday. When that day came and went without a four-legged best friend, Joey had started saving her allowance for a dog.
After months of saving, she sat down at the breakfast table, her mason jar stuffed full of allowance, and asked her father to take her to the rescue in town. That morning was the first time her father really let her down.
He’d refused. Told her he wasn’t going to let her waste her money on some flea-bitten mutt. They didn’t need a dog in the house and they sure as hell weren’t going to get one.
Jax had found her later that morning pouring her heart out to one of the ponies in his family’s barn and when he finally coaxed the story out of her, he announced that he’d share his dog with her. And he had. They’d spent hours together training the reluctant Pancake, a lazy lab content to spend his days swimming in the pond and sleeping on the porch.
She’d always meant to get herself a dog after college, but had never gotten around to it.
“Hi, Waffles,” she said, careful to keep any emotion out of her voice. Waffles’ scraggly tail thumped on the porch boards and he scooted an inch closer to her. Joey knelt down and stroked Waffles’ head.
“I can’t believe you got me a dog,” she said again.
“The rescue said he’s part cattle dog and part a bunch of other things. They think he’ll do great here on the farm,” Jax said, sitting down on the top step and scrubbing a hand over the ecstatic Waffles’ belly. “You’re killing me here, Jojo. Did I do good or are you pissed?”
A ghost of a smile played over her lips. “You did good, Jax.”
He blew out a cloud of breath and she felt it on her face. They were close, leaning over the wriggling bag of fur. Their gazes met. Joey wet her lips, considering. Jax’s hand grasped her wrist. He leaned in and she let him, watching those gray eyes and perfect lips close in.
The doorknob jiggled behind them and they broke apart. “But, Mama! Dere’s a puppy out dere,” Aurora screeched. “I hafta see the puppy!”
“Rain check?” Jax murmured.
“We’ll see,” Joey sighed. “What’s that barking? Oh, my God.”
Beckett’s SUV pulled up with dogs hanging out of every open window.
“You said you’d give me ten minutes,” Jax growled.
“That was before Meatball puked,” Beckett yelled. They all came pouring out, men and dogs from the SUV and women from the house, converging on the porch in a chaotic tornado of paws and questions and tangled leashes.
“What did you do?” Joey mouthed to Jax.
He pulled her and Waffles out of the fray and into the house, shutting and locking the door behind them.
“That circus outside wasn’t part of the plan, but this was.” He leaned in and brought his lips to hers.
6
Jax kicked back in his chair and scrubbed his free hand through his hair while his agent cheerfully ran through her list of demands in his ear. The empty baggie of cookies Joey had given him taunted him.
“Hart wants a draft in his team’s hands by the end of the month.” Aisha Leigh coated every word in her honeyed Mississippi accent, a weapon she wielded on the unsuspecting at the negotiation table. Al, as she preferred to be called, was an infamous shark in Hollywood waters. She allowed herself two cigarettes a day and drove a vintage AC Cobra. Jax had been with her for five years and loved her as fiercely as he did his own mother.
“I got it, Al,” he sighed in exasperation.
“I’m only reminding you, honey.”
“Uh-huh. I know you’ve got your cut already spent,” he teased.
“That beach house isn’t gonna buy itself, sugar,” she said breezily. “Speaking of real estate…”
Jax knew where Al was going with this.
“The house. Is there a problem with the tenants?”
“It’s a prime piece of real estate and you’ve been gone for more than six months. Don’t you think you should make a decision?”
“I’ve made a decision. One that you ignored, if memory serves.”
He could hear her roll those brown eyes from three thousand miles away.
“How was I supposed to know you were serious about moving back east? You call me in the middle of the night—”
“Ten,” Jax corrected her.
Al ignored him and steamrolled on. “Blubbering about going home and true love.”
“Have you ever thought about getting into acting? You’ve got a flair for the dramatic.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “Please. I make more handling yahoos like you than I would onscreen.”
“Didn’t I tell you to put my house on the market last June?” Jax said, knowing full well he had.
“And I told you to get a money manager to deal with these things. I’m your agent. I get you money. A money manager will help you keep it.”
“And skim another ten percent off the top.”
It was a conversation they’d run through a dozen times over the years, ever since Al had locked down his very first six-figure deal.
“Anyway,” she continued. “Your tenants are interested in buying.”
“Fine. Great.”
Al sighed heavily in his ear. “Jackson, the responsible thing to do would be to get the place appraised, weigh your options, maybe list the property and see if we can get multiple offers.”
“What are they offering?” Jax asked, cutting to the chase.
She named a figure that sounded more than fair.
“Consider it sold.”
“You drive me crazy,” she said fondly.
“Right back at ya, gorgeous. Now is there any other business you need to beat me over the head with, or can I go back to meeting my deadlines?”
“The premiere.”
“Shit.”
“It’s in a couple of weeks and the studio wants your sexy face there.”
Jax rolled his shoulders. “Why?”
“Because you wrote the damn movie and they’re expecting it to be huge. Plus, you always look so pretty in your tux on the red carpet.”
“Ah, shucks, Al. You’re making me blush.”
“I’ve seen you in action. I bet you haven’t blushed since junior high. How many tickets do you want?”
Jax considered and a slow grin spread across his face. “Put me down for two.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I can’t wai
t to meet your date. Does she know she’s already famous around here?”
“Very funny. See if you can schedule the closing on the house for the same weekend, okay?”
“Get a money manager,” she grumbled, but Jax heard her keying notes into her computer.
“Why would I do that when I already have you?”
“Remind me to raise my fee,” she said sweetly.
Jax hung up and stared at the screen of his laptop. He’d commandeered a corner table at the brewery to get some writing done this afternoon. But between interruptions from his staff and his agent, things weren’t looking good for the story. It would be another late night…a very late night, since it was his turn to babysit the brewery.
He and his brothers took turns being on-hand to handle any crises that arose. And with a restaurant, there were a lot. From running out of pizza dough to a cook in need of stitches to the endless drama of the waitstaff, it was more work than any of them had anticipated.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. There was too much to do. Not enough time to do it all. He had a sense of impending doom. Something was going to give and he was worried it would be something big.
It was one of the reasons he’d insisted on a meeting with his brothers today. They had to start thinking about the future.
Speak of the devils, Carter and Beckett slid into the chairs across from him, beers in hand. Carter handed a frosty glass to Jax while Beckett loosened his tie.
“You’re supposed to be babysitting, not writing, Hollywood,” Beckett teased.
Jax kicked his brother’s chair half-heartedly.
“Yeah? Well you try working three full-time jobs and see how you do without multitasking.”
Beckett snorted. “Woe is you. It’s not easy being a full-time attorney and mayor. And you try keeping Gianna in line. Finding her keys, keeping track of her bills …”
Carter and Jax mimed a tiny violin duet.
“Assholes.”
“Guys,” Carter said, drawing their attention. “Twins.” He mimed a mic drop and picked up his beer.
“Please. You can’t use that excuse until they’re actually here,” Beckett argued. “There’s no crying, no diapers, no late night feedings.”
“Are you kidding me? There’s already crying and late night feedings. Summer got matching onesies in the mail yesterday and I found her sobbing over them and a bowl of cold spaghetti in the kitchen at midnight. She’s the one who ordered them!”
Jax grinned.
“I’m worried she’s going to drive herself insane between the hormones and the magazine,” Carter continued.
“You’re gonna have to drag her away from here,” Jax said. “Get her to take a couple days off.”
“A vacation?” Carter frowned.
“You guys didn’t have a honeymoon,” Beckett shrugged. “And you sure as hell won’t be going anywhere once the kids are here.”
“Sorry to interrupt, Jax.” Cheryl, the bubbly weeknight bartender, approached the brothers. “But the bar drawer isn’t coming out right.”
Jax blew out his breath. “The lunch drawer or the dinner drawer?”
“Dinner,” she said, shoving her heavy fringe of bangs off her forehead. “I counted it three times.”
“I’ll be back,” he told his brothers.
After he counted the drawer three more times, confirmed that it was indeed twenty-five cents short, and threw in a quarter from his own pocket, he returned to the table where Carter was still considering the merits of a vacation. “Things are quiet enough on the farm, maybe we could get away for a few days.” Carter laughed. “How in the hell am I going to get Summer to agree? I have to use a pry bar on her to get her out of the office before eight every night.”
Jax grinned, reaching for his beer. “Joey and Gia. Put them on her case and feed her something about trying out a guest editor now so she can tap them again during maternity leave.”
“When the hell did you become the smart one?” Carter asked, impressed.
“One of us had to get the brains.”
“I like it better when you two are fighting,” Beckett grumbled.
“Then let’s start looking at the brewery numbers and we’ll end up punching each other in the face over the price of French fries,” Jax suggested.
Before he could bring up the document on his laptop, another distraction presented itself. “Hey, uh, Jax,” the shaggy haired server named Deke shuffled up to the table. “There’s some guy on the phone.”
“Uh-huh,” Jax said, waiting for more of an explanation. He ignored Beckett’s smirk when Deke didn’t provide one. “Does he want something?”
Deke shrugged. “Dunno.”
Jax fixed him with a steely gaze that seemed to have no effect. “How about you ask him who he is and what he wants and then we’ll go from there?”
Deke shrugged again. “Cool,” he said before shuffling off.
“Does he even know how to take an order?” Carter asked.
Jax rubbed his hands over his face and tried to remind himself he’d once been Deke’s age. But he’d retained more brain cells.
“Let’s get through these numbers before the kitchen burns down and all the kegs burst,” he said swiveling the screen around to face his brothers.
“Hey, Jax?” Cheryl was back with the cordless from the host stand. “This guy says he’s been on hold for ten minutes waiting to talk to you?”
Jax swore ripely and snagged the phone from her. Two more phone calls, an emergency restart of the POS, and a tripped breaker in the kitchen later, he was back at the table.
By the time he walked his brothers through the preliminary numbers, the tables were starting to fill up for the dinner crowd.
“So what you’re saying is we could actually start seeing a profit eventually,” Beckett said, pushing his empty glass around the table.
“I went over everything with Franklin and he seems to think we’re right where we need to be, if not a little ahead,” Jax explained. “Which is all well and good, but I’ve got a suggestion that would push that profit back a ways.”
“We’re not burning the place down, Jax,” Carter sighed.
“I’m talking about hiring a general manager, not arson.”
That shut them up.
“It’s something we were going to have to do eventually and I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t deal with a hundred emergencies every shift. It’s driving me insane. And I think it might make sense to hire someone experienced now before we fuck all this up.”
His brothers shared a glance.
“We’re already getting calls about events and catering,” Carter admitted, running his hand through his hair.
Bottom Line Beckett was frowning. “I don’t think there’s anyone on staff who we could tap for that.”
Jax shook his head in agreement. “We’re gonna have to look outside.”
“You sound like you have someone in mind,” Carter said warily.
“I’ve got a long shot. A perfect long shot, but I need to do a little recon first.”
“So we’ll table the discussion for now,” Beckett suggested.
“Fair enough,” Carter agreed. “Now let me get us another round before the next item of business.”
Jax watched his brother make his way to the bar, pausing to wave or chat here and there. “You know what he wants to talk about?” he asked Beckett.
Beckett shrugged. “Got me. Maybe he wants to get another Clementine.”
“Who knew lawyers were so funny?” Jax said, layering on the sarcasm.
“You sound like Gianna,” Beckett said.
“How is the blushing bride?”
The grin that split his brother’s face told Jax everything he needed to know.
“When are you gonna get yourself a blushing bride?” Beckett asked, poking him in the chest.
“When I figure out how to make Joey blush.”
“Good luck with that,” Beckett snorted.
Deke wander
ed up again, a tray of food in his hand. “Uh, hey, Jax. Do you know where table fourteen is?”
Jax took a measured breath and regretted it. Deke’s last smoke break smelled more like pot than tobacco. He stood and clapped a hand on the boy’s bony shoulder. “Listen, Deke. I don’t think this is working out. I feel like this job just isn’t playing to your strengths.”
Deke’s cellphone rang from the depths of his cargo shorts. “Can you hold this?” he asked, thrusting the tray into Jax’s hands.
Beckett covered his laugh with a cough.
While Deke answered a call from someone who answered to “Hey, man,” Jax hustled off to table fourteen to deliver the rapidly cooling food.
“Ladies,” he said, pulling the first plate off the tray. “Who gets the sausage sandwich?”
Six hands flew up around the table and then a riot of giggling erupted.
“I’ll take that sausage off your hands, Jax,” a breathy blonde, fluttered her eyelashes at him. Moon Beam Parker, with her waist-length, stick straight hair and pale blue eyes, wasn’t one to shy away from the Pierce men. In fact, if memory served him, she’d been Beckett’s first.
She took the plate from him, her mint green manicure dragging over his hand. He bobbled the plate, nearly sending the food to the floor. Moon Beam gave him a slow wink and the rest of the table erupted again.
He could feel color rising to his face and danced out of Moon Beam’s minty reach, seeking asylum behind her mother’s chair. Mrs. Parker accepted the grilled Portobello salad from him and patted her platinum perm. “Imagine us getting the special treatment. Food delivered by the owner,” she said, eyes roving Jax like he was an appetizer. Her gaze moved below his belt and he could feel the sweat flowing freely now.
“Did you know Moon Beam’s divorce is final now?” she purred, twirling a curl around her index finger.
“Congratulations,” Jax said to the plate of spaghetti in his hand.
“Divorce is so lonely,” Moon Beam sighed dramatically. “At the end of the day, it’s just me all alone in my king-sized bed.”
He all but dumped the other four plates on the table and ran to the bar. Cheryl eyed him up.
