Maybe I Do

by Nicole McLaughlin

  Dean could not wait.

  Once the mash looked like it was cooking along just fine, he headed out the back door to their secondary building. A year into business they’d purchased the old warehouse across the alley and used it to store their barrels. Just walking inside the door sent a rush of pride through him every single time.

  He flipped on the somewhat ineffective overhead light and sucked in a breath. It was May, and since they didn’t regulate the temperature inside the massive space for the sake of the product, the heat was starting to settle in nice and thick. The barrels reacted to the change in temperature, expanding and tightening throughout the year, causing that great oaky flavor to seep out of the wood and penetrate the liquor even further.

  Dean walked down the first row of barrels, a Stag logo burned into each lid. Row after row of Lockdown Whiskey and Stag Signature Bourbon, just waiting to be drunk by some lucky person at some point in the future. Some in a few months; many others, years from now. They’d built a solid customer base on their vodka and white whiskey, and all of those customers’ excitement for the new products had put a lot of pressure on Dean. But if there was anything he was certain of, it was his ability to make a good spirit. He had no intention of letting any of them down.

  Dean’s phone buzzed. Pulling it from his pocket, he saw a text from TJ who must have shown up for work while he was working on the mash. Dean read the text and swore under his breath. He typed a single Ok in reply and then shoved the phone back into his pocket with a deep sigh. And today had been so pleasant up until this point. The last thing he needed was a visit from his ex.

  He decided dealing with that news could wait for a moment and headed to the back to open the bay door for the shipment of bottles he was expecting anytime this morning. Once the door was open, he checked a couple more things and then headed back through the rows of barrels and toward the door that lead to the alley and the main building. A sluice of light entered the darkened room from up ahead, and a feminine voice sent a chill through his spine as he rounded the final row of barrels.

  “Dean? Are you in here?” Amy called out.

  “I am, but stay where you are, there’s not a lot of light in here.” He figured she could see just fine, but he really wanted to keep her out of his sanctum.

  “This is very impressive. No need to stop working for me.”

  Dean walked around the large metal shelving unit and locked eyes with the one person whom he would have been happy to avoid for … probably the rest of his life would be just fine. Today her brunette hair had auburn highlights surrounding her temples, and her pretty face was caked in makeup that was a little much for a Monday morning.

  “Amy, this is a surprise.”

  “A good one I hope.” She grinned but Dean could only muster up a tight-lipped smile in response because no, it was never a good surprise to see her. Instead it was always jarring and a harsh reminder of his past failures.

  “Anyway, I’m here to discuss Alex’s wedding.”

  “Ah, I wasn’t aware the two of you had discussed it.”

  “She emailed me last week. I’m so excited. She asked me to check in on you.”

  “That was sweet of her, but unnecessary. I’m doing fine with everything.” Which was the truth, thanks to Charlotte. And clearly he and Alex were going to have some words next time they spoke because he’d made it clear to her he did not want his ex-wife involved. He knew Amy would be invited to the wedding—no doubt about that, since the two women had maintained their relationship—but he’d hoped Alex would respect his wishes on this matter.

  Amy laughed. “Dean, seriously? You don’t know the difference between a peony and a petunia, let alone manage a seating chart. Surely you want some help planning Alex’s wedding. It might be fun to do it together.”

  He had several thoughts on that but he didn’t dare voice them. Needing to get some air, Dean gestured for the door. “Why don’t we discuss this outside where it’s cooler?” He held the door as she stepped through and out into the alley.

  “You know, I’ll just admit it,” Amy said behind him as he locked up the building. “I’m a little hurt that you didn’t reach out to me. This is our girl, getting married.”

  Dean wasn’t expecting that. He turned to face her, taking in the weak smile on her face. Yes, at one time, they’d considered Alex their girl, in a way. She’d been young, grieving, and in need of a lot of love and attention when she’d moved in with Amy and him at thirteen. They’d become a family unit, the three of them, and he still had many fond memories of those times. Holidays, vacations, both of them helping Alex with school projects. But at the same time, he and Amy had been going through their own private hell, their marriage and their dreams of a family slowly eroding. But all of that was in the past, and while he wouldn’t discount those good memories, he refused to indulge Amy by pretending that was still their reality.

  “I’m sorry. Really I am.” Dean hesitated, knowing this was not going to go over well, but there was no other way. “But I honestly didn’t want us to work on this together.”

  “But why?” She looked stricken, just like he knew she would.

  Dean sighed. Over the past year or two, Amy had made it very clear that she regretted the way things had ended. Ironic, considering she’d ended them. Had she come crawling back in the first year or two after leaving him, he might have taken her back. Forgiven her cheating, lies, and blame. He’d have been insane, but he might have done it. Thankfully, he’d eventually found a new life for himself. Accepted that the two of them hadn’t been meant to be. But while he’d forgiven her, he had not forgotten.

  “Amy, Alexis is my sister. Not yours.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her eyes full of hurt. It had been a mean dig. Especially after all Amy had done for Alex. Many wives might have thrown a fit or been put out at the thought of unexpectedly adding a teenager to their lives, but that had been one of the few ways Amy had surprised him.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re close to her. It’s just … I don’t think it’s a good idea for you and me to work together on the wedding. It would only make things awkward and I want Alex’s wedding to be smooth and happy.”

  The hurt on her face quickly turned to anger. “Wow, Dean. I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I wasn’t aware your opinion of me was so low.”

  “Amy…”

  She cut him off with a raise of her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong. I didn’t come here to seduce you. In fact, I stated right from the beginning that this was about Alex.”

  Dean knew when a conversation with her was about to spiral out of control. It wasn’t worth it. Clearly Alex wanted Amy involved somehow. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to admit to Dean how much just to spare his feelings.

  “You’re right. I understand you wanting to help, so why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do and maybe you can be in charge of that. On your own.” Trying to give her the hint that he was very busy today, Dean began to jot a few things on his clipboard.

  “Fine. I want to pick out her wedding dress.”

  Dean’s pencil instantly stilled. His head jerked up, eyes wide. How had he forgotten the wedding dress? He knew nothing about choosing a dress, and Amy knew Alex well enough to hopefully know what she would like and look nice in.

  “Perfect. I’ll leave that up to you then.”

  She smiled. “Good. What’s my budget?”

  He thought quickly, blowing out a breath before finally saying, “Three hundred?”

  A laugh bubbled up from her chest. Not one of her forced flirty laughs. No, this one was throaty and genuinely amused. “Oh, Dean. That’s cute. That might be enough for a veil or jewelry.”

  Dean frowned. “How much were you thinking? The rest of this wedding is on a fairly tight budget so the dress has to be also.”

  “Even an economical wedding requires a pretty dress. I’d say at least fifteen hundred, but I can’t promise anything. Two thousand and I’m sure I can make i
t work?”

  His eyebrows nearly hit the sky. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish I was. But no. Besides, this is for Alexis. How can you put a price on her happiness? And since you’ll never have your own daughter, this will be the only wedding you’ll ever have to pay for.”

  Dean’s jaw locked and his entire body went on alert. It was a low blow. About as low as she could go, and she knew it. Looking away, Dean tried to get his emotions in check.

  Yes, he’d failed to give Amy children, but she always seemed to forget that their wedding vows had stated as long as we both shall live. Not, as long as we have a baby. It was painful enough for a man to be unable to give his woman everything she wanted. But to find out your wife had gone seeking it from another man was just flat-out unbearable.

  Dean’s nose flared as he inhaled a deep breath. He’d given her a job for the wedding. Now he needed her gone.

  “You start looking and let me know what you find. But I’ll tell you right now, not a penny over two thousand, and that includes everything. Shoes, jewelry…”

  “Bustier, panties, garter…”

  Dean held up a hand. “Enough. I don’t want to hear anymore. You deal with it.”

  Amy just blinked at him, knowing full well she’d pissed him off. Finally she spoke. “Shall I just let you know when I find the dress or would you like to give me a check?”

  Dean nearly laughed. “No. I will not be giving you a check. You keep me posted and we’ll make arrangements then.”

  “I’m not a thief, Dean.”

  He sighed. “I know you’re not. I’m sorry I’m being a dick. I’m just…” If he said stressed, it would give her more ammunition to insist she help him. “Never mind.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll go. My car’s just around the corner. But … if you change your mind, get overwhelmed, call me. We could go to dinner. Chat about the wedding. I could just help give you ideas. Talk it out.”

  Dean met her hopeful gaze. He’d spent a lot of years angry as hell at this woman, but he also felt sorry for her. There’d been enough pain to go around throughout their marriage. At the same time, there was no way he had the strength to put up with this kind of proximity to her for the next few months. Choosing a dress was one thing. Showing up here regularly was another, and if he didn’t nip this in the bud right now, he’d regret it. “I actually have someone helping me, so I’m good. But thanks.”

  “Oh? Like … a wedding planner? I figured on a budget—”

  “Not a wedding planner. A friend.”

  Her lips twisted. “A friend?”

  Dean nodded. “She’s a photographer who shoots a lot of weddings here at the Stag.”

  “So, a woman friend.”

  “Yes. If that’s how you want to see it.”

  Amy sucked in a breath and then let it out on an embarrassed laugh. “Well, my goodness, you might have said that from the beginning.”

  “Didn’t think it was necessary.”

  Amy stood a little straighter and fidgeted with her hair. “Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

  He hesitated. But there was only truly one answer. “Yes, I’m sure. But I might add that it’s really not any of your damn business.”

  Her head jerked back at his blunt response and he swore there was a hint of skepticism in her expression. “Okay, fine. But it seems ridiculous to have a woman friend you’re not even dating help you with Alex’s wedding. I know her. I’m close to her. She trusts me.”

  “She does, which is why I’m grateful you’re buying her dress. But I trust Charlotte to help me with the rest of it.”

  Amy balked. “Charlotte, huh. How old is she, seventy?”

  “Amy. Enough.” Dean could tell when the woman was on the verge of getting worked up, and he would not allow her to stand in front of him and insult Charlotte. Not for a second.

  “Well, I guess I’ll just be in touch when I find the perfect dress.” She gave him a tight smile and then walked around the building toward the square.

  Dean’s shoulders sagged and he looked up at the sky. Every time he saw Amy it frustrated and exhausted him. Maybe Mondays weren’t so great after all.

  Eight

  It had continued to storm on and off for the next twenty-four hours, so Charlotte was beyond relieved when Thursday turned out to be lovely. A clear sky, warm air, and she’d located the most perfect—and practically abandoned—road for their photo session.

  Good thing her plans had come together, because tonight Dean Troyer was going to be a full-fledged, badass bike-club hero, and she could not wait.

  The extra work for this particular shoot would be well worth it, she was certain. She’d located a legit bike club in the next town over through Facebook crowdsourcing, and talked one of the guys into riding his vintage Harley over. In return she would be taking a few shots of the bike alone for him personally and having them printed. No big deal, although she found it ironically funny that biker novels were so popular yet according to Facebook photos the guys in this little midwestern club were about as far from physically sexy as one could get. Ah well, it was all in the fantasy, right?

  “Booker,” also known as Dr. Bill Hanson, equine veterinarian, was going to meet them at seven o’clock on an old country road on the south side of Maple Springs. Right now Charlotte waited for Dean to arrive at her place. She wasn’t sure if he’d actually come in, she’d meet him at the door, or how things would play out, but she’d cleaned up anyway.

  She’d curled her hair but at the last moment decided that was silly since she’d be shooting, and so she’d pulled it into a messy bun and thrown on some cutoff jean shorts and one of her favorite halter tops. It did some nice things for her boobs, which she shouldn’t be worrying about, but it was Dean after all and she couldn’t help but think about their last meeting. She’d fed him with her own fork, for goodness’ sake.

  Checking over her equipment one more time, Charlotte’s heart sped up when her doorbell sounded. She glanced in the mirror by her front door, which was unnecessary since she’d already done that several times, and then opened the front door. Her mouth dropped open.

  Holy shit.

  She’d texted Dean some basic guidelines for how to look and what to wear. He had done exactly as instructed. A well-trimmed five-o’clock shadow dusted his chiseled jaw, he sported some mirrored aviator sunglasses, and his hair was gelled into a perfectly tousled “undone” look. He should definitely do that more often. His chest was molded by a black T-shirt so perfectly sized she could see the outline of his beautifully formed pecs and indented biceps. The look was rounded out with well-fitted jeans and black boots.

  He lifted his hands from his sides and glanced down at himself. “How’d I do?”

  Charlotte clapped her hands together and brought them to her mouth to conceal her now ridiculous grin. Or at least try to. She knew it hadn’t worked when Dean managed to blush and smile down at the ground.

  “You look so hot right now,” Charlotte said, dropping her hands and looking him up and down openly one more time. “This is definitely going to work.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded, loving the hint of embarrassment in his voice. God he was adorable. “You’re perfect. But wait. Did you…”

  Without her having to ask, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it up to expose himself from waist to chest, and oh my, with his pecs bare she nearly passed out at the sight of his perfection.

  Jen had been completely right. Dean’s body was wonderful. He wasn’t an overly beefy gym rat, but his stomach muscles were taut and defined, his hips indented, and his chest just the right size.

  “You owe me for this one, babe. And you better take advantage and get a million photos because I’m never shaving my chest again.” He pointed to a couple of red spots, one very close to his nipple. “I cut myself. Three times.”

  She laughed out loud as Dean lowered his shirt. “You poor thing, I’m sorry. No, actually I’m not. Not sorry at all. The l
adies are going to love it. And you wouldn’t believe how annoying it is to clone out body hair in edits, so I also love you for it.”

  Dean scowled but she could tell it was all for show. “Well, let’s get this over with. I can only take so much blatant sexism in one day. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  Charlotte laughed. “I’ll meet you at the car, I have to grab all my gear.”

  He offered to drive them in his SUV so within a few minutes they were pulling up alongside an older guy wearing dirty jeans and a polo-style shirt that said SUPERIOR EQUINE CARE, DR. HANSON. What a rebel.

  A pickup was parked on the shoulder of the road behind his Harley and an older woman waved to Charlotte from the driver’s seat. She waved back.

  “Hi, Bill, thanks so much for meeting us out here.”

  “No problem at all. I’m honored to have Gertie here used on a book cover. And to get some pretty pictures of her.”

  “Gertie?” Dean asked.

  Bill patted the seat of his bike. “This old girl. Had her for forty years. Driven me all over the country. Even been to Sturgis sixteen times.”

  “That’s so cool,” Charlotte said. “I really appreciate this.”

  Bill lifted a black vest covered with patches out of the saddlebag on the side of his bike and handed it to Charlotte. “Brought this like you asked. Take good care of it. It’s special.”

  “I promise we will.” She held it up and turned to the backside. It read BOOKER across the shoulder blades. She’d probably have to Photoshop that out, but that one would be no problem. Otherwise it was perfect. She turned to Dean. “You ready to become a biker?”

  She could see the skepticism clouding his expression, but he turned to Dr. Hanson. “Thank you, sir, we’ll take good care of your things.”

  “I appreciate it. And goodness knows you’ll look much better in that than I do. Don’t let my wife see these photos, she’ll never be satisfied by the likes of me again.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Now, I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Well, we’ll be back in, say … an hour?” Bill asked.