Maybe This Time_A Whiskey and Weddings Novel

by Nicole McLaughlin

  Turning back to him, Jen grabbed the other two and walked into the entryway to put one in the rubber plant, and then the breakfast room for the philodendron.

  And just like that, she was part of this home.

  Fourteen

  Thursday morning, TJ was late to work. His morning had consisted of errands to the bank and the post office. Things he hated doing on a normal day, but were made even worse because he’d gotten a late start from oversleeping. Something he rarely did. But this entire week he’d felt off his game.

  He knew exactly why, and he was dying to see her.

  After parking in the alley behind the Stag, TJ came in the back door and immediately ran into John, their newest employee and Dean’s distilling apprentice.

  “Hey, man,” TJ said, shutting the supply room door. “How’s it going?”

  “I’m good. Busy morning.”

  “Yeah? What batch are you guys doing today?”

  “Vodka.”

  TJ nodded. “You still enjoying this?” John hadn’t been there long, just a couple of months. They’d hired him after he’d gotten laid off from his finance job in Chicago and had to move back home. It was an extreme change of career, and TJ had worried that John might not stick around. So far, so good, but he didn’t consider them out of the woods just yet.

  “Yeah, absolutely. I enjoy it a lot. Feel like I’m learning something new every day, and Dean’s a good teacher.”

  “I bet he is.” And TJ meant it. It took a special kind of man to hire his girl’s ex-fiancé and work with him day in and day out. TJ sure as hell couldn’t do it.

  “Anyway”—John nodded toward the distilling room—“Dean told me if I saw you out here, to tell you he needed a minute before you go anywhere else.”

  TJ frowned. “Okay. Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I think, uh … well, he just seemed to want to tell you something about Jen.”

  His heart suddenly skipping a beat, TJ stepped around John and headed for the long distilling room that ran most of the length of the building, separating the front room and offices from the back work space where they bottled, stored supplies, and did any other messy work that needed to be done.

  Opening the door, he stepped inside and found Dean moving a hose into one of the fermenting vessels, ready to fill it with mash. “What’s going on?” TJ said in greeting.

  Dean looked over and gave him a tilt of his chin. “Hey, man. Not much. Turn this hose off will ya?”

  A bit relieved that Dean didn’t seem overly concerned, TJ reached over and turned a nob on the wall. The room quieted significantly. He glanced through the display glass out into the main room, but while he could see the front desk, he couldn’t see Jen.

  “What’s wrong?” TJ asked, wanting to cut straight to the chase.

  “Nothing is wrong,” Dean said, stepping closer. He lowered his voice. “But I did want to inform you that Jordan Bodisto stopped by this morning. About an hour ago.”

  “What the hell for?” TJ asked, jealousy and anger suddenly rushing through his body.

  Dean tilted his head to the side. “What do you think? It sure as hell wasn’t to put in an order.”

  TJ ran a hand through his hair. “What a dick. He doesn’t take a hint, does he?”

  “Well, it’s not you he needed the hint from. It was her.”

  TJ glanced through the glass again. Still no sign of her. Had she stepped away? “So what happened?”

  “Nothing, really. They talked a few minutes, but I didn’t go eavesdrop on their conversation. Not my style. But it seemed low-key.”

  “Low-key my ass,” TJ said, heading for the door.

  “Hey, man, wait,” Dean called to him. When TJ turned back to his friend, Dean sighed. “I told you because you’re my friend. But so is Jen, and she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  TJ frowned. “Jesus, man. What’d you think I was about to do? Yell at her?”

  “I have no idea, but you’re about to storm out of here like you have a right to demand answers. And while I’m not up in your everyday business, I’m guessing you don’t have that right. So just think about cooling off before you say anything.”

  “You have no idea what’s going on between us.”

  “No, I don’t. But the more important thing is, do you know what’s going on between you two?”

  TJ considered that. “Truth? No. But I’m starting to feel the need to put a label on it.”

  Dean nodded. “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks. I’m probably gonna need it.” TJ headed out of the distilling room, into the back, and then down the hallway toward the front. She’d asked him to drive her home the other night after they’d wrapped up with the plants, but she had kissed him good night in her truck when they’d parked in her lot, then again when he’d walked her to the door, which had been amazing. He hadn’t pushed for more, remembering her suggestion that they take things slow. But if she was entertaining the thought of flirting with Jordan, he was going to have to call bullshit.

  Just as he made his way to the desk, she stepped in the front door, which made him feel panicked. What had she been doing out there?

  The minute she saw him she smiled, which eased his mind a bit.

  “Hi,” she said, swiping a windblown hair from her face. She was wearing a black-and-white striped skirt—one his favorites because of the way it hugged her backside—a white sleeveless top, and strappy little black shoes.

  “Hey.” Shoving his hands in his pockets while she walked around the desk and sat down, he tried to play it cool. “What were you doing out there?”

  “Nothing. Just fixing the rug,” she said coyly.

  He sucked in a breath quietly, held it for a moment, then blew it out. “Sorry I was late this morning. Had to run some errands.”

  She shrugged. “No problem.”

  He walked around the L-shaped desk and counter to the entrance. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

  No dummy, Jen turned in her chair, crossed her legs, and stared up at him. “I know there are a lot of eyes in this place. Do you have something to ask me?”

  “I guess maybe I do.”

  She put out a hand. “Please proceed.”

  “Did you tell that asshole to stop coming around?”

  Staring at him for a long moment, she finally held up a finger. “One,” was all she said.

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “‘One’ is the number of times you and I have been out together.”

  Turning back to her desk, she wiggled her mouse to bring her computer back to life. She was dismissing him, and that was not going to sit well. He still needed answers.

  Standing quietly, he tried to decide what to do next. Then it hit him. He glanced at the door, then the main room, and then reached down and spun her chair to face him. She let out little yip, her eyes wide.

  He held up a finger, inches from her face. “One,” he said, before resting his hands on the arms of her chair. Their faces were now a foot apart.

  She narrowed her eyes, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Go on.”

  “‘One’ is the number of times I’m going to kiss you. Right now. To remind you that something is going on here between us.”

  Her eyes widened the slightest bit, and he watched her lips began to part, the full lower one so plump and perfect he could stare at it all day.

  “I’m waiting,” she whispered.

  Leaning down, his mouth met hers softly, with a gentle press. She didn’t kiss him back, yet, but she would. He wouldn’t stop until she did—and this was his bull-headed Jen, so he could be here awhile.

  Reaching a hand up to her neck, he caressed her skin as he continued to place soft kisses on her mouth. Her lips relaxed the slightest bit further, allowing him to penetrate her with his tongue.

  And that did it—she let out the faintest moan, her head angling to take him in deeper. Their tongues met, her lips now fully engaged as she began to take over. Her
hand settled on his jaw, the feel of her skin on his like a balm to all his frustration and doubt, and with that release of tension, his body felt the pull of gravity. He lowered to his knees in front of her, grateful for the mat on the wood floor.

  She responded by parting her legs to make room for him, and then scooted to the edge of the chair. TJ’s hands went to her back, pulling at her, wanting them close as their mouths and tongues explored each other.

  The sound of a delicate cough pulled them apart. Looking up, they saw the FedEx lady standing at the counter. TJ jumped to his feet as Jen scooted back to her computer.

  “Sorry to break that up,” she said quickly. “But I need a signature.”

  TJ cleared his throat. “No, I apologize. That was”—he grabbed her device and electronic pen—“inappropriate.”

  “No problem with me. At least someone’s getting some action,” she said with a wink as she walked out the door. “Feel free to resume.”

  TJ glanced down at Jen, who was leaning her face on her hand, staring up at him with a grin on her face. “You got dirt on your knees,” she said, nodding to his pants. Sure enough, there were light-black smudges on each of his knees.

  “How dirty is this floor?” he asked, wiping at his pants.

  “Nobody cleans the mat I’m guessing. But you look cute like that. Looks like you’ve been up to no good.”

  “Uh-huh, which I have. Because this”—he waved a finger between them—“this is a thing.”

  “Okay, but honestly, we didn’t even do traditional date stuff yet.”

  His brow furrowed. “What we did was better.”

  She smiled. “I enjoyed it, yes. I’m just saying, letting me decorate your fancy house with plants does not make us a thing. That makes us friends. So what are we doing next?”

  He considered that.

  “Where did you take tiny cheerleader on your first date?”

  “You can’t be serious. I’m not answering that.”

  She twisted her lips. “That good, huh?”

  “Wha—”

  “She was new. You wanted to impress her.”

  “That is an entirely different scenario. I know you.”

  “Exactly. That’s why you could get away with taking me to your house. A new woman would have been freaked out.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” He walked around the front of her desk, talking as he went. “You can keep trying to mess with me. Playing your mind tricks to convince me this is never gonna work. But you’re wrong. It only makes me more determined.” He pointed at her. “I’ll take you on a traditional date. Tomorrow night.”

  “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

  “No way,” he said. “I said no more of those mind tricks.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow it is. And just so you know … ‘one’ is the number of men I’ll give my attention to at any time. So no need to get jealous again. I made it clear to him that it wasn’t going to happen.”

  He looked at her, relief flooding his body. She’d known that was exactly what he’d needed to hear, but she’d just needed to be stubborn and make him work for it. She was maddening. “Thank you.”

  Jen put her hand out and shooed him away. “Get to work. I’m busy today.”

  Damn, she was a pain in the ass. But he was still intent on making her his pain in the ass.

  * * *

  After work that day, Jen paused near the mailboxes and stared at her mother’s front door. She’d started stopping in to check on her less and less, hoping maybe it would prompt a little gratitude. For over a year now she’d been regularly bringing smoothies, checking in, making sure everything was okay. And rarely was any of that met with a thank-you, let alone kindness.

  Jen could understand the bitterness that might come with battling cancer—and giving up addictions—but didn’t it get exhausting being so crotchety? If anything, Jen had hoped that giving up those unhealthy vices would eventually help Diane feel better, and hopefully improve her outlook on life. But that hadn’t seemed to have happened. It was hard to understand someone choosing to live that way.

  Then again, she almost understood the looking at life through a glass-half-empty lens. Didn’t she constantly do the same thing? Jen lived on the defensive, always had. Maybe she was no better.

  With a sigh, she headed to the sun-faded door and knocked. There was no response. She knocked again. When still no one called out or opened up, she dug through her purse and found the spare key.

  Inside, the apartment was dark, with the blinds closed and the curtains drawn. Not unusual, but the fact that there was no sign of her mother was.

  “Mom?” Jen called out.

  “In here,” a voice answered. Jen’s entire body exhaled with relief, but then quickly returned to concern. Why hadn’t she gotten out of bed?

  After setting down her purse on the chair, she walked down the tiny hall and stepped into the bedroom. Her mother lay on her side, hands pressed under the pillow almost like a child. Her eyes were closed, but her breath appeared steady. She almost looked … peaceful. Maybe she was just napping.

  Jen walked closer to the bed, noticing a scent of staleness in the room. The entire apartment needed a good cleaning, and that meant she’d need to do that this weekend if it was going to be done anytime soon.

  “Mom, you okay?” she asked quietly.

  “Mm-hmm,” the woman muttered.

  “You just napping? Or are you feeling bad?”

  “I’ve got cancer, Jennifer. Of course I’m feeling bad,” she said without opening her eyes.

  Okay, understanding was one thing. But Jen was also over this poor me act. “You sure do have cancer. And you’ll never not have it if you don’t change your attitude.”

  That got her mother’s attention, but only an opening of her eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just like it sounds. Your outlook on life is not inviting any health to the table.”

  Jen had made sure to keep her tone light, but her mother managed to jerk her head back while resting it on a pillow. “Do you really think I want to hear nonsense like that?”

  So much for light. “Obviously not. But it’s the truth. You think your thoughts don’t affect your health? Then you’re crazy.”

  “You should start taking your own advice,” Diane said, then rolled over and faced the other way. Jen looked at the ceiling in frustration. Half of her wanted to tell the bitter woman in the bed to go straight to hell, but the other half was afraid that if she did, then that’s exactly what her mother would do. And then not only would Jen have no family left, but she’d feel enough guilt to last a lifetime.

  “Well. I’m going upstairs. Call if you need anything. Or … if you’re lonely,” she added, once again taking the high road.

  There was no response, so she walked out of the bedroom. Before leaving she checked her mother’s fridge to make sure she had something to eat. Applesauce, some frozen dinners, and several ripe bananas. Good enough.

  Once upstairs, Jen took a hot shower—thank you, TJ—then lounged in bed eating a can of heated-up chicken noodle soup and watching The Sound of Music, her comfort movie. What she always popped in when she was sick, depressed, or tired but couldn’t sleep.

  She wasn’t necessarily any of those right now, but the past week had been bizarre. Times were always tough—throughout her life there’d been little reason for optimism, and this past year was no different. But tonight, something was … off. She was restless. Still thinking about all the kisses she’d been having with TJ, trying to decide when it would be okay to take it further. Would it ever be okay? What was with this sudden desire to help her? It was still hard for her to believe that he was interested in her and supposedly had been for some time.

  She couldn’t make sense of that without resorting to seeing herself as a charity case for him. Or a tempting walk on the wild side. She wasn’t stupid, and couldn’t deny the fact that she got a lot of male attention, although it wasn’t always the kind she desired
. Or at the very least, the kind that involved commitment. Which was fine, she’d never been looking for that. But sometimes a woman wanted to know that she was worth more than a good time if she did want that.

  When it came to TJ, she wondered if he saw her as the girl who represented everything he wasn’t. A tattooed, damaged, fallen angel that he could come along and save to stroke his ego. Now that she knew he felt like the outcast of his pretentious family, that possibility seemed even more likely. Maybe he wanted to rub her in their face.

  She could still recall Mrs. Laughlin when they’d done a Grease teaser for the PTO. She’d worn a fitted navy blazer, a white blouse underneath with the white collar flipped up. Who wore their shirt collar flipped up? But that woman had pulled it off with a chunky beaded necklace. Like she’d just stepped out of the fall fashion issue of Vogue. Even her jeans had looked expensive, and pressed.

  Quite a contrast from Diane’s ancient Lee’s and GAP-logo tee that had probably been purchased at a yard sale.

  She and TJ were from different planets when it came to how they were raised, but Jen still couldn’t help feeling like they’d started to connect on another level. She’d enjoyed being in his house, and hadn’t felt out of place. That was because of him, shockingly. He made her feel welcome.

  Hard to believe that for so long she’d felt like he was judging her, and according to him, he was instead … wanting her. Maybe her own insecurities had blinded her. But it was beginning to feel like there was no holding back. Whatever their reasons then and now, there was no denying the chemistry between them. She wanted him, too. Always had.

  Her mother was right, she did need to start taking her own advice. The story she kept telling herself, that she wasn’t good enough, that TJ looked down on her, was toxic to her own happiness. She knew down deep that he wasn’t a jerk. He was a good man, and it was terrifying. Still, it was time to stop assuming what his intentions were and give in to her own desire. She deserved that, and if she didn’t change her attitude, she would push away a good thing. Just like she always did.