Maybe for You--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel

by Nicole McLaughlin

  Stop, asshole. He let his head fall back to the headrest and closed his eyes. During those hours of discomfort on the pull-out bed, he’d thought about their dance on the boat deck. She’d smelled so good, like spicy oranges, and she’d absolutely shocked him when she laid her head on his chest. He’d seen the way the women on the boat had watched them, and he knew what they must have been thinking. At least two of the ladies had asked him why he wasn’t hanging out with them this time. Hell if he knew. It was partly because Alex was there. But if he was honest, it hadn’t appealed to him this time like it had in the past.

  But that dance … that had been a highlight.

  He sat up and moved to open his door when he caught sight of her journal sitting in the passenger seat. Wide open. Instantly his eyes caught sight of his name and he jerked his gaze back to the windshield. She was nowhere to be seen, obviously in the restroom.

  Get out of the truck. Do not intrude on her privacy.

  Getting out as fast as he could, he locked up the truck and strode across the parking lot to the men’s restroom. It was relatively clean for a rest stop, but he still tried not to touch what he could help before washing his hands and stepping back out into the sunlight. It was a beautiful day, and there were plenty of people on the road vacationing. A family at the front of the lot was loading back up into their minivan.

  Jake stood outside the building a few minutes to wait for Alex. When she finally exited, she smiled up at him, although it did nothing to hide the fact that she’d been crying. Her eyes were reddened, and her makeup had obviously been touched up a little. God, he wanted to hug her, but he only returned her smile.

  “Hey, would you mind if I walked a bit?” she asked. “I just need a couple of minutes. Maybe all that writing in the truck did get to me.”

  “You feel bad?” he asked, brow furrowing.

  “Not too bad. I just need a few minutes. By myself.”

  His eyes widened. “Okay. Sure. I’ll just wait in the truck.”

  She nodded quickly. “Thanks, Jake.”

  He watched her turn and head down a little path toward a play area with two swings and a slide. With a sigh he made his way through the parking lot and got back into the truck. He tracked the grassy area and located Alex. She’d sat down on one of the swings and was using her feet to gently push herself back and forth.

  Picking up his phone he scrolled through the Stag twitter account, replied to a few tweets, and then put together one of his own about how the Stag couldn’t wait to be at the Boots and Beer Festival that evening. He’d been in charge of the marketing for the business from the beginning, but he hadn’t been prepared for how much it would require him to learn about social media. Turns out it was now a critical part of owning a business, and while he didn’t mind too much, sometimes it was a drag staying on top of it. He often wondered if TJ and Dean were aware of how much work he put in on those things.

  Glancing sideways, he eyed the journal again. Then Alexis, still sitting on the swing, facing the tree line that ran along the back of the property. Was she okay? He was about to spend nearly two more weeks with this woman who was clearly still struggling with her pain. More so than he’d first assumed. He wanted to know how to help her, or at least how to be there for her.

  He cursed under his breath and leaned to the right to quickly scan the page, because he was a total piece of shit. The top read: Day 408 Day 2 on tour

  Without touching the book, he ran his gaze down the page until he found his name again. That’s all he wanted to see.

  I danced with a man yesterday. Jake Cooper. I’m trying so hard not to think about it but I keep remembering how good he smelled and felt. I can’t recall the last time we danced, Nate. I tried to dream about dancing with you last night and I couldn’t. I woke so angry because I couldn’t even see your face in my dreams. Today I intend to feel forgiveness toward myself.

  Without thinking, Jake reached over and flipped the book closed, his breath suddenly rapid. He glanced up to see Alex making her way toward the truck. Shit, had she seen him through the windshield? Picking up his phone he opened an app just as her door opened.

  “Hey, feel better?” he asked. How had he become so breathless?

  “Yeah. Sorry, I just wasn’t ready to get back in the truck.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  After picking up her journal and placing it in her bag on the floor, she pulled herself up into the truck and sat down. As she buckled her seat belt, he decided she must not have thought anything about the journal being closed. She picked up her phone and opened her map.

  “We’re almost there,” she said. “I’m excited. I’ve never been to Memphis.”

  “No? It’s nice. Too bad we won’t have time to go out and see the sights. Today we will be getting checked in and finding our location.” He started the truck, the diesel engine roaring to life.

  “That’s okay. Just being in another city is good with me. And I looked up the Boots and Beer lineup. Do we get a chance to see any of the shows?”

  “Sure. There’s some downtime, and free entrance is one of the perks of the tour.”

  She grinned at him. “Nice. I’m excited.”

  Driving through the rest stop parking lot, he made his way toward the ramp to get back on the highway. He couldn’t help noticing that her time alone seemed to lighten her mood. Maybe he needed to be sure to give her plenty of space.

  They were about a mile down the road when she shifted in her seat. “Listen, I know I’ve said it a million times, but I want to thank you for being such a good friend.”

  He chanced a quick glance in her direction. “You’re welcome.”

  “I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed someone who just listened, and you’ve totally been that for me. Ever since the uncasking last year. You just … are present, and I appreciate it. You always make me feel okay with whatever I’m feeling.”

  “I’m glad. I want you to feel comfortable, Alex.”

  “I believe you, and it shows. I sometimes feel like I’m still trying to figure out who I am after Nate’s death, and I appreciate that I don’t feel obligated to be fake around you. I feel like I can be me and not worry about you trying to dig into my head. Like my brother.” Her quiet chuckle had him glancing her way. She pulled her ponytail around to the front and held on to it. It was such an innocent gesture.

  “Dean loves you like crazy, Alex,” he said.

  “I know he does, and he’s done so much for me, I’ll never be able to repay him. But sometimes he can be overbearing, and it’s exhausting because he wants to be a fixer, and sometimes I just need to feel what I’m feeling.”

  “I get it. And I’ll try to keep being cool—and if I’m not, you just tell me what you need.”

  “Thank you.” She turned back in her seat to face the front.

  He worked his bottom lip with his top teeth, his eyes focusing on the lines that ran down the highway. Damn, right now he felt like such an ass. She trusted him, and he’d sort of betrayed that by peeking at her journal. What had he been hoping to find? That she was crushing on him? Shit, maybe. Was he crushing on her?

  His eyes darted to the right as she slid one of her legs to the side. Her hand settled on her thigh. She didn’t paint her nails. Or maybe she just hadn’t lately. They were bare and perfectly filed. Neat and perfect. Just like so many things about her.

  Yeah, he might have a tiny crush. She was sweet, beautiful, and incredibly smart.

  Also vulnerable, hurting, and trying to figure herself out. All good reasons to keep his distance. He needed to get his head on straight and get through the next week and a half as a perfect gentleman. If he needed a reminder, all he had to do was picture Dean’s face.

  Shit. Yep, that did it.

  So no more thinking about touching her. Or that dance. Or how he’d leaned down and kissed her hair. Had she noticed? She hadn’t written about it in her journal. Damn, he shouldn’t even know that.

  Guilt. She was right
, it was a horrible feeling.

  *   *   *

  The next morning Alex dragged another box of Forkhorn White Whiskey from the bed of the pickup and carried it over to the table they’d set up under the awning that hung off the side of the Stag Wagon. “Is this enough, you think?”

  Jake glanced down at the boxes. “Yeah, should be. For today at least.” He glanced at his watch. “Gates open in thirty.”

  “Tell me what to do,” she said.

  “Maybe grab the window cleaner from below the sink and wipe the outside of the windows down. They get a little dirty on the road.”

  “On it,” she said, making her way toward the RV door.

  “There’s a step stool in the closet near the fridge,” he called.

  Stepping inside, she found the cleaner and paper towels, and then retrieved the step stool. Before she went back outside she glanced at the interior of the windows. She knew he’d cleaned everything earlier in the week, but they seemed a little spotty, and another quick wipe couldn’t hurt. The RV was an important part of the brand on this tour and the guys had done a good job with its design. It was covered in a full-wrap decal that made it look like it was all wood paneled—like a ski lodge or, even more appropriate, the side of a whiskey barrel. On each side was the logo, a white silhouette of a stag head and of course the name STAG DISTILLING. It also included the standard info like their web address and phone number. She’d noticed it got a lot of glances as they drove down the highway.

  With the white awning rolled out of the side above their long tabletop that rested on a row of whiskey barrels, it made an impressive, eye-catching display at events like this one. And Jake definitely had the setup down to a science, but he seemed to be thankful for her help since today was a lot more involved than the cruise yesterday.

  She leaned over the bench sofa and gave the window a squirt. As she wiped it clean, she glanced out the window to see Jake chatting with the overly friendly guy they’d met when they pulled into the vendor area of the lot. He was running the Ford dealership booth next to theirs and had come right over and talked to Alex as soon as they began setting up. Even trying to offer her a squishy truck toy, which she’d politely declined. She’d also declined the beer bottle key chain, the pen, and the “test drive.” She could only imagine how often he’d used that creepy line on women.

  Outside, Jake nodded politely and began to rearrange the perfect row of Stag liquor bottles on display. Alex laughed. He was obviously trying to shake their neighbor. She should go out and save him. Pushing up off the sofa, she made her way to the door just in time to see a long-legged brunette walk up in the tiniest shorts Alex had ever seen and a fancy pair of turquoise cowboy boots. They looked … bedazzled.

  She froze, her hand on the door handle, as the woman wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck and pressed her perky—completely on display—breasts into his chest before laying a kiss on his cheek.

  Alex stepped back enough to try and stay out of sight but still watch, her stomach clinching. Even inside she could easily hear their conversation through the screen on the door.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, this year,” she crooned.

  “Yeah, well, here I am,” he said. “I thought you gave up this gig. Didn’t you transfer to Texas A&M for this year.”

  Alex could tell by the sound of his voice that he wasn’t thrilled to see the woman, but obviously they had a history.

  “I did,” she said grinning up at him. “But Daddy bought me a ticket to fly in this morning, so I wouldn’t miss it. I fly back tomorrow.”

  “Nice,” he said, glancing over his shoulder quickly. Alex dipped farther back into the shadow of the RV. So Boots was in college. This had to be one of his past conquests, considering how comfortable she was touching him. And Alex could hardly blame him, as young and gorgeous as this woman was. “Speaking of your dad, maybe it’s best if you’re not hanging around here with me.”

  Alex’s ears perked up at that. Was this woman part of the reason he’d argued with TJ and Dean?

  “Oh gosh, don’t worry about him. He’s not going to do anything.”

  Jake let out a bitter laugh. “Well, according to someone, he’s not real happy with me. Which makes me wonder how he may have found anything out about us.”

  “I didn’t know they were going to talk to you about it.” The defensiveness in her tone pissed Alex off. “And it’s not my fault. The woman in charge of this told him she’d seen me leave here that morning.”

  Alex let out a quiet gasp. She wished she could see the look on Jake’s face, but Boots wasn’t finished.

  “She’s just been jealous of me ever since last year when my father threatened to pull sponsorship if she didn’t agree to include backstage passes for me and my friends.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. Really?

  “Well, whatever the reason. You should probably go.”

  “Because of my father? You can’t be serious,” she said, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’m twenty-five years old. What do you think he’s going to do? Have you arrested?”

  “Listen, Whitney, let’s not make this something it doesn’t need to be. Okay? He was pissed, my company got an angry phone call, and so I think we need to heed the warning.”

  Alex could tell that Jake was trying to keep the conversation private. But he had to know she could hear him, and hadn’t she tagged along partly to save him from this kind of drama?

  “But we’re both here, I’m free tonight, and we had so much fun last year. We’ll just be careful, and he won’t find out.”

  That was it. Boots was not taking the hint. Steeling her shoulders, Alex grabbed her step stool and pushed open the RV door. Instantly Jake turned in her direction, an uncomfortable look on his face.

  The first thing Alex noticed was that Ford guy had walked back to his own booth, but his eyes were all over the massive amount of skin and turquoise leather on display. At least now maybe he’d start offering his swag to someone else.

  “Alex,” Jake said, stepping away from Boots. “This is Whitney Ross. She works over at the Ross Boots booth.” He nodded at the massive booth at the end of the vendor area. It sat under a giant banner that read BOOTS AND BEER FESTIVAL, and off to the side was a big inflatable cowboy boot. Alex noticed that Whitney wasn’t the only scantily clad lady working there. Nice.

  “Of course.” Alex stepped forward and put out her hand to Whitney. “That explains your boots. Cute.”

  Whitney’s lips were slightly parted in shock at Alex’s arrival, but like a pro, she pulled herself together and pasted on a smile before taking Alex’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Now that Alex could take in all of the young woman, she noticed she wore a tight-as-hell navy tank top that stretched the words ROSS, and then below it, BOOTS, across her chest. In fact, at first glance at the stretched and distorted letters, it looked like her boobs were labeled “boobs.” Great marketing.

  “Good idea to bring a helper,” Whitney said to Jake with a smile. “We are always so exhausted by the end of this weekend. Of course … I guess it’s not all because of work.”

  Even after eight years in the United States Army, multiple deployments, and several combat situations, Alex did not consider herself a violent person. Not even a little. But the smug look on Whitney’s face suddenly made her want to knock her in the head with one of those ridiculous boots. Especially since Jake had just mentioned his concern with them interacting. It was like she didn’t even care, probably because she was used to flitting her way through life by batting her eyelashes.

  “Aw, I bet you two usually have fun,” Alex heard herself saying. “It’s too bad we have plans with your … mother tonight.” She smiled at Jake. What was she doing? She wasn’t even good at this, and the smirk on his face said he was thinking the same thing. But to her surprise, he went all in with her, turning to a confused-looking Whitney.

  “Yeah, Alex’s right, tonight we have plans. My mom happens to also be i
n town for a purse convention.” The words slid easily from his tongue. Wow. Alex bit her lip, desperately trying to conceal her amusement.

  “A purse convention,” Whitney repeated dryly. Nothing got by this one.

  Jake shrugged. “Lot going on in Memphis this weekend. We’ve got late dinner reservations and I have no idea when we’ll be back. But, sure was good to see you again.”

  Her furrowed brow had “fuck off” written all over it, and suddenly Alex felt bad. It was none of her business if these two wanted to hook up again, and it wasn’t right of her to encourage him to blatantly blow off a woman he’d clearly given his time—and other things—to the last time he was here.

  What was wrong with her?

  “Actually, if you want, uh, I can just have dinner with your mother alone,” she said, backtracking. Jake’s eyes went wide. Shit, she was making a mess of this.

  Whitney looked back and forth between the two of them and then put up a hand. “You know what, I’m out. You two have fun tonight.” She walked away, her ass looking too good to be true in those panty-sized denim shorts.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Alex said immediately as Jake stepped toward her, his eyes narrowed. He kept coming closer. Was he that pissed? “I should have kept my mouth shut. I don’t know why—”

  He reached up, palmed the back of her head, pulled her toward him and pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re fine, Alex. Don’t apologize.”

  “I couldn’t help overhearing what she said about that Amanda woman. I could kind of understand her wanting to piss off Spoiled Boots, but doesn’t make sense why she’d want to call you out.”

  He shrugged. “I have some ideas, but it doesn’t matter. Thanks for the save, by the way.”

  She grinned. “That’s what I came for, isn’t it?”

  Seven

  “Well, it’s eight,” Jake asked as he carried the last box back into the RV. They’d stopped passing out samples at seven when the main act took the stage and were now completely broken down until they had to set it all back up for day two in the morning. “What time did you and my mom make our dinner reservations for?”