"Calendar guys?" Reece said, looking slightly baffled. "You want to do a calendar with a bunch of guys?"

"Yes!" Jenna hopped off her stool and started pacing, turning the idea over in her mind, searching for flaws—which she didn't find.

"Beefcake shots?" Amanda asked. "Like on romance novel covers?"

"You'd buy one, right?" Jenna asked, as Reece gaped at the two of them. "I mean look at him." She pointed to Reece. "Or Brent. Either one of them would look totally hot on a calendar."

She allowed herself only one moment to indulge in her memory of a shirtless Reece. All the times they'd gone to the pool or the beach. Lazy summer days where she'd read in the hammock at his dad's house while he and Brent did yard work. And of course, that drunken night in the shower eight months ago. The night she wasn't supposed to remember, but couldn't ever forget.

She bit back an indulgent sigh as Amanda squealed. "Are you kidding? I'd buy a dozen."

"See?" Jenna shot a smug look Reece's direction. "I've already earned my keep."

He, however, looked a little shell-shocked. "You want me to be on a calendar?"

"Well, you and Brent and ten others." She glanced around the bar. Surely ten of the guys would look equally hot shirtless? She met Amanda's eyes, and saw that her friend was thinking the exact same thing.

"I saw Tyree shirtless once," Amanda said. "I came to meet Brent here, and they were doing some work in the attic space. Ty came down to say hi. Poor guy was all hot and sweaty." She paused and sighed, probably reliving the moment. Then her mouth curved into a decadent smile. "Yeah," she said. "He'll do."

"Well, that's three," Jenna said. "Who else?" She turned to Reece. "I haven't been around for eight months. Who else is on payroll now who'd look hot on a calendar?"

"You're insane. I'm not stripping down for a calendar."

"I thought the whole idea was to help Tyree," she said, as he crossed his muscled arms over his chest. She scowled anew. "See, that pose would totally work."

"How is a picture of me and Brent and whoever else you drag kicking and screaming into this going to save the bar? We'd sell, what? A couple dozen? And all to the girlfriends of the guys who work here."

"Oh, you'd sell more than that," Amanda assured him. "Leave a stack by the door, or put a flyer in with the bill. People would buy."

"You mean women would buy."

"Well, duh." She took a sip of her Cosmo. Amanda had no qualms about drinking at lunch.

"The women would be coming in with men who'll buy them drink after drink in the hopes of taking his date home and getting laid." Jenna grinned. "Come on, Reece. Even if you didn't work in a bar, you'd know the score."

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the assessment. I wasn't criticizing your marketing scheme, just pointing out the fact that ultimately the sale of calendars isn't going to get us where we need to be. Even with all those men buying drinks for their dates."

Jenna nodded. "You're right."

"Of course," Reece said, taking a bow as Amanda laughed.

Jenna ignored them both. She was too eager to make her point. "It needs to be bigger. We need to draw in people from the outside now, not wait until we have a calendar to sell. And who needs a calendar in April, anyway?"

Amanda and Reece exchanged looks, both clearly confused. "So you're not doing the calendar after all?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, we're doing it," Jenna assured them. "But it's not about the guys in the bar—"

"Thank goodness," Reece muttered.

"—it's a contest," Jenna concluded, shooting him a sideways look. "Contestants pulled from the outside and from the bar. You," she added with an innocent smile, "can be in the running for January."

"Now, wait a minute—"

He didn't get to finish the thought because Amanda's squeal was too loud. "I love that! You can do a contest every few weeks, promote the shit out of it, and that'll take you to—" She started to count on her fingers.

"October," Jenna said. "Just in time to get it printed for next year. It's brilliant, right? I mean, I'm not crazy?"

"Sweetie, you're a freaking genius."

"And we could add some of the recipes, too," Jenna continued, on a roll. "Or, even better, we can do a calendar and then a companion cookbook, with pictures of the guys and some of the bar's bestselling drinks and recipes. Get it in local bookstores, maybe sell it nationally. That would be a great fundraiser. Don't you think?" she added, twisting around to look at Reece.

"You seriously think it'll work?"

"I know it will," she assured him, crossing her fingers out of sight. Because nothing in marketing was a certainty. She could organize the crap out of this thing, have the hottest guys under the sun, and the whole thing could still crash and burn.

But she was going to do her damnedest to make sure that didn't happen.

"Then I say we go for it," he said. "So long as I'm not one of your guinea pigs."

"Reece—"

"Not my style, babe. You know that. And I'm a partner now, remember? I'll have enough on my plate without preening for the masses."

"You don't have to preen," Jenna said. "Just strut." She managed to say it with a straight face, but couldn't hold back the giggles when he glared at her. "Fine," she said, holding up her hands. "Fine. You get a pass. This time. But I'm going all out on the marketing, and I expect you to be all in when I need you."

He looked her straight in the eye, his expression so intense it seemed to push her back in her chair. "Don't you know by now that I'll always be there when you need me?"

"I—" Her heart fluttered, and her skin flushed. And for the first time in ages, she couldn't hold eye contact with him. "Of course, I know that."

"Then you already know—whatever you need, all you have to do is ask."

"I—" She cut off her words, not certain what to say. There was something raw, almost dangerous, about the way he was looking at her. Like they were the only two people in the bar, and that he meant the words literally. Right then, she believed he'd throw himself off a building if she asked him to. And that, yes, he'd even do the contest. For her. If she asked.

He was giving her that power, and it humbled her so much that it was on the tip of her tongue to say something snarky and silly. The kind of thing she'd said to Reece-the-best-friend a million times. But those words wouldn't come for the Reece standing in front of her. They felt wrong. Off.

And so she said the only thing she could; she said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, his eyes staying right on hers, his voice so low and raw that it seemed to vibrate inside her. She swallowed, her hand closing around her Diet Coke, but she couldn't seem to conjure the will to lift it to her lips or to look away.

Beside her, Amanda cleared her throat. "Um, Reece?"

His head snapped to her, and the moment—or whatever the hell it was—evaporated like water on a hot Texas day.

Amanda cocked her head, indicating a couple who'd just settled onto two empty bar stools.

"Right." Reece glanced down the bar, saw that Eric was at the other end mixing drinks for a group of customers, and slid down to help the new people.

Immediately Amanda turned to Jenn, her eyes wide. "What was that?"

"What?" Jen asked, feigning ignorance.

"Don't even. For a second there, I thought I was going to have to tell you two to get a room."

"Oh, please." Jenna's face burned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine. I used to like playing make-believe, too. Then I grew up." She smiled and batted her eyes. "He wouldn't be a bad one to grow old with, I've got to say."

"Will you lower your voice?" Jenna shot an uneasy glance toward Reece. "And there isn't anything going on. He's one of my best friends."

"With benefits?"

"Dammit, Amanda, stop."

Amanda studied her for a second then took a thoughtful sip of her Cosmo before leaning back in her stool. "My mistake," she said. "Consider it dropped."

"Let's just focus on the project in front of me and not your overactive imagination, okay?"

Amanda lifted her hands in surrender. "You'll want to get the word out. Do you want me to talk to Nolan?"

"Would you? That would be great." Amanda's stepbrother Nolan worked in radio, and although Jenna hadn't listened to his show since she moved back, she'd heard that he had a huge following for his comedic schtick mixed with local and classic tunes.

"No problem. And you'll need legal releases for the models. Probably the contestants, too. You'll want their pictures for promo, right?"

"Good point." She caught Reece's eye as he added a cherry to the drink he was making. "Who are we using for the partnership documents?"

His mouth curved into a frown. "Good question. We'll want someone other than Tyree's usual lawyer. Conflict of interest and all that." He glanced at Amanda. "You must work with attorneys all the time."

"Real estate, sure. But I can ask for a recommendation for y'all."

"Don't worry," Jenna said. "I'm going out with Easton tonight after the bridal event. I'll ask him if he can do it. Or if he can recommend someone."

"Easton?" Amanda's perfectly shaped brows rose. "How interesting."

Jenna laughed. "Hey, you tossed him aside."

She could feel Reece's eyes on her, and she made it a point not to turn toward him.

"I didn't exactly toss him, so much as the wind blew us in different directions. I just didn't realize you two had kept in touch."

"He called me a few months ago when he had depositions in LA. He was there for a week, and we went out a couple of times. He's a good guy."

"He's a great guy," Amanda agreed. Her lips curved into a wicked smile. "Yeah, I'd say great is a very accurate description."

"Amanda!" This time, Jenna didn't manage to check the instinct that had her glancing at Reece. He was squirting soda into a highball glass—and he overfilled the thing.

"Damn," he muttered, as she looked quickly away.

"It's just drinks and dessert," Jenna said, ostensibly to Amanda, but loud enough for Reece to hear. Which was stupid. Because why should he care who she went out with? And why should she care what he thought?

Except, of course, she knew the answer to that question. It just happened to be a question—and an answer—that she didn't want to ponder too deeply.

"At any rate," she said, her voice clipped and firm, "the point is that I can ask him about the partnership documents and the releases. And I want to ask him about non-monetary compensation for work, too."

Both Reece and Amanda looked blank.

"Like if Maia agrees to help me out with some of the marketing work—I don't want to pay her cash since that defeats the purpose. But maybe a book of No Cover Charge coupons. Same goes for whatever carpenter we find to work on the stage."

"Oh, I may know somebody for that," Amanda said. "I know a guy who flips houses. In fact, I’m supposed to show him the Drysdale mansion again next week. That’ll be the third time he’s walked through it, and if he buys...” She trailed off with a whistle. “Well, that commission could keep me in chocolate and Cosmos for a long time, you know?”

“That’s the huge mansion close to the Capitol building, right? The one that needs all the work.”

“That’s it.” Amanda shrugged. “At any rate, if he’s got the time, he might be interested in doing it."

"Yeah? And he's good?"

"Well, actually—"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "I mean his work, not his cock."

"Women," Reece muttered, but he looked amused.

"I don't know," Amanda said, looking prim. "Ours is a purely professional relationship."

"First time for everything," Jenna quipped, then ducked to avoid the balled-up napkin her friend tossed her way.

Reece shook his head in mock exasperation, then signaled to them that he'd be back soon before moving down to the far end of the long bar to go over something with Eric.

“But seriously,” Amanda continued, “he used to have one of those remodeling shows on television. And every property he’s worked on that I’ve sold for him has been top-notch. So he must have some idea what he’s doing.”

"He sounds like a real possibility,” Jenna said. “You'll shoot me his info?"

"Of course. Although if he buys the mansion, he probably won’t have time.” She pursed her lips, considering. “Actually, I just thought of someone even better. My friend Brooke does commercial renovations, and she mentioned that she’s looking for a high-profile project.”

“Why? And what does that even mean?”

“Not a clue,” Amanda admitted. “But I'll set up a meeting and you can figure it out. Call it my good deed for the day, even if you are a total bitch."

"Who's a bitch?" Reece's cousin, Mike, looking young and eager, staggered under two racks full of recently washed beer glasses. He plunked them down on the counter and started to put them away.

"According to Amanda, I am. But she loves me anyway. Which is why she's getting the check, right? My turn next, once I'm gainfully employed?"

"I already told you this one was on me," Amanda agreed. "You look familiar," she added to Mike. "Do I know you?"

"Reece's cousin," Jenna said. "I think y'all must have met somewhere, but who knows? You're a senior now, right?"

"Yup," Mike said. "Turned eighteen a few months ago, and I start at the University in the fall. Working as many hours as I can until then. Stocking up on cash, you know."

"Very responsible of you," Jenna said, as Amanda mouthed, Too young. Too bad.

Jenna rolled her eyes. Amanda liked to pretend she slept with anything that moved, but Jenna knew better. Her friend was more discriminating than that. But she never, ever got serious about a guy. Or, at least, she hadn't yet, despite Jenna's best efforts to pair Amanda with someone.

"Listen, I need to run," Jenna said. "I need to get all these ideas organized plus do some research for tonight."

"No prob," Amanda said. "Do you want me to drive you? Or are you going to call a ride share?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Mike said, squinting at a glass, and then polishing away some water spots.

"I don't?" Jenna looked to Amanda, who shrugged, just as confused. "Why don't I?"

"Because Reece got you a car." He was grinning ear to ear. "It's out back. He said you'd be surprised."

"He said he wanted to see the look on her face when she saw the surprise," Reece said, coming down the bar and smacking Mike with a hand towel. "Jerk."

"Sorry! I didn't want her running off to get an Uber or something."

"You seriously got me a car?" She couldn't take her eyes off Reece, standing there like a knight, his grin at least as bright as armor. "How could you afford that?"

"Didn't cost much," he said. "I made it for you. Or, rather, I restored it. Come on. It's parked in the loading zone out back."

Her heart hitched, and she tried to remember when, if ever, someone had done a thing like that for her. As far as she could recall, the answer was a big, fat never.

But there it was, a 1972 El Camino in a bright yellow. A classic cross between a truck and a car with a single bench seat in the front and a truck bed in the back. "Isn't that your grandfather's old car?"

"He bought himself a Lincoln. Said if I could get this one running again, I could have it. And since I knew you were coming back to Austin without a car..." He trailed off with a shrug. "It only took me a weekend. Well, once I got serious about fixing it up for you. I've been fiddling with it here and there during my days off."

She turned to him, her hand pressed over her heart. "Reece." His name seemed to stick in her throat. "I can't believe you did this."

He reached for her hand, then squeezed lightly before pulling back, leaving the key ring behind. "Can't you?"

She lifted the keys, then fisted her hand around the metal, still warm from his touch. "Truthfully? I can. You got Mike a job. You're helping Tyree out. Of course, you got me a car." She cocked her head, looking at him. "I bet you're re-roofing your dad's place."

He chuckled. "No, just refinishing his kitchen cabinets."

She stepped forward, then rose up on tiptoes to brush a kiss over his cheek, his beard tickling her lips. "You're a good man, Reece Walker."

"Wait until you see how it drives before you go making assessments like that." He held the door open for her, and she got in, then rolled down the window once he closed the door. After a second, he cleared his throat. "Don't forget to talk to Easton about all the legal stuff. He can give me a call about the partnership documents."

"I won't forget." She slipped the key in the ignition but didn't start the car. He was still holding onto the window. "Um, anything else?"

"Huh? Oh, right." He lifted his hand away. "I was just wondering what you've got planned for Saturday."

"Oh." Her stomach did a little flip. "I don't know. Why?"

"The Fix is going to have a booth at Eeyore's Birthday Party. Brent and I were hoping you'd be coming, too. He's bringing Faith, of course."

"Oh," she repeated, as a thin sheen of disappointment settled over her. Which was ridiculous. She loved Eeyore's Birthday Party. The annual event at Pease Park was an Austin tradition, and she'd been going since she was a little girl. Plus, she loved Brent and Faith, and would happily work the bar's booth if they needed her. So what did she have to be disappointed about?

Absolutely nothing, she told herself firmly. Not one, single thing.

And with that, she turned the key, felt the engine rumble to life, and heard herself saying, "You know what? That sounds just about perfect for a Saturday."

* * *

Easton Wallace was a goddamn bastard.

That, at least, was Reece's current assessment of the man. Since Jenna had left, it had changed pretty much hourly—actually, a hell of a lot more frequently than that—and had ranged from lucky s-o-b to conniving lady-killer who needed to be stopped.

Not to mention every insult in between.

Which was probably a little unfair. After all, Reece had gone out with Easton for drinks a couple of times since that night at the Broken Spoke. And it was Reece himself who'd reminded Jenna to ask Easton about legal work.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Was he deliberately pushing her toward Easton? Toward any man other than himself?

Hell yeah, he was.

Why? Because Reece sucked at relationships, and Jenna deserved a good man.

And even if he didn't crash and burn every time he was with a woman, even if he didn't think that marriage was a convoluted ritual designed to kill passion and foment discontent, he still wouldn't pursue Jenna. Too much risk.

He'd much rather spend his life without her in his bed so long as it meant that she was in his life.

So why did he have the urge to bloody his fist against Easton's aristocratic nose?

Because the thought of Easton's hands—or, God forbid, his mouth—on Jenna was enough to make Reece—

"You okay?"

Reece spun around to find Brent leaning against the door frame of the small office where Reece had been pacing. "What?"

"You're prowling. You worried about all of this? Partnership? The plan?"

"Huh?" Reece shook his head, trying to shift gears. "What? No. No, not at all. I'm just thinking about Jenna."

Fuck. He hadn't meant to say that.

"I mean her job interview," he continued before Brent interrogated him. "This trial by fire tonight." He glanced at his watch. Past nine. "Guess we'll be hearing soon how it went."

"I bet she nailed it. You know Jenna. Whatever she puts her mind to..."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just—doesn't matter. I'm going to go relieve Cameron." Reece pushed past Brent, feeling like he'd dodged a bullet, then headed toward the back bar and tapped Cam on the shoulder. "Go take your dinner break. I'll cover for you."

"Yeah?" Cam's brow furrowed, probably because Reece usually didn't cover for the employees when they were well-staffed. Today, however, Reece wanted the distraction of mixing drinks—because if he was thinking about the pour, that meant he wasn't thinking about Jenna.

He spent the next hour pouring drinks, circulating among the customers, chatting up the regulars, and generally keeping his mind on the work—and absolutely nothing else.

He'd mostly succeeded in pushing thoughts of Jenna behind a mental curtain when the vibration of his phone in his hip pocket startled him. He snatched it out, glanced at the screen, and everything he'd been fighting against fell away.

It was Jenna.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey, how'd the interview go? Do you know—"

"Reece?" Her voice cracked.

"Jenna?"

He heard a gulp, then a gasp. Then her words came, tight and strangled. "Can you hear me?"

Christ, was she crying? "Hey, hey, calm down." He kept his voice low and soothing, the way he did when he was sitting with Faith, and she woke up from a nightmare. Inside, though, his heart was pounding. "Are you okay?" Images of car wrecks filled his mind. Or lanky, muscled teens with iron pipes in their hands and anger on their faces. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I just—I just—" Her voice broke, and he heard her draw in a loud breath, obviously trying to pull herself together. "I'm sorry," she finally managed. "I know you're working. But can you come? Please, Reece. I need you to come."