Chapter One
Fannin
“She’s marrying your ex in a couple days.”
Groaning I bury my head in my hands, my fingers tunneling through my barely controlled curls. “I know. God, I know.”
“She’s your freaking sister. How the hell does that even happen?” Shelby shakes her head in disgust.
“Step-sister,” I correct.
“Still! Talk about sloppy seconds,” she scoffs. “And now he’s working with us on this new client? Why?”
Erica peels my hands from my face, “You know if you talk to Noah he’ll pull him. He’s your cousin. He has to know this is awkward.”
Sitting up straight I shake my head and look around the crowded bar. “Noah asked me if I minded. I said no. This is a huge account. If I land this and we kick its ass, I’ll be up for promotion. I didn’t want to risk Noah pulling me from it. Nothing would thrill me more than getting that corner office before Adam Cafferty does.”
They nod in understanding and agreement. I know they’d love to see me stick it to the cheating asshole just as much as I would enjoy doing the sticking.
“So what about the wedding?”
“Ahhh, which one of you lovely ladies is getting married?” We’re interrupted by the smoothest voice I’ve ever heard. Deep and rich like honey or chocolate. Or chocolate honey. Is that even a thing? I don’t care if it’s not. It should be. I turn slightly as a large hand slides a wooden board—it looks like part of a whisky barrel—with four half-filled glasses nestled into it onto the high top table. From my elbow he adds another and then a beautifully carved cutting board, “THE IRON FLASK” branded into the rough wood, filled with cheeses, olives, crackers, and an array of sliced and rolled meats. My gaze travels along the arm resting beside me on the table now. Over the thick watch, the smattering of dark hair, the sinewy muscles, the bright colorful lines of a tattoo, up up up over the white shirt pushed up his forearm, broad shoulders, a barrel chest, to a neatly trimmed jet black beard, full lips, chiseled nose until I hit bottomless blue eyes. Holy shit.
“Oh God, none of us. Fannin’s step-sister is marrying her ex. And Fannin has to go to the wedding . . . alone.”
I groan again and pin her with a glare.
Shelby shrugs. “What? He’s the bartender. We’re supposed to tell him our sob stories, and then he helps us figure them all out while serving us the most amazing drinks,” she finishes, popping an olive in her mouth with a smile.
The honey-chocolate-voiced man turns to me. “She’s absolutely right, you know? Now tell Jasper everything, love,” he teases, handing me a glass of amber liquid, a twist of orange floating on the top. My eyes flick to his. At his smile and small nod, I lift the glass to my lips and sip. The flavors burst on my tongue, an appreciative sound following. He winks and turns back to Shelby since she’s clearly the chatty one. I have yet to say anything. I’m not sure I can.
“Well, Jasper,” Shelby all but purrs, “Fannin here was engaged, he left her for her sister—”
“Step-sister.” I’m adamant on that.
“Step-sister. They’re getting married this weekend, Fannin has no date, and now to make matters worse, he is working with us on a new account we’re trying to land here with your boss.”
“My boss?” He looks puzzled.
“Yep. We’re with Tate and Cane Enterprises. Hopefully The Iron Flask will be our newest client, so we’re here to get a feel for the place, talk about some ideas before our conference call in a couple days.”
He nods in understanding and then Erica chimes in.
“And Fannin’s ex-fiancé-slash-future-brother-in-law is on his way to sit in on our little hash session and just aggravate the ever-living hell out of us.”
Jasper glances at me. “That right, Fannin?” The way he says my name . . . there’s a slight accent lurking just beneath the surface. Scottish maybe? It’s like a caress. I take another sip to give me a moment to regroup.
“Yes, but since it’s a business meeting, we won’t have to speak about the wedding at all.” I know it’s a lie. Adam always figures out a way to work the wedding into conversation whenever I’m around. Never has there been a groom so damn involved in a wedding until now.
“I see. Because we wouldn’t want to mix business with pleasure, right?” Jasper is completely in my personal space, and I can’t find it in me to move away. His scent, I can’t put a finger on it. It’s earthy and woodsy yet there’s citrus and . . . whisky, all mixed to make this delicious smell. I want to bury my nose in his neck and just inhale. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind. Either that or I really just need to get laid. Maybe both.
I’m just about to answer when the amazing-only-moments-ago whisky turns to acid in my stomach.
“Ladies. Sorry I’m late. Last minute wedding stuff,” Adam says sheepishly. Purposefully. Dickishly.
I stiffen immediately, which brings me into contact with Jasper’s broad chest. Oddly enough it brings me comfort. Totally ridiculous. I blame the whisky. I’m a completely adept business woman. A shark in a killer suit. I can handle Adam fucking Cafferty. And Jasper chocolate honey.