Lucas Broussard, the world’s most interesting man, just became a little more intriguing. I would not have guessed in a million years my brother’s business partner would be so riveting.
I’ve never been married so I don’t understand the dynamics between a husband and wife. I certainly don’t understand the relationships between a divorcé and divorcée. But I don’t have to in order to realize Lucas and Bridgette are the exception to every rule.
This isn’t just kindness toward his ex-wife and the best friend who married her. It’s clear he truly loves them and their daughter. And their son, who will be arriving in a couple months from the looks of things. What drives this man to be like that? “I want to hear more.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Anything. Everything.”
Lucas laughs at my response. “Long or short version?”
“Long.” I think I’ll need it to understand.
“Bridgette was my best friend in high school. We did everything together, which helped make the move from Louisiana easier, that’s for sure.” I try to picture younger versions of Lucas and Bridgette hanging out the way I did with Ivy and Kelsey but I can’t quite conjure an image of him without that beard.
“‘I don’t know why you guys don’t date. You’d be perfect together.’ It’s all we ever heard from the other kids, teachers, parents. Everyone.”
“I can see where you’d begin to question the validity in it. A kid is impressionable.”
“Exactly. So I started wondering if I was wearing a blinder because I didn’t want to see how perfect we’d be together.”
“You obviously decided to listen to what everyone was saying.” It’s always a mistake to listen to others instead of your heart.
“I asked Bridgette if she wanted to give us a try, to see if everyone knew what they were talking about.”
“And she was willing.”
“No. She told me to never mention it again or she’d punch me in the nuts.” That’s a little unexpected. And funny. “I didn’t bring it up again but she did a couple of years later after we went to college. A couple of months in, we decided to give sex a try. Huge mistake. I don’t think we even had our clothes back on when we agreed it should never happen again.”
But it must have. “You married her.”
“We had sex that one time and she got pregnant.”
“Oh, God.” Worst-case scenario.
“We decided the best thing for our child was to marry and co-parent him together.” Amazing. Even as teenagers, Lucas and Bridgette chose to do what they thought was best for the welfare of their child over their own happiness. Far more than our grown parents ever did for Ollie and me.
Ava and the new baby were the only children mentioned today. I have that awful feeling in my gut that something bad must have happened.
“Bridgette was about halfway through the pregnancy when we found out our son had bilateral renal agenesis. His kidneys failed to develop, which means a death sentence within hours of being born.”
“I’m so very sorry.” I don’t know what else to say to that.
“Bridgette got really sick and developed eclampsia when she was almost eight months pregnant.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“A condition pregnant women get. All I really remember is how badly Bridg was swollen. She told me she had a terrible headache and blurry vision. I was a kid. I didn’t know what to do so I took her to the hospital. When we got there, her blood pressure was sky high. One minute she’s talking to me, the next she’s having a seizure. Scared the shit out of me. I thought she was dying.”
“How do you treat something like that?”
“They gave her medicine to stop the seizure and took her to surgery for a C-section. Eli died before she made it out of the recovery room.”
“Oh, no. She didn’t get to hold him.”
“Not while he was alive. But I did. And that’s where he died. In my arms instead of hooked up to machines that wouldn’t save him anyway.”
“That’s heartbreaking.”
“The doctor told us any children we conceived together had an increased risk of developing the same disorder.”
“So it’s genetic?”
“From what I understand, we both carry the gene for renal agenesis. It usually presents with one kidney missing, which is okay. People can live with one. But because Bridgette and I both carry the gene, our son inherited the bilateral version. Both were missing.”
That must have been terrible to lose a child and then be told any others they had would likely suffer the same fate. “That’s a tough thing to hear at any age.”
“There we were… nineteen and stuck. And no baby, the only glue holding us together. We talked about trying to make our marriage real but that required sex. Even if I could have looked at her as anything other than a sister, neither of us were willing to risk another pregnancy, birth control or not.”
Shit. I guess that means they never had sex with each other again. But they were married. Did they just go without or screw around on each other? I’m surprised by the sickening feeling in my stomach when I think of Lucas taking a lover.
“How long were you married?”
“Six years by the time our divorce was final. But I guess we were about three years in when we agreed to an open marriage.”
Fuck. An open marriage? “You were married six years and dating during three of them?”
“No. I stopped wearing my wedding band after we made the decision to see other people but it took me a year to ease into the idea. We might not have been in love but she was still my wife. Having a relationship outside the boundaries of our marriage felt… wrong.” Knowing he didn’t jump at the first chance to fuck around just earned him a few points in my book.
“Why not divorce? It makes so much more sense.”
“I think it’s something we both thought we’d pursue once we were in a better place. But Eli’s death caused Bridgette to have severe depression. It was a year before she even resembled the person she once was. I was afraid of causing a setback if I asked for a divorce. So I adjusted to the idea of being married but not a couple.”
This doesn’t make sense to me. “She became well enough to suggest you have an open marriage but not divorce?”
“We decided it made better financial sense to stay together a couple more years. We had every intention of ending the marriage after we graduated from college and got on our feet.”
I was once a young adult on my own for the first time. I understand how having someone to absorb half the expenses would be beneficial.
“Bridg and I actually had an appointment with a divorce lawyer when my grandfather passed away, and I inherited his business.”
“Another delay.”
“We refer to our marriage as a series of unfortunate events.” It does seem fate was trying to force them to stay together. “But I’m happy I had Bridgette by my side. She was my rock when I stepped into my grandfather’s role at the company.”
Until she became Warren’s rock. “Bridgette and Warren never had a thing for each other before they worked together?”
“Warren was my best friend from Louisiana, but we kept up after I moved. They didn’t know each other until he came to work for me.” I noticed Warren had a Cajun twang but not like Lucas. Or maybe I noticed his more because he’s so damn sexy.
“They met and the sparks flew?”
A smile spreads as he chews. “Something like that.”
I think I would feel like I’d lost some of the best years of my life if I were married to a man I didn’t love.
“I’ve seen that look before.”
“What look would that be?”
“Confusion.”
He’s reading me like a book. He’s right, though. I am highly confused by the things he’s told me. “I can’t deny I’m bewildered by the decisions you made.”
“I know it’s difficult to understand. It must sound ridiculous when you hear the story of those six years over a five-minute span. But it’s like a car accident when you try to recall the way things happened. It played out so fast I can hardly remember it now. Hell, the whole thing doesn’t even make sense to me as I sit here telling you. One thing’s for sure. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Lessons were learned. I would do things much differently if I had it to do over again.”
Being so engrossed in his story, I haven’t eaten a bite of my dinner, so I cut a slit down the middle of my sweet potato. “I thought I was the nonconformist but I believe you’ve beat me out of that title.”
He watches me dress my potato with fresh, organic butter and brown sugar. “I bet you’re still plenty unconventional.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m feeling a little inferior next to you.”
“Tell me about Wren Thorn. I bet she has plenty of interesting facets to her life.” Wren. It was adorable when Ava said it, and strangely enough, it sounds right coming from Lucas. Weird.
Lucas has been so open about his personal life. I feel like I owe him the same in return, but I have no idea where to begin. “What do you want to know about me?”
“Ever been married?”
“No.” I tell everyone I’m content with single life but that’s not the whole truth. I’d love to start a family.
“Ever been in love?”
I was never a dreamy teenage girl who fancied herself in love with every boy she met. “Not that I’m aware.”
“Me either. But I know you’ve been in lust at some point.”
“Not really.” I sound like a total prude.
“Come on. You’ve never been with a man you wanted so badly you thought you’d go crazy if you didn’t have him right then and there?”
“I’m not like that.” What does that even mean?
“Not like what? Sexual?” His eyes roam from my face down my body and he licks his lips. Shit. “I find that impossible to believe.”
“I don’t mean I’m not sexual or I don’t like sex. I just don’t need a man to feel fulfilled.” But I think that would change with the right one.
“Maybe not but you need one to be filled.” He laughs huskily.
“Well, not exactly.” I guess that can be taken more than one way.
“Oh. You prefer women?”
I can see where he might have gathered that. “No, I’m attracted to men. What I mean is that I don’t need a man to feel whole. I’m happy being single… until I’m not.” I want to be married, but at the same time, I have no intention of wasting my time with a man who isn’t my future.
“You’re an asexual?” I’m not being very clear here.
“I’m very open to falling in love. I would jump headfirst for the right man if he came along. But he hasn’t. I’m not half a person looking for someone to complete me. I’m whole on my own.” It took years of therapy to recognize my self-worth. “I have friends, a wonderful family, and a successful business.”
Lucas pops a French fry into his mouth. “Right. You told me you were a business owner. Tell me about it.” Good. Thank goodness we’re abandoning the relationship issue.
“It’s a retail shop called Law’s Attraction Boutique. Named for the law of attraction and because my friend’s call me Law.”
“Clever name.”
I wonder if he even knows what the law of attraction is. Or anything about the type person I am. “Has Ollie told you much about me?”
“A little.” Figures. Ollie isn’t known for spilling much.
“I’m not exactly your typical kind of girl.”
Lucas laughs. “No, you’re definitely not. And it’s one of the things I like about you.” He likes that about me? I believe Mr. Broussard is back to flirting.
“Have you ever been to River Street?”
“Never even been to Savannah.”
“That’s a shame. My hometown is beautiful. You have to come when you have the chance. Consider this your official invitation.” Did I just invite Lucas Broussard to come to my town? Yes, I did.
“I hear it’s a beautiful city.”
“It is and I love it. My shop faces the Savannah River. Best view in the city if you ask me.”
“Sounds much better than the one we have of the parking lot at the brewery.” Yeah. That would be depressing.
“Tell me more about your boutique.”
“I sell a wide variety of things. Of course there’s the usual stuff like clothing, jewelry, bags, and aromatherapy supplies.”
“And then there’s stuff people don’t consider usual?” I think Ollie may have told him more than he lets on.
“Essential oils. Healing crystals. Herbs for herbalism. I’m fascinated by holistic healing. But that doesn’t mean I think one shouldn’t seek medical attention if needed. I’m not a quack. Nor am I into witchcraft.” Might as well put it out there now.
“Why would anyone think you’re a witch?”
“Many of the items I carry in the store are used in spells. Some people think that means I practice witchcraft or voodoo. All idiots. I guess it’s more interesting to say I sell rose oil for love spells rather than for its all natural medicinal properties.”
“I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff.”
Most people don’t. “It’s intriguing.”
“Give me an example.”
“Okay. I used to have trouble sleeping. A few drops of lavender oil on my pillow fixed that. I sleep like a baby, and I’m energized when I wake. A few drops in my cleanser help my skin stay clear and healthy. Peppermint oil is great for congestion, nausea, and headaches. That’s just a few uses. There’re so many I could go on and on.”
“Ah, lavender. That’s the scent I’ve noticed every time I’m near you. It’s very nice.” When was the last time a man told me I smelled nice? Has it been that long since I’ve had someone interested in me? Is that why I’ve felt a little alone lately? Is that also why I’m sticking around for the weekend? Or is that just the sexy man sitting in front of me?
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
“I hang out with friends, go to the beach, do yoga, volunteer at the humane society.”
“You’re an animal lover?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have any pets. I get my animal fix by helping out at the shelter.” I wish I had time to devote to a pet but I stay at the shop for too many hours at a time to leave an animal alone.
“Are Ivy and Kelsey uninhibited like you?”
Lucas is more aware of things about me than I thought. “How do you know of my friends?”
His eyes widen. “Oliver has talked about them.”
“I bet. Did he also tell you how hard he crushes on both?”
“He might have mentioned something about them being hot.” I thought he might.
“They aren’t like me. Ivy is a nurse so she has a completely different mindset when it comes to healing. Kelsey is a loan officer at a bank. Both of them are very analytical.”
“And you’re abstract. I bet that causes some debates.”
“Not really. They respect my opinion as I do theirs.” We’ve been friends for a long time and it’s never been an issue.
“You agree to disagree.”
“Mostly.”
My attention is stolen when my ears perk up for a rendition of Twin Forks’ “Kiss Me Darling.” I love that song so much, and perhaps it speaks more about me than I thought. It’s been a long time indeed.
“What is it?” Lucas asks.
“That song. I can’t believe the band is playing it. It’s one of my favorites.”
Lucas stands and offers his hand. “Then we have no choice but to dance if it’s one of your favorites.”
He holds my hand as he leads me to the crowd around the folk rock band on the small stage. “No one else is dancing.”
Lucas gestures toward a drunken man doing something I don’t classify as dancing. “Not true. Look at him. He’s gettin’ down.”
The guy stumbles and nearly face-plants. “He’s going to get down all right.” And possibly not get up.
“He’s having a good time.” Lucas spins me outward and twirls me back so I’m pressed against his chest. “And so are we.”
He guides me backward, holding my hands while swaying to the beat of the music. He’s leading me to move with him. Not a bad dancer. “Come on, Wren. You don’t strike me as one who cares what people think of you on the dance floor. Let go. I dare you.”
He wants me to let go? I can do that. There’s very little I do better.
I grab his hands and use them to propel myself away. I release one and spin back into his arms so my back is pressed to his front. Let’s see what he thinks of that.
He laces his fingers through mine and his arms wrap around me, holding my body close as we sway with the upbeat tempo of the folk song. And I let him. This shouldn’t feel this good with a man I hardly know. But it does.
I close my eyes and surrender to the music. And to the way this man’s arms feel around me. Everything I told him about not needing a man to feel complete was true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the feel of one. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this. I miss it. I didn’t realize how much until this moment.
There’s been no one since Xavier. Not since the night he pulled my hair and held me down. “You are mine and no one else’s.”
He was rough. Painful. Nothing hot or sexy about it. I saw a Jimmy-like possessiveness in his eyes that night. Fucking scary as hell.
I don’t want to think about that. I prefer to enjoy being in the arms of Lucas.
Dancing is an acceptable disguise for touching. Rubbing. It’s like making out with your clothes on. When the song ends, no one has to explain anything. It’s perfectly acceptable to pretend the only thing you did was move to the music.
I press my body against Lucas and use my hands to encourage a tighter hold around me. Our embrace grows firmer. The tickle of his beard and warmth of his breath against my neck send a tingle down my body, a message signaling goosebumps to erupt over my skin. No man has done that, or had this kind of effect on me, in ages.
Lucas rubs his hands up and down my pimpled skin. Oh, God. He’s taken notice. He feels and sees the proof of what he’s doing to me. It’s a physical reaction I can’t control. There’s no denying or hiding it. Shit.
I hear the chorus of “Kiss Me Darling” coming from his lips, the ones so close to my ear. More goosebumps. As if I didn’t have enough already. “You know this song?”
“Listen to it all the time.”
Lucas knowing this song is unexpected. Him singing it is hot. Hearing him say those words against my ear is a huge turn-on.
He squeezes my hand when the female’s solo approaches. “Your part.”
I tilt my head from side to side to keep tempo and follow his cue to sing when the girl’s lines start. I can’t sing for shit. I should be embarrassed. But I’m not. I’m having too much fun to care how pitiful my voice sounds.
The crowd claps and yells when the song ends. Lucas releases me, and we join in praising the band, but it’s over too soon. I wasn’t ready for him to let go.
“That was fun.”
“It was. I wish I could hang out here longer but I’m judging a home brew contest in twenty minutes. I should probably make my way to the judge’s tent so Porter doesn’t send someone looking for me.”
“Probably a good idea.” I’m sure I’ve kept Lucas from his responsibilities long enough.
“Wanna come with me?”
I want to but Lucas is a host at this festival. This is work for him. He should be networking and ensuring things run smoothly. Not entertaining me. I’m preventing him from properly doing his job. “I don’t want to hinder you.”
“Not possible, so come with me.”
He acts like he wants me to go. I think he would have dropped it if he didn’t. “Okay.”
We pass all kinds of activities on the way to the competition booth. Cornhole boards. Life-size mechanical… something. Beer pong. I had no idea there were so many things to do. “Whoever organized all of this did a great job.”
“We hired a professional event organizer, but she’d never done a beer festival before. Stout, Porter, and I mostly came up with this stuff.”
“Who suggested beer pong?”
“That was Stout.” I knew the answer before I asked.
“I figured. He was the beer pong champion in his fraternity.”
“There was a 3K this morning. The organizer insisted we do that.”
I’m not a runner but I might have walked it had I known there was one. “A marathon before a beerathon. Nice.”
“I thought it was a mistake but Lisa was right. We had a huge turnout.”
You can never go wrong with a race. “People like stuff like that.”
“I guess.”
“You’re not a runner?”
“No. You?”
I’m fine with exercise but running is not my thing. Too jiggly. I prefer something calming. “I’m more of a yoga and meditation sort of girl.”
“I can see that about you.”
I’m surprised by the large crowd at the judges’ tent. “Looks like you had a lot of entries.”
“Yes, I think there’re fifty-five.”
Shit. That’s a lot of beer even if you only taste them. “You’re going to be drunk as a skunk by the time you finish sampling all those beers.”
Lucas chuckles. “I’ll probably have to take a cab home.”
“I have my car. I’m happy to give you a ride.” I bet the police will be out and about looking to handout DUIs.
“Porter is splitting the categories with me. I’m judging IPA and the pales, reds, and browns. He’s taking the porters and stouts and anything falling into the other category: sours, lagers, etcetera.”
“A sour beer.” The thought of it makes my face pucker. “That sounds weird. I’m not sure who’d want to drink that.”
“You’d be surprised.” His brows lift and the corners of his mouth turn up. “You should do the tasting with me.”
I can’t judge beer. “I’m not familiar enough with it to know what the different types should taste like.”
“It’s called quantitative parameters. Stout and Porter taught me. I’ll teach you.”
Beer is my brother’s livelihood. I wouldn’t mind learning more about it. Maybe then I’ll understand what sparked his interest in brewing. “I think I’d like that.”
Lucas holds up a single finger to a man wearing a Lovibond T-shirt. “We need another chair at the judges’ table for Miss Thorn.”
Porter approaches me from behind and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You’re going to help Tap judge his categories?”
I’ve heard Ollie call Lucas by that name. “Tap’s an interesting nickname.”
“Yes, it is.” Porter leans his head toward mine and lowers his voice. “You should ask him how he got it. Rather interesting story.”
I can think of three ways the word tap is used. “I’m going to assume it’s related to sex since you’re laughing like a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Not for me to say, Law.”
He brings up the name and then leaves me hanging. It’s like he’s trying to pique my curiosity enough to make me ask Lucas about it. He’s stirring the shit and backing away. I hate when people do that.
“Then it’s not for me to ask, Porter.” If Lucas wants me to know, he’ll volunteer the information himself.
Lovibond T-shirt guy is back with my chair. “Where you want this, boss?”
“I got it.” Lucas takes the chair from his employee and places it next to the empty one. “It’s about that time. Ready to get started?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
There must be at least thirty bottles on the table. “We have to taste all of these?”
“Yeah. Think you’re up for the challenge?”
My stomach bloats just looking at them. They’re going to be heavy. I just know it. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of beer.”
“Probably not as much as you think. Consider how many drinks you take from a single beer. You probably will end up drinking two full beers by tasting each of these.”
“That’s good because I never have more than three.” I’m not a fuddy-duddy but I never allow myself more than I can handle. I refuse to be out of control like Jimmy and Christie.
There are rows of glasses in front of Lucas. Each is a different shape and size. “I wasn’t expecting help with the judging so I didn’t send an extra set of glasses. I hope you don’t mind drinking with me from the same one.”
There must be at least a dozen here. “I don’t mind sharing but why would we need to? Looks like there are plenty here to me.”
“Glassware makes a huge difference. The vessel is the first thing you see. Beer that looks pleasing to the eye has already started the mental process for positive thinking and enjoyment.”
“Like food. The aroma is a huge percentage of what one tastes.”
“Exactly. And the shape of the glass affects the formation and retention of the head, which acts as a net to catch the hop oils, spices, and fermentation byproducts evaporating from the beer. Those compounds produce the aroma.”
“This is an IPA. India pale ale.” Lucas pops the top of the first beer and pours it into a wide-mouthed goblet. A thick foam forms on the top. “A healthy head of foam can help retain volatiles, and using different glassware allows for different levels of head retention, which affects the aroma of your drink.”
“This one gives good head?”
A deep chuckle leaves his chest and I realize the innuendo. “Yes. It gives good head.”
“Copper in color.” He watches it settle in the glass. “There’s lace around the edge of the goblet. That’s a very good sign.”
He looks at the label. “Eight percent alcohol. Impressive.”
Lucas brings it to his nose and sniffs before passing it to me. “Sweet golden malt with a touch of Belgian candy sugar. Slightly fruity hops with hints of lemon and wheatgrass. Also a hint of very light spice.”
He passes the glass in my direction and I mimic his sniffing method. I’m lost. I pick up on a little citrus and spice. Maybe. “My nose needs training. Nothing about that smells like candy to me.”
“It takes time and experience. I didn’t learn it in one sitting.”
Lucas takes a drink and then another. “Smooth malty body. Warm golden malt with a dry sweetness.”
He passes the glass to me, and again, I mimic what he did. “I’m picking up on fruitiness.”
“Exactly. Fruity hops of apple and berry. There’s a touch of Belgian yeast at the end with fruitier notes on the aftertaste.”
“It’s good. I like it.” That sounds like a dumb response after the detailed description he gave.
Lucas scribbles his thoughts on a scorecard. Lord, that looks like chicken scratch. “Well balanced. Very drinkable. A nice way to begin the competition. This one is a definite contender.”
He pushes the card across the table in my direction. “Have anything you want to say about it?”
“Will the brewer see this?” I don’t want my comments to look amateur if he or she will be given the scorecard.
“This is for our eyes only. Molly will provide entrants with professional feedback based on what we say. It’s okay to say it sucks. Because I promise we will come across plenty that do.”
I take the pen from his hand. I read my comment aloud as I write while biting the inside of my bottom lip to prevent my lips from curling at the corners. “Gives good head.”
I slide the scorecard back to Lucas. “How’s that?”
A series of quiet chuckles leaves his chest. “I’ve always thought good head deserved recognition.” I don’t think we’re talking about beer anymore.
He reaches for the next bottle. “And… moving on.”