Maxwell Masterson.

A part of me begs to cry rivers at the sound of my father’s name. The other part of me demands to spit nails at the two holding that little angel. Meredith knew. She knew that was the name we picked out for our child, no matter if it were a boy or a girl. It was a done deal, sealed forever just like my father’s casket. The nightmare that ensued last year plays back in my mind as if calling me out on the lie, and I push the thought right back out.

I force myself to take a breath, and my chest expands over Low’s sweet body, her tits pressed tight up against me, soft as cushions. As soon as I saw her in this tight red dress, I knew the hospital was the last place I wanted to take her—especially with this crew around. I sure as hell didn’t want to take her to the bar and parade her around Axel and Brody. Nope. A selfish part of me wanted to take her somewhere quiet, someplace where we could be alone. Alone has been my favorite place to be as of late, so it doesn’t surprise me.

“Maxwell.” I pull back, and my lids open lazily to find Low’s gaze already pinned to mine. Low has gorgeous, oversized, almond-shaped eyes, green on the outside with hazel feathers creating a whirlpool of shadow in the center. They’re complex, just like her. “That’s a beautiful name.” And I deeply regret with everything in me that I blurted out the fact it was something I would have loved to have named my own child.

“Is that true?” Chip cuts a dark glance to Meredith. “Did you plan to use that name with Levi?”

Meredith’s cheeks light up, uneven and blotchy. That’s the thing about Mer. Whenever she blushes, it looks as if she took a fresh slap to the face. “I don’t know. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I thought of it. I always did have to do everything on my own.” She clips out those last words like the barb they were meant to be.

The shrill cry of a phone disrupts the silence, and the baby begins to squirm.

“Oh!” Mom jumps and begins digging in her purse. “Damn thing is never around when you need it.”

“Hurry the hell up,” Mer barks. “You’ll wake her up, and it’ll be babygeddon all over again.” She grunts my way. “She didn’t sleep a wink last night, so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little cranky.” She glares at both Low and me. A part of me wants to laugh at the irony. Mer herself came out of the womb cranky and hasn’t let up yet.

“She just got here.” I’m shockingly quick to defend my new little niece. “She wanted to check the place out.”

“Aha!” Mom lifts her phone in the air, only to have it jump from her grasp like a slippery fish. “It’s Raven! She’s trying to do that fancy face thing,” she trills, and Low hitches a breath as if she’s about to have her identity unmasked.

“You know”—she lifts a cherry red fingernail in the air—“I think I’m going to jump in the hall and find the little girls’ room.” Low gives a gentle scratch to my cheek before pinching them together. “Don’t you leave me, Boobear!” She bites down on her lips as if holding back a laugh.

“All right, Peaches.” I pull her in for a quick embrace.

“Peaches?” she mouths, perplexed by the name.

I bury my lips near her ear and whisper, “It was that or Waffles.” True story. Ever since Low walked into my life, she’s held the scent of that sweet summer fruit, but at the moment I’m craving to take a bite out of her, and the last time I craved something this bad was waffles.

“Waffles,” she huffs to herself as she speeds out the door.

Mom and Raven are busy chatting it up while facetiming with Meredith, so Chip takes a moment and steps my way.

His arms are folded tight against his chest, and his chin is tucked down, eyes looking up at me from under his brows, all of which signify the fact he’s pissed.

“What’s chewing on your balls?” I fold my arms in a mirrored response that was far more instinctual than it ever was intentional.

“What’s with the girl?” He glances at the empty doorway, and I take a step back.

“Why? You need a spare?” A dull laugh bumps through me. It’s the first time I’ve spoken to my brother in months, and it’s about a girl—not my wife, not the daughter he just had with my wife, but Low.

“Dude.” He bows his head a moment and pinches his eyes shut. “No, I don’t need a spare.” He looks over at me, the whites of his eyes lost in crimson tracks. “I was just asking. It looked pretty serious.”

“It is pretty serious. And she’s pretty hot. She’s also nice, and kind, and caring.” I hope. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” He shoots a quick glance over his shoulder at the melee still unfolding between Mom and Meredith, and, of course, Raven who is screaming her lungs out at how adorable her new little niece is, and she’s right. The sound of my sister’s voice is like a melody sweeping through the room. I miss her.

Chip steps in so close I can feel the anxiety radiating off him like a summer sidewalk. “I’m sorry.”

And just like that, it feels as if the floor dropped out from underneath me. In truth, I had envisioned my brother apologizing to me in far more creative ways—for one, with my shoe jammed down his throat. But here in the very room where his—my wife gave birth to his first child feels a bit cheap, maybe even like a cop-out.

Raven’s voice cuts out, and the room grows quiet. Low whisks back in as if on cue, and that sweet country scent that’s pulled me to her from the beginning follows her in.

“Congratulations again.” I nod toward Mer, to my mother, but my eyes snag on my brother’s, his face. I know every familiar inch of it. We have always essentially been the very same person, same taste in women, which explains his attraction to Mer, to Low—but that doesn’t mean he can freely pluck them from my arms.

“We’ll see you later!” Low cries out as I speed us toward the door. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of one another. Boobear and I do everything together. And I do mean everything!”

We get to the other side of the door, and I take a moment to pause and catch my breath. Low slowly loosens her grip on my hand, and I’m quick to regain my hold on her.

“Not so fast, Peaches.”

She cowers a moment, biting down on her lower lip, but it’s that mischievous look in her eyes that lets me know she’s enjoyed every single moment. “You’re not mad, are you?” She gives a little wink when she says it.

A moment swills between us. Those pouty lips of hers call out to me like candy just begging me to take a bite. “Nope. Not mad. How about we grab some food and you can fill me in on our budding relationship?”

She wraps an arm around my waist as we make our way down the hall. “Anything for you, Boobear.”

The double barbeque bacon and jalapeño jack cheeseburger at The Sloppy Pelican just so happens to be my favorite menu option. I could easily eat three in one sitting, and yet here I am seated across from Low Hartley unable to take a single bite.

“So, what’s up with Bertie Higgins?”

“Bertie who?” She looks perplexed as she racks her brain. “Was he Beta Kappa Phi? I never could keep those frat brat names straight.”

“No, he’s Key Largo—as in the singer of that song you like to play on a loop. What’s the story behind it?”

“Oh, it’s a stress thing.” She eyes the overgrown salad before her as if it too might be a stress thing. “When I was a kid—about seven or eight, my dad and I went out for milk. It was on the radio, and he sang along. He looked really happy that day. My dad was not known for being happy. Anyway, he took off shortly thereafter. I heard the song again years later, and it brought me back to that car ride—one of the last times my family was whole, and well, I sort of listened to it on a loop. Over the years, I guess you can say it’s become a musical crutch.” She spikes up in her seat and blinks back tears. “But that’s enough about that.” Low dives straight into her salad, and I can tell there is a lot of unresolved pain stemming from the fact her dad took off. An instant anger percolates in me over the fact. How could anyone leave their kid behind? Especially someone like Low. She’s bright and beautiful, and it’s clear it was his loss. A big one at that.

“Mmm.” She lifts a fork as she enjoys her Chinese chicken salad served in what amounts to a mixing bowl. “So good.” She washes it down with her lemonade. “Really good, actually.” She glances back at the bar before leaning in. “I’m sorry about calling your food plastic. It was totally a barb meant specifically to take you down a notch for that whole arrest thing.” She tips her head to the side as if the ball was in my court.

“Apology accepted. And believe me, I’m relieved to know I’m not subjecting you to lumps of manufactured synthetics.” That hellish night comes tumbling to the forefront of my mind. As soon as Low stepped into the place, it was as if a light switch went on inside of me. It’s still on. As much as I don’t want to admit it, she ignites something in me, makes me feel alive and needed, wanted on some level.

“And?” Her teeth graze over her bottom lip, quick and bright as shooting stars. “You realize what comes next, right?”

My mouth opens, then closes. I realize what comes next—an apology, but technically, I’m not the one who had her arrested.

“Wow”—she blinks back incredulously, and as much as it makes me sound like a bastard to say this, she looks hot as hell when she gets all worked up. “Your sister graduated summa cum laude with highest honors. You sure you’re related?”

A sharp laugh barks out of me. “I graduated Order of the Coif when I received my Juris Doctor.”

“A legal eagle, huh?” Her brows twitch with curiosity as she takes another sip. “Are you a Briggs’ man?”

“That’s right. I did my undergraduate work there before heading to the Flynn School of Law.” Flynn is WB’s very own law school and a most impressive one at that. “It’s where I met Axel, the third and silent partner in The Sloppy Pelican.” Ax is the one who pulled the patrol car trigger on poor Low, but since her wrath reaches far and wide, I think I’ll spare him of it in general. We may have dropped the charges, but it doesn’t lessen the sting of what happened that night.

“Well, aren’t you just a Briggs’ boy through and through?” She takes another enthusiastic bite out of her food, and this time her eyes close and she lets out a guttural groan that works its way up from that secret place a noise that glorious can only come from and my dick ticks to life.

“That would be me. And you? You mentioned you roomed with Raven. So, you’re a sorority girl I take it?”

“Kappa Gamma Gamma.” She thrusts an enthusiastic fist in the air and accidentally kicks me under the table. “Sorry.” She makes a face. “Speaking of that little S word, you sure you don’t have anything you’d like to say to me regarding the night we met?”

I lean back, doing my best to hide the smug grin waiting to burst on the scene. “I may have forgotten to tell you there’s a spare key under the mat by the back door.” I scan the ceiling a moment. “And—that’s it.”

“Ugh.” She lets out a strangled cry. “You’re impossible. And in that way, I can honestly say you’re exactly like your sister. And yes, I’m a Briggs’ girl. Bachelor’s in business just like your not-so-sweet little sis.” She gives a sly wink as if we were both in on this joke, and my stomach sours. The last thing I want to know is some salty truths about my sister. As far as I’m concerned, yes, she is my sweet little sis. “I graduated cum laude.” She shrugs as if it weren’t good enough. “Raven went on to do her graduate work. It only took a year, and she begged me to join her, but no—” she rolls her eyes as she exaggerates the word—“I didn’t see what an extra degree would get me, so I opted to get right out into the real world. And five years later, I’m an unemployed window salesman’s secretary while Raven globetrots around the world with an army of half-naked men who could qualify to form their own boy band. And yet, life in all its ironic glory has landed me homeless and eating out of the merciful hand of her family.” She knocks back half of her lemonade, and I’m guessing she’s wishing it was something far stronger.

“It’s not all that bad. I’ve just officially hired you as the new head waitress of The Sloppy Pelican.”

Her pretty pink lips part with surprise. “Head waitress? Is that a thing?”

“It is now.”

She smacks me over the arm. “So, tell me Boobear. What sparked this lawyer seated before me to turn into a restaurateur?”

“Would you believe me if I told you time and money?”

“Time and money rule the world. Why wouldn’t I believe you? Unless, of course, you don’t mean it in the traditional sense.” She pushes her salad forward, signifying she’s through with it, and yet it hardly looks as if she put a dent into it. Food waste is something I’m always looking to correct. Most all of the patrons end up taking more than half their plate home, which I’m hoping is a good thing. Bang for the buck. That has been my battle cry with this place while it was still in conception.

“You are a smart cookie because, no, I don’t mean in the traditional sense. I wanted something that would eat up all my time and something that wouldn’t necessarily make me all that much money—at least not in the beginning. But I’m ready for that to change now.”

“Do tell.” She pulls my plate over and points to it as if asking for permission and I’m quick to nod.

“Go for it.” I think on it for a minute. “After the mess my marriage turned into, I couldn’t think straight, let alone work on cases twenty-four seven. I needed a change. I was busting my ass at Collins and Associates. It’s Axel’s father’s firm. Axel is the one who called the cops on you that night, so technically, it’s him you need to seek your apology from.” I give a quick wink. There. I outted Axel after all. I couldn’t help it, though. There’s something about this girl that could wrangle every username and password out of me if she wanted. “I wasn’t chasing dollars. I didn’t have a prenup with Meredith, and I didn’t know what she’d want out of the divorce—but it’s been amicable so far and should crash to a conclusion in a few weeks. So after that, I’m up for earning copious amounts of tender green government-issued funds.” I give a shit-eating grin at the thought.

“So this whole Sloppy Pelican thing is more or less your way of reinventing yourself. Me likes.” She gives a silent applause. “Are you open to suggestions? Because I happen to be a world-class foodie on top of being a world-class know-it-all. But I’m wise enough to keep my opinions to myself unless otherwise solicited.”

“I’m all ears.” I fold my hands and bounce them over the table. A smug smile takes over because I happen to know the menu at The Pelican is ironclad. Axel, Brody, and I went over it, studied it—hell, we all but married it. It’s perfect. I’d be curious to know what area she thinks could use improvement.

“First?” She holds up her lemonade and shakes her head. “You’ve got a great base here, not too sweet, not too sour—but really? Just lemonade? A place like this isn’t exactly reinventing the wheel. There is one other bar-slash-eatery in town, and it’s called the Black Bear Saloon. Judging by the average-at-best menu options at play, I’d venture to say they’re eating your lunch. Literally.” My brows peak because that was the last thing I expected to hear, and come to think of it, she’s probably right. Average. I’ve always hated that word. “The thing you’ve got going for you is the fact you’re not across the street from a major university. The last time I went to the Black Bear I was accosted ten times by frat boys while on the way back to my seat from the restroom.” She gives a quick visual sweep of the clientele. “And judging by your demographics, my odds are better of being offered a solid insurance premium or in the least being handed a pamphlet by some over enthusiastic AARP member.”

My stomach takes a nosedive. “Why the hell did you have to drag the AARP into this?” I slump in my seat because I’m suddenly eating shit pie twice in one day.

“Don’t despair, Boobear. Your vibe is good. I like the whole rustic old mine feel. Love the fact all the drinks are delivered in Mason jars, and the reclaimed wood you lined the walls with must have set you back a couple dozen rolls of nickels.”

My chest pumps with a silent laugh because it set me back fifty grand.

“But outside of the location there’s not much to differentiate yourself from the Black Bear. I think you should capitalize off the fact you’re catering to graduates—adults with sophisticated palates. All the fun of the Black Bear sans the annoying frat boys and sorority sluts—excuse my language.” Her lips purse and for a second it looks as if she’s blowing me a kiss, and every last part of me wishes she were.

“I like where you’re going with this.” But I can’t help but frown because I really thought we nailed it when it came to this place. I don’t like being wrong. Although this doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been wrong regarding just about everything this past year alone. “Anything else?” I’m not sure why I asked. But Low looks as if she’s about to burst like a piñata.

“God, yes.” She leans as if she’s been dying to spew this news for years. “The Black Bear has a live band, and you’re still spinning records. No offense, but you’re streaming a public radio station that I can pick up in my car. The last thing I want is to leave my beat-up Honda and head inside to a premier dining establishment for what I’m hoping will be an out-of-the-ordinary experience—and it will be when I’m through with this place—just to hear the same crappy station I had blasting through my crappy speakers.” Something about the way she says it makes me crave her ten times more than I was when I saw her in that dress this morning. “Not to mention the fact that commercials touting the best qualities of the mattress factories’ latest and greatest offering do not a delicious mood make. You need to woo your guests. Sure, you got them through the door, but will they come back? Face it, you can get average food and average service just about anywhere these days. What you need is superior food and superior service.” She claps her hands just once, and my heart thumps because I can feel it coming. “That’s where I come in, my friend.” And I was right. “That brings us back to this.” She holds up her lemonade. “You need to add at least three more flavors before you open tomorrow, or I fear for the longevity of your establishment. Strawberry lemonade is a no-brainer. We can start there.” She strums her hot pink nails over the table. “And…lavender lemonade!” She points a finger at me and pretends to shoot. “We’ll stick a sprig of fresh lavender in one of these puppies, and the flavors will combust with beauty. Oh! And wild honey lemonade. There you go. Just like that, you have three brand new unique flavors. We’re taking it all to the next level, from the lemonade to the music. I want house band auditions starting this weekend. The Black Bear had the patrons participate in the final decision, and I think you should do the same. Nothing as wild and riotous as the 12 Deadly Sins like they have at the Black Bear. They’re great and all, but they scream university pub material. You’ll need someone versatile who can throw in a few cover tunes once in a while. People love to sing along.”

A shadow covers me from behind, and I turn to find Axel smiling down at the two of us.

“Anything else you’d like today?” He comes shy of winking as if this entire meal was a farce.

Low takes a moment to scowl at him. “I recognize you.”

I don’t waste any time with the introductions. “Low, this is Axel. Axel, get your apology ready.”

Ax ticks his head back a notch. He’s casual today, not the requisite monkey suit he lives in during the week. And yes, he’s working a shift because one of the girls called in.

He openly scowls at her. “You were impersonating a food critic—one I happen to know personally.”

Her mouth opens wide. “You’re not the reason she dove out of this place, are you? She’s psychotic by the way. In my opinion, it should have been you running. And seeing that the circumstances are as such, don’t bother with the apology. You should be thanking me that I took her place.”

He frowns at the thought. Ax doesn’t run from women. He runs to women. He’s been sort of a player ever since law school, and years later nothing much has changed.

“I’m sorry I had you arrested, considering the fact Raven sent you, from what I understand. But I could never thank you for taking Lex’s place.” He waves his notepad at us. “Coffee or cake for dessert?”

“Coffee or cake?” Low practically chokes on the meager variety of confections. Shit. She’s right. “Are you kidding me? I mean, you do have a dessert menu, right?”

Axel and I exchange a brief glance.

“No.” There. I may not be proud, but at least I can admit it.

“God.” Her head tips back as she closes those beautiful kaleidoscope eyes. “You need far more help than I ever thought.” She snatches the notepad and pen from Axel’s hand. “I’ll need something bigger, but this will do for now.” She whips open a menu and shakes her head while perusing the offerings. “What is this? A lunch menu at a middle school cafeteria? This is carnival food for cripes’ sake. Give me two days and I’ll give you the culinary world.”

“We have a budget,” Axel protests.

“No, we don’t.” I’m quick to justify her passion, and Low looks up for a moment with an unspoken level of gratitude.

“In that case, let’s hope the numbers dance in the right direction.” Axel takes off, but I keep my gaze trained on this vision in red before me.

“How about I let you live with me rent-free in exchange for your consulting skills?”

Her brows arch. “And?” She flicks a finger at me as if she could hear the next proposal crawling up my throat and she can.

“And for your services as Evie Slater, my new girlfriend?”

“That’s a little better.” She leans in with her cleavage bustling out of her dress. “First, we’re going to make sure the patrons of The Sloppy Pelican are eating only the finest fare. And then we’re going to make sure Meredith and Chip are eating their hearts out. You, my friend, are about to have an entire overhaul of your existence.”

“An overhaul of my existence,” I repeat absentmindedly, still lost in the spell of those perky pink lips. “That sounds exactly like something I’m in need of.”

My gut pinches because a primal part of me very much wants Low as well.