Molly

Jason Ralston is leaning in my office doorway later that morning, arms crossed, worry written all over his face. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Oh, hey.” I save my spreadsheet, close the program, and stand, wiping my hands on my jeans. “You got my message, I take it.”

He studies me. “I decided I’d rather talk in person. I hope you don’t mind.”

I nod. He’s right. Better to do this face to face. “I feel awful about Saturday.”

He drags a hand over his face. “You and me both,” he murmurs, stepping into my office. That’s when I see it. The bruise around his left eye. From Brayden’s right hook.

“Oh, no. Look at you. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I owe you the apology. I typically read situations better than that, and I read you all wrong.” He searches my face. “I promise I’m not some brute who forces himself on women.”

“No. Of course you’re not.” I walk toward him, my shoulders tense. “When I dove out of the car like that, it wasn’t because of you or anything you’d done.”

Swallowing, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. I nearly pull away from the intimacy of the gesture, but the vulnerability in his eyes keeps me still. A bolt of regret slices through me. “Then what was it?”

“Things were just moving too fast, and I . . .” I glance over his shoulder and realize we have an audience.

Austin is lounging against the wall between Brayden’s office and mine, toying with his phone. I take Jason’s hand and gently urge him farther inside so I can close the door. When it clicks closed behind him, I say, “I panicked.”

“I’m sorry. About moving too fast. I shouldn’t have . . . I mean . . .” He grimaces. “I swear I’m usually better at this.” His lips tilt into a lopsided smile. “You’re just so beautiful, and I’m scared I screwed up my chance by moving too fast. Frankly, I was relieved when I got your message that you wanted to talk.”

His chance? I step back, just out of his reach. “I like you, Jason. You seem like a really nice guy, and I’m sorry if Saturday night gave you the wrong idea. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Oh?”

“I have a four-year-old son.” I wait for him to withdraw. Mention of a kid does the trick most of the time.

He turns up his palms. “So you’re not allowed to date?”

“Dating is negotiable, but I’m not interested in a relationship that would lead to a meet-the-kid moment. Not yet, at least.” I shrug. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t like you or that I wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you, but my son is my priority.”

“You’re sure this isn’t about Brayden?”

I blink. “No. Not at all.” Why would he think that? “He’s my boss and my friend.”

He arches a brow. “I heard you moved in with him.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “He offered Noah and me a place to stay temporarily. But it’s a completely platonic arrangement.” He just gives me massages, offers to get me off any time I want, and lets me sleep in his bed. Maybe we’re not dating, but I’d definitely categorize our relationship as complicated. “We aren’t involved romantically.”

He grunts. “Does Brayden know that?”

“Saturday wasn’t about him.” The words slip out before I recognize them for what they are: a lie. Saturday was too much about Brayden. My mood. The tequila. Trying to lose myself in Jason. It was about my past and my identity, and how I’ll never be the kind of woman I’d need to be to belong with Brayden Jackson. It was about hearing from his own mouth that he thinks I’m broken. Even knowing he didn’t quite mean what I first thought doesn’t change how much that word hurt. Broken. I shake my head. I don’t want a relationship anyway—not with anyone, and especially not with my boss. So why does it hurt so damn much to know I can’t have it? “Brayden is just a friend. He can be protective, but there’s nothing more between us.”

“Does that mean you’ll go out with me this weekend? Casual. No expectations.” He smiles slowly and gives me a once-over that should make my toes curl. Instead, it makes me think of Brayden and the way he watches me at home when he thinks I don’t notice. The way he sets my body on fire. The way it shouldn’t.

Maybe that’s why I say, “My son’s staying with his nana tomorrow night.”

He grins. “It’s a date.”

Brayden

The giggly blonde picks up the darkest beer of The Jackson 5 flight and swishes it in the glass. “So this one’s the IPA?”

I try not to wince, but it’s the third time I’ve been through the list—which is also written on the board in front of the glasses. “That’s the porter.” I’ve been stuck at this table with three giggling college girls for ten minutes, and while I don’t mind answering questions about our beers, I get the distinct impression they’re all playing the ditz to keep my attention. Does that actually work? Are there guys out there who prefer women who hide their brains?

She tosses her hair and dips her chin so she can look at me through her long lashes. “How do you know so much about beer?”

I clear my throat and try not to sound like a dick when I say, “It’s my job.”

Behind the bar, I catch Levi biting back a laugh, but the asshole doesn’t do a damn thing to save me from these handsy girls who pulled me over the second I walked out of the back.

Her two friends lean closer, and one says, “You’re, like, so smart.”

“Older guys are so sexy,” the brunette says.

Ouch. I try not to wince. I don’t think of myself as the older guy, but compared to a bunch of college girls, I guess I am. Hell, compared to Molly, I kind of am.

She fell asleep in my bed last night, drifted off as I rubbed the knots out of her tight muscles. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up. I know she doesn’t sleep enough, so I pulled the blankets over her and went to the guest bathroom to take a hot shower. I closed my eyes under the spray and let myself think about her as I took my cock in my hand. I thought about the heat in her eyes when I told her I’d be happy to get her off. Thought about the way her breath hitched as I toyed with the sensitive spots on her hand. But as my orgasm came closer and I gripped myself harder, my mind slid to the night in my hotel room when her body was mine to explore and my ears filled with the soft moans slipping from those perfect pink lips.

The release in the shower didn’t feel like much of a release, not with the knowledge that she was still in my bed. Between thoughts of her and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, it took me longer than usual to fall asleep.

“What are you doing tonight?” the brunette says, pulling my thoughts away from Molly—not that they’ve strayed far from her all day. “Maybe you should come to our place.”

“We’re roommates,” the other two say in giggling unison. All three girls lean in.

Behind the bar, Levi bites his knuckle. I can practically feel Shay’s eyes burning holes through my back from down the bar. And I know Carter and Jake are around here somewhere too. We just wrapped up a board meeting to discuss potential investors for the new bottling plant. I’m not counting on Ralston coming back around—I’m not sure if I even want him to.

I’d rather my siblings not witness my pathetic attempts to let these girls down gently. I’m going to take so much shit for this later. “I’m sorry, ladies. I’m busy.”

“Brayden?”

I turn from the trio and have to blink when I see the blonde standing three feet behind me. The worried pucker between her whiskey eyes, the dimple in her right cheek. It’s like looking at a picture from my past.

“Hi,” she whispers.

I blink again, then shake my head and half expect her to disappear entirely. But she’s still standing there, as real as anything after ten years.

I consider my ability to prepare for the unexpected one of my biggest strengths. I always have a plan B and keep my cool when things don’t go as expected—because nine times out of ten, they don’t.

But I wasn’t prepared for this. Sara was nowhere on my radar for tonight or any night, and the whole world slides out from beneath my feet as I take in the woman in front of me.

“Are you going to say anything?” she asks.

I open my mouth then close it again, unsure there are any words for what I’m feeling right now.

Good to see you?

Where the hell have you been?

Do you know how badly you fucked me up?

“You always said you were going to open this place.” She tugs on a lock of hair—an old nervous habit I remember well—and looks around. “It looks like your dreams are coming true.”

I’m vaguely aware of someone coming to stand at my side. When I force myself to pull my gaze off Sara, I see Shay standing next to me. She looks down her nose at Sara with a curl of her lip that tells me she’s biting back the instinct to pick her up and toss her into the snow.

“Hey, Shay.”

Shay’s eyes are cold. “What are you doing here?” Maybe I should be glad she’s asking the questions I can’t seem to get out, but I’m not. I wish we weren’t here at all. I wish I could deal with this—with Sara—alone, somewhere there aren’t dozens of people shamelessly eavesdropping.

Sara has the good sense to lower her eyes. “This is a bad time. I should have . . .” Her gaze flicks to the door before coming back to me. “Can we talk?”

“He’s busy,” Shay says, my little sister acting like my fucking bodyguard. Fantastic.

I shoot her a look that tells her to back off. Shay rolls her eyes but walks away to give us space.

“Not right now, of course,” Sara says. “I know you probably need . . . to think about it. But can we? Maybe have dinner next week or something?” She fishes a business card from her purse and hands it to me. “I have a new number.”

I grunt. No shit.

“You don’t have to decide now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see my face again, but I would really like the chance to talk.” She swallows. “To explain.”

Molly

Shay rushes into my office, wide-eyed and flushed. “We have a situation up front.”

“What kind of situation?” Jake asks, already standing to jump in. I was wrapping up for the day when Jake and Ava stopped by my office to say hi.

Shay shakes her head. “Not with the bar. Sara Jeffers is here. For Brayden.”

That name means nothing to me, but judging by the way Jake’s jaw drops, I’m guessing she’s someone from their past. From Brayden’s past.

Ava frowns. “The Sara?”

Sometimes I forget that Ava’s been an honorary Jackson since she was a kid. She grew up next door to them and knows the ins and outs of their family history like her own. “Does someone want to fill me in?” I ask.

“Sara is Brayden’s ex,” Jake says softly.

I frown, and a memory clicks into place. The night Brayden came to New York, his bartender friend said something about him getting over Sara. “So his ex-girlfriend is here. Why are you all acting like someone died?” I don’t mean to be insensitive. I’m sure it might be awkward for him to see her again, but Brayden’s an adult. Surely a gorgeous, successful guy like him has plenty of ex-girlfriends.

Shay, Jake, and Ava all exchange a long look that tells me there’s so much more to the story than the Jackson siblings are telling.

Shay folds her arms, then turns to me. “Molly, wanna do me a favor and head to the taproom?”

Ava’s grin is a little evil. “Oh, I like where you’re going with this, Shay.”