Molly

Usually, I’m a beer girl. Not that mass-produced tasteless stuff. God no. I work for Jackson Brews, and drinking any beer with the word “Lite” in its name would probably get me fired or shunned at the very least. No. I love beer like I love art—complex, effortful, rich, and layered. Porters, barrel-aged stouts, saisons with a fruity back end.

But tonight, I skipped the beer and went straight for the tequila. One shot upon arriving at the Jackson Brews employee Christmas party, and another shot every time I thought about Brayden Jackson wishing he never hired me. Calling me broken.

I’m on shot number five . . . a shot for every hour that’s passed since I heard him say those words.

I nudge my empty shot glass toward the bartender. She’s a server from Howell’s, but the Jacksons brought her on for tonight so none of their staff would have to work the Christmas party—an event that’s a work gathering for half of us and family reunion for the other half.

“I can’t.” The peppy bartender bites her lip as she looks to someone standing behind me. She brings her gaze back to meet mine. “You’ve been cut off.”

I turn around to see who she was looking at and spot Brayden. He’s cut me off, and he’s watching me with the same worried look he’s been subjecting me to since I walked in the door and started tossing them back.

He saunters toward me, giving Kitty a nod that sends her scurrying to help someone on the opposite end of the bar. “You okay?”

The worry in his eyes, and his words—God help me. The tequila surges in my stomach. Poor Molly. I’d rather face the sneers of a hundred mean girls than be pitied. I thought I earned this position, even if it was initially given as a favor, but Brayden still sees it as a pity job for a broken girl. “I’m fine, so you can stop looking at me like that.”

“You’ve been avoiding me all night.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been celebrating.” I force a smile. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To celebrate another great year for Jackson Brews?”

He looks into my eyes for so long that I want to turn away from him or, at the very least squirm, but I’m too stubborn, and I only lift my chin.

“If seeing me cut loose makes you uncomfortable, I’ll go home. Just say the word.”

“Did everything go okay at the banquet center today?”

I grunt and catch myself reaching for my empty shot glass. “Surprisingly well, considering.” Considering you never wanted to hire me. Considering you regret the decision.

He frowns. “Considering what?”

“Don’t you have employees you need to schmooze with or something? Or maybe new hires to sweet-talk into your bed?” It’s a low blow, and I regret it the minute the words pass my lips.

Something flashes in his eyes. “You’re a mean drunk, Molly.”

When he walks away, I keep my ass glued to my barstool instead of running after him like I want to. Hell, he saved my ass when he hired me, so I should be grateful, pity or no.

A man lowers himself onto the barstool beside me. He’s built and tall—maybe not as much as Brayden on either count, but impressive nonetheless. His light brown hair slides over one eye, and when he brushes it back, I can’t help but notice the size of his hands. Big hands. Nice hands. Brayden has nice hands too—big and a little rough.

Don’t think about Brayden. He doesn’t want you. Not even as an employee. You’re broken.

So I throw all my energy into focusing on this new, very attractive man beside me as he studies the tap list on the chalkboard.

“What’s good?” he asks, not looking at me.

“That depends.” I like to think that my words can pass for husky and not drunken and slurred. “What do you like?”

“Blondes,” he says before tearing his gaze off the menu and turning to me. I arch a brow, and he laughs, grimacing only slightly when I flip my hair. “I mean, blonde beers, but, well, also . . .” Damn. Is that a blush creeping up his neck? “Yeah.” He extends a hand. “My name’s Jason, and I swear I’m not typically so awkward.”

I take his hand. Big. Warm. Softer than Brayden’s, but—

I cut off that train of thought before it can go any further. It’s been seven months since my ill-advised night with my boss, and I still can’t stop comparing guys to him. One night with his hands and mouth, and my body decided he was the gold standard by which all other men should be measured. So irritating.

“I’m Molly,” I say softly.

“You’re the one managing the banquet center,” Jason says, a smile curling his lips.

“That’s me. And what about you? A sales manager?” I ask. It’s a reasonable guess, since this is an employee party. There are sales managers all over the country though.

“I’m . . . not exactly on the payroll.” He grins and waves to the taps behind the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar,” I say, not willing to admit that he couldn’t even if I wanted him to. Because my boss thinks he needs to babysit me.

He grimaces and shakes his head. “Right. Sorry.” Then that grin again.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m tracking Brayden across the room. I hurt his feelings with my jab about seducing new employees. I should apologize. Or thank him for putting up with me despite my brokenness. Or maybe I should just go home before I do something stupid. Or, worse, someone.

“You’re from Jackson Harbor, aren’t you?” Jason asks. “Where have you been?”

I do my best to lock up the tangle of emotions that flood me every time I think of Brayden telling his brother he regrets hiring me, pull my attention back to the man in front of me, and smile widely. “I’ve lived in New York for the last eight years. What about you?”

Brayden

Molly is dancing with Jason Ralston. They’re dancing together in the middle of my bar like this is some dance club and not a fucking brewpub. She has her arms wrapped behind his neck and is laughing as if he’s the funniest guy she’s ever met. Fucking fantastic.

I’m trying not to glare, but it’s hard not to be irritated. She’s avoided me since she walked in the door, but Jason fucking Ralston makes her light up like that?

Carter smacks me between the shoulder blades. “You’re staring, brother.”

I tear my gaze off Molly. Off her long legs, exposed in that short red dress. Off her hips, swaying to the music. Off the grin she’s been giving Jason. I thought she was just busy when she avoided me at work earlier, but she barely spared me a hello when she got here tonight, and then upped the stakes when she went for the tequila.

I’ve been keeping one eye on her all night, but maybe a little more since Jason arrived. I thought I was being inconspicuous. Apparently not.

“They seem to be hitting it off, huh?” Carter asks, frowning toward Molly and Jason.

“Seems like it.” I shake my head and give my attention to the rest of our guests. We do a Jackson Brews Christmas party every year. We shut down the bar and eat a big meal, give everyone gifts for another year of service, drink, and party. It’s never been my thing, but I was excited about it this year. Now I’m not sure why. Did I think Molly and I would hang out tonight? That she’d change her tune and suddenly start looking at me like that?

Jason whispers something to Molly before heading toward the restroom.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Carter. My brother sets his mouth in a thin line and tilts his head. His expression says, “Don’t do anything stupid,” but he’s wise enough not to say it out loud.

I’m not about to be the creep who follows a guy to the urinal, so I wait in the hall for Jason’s return. He lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees me, and meanwhile, it’s all I can do not to scowl. “Brayden!”

I take his outstretched hand and shake it hard. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Happy to, man. Happy to.”

I take a breath. This is awkward, but I’m not about to keep my mouth shut when I see the way he looks at Molly and I know how much she’s been drinking. “You met Molly?”

“Yeah. Christ, she’s fantastic, isn’t she? She’s going to be great over at the other facility. I just know it.”

Sure. Act like you’ve been feeling her out for business reasons. “I agree,” I say stiffly.

Jason tilts his head. “But you didn’t corner me back here because you wanted to talk to me about her work ethic,” he says. “You two are . . . involved?”

I cough. Shit. “No. Not at all. We’re . . . friends.” I might hate that word.

His shoulders sag. “Well, that’s good, because she can’t take her eyes off me.”

My hands flex into fists. “About that . . . She’s had a bad day.” I don’t have any idea what would have made her reach for the tequila tonight, but this isn’t normal behavior for her. Something’s wrong.

His eyes narrow. “Shit. What happened?”

I don’t know. She won’t talk to me. “It doesn’t matter. My point is that she’s not herself tonight. Don’t . . .” Don’t fucking touch her? Yeah, I’m pretty sure Molly would cut off my balls if I overstepped to that extreme. “If you two are going to start something, tonight might not be the time.”

Jason tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’ve never been a patient man.”

“She’s drunk.” My unspoken asshole hangs in the air between us. Jason’s not stupid. I’m sure he can see it in my eyes.

He smacks me on the shoulder. “I’m sure she appreciates you looking out for her. Like a big brother, right? No worries, Bray.”

Bray. I fucking hate that. Only douchebags who think their money entitles them to the world call me Bray. But there’s nothing else I can say. I warned him. I made my concern clear. Now all I can do is hope that he’ll listen or that Molly’s sobered up enough that she won’t make any decisions she’ll regret tomorrow.

When I return to the party, Molly and Jason are back at the bar, and she’s drinking—no, chugging—Jason’s beer. That’s the last thing she needs, but if I interfere, Jason will think I’m trying to come between them.

Carter’s watching them too, and he frowns at me. “I know we need that fuckboy to invest in the new bottling facility, but I hope that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

“Is this the singles corner?” Shay pushes to stand between me and Carter.

Carter sighs. “It appears so.”

“Am I a bad sister for hating them a little?” she asks.

I follow her gaze to Jake and Ava. It appears they took the lead from Molly and Jason, because they’ve abandoned their game of pool to dance. Jake’s hands are all over his wife, from her hips to her softly rounded belly.

“That’s not hatred,” Carter says, smiling at the two of them. “That’s jealousy.”

“They’re just perfect together,” Shay says. “I’ll never, ever find that. But after growing up and seeing Mom and Dad love each other so unconditionally, I can’t bring myself to settle for less.”

“Nor should you,” Carter says softly.

I catch a flash of blond hair and turn my head just in time to see Molly tugging Jason into the kitchen behind her. “Where the hell are they going?” I mutter.

Shay squeezes my shoulder in silent sympathy. If I wanted to hide my feelings for Molly from my family, I’ve done a piss-poor job of it. “I didn’t realize they knew each other.”

“Who says they do?” Carter asks.

“Has Ralston decided if he’s going to buy in?” Shay asks.

I shrug, unable to say more when my thoughts are on what Molly is doing with him in the kitchen.

“You can leave,” Carter says. “You’ve done your duty as Mr. Bossman, and Shay and I can take it from here.”

I flash my brother a grateful look. If I stay, I risk barging into that kitchen and pulling Jason off Molly. I want to keep her from doing something she’ll regret tomorrow, but I know it’ll come off like I’m some overprotective father—the last thing I want to be to her. “I think I will.”

Sliding my hand into my pocket, I palm my keys and eye the door to the kitchen. I’m parked in the back, but I’m self-aware enough to know passing Molly and Jason on my way out is a terrible idea.

Shay seems to read my thoughts. “Maybe go around front.”

“Good call.”

She bumps her shoulder against mine and smiles. “See you in the morning for the big move.”

I meet Carter’s eyes. “Make sure she doesn’t try to drive home.”

He nods. “Of course.”