He’d kissed her on the cheek, and she knew the restraint was because of where they were, of who owned the place. It was like Big Brother was watching—if Big Brother happened to be a brewmaster who didn’t look kindly on people making out in his office. They’d exchanged numbers, and that was that. It would probably be another ten years before she saw him again. By then she could introduce him to her cats.
“Shit!” she heard Annie yell, bringing her back to the present.
“Whoops!” Holly added, then knocked into Brynn, launching her forward where she’d soon face-plant on the wooden stairs leading to the upper deck. But strong arms wrapped around her torso from the side, and she recognized the familiar scent of a cologne-free Jamie.
“Whoa there, Sleepy Jean. Don’t want you ruining two years of perfect yet unpleasant orthodontic care.”
She stiffened in his arms but didn’t pull away. Because it was Jamie. Yet here they were—touching and at the same time miles apart. She waited until he loosened his grip, then righted herself.
“Sorry!” Annie blurted, running in behind Holly. “I tripped, knocked into Holly and, you know—domino effect. That’s the first time I’ve seen it play out in real life, and I gotta say, the phrasing is spot on!”
Holly giggled but brushed past her and Jamie to their usual table in back by the pool tables. Annie followed, leaving Brynn to straighten and dust herself off before turning to meet Jamie face-to-face.
His hair was still damp, which explained the freshly showered scent, but he hadn’t shaved. Instinct took over, and she ran her palm over his jaw. Jamie sucked in a breath, and she immediately pulled away. She wanted to tell him that she loved this look on him, when he let the shaving go for a day or two or seven, but it all seemed wrong now—noticing things like this. And after last night, saying anything to that effect felt like crossing a new boundary they’d both drawn.
“I don’t always need you to catch me, you know,” she said, defenses kicking in once again.
Jamie pressed his lips into a thin line, exhaling through his nose.
“Guess that’s just for Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, then?”
On any other day this would have been Jamie making a joke. He and Brynn would have both laughed. But he wasn’t even smiling. No, he was just reminding her that he was right and she was wrong. She’d needed saving last night and again this morning. Fine. That much was true. But as a general rule, Brynn Chandler did not need saving, and certainly not by Jamie.
“Let’s just get this over with, okay?” she said, making a move to step past him. She spoke without malice, only exhaustion. She just didn’t have it in her to do this right now.
Jamie opened his mouth to say something, so she hesitated. Maybe he had the solution, the correct thing to say to get them past this part. But when his eyes met hers, holding her there for a second longer, he simply closed his mouth and took a step back, giving her easy passage to the back of the bar.
…
Safety lay behind the bar, so that’s where Jamie stayed. He sighed. The best brew for the drink was the one he hadn’t added to his tap yet, one he hadn’t even let Brynn taste, even though her palate would be the deciding one. His version of a witbier, the answer to Brynn’s love of Blue Moon, was bottled and ready to go to Beer Fest in L.A.—if Jamie decided to make the trip. Which he still hadn’t.
Jamie mixed a pitcher that was equal parts witbier and fresh-squeezed orange juice, the beermosa. He poured a small amount into a pint to taste, then gave his head a shake. Good, but sweet. Too sweet for him. In a lone pilsner glass, he made himself a Red Eye—tomato juice and ale with a splash of hot sauce. Sure, it put extra hair on your chest and balls, but on a morning like this, it also gave him something to focus on other than last night.
“What’s the holdup, big guy?” Annie hopped onto a stool opposite him.
He took another sip, then let out a long breath.
“It’s probably better if I just hang here and play bartender.”
Annie pressed her lips together in a pout.
“I want your side of the story, now,” she said. “Brynn told me what she could, but her arms were kind of flailing as she spoke, and I was more concentrated on not losing an eye than I was on the story.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the visual. He knew Brynn’s unrestrained body language all too well. His hand instinctively went to his chin, the tips of his fingers brushing the small scar.
“I went to the hospital to break up with Liz,” he said. Annie’s jaw dropped, and Jamie nodded. “That’s the only reason I left, and by the time I got back?” He shrugged. “It’s my own fucking fault,” he added. “I’ve kept her at arm’s length this whole time, and it’s not like she knew I was heading back here to tell her I’ve been in love with her since I was seventeen.”
Annie sighed. “I can picture it, you know? How it should have gone—you storming back into the party, walking right up to her and scooping her into your arms like An Officer and A Gentleman.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was going to go a little more When Harry Met Sally, but yeah, something like that.”