That was one of the last lucid conversations we'd shared, and it'd left me carrying a burden of unimaginable weight while those good, decent Talbott's Covians kept peppering me with their questions and concerns and prayers. So many prayers. Sooner or later, those prayers were bound to kick in. Right?
JJ shot a glimpse in my direction before testing the keg. "I was beginning to think you and Annette were joined at the hip."
"We would be if Jackson didn't mind me sleeping with them." I shrugged. "Strange as it is, he draws the line there."
JJ stepped away from the keg and turned to face me, his hands fisted on his hips. "What do you want, Brooke?"
"As I mentioned, some wine would be nice."
He shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Excuse you?"
"You heard me," he replied. We stared at each other until Nate returned from the back room and crossed between us. To the other man, he said, "I'm going to check on the small batches. Work on hustling Lincoln out of here before his wife comes looking for him. I'm not interested in staging any more domestic disputes."
"Amen to that," Nate muttered.
JJ spared me a glance that came across as one part irritation, one part impatience, and one last part interest. I could work with the aggregate. "Drink your wine and go home, Brooke."
He set a glass in front of me before turning on his heel and marching into the storeroom. Nate and I stared at the door swinging shut behind JJ. "Put this on my tab," I said.
Nate tucked a dishrag into his back pocket. "You don't have a tab, Miss Markham. Boss's orders."
"Your boss is needlessly rude." I slipped off the stool, yanked a twenty out of my bra and dropped it on the bar. He eyed the cash as if it was contaminated with boob sweat, which it was. "I need to have a talk with that boss of yours." I paused at the door to the back room, my palm flat on the slab. "Do me a favor, Fitzsimmons. Stay out here, even if you hear yelling and glass breaking and all kinds of mayhem."
He glanced at the cash again. "Is that supposed to cover mayhem?"
"It is if you interrupt." I didn't wait for him to respond, instead pushing into the dim room. The last time I'd visited, I'd missed the entire chemistry lab setup back here. There were tanks and beakers and devices I couldn't name. A floor-to-ceiling rack stood off to the side with a dozen rows of glass bottles, each bearing a scribbled label. "What the hell is all this?"
I heard an exasperated sigh before setting eyes on JJ. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled as if he could warn me off with an angry pose and some bared teeth. He had the audacity to do all that while also wearing million-year-old jeans, a button-up with sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a goddamn tweed vest. He was so fucking grouchy and it made me want to push at him, poke and scratch that mood. I wanted to antagonize him until he pushed and poked and scratched right back. Until he snapped.
"Jesus Christ, Brooke, what do you want?"
I circled his work table, dragging my fingertips over the surface as I went. "Did you order that vest from the Bartenders of Brooklyn catalog?" I moved behind him, my fingers ghosting over his shoulders and earning me some major side-eye as I went. "It looks very official. I mean, Brooklyn as fuck, but also official."
He hooked his hand around the waist of my jeans as I passed him, jerked my body flush against his. "Admit it," he ordered, his teeth pressed to my neck and his palm low on my backside.More of that, please. More more more."Admit you lied."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I replied. "I'm also sure you have no business questioning my integrity."
His fingers followed the seam of my jeans down, between my legs.More."You said never again, sweetheart, but look at you." His other hand slipped under my sweater, his knuckles brushing the underside of my breasts. "Admit it. You came out to play, didn't you?"
A fractional piece of me wanted to say yes, to surrender. To get what I needed. But the rest of me knew better than to surrender to any man. "Just as soon as you explain why your mermaid is carrying wheat and berries."
"My fucking what?" he growled into my hair.
"Your sign, Jed. You have a mermaid on your sign and she's holding wheat and berries, and I shouldn't have to explain to you that neither grow close enough to the coast for mermaids to be in possession of either."
"Mmhmm." He palmed my ass and boosted me up onto the table. "You came here to argue about the plausibility of mermaids getting their hands on some fruit? That's what you want, Bam?"
I raked my hands down his tweed vest, laced my legs around his waist. "I'd like your signage to make sense, even if it is promulgating misogynistic mythology."
He planted his hands on the table, caging me in his arms. "I'll give you a fight if that's what you want. Just tell me, sweetheart."
I met his gaze, tipped my chin up. "Admit your sign—the one with the outrageously voluptuous mermaid—is inaccurate and illogical."
He bowed his head and bit the side of my breast through my sweater. "Meet me at my place in half an hour and we'll talk about the right kind of voluptuous."
"Are you mocking me?" I shoved him away from the sweater covering my barely B-cup breasts. "No amount of dick is worth dealing with a dickhead."
