“I’m not staring.” He totally was.
“Okay. Maybe we need to look at referring you to some sort of programme where they teach you how not to be a dick. Do you want another beer?”
“I’d love another beer, but I’ll get these.” Jake ignored the first part of what Alex had said and stood up, also ignoring Alex’s offer to go and buy the round, which had nothing to do with his generosity and everything to do with him trying to stop an explosion at the bar.
Jake had no problem with explosions.
He decided to go directly to where Lainey was standing, ignoring the empty space a few feet further down. Nothing like poking the beast.
“Bit dressed up for a Tuesday night in a small-town bar.” He put his wallet on the polished wooden top that was one of Scott’s pride and joys. “Unless you’re trying to impress the distillery owners.” He nodded towards Gran and her coven.
Gran was giving a speech about the correct use of angelica versus juniper in gin to a captive audience. A table laid out with samples was next to her, along with a display of different coloured bottles which had labels on that Jake would advise not looking too closely at in case the cartooned model on them became recognisable.
“Well, we’re not trying to impressyou.” Lainey took a step back and looked him up and down.
Jake preened, giving her his most charming smile, the one that usually won over grandmothers and single women alike.
“Speak for yourself.” The woman with Lainey shot him her own charming smile. She looked enough like Lainey for Jake to assume that they were related in some way. “He can impress me any day.”
He heard Lainey groan.
“Have you moved here too?” He looked over Lainey’s head to speak to her friendlier companion. “I’m sorry, your friend here hasn’t told me your name.”
“Imogen.” Imogen stuck her hand out of him to shake. “I’m Lainey’s younger sister.”
“Jake Maynard. Your sister’s neighbour.”
Her face lit up in pure devilment. “She’s been talking a lot about you.”
“Really. All good I hope.”
He felt Lainey bristle rather than saw it, and he wondered if this would be his second slap of the day. He already knew she wasn’t bothered with public displays of annoyance.
“Oh, absolutely. She told me how you were her knight in shining armour earlier, when she had a flat tyre. She couldn’t give you enough praise.” Imogen sipped at the glass of wine Abby passed her. “Let me buy you a drink to say thank you. In fact, we’ll put it on Lainey’s tab.”
When Jake looked at Lainey he wasn’t entirely sure how well he could see her, through the red mist that had gathered round her.
He didn’t bother to hide the smirk. “That would be lovely. Cheers.”
“What would you like?” Lainey spoke for the first time, her voice filled with enough tension to keep a kite up high. “A beer, tequila, or maybe a cocktail?”
“Just a beer please. And one for my cousin, if that’s okay.” He leaned onto the bar, slightly encroaching in Lainey’s personal space.
She nodded, not moving. “And where would you like it? At your table? Here? Or over your head?”
“I was hoping you’d like to enjoy your drinks with us. You know, get to know some of us locals, see how we’re different from your city friends.” He could tell Abby was shaking her head from behind the bar. Alex was heading over, clearly sensing trouble.
“The offer’s appreciated, but we’ll pass.” She picked up her glass and walked away, leaving Jake standing there with her sister and Alex.
Jake watched her move, trying not to let his eyes land on her ass that looked far to firm and far too biteable to belong to someone who was obviously the fifth cousin of the devil himself. This was not what he was used to.
There had only been one woman who hadn’t ever been interested in him that he’d pursued (not that he was interested in Lainey Green, even if she did have one of the best rears he’d seen this side of the Pennines), and that woman was now married to his cousin, the same one who owned this bar.
There was a tapping of metal against glass, and the little woman who would maim anyone who called her old, brought the bar to silence.
“I know not everyone’s here tonight for the gin, which is definitely a shame, as it’s the best alcohol for your liver.” Gran hadn’t changed since he could remember. She’d always had the same silvery grey hair with strands of black running through it, and blue eyes that crinkled when she laughed. Since he was a boy, she’d worked in Severton’s Post Office, serving behind the counter, dealing with the Severton locals and tourists every day. He had no idea if there were set days off, because he couldn’t remember a time when he’d gone in there and she’d either been serving or in the room behind the counter, gossiping with Marian and Maud, women who she’d been friends with since they were at primary school, through marriages and bereavements, babies and dealing with those babies as teenagers.
Gran hadn’t changed. Not even opening a distillery had altered her manner; she was just as brusque and insightful as ever, and as usual, her eye landed on him.
