Worth the Wait (Kingston Ale House) Read online

  She pulled her phone from her bag—as well as what was left of Mrs. Abelli’s lemon pizzelle—and scrolled through the string of texts from Jeremy she’d ignored.

  Friday, one o’clock: Hey, beautiful. Just want to make sure you made it safely to Madison.

  Friday, three o’clock: Just had my second appointment with Dr. Lang. She’s a fucking genius. Feeling more like myself thanks to you two talented women.

  Saturday, noon: I’m going out of my mind not working. I don’t do the whole resting thing. Told Jamie I’m coming back tomorrow afternoon no matter how I feel. Also don’t know what to do with the fact that I miss you, Grace. This is new territory for me.

  Sunday, ten minutes ago: It’s okay, Grace. I know the other night was…a lot. I’m still your friend. I’m still here. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to do this alone.

  What was she so damned afraid of? So she had some stirrings. Feelings. Whatever they were called. But it had only been a week. How did she know if she could trust herself—if she could trust him? She wasn’t done figuring herself out yet. How could she possibly know if this was right?

  Her phone vibrated and rang in her hand, and she yelped. She regained composure before she accepted the call.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said, regretting the weary tone she let seep into the words.

  “What’s wrong, darling? I was just calling to make sure you’re coming to brunch. And that you’ll bring Mark. It’s been ages.”

  What used to be a Sunday ritual was now nothing more than a reminder of how much her life had veered off track.

  “Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I’m just tired. And I told you Mark and I broke up months ago.”

  Her stomach turned at the feel of his name on her lips. She hadn’t said it aloud in months and figured if she never did again, she’d never have to feel the betrayal or the humiliation again, either.

  “Oh, Grace. Please. You told us all over a text. Nothing can be that serious if you just send it in a text. I figured you two had a little spat, that you apologized, and all was well. Happens to me and your father all the time. I bumped into Mark at the office just last week and asked how the two of you are doing. He says you’ve been working things out. Now come on. Give that handsome young man a call and patch things up if you haven’t already. Your sister and Jeff are on their way, and I’m already sampling the mimosas.”

  Grace’s jaw clenched. Working things out? It was one thing for him to do what he did. But to keep up the charade with her parents? Why?

  Because he was junior partner in her parents’ law firm. That’s why.

  She shook her head. This wasn’t about her, at least not in the way he’d wanted her to think.

  He could spin his behavior a thousand ways to make himself come out the victim rather than the villain because he knew Grace wouldn’t say a word, not when it meant Mark exposing her father’s stint in rehab. He worked with her parents yet had threatened to ruin their reputation to save his own. Funny how a guy could go from wanting to move in with you to blackmailing you in a matter of days.

  She wanted to scream, to tell her mother everything, and for once win the argument against the woman who argued for a living. But what would be the point? According to Grace, her ties to Mark were severed months ago. There was no sense wasting energy trying to convince her mother to believe what she didn’t want to see.

  “I’m in Madison,” she said instead. “Almost three hours away.”

  A moment of silence rolled out between them. Maybe she couldn’t tell her mother everything without risking the law firm’s public reputation, but she’d have to come clean about the second job now.

  “What are you doing in Madison? Are you seeing someone else?”

  Was she? Grace wasn’t even sure how to answer that. She rolled her eyes, and her mother went on about bringing whoever the new guy was around for brunch or dinner. But Grace just let the sound of the pounding rain drown out whatever she said next.

  “It’s a thing for work, Mom,” she finally interrupted. “I gotta go, okay? I’m about to get on the road, and it’s raining. How about dinner later this week?”

  She knew she had to offer a consolation for missing an invitation.

  “How about tomorrow? We’ll come to the city and meet you.”

  Grace blew out a breath. “Sure. I’ll call you in the morning, and we can pick a spot to meet.”

  “Wonderful,” her mom said.

  Yeah. Wonderful.

  “Hey, Mom?” Grace asked before ending the call.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “Have you and Dad watched the news at all this week?”

  Her mother let out a condescending laugh.

  “Oh, please. You know your father and I deal with enough reality in our line of work. The only thing I want to do when I get home at night is curl up with Nana’s throw and watch the Hallmark Channel. It’s getting close to the holiday season, you know. They’re already starting to advertise some dreadfully cheesy-looking Christmas movies.” She laughed again. “I can’t wait!”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom. I gotta go.”

  She didn’t wait for her mom to say something else to keep her on the line. She just ended the call.

  Because she hadn’t closed out of it, her screen went back to those four unanswered texts.

  Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to do this alone.

  Did Jeremy really know what he was getting himself into, whether it was as her friend or otherwise?

  She drove in silence but for the falling rain. By the time she’d made it into the city, the Madison downpour had settled into a Chicago drizzle. She hadn’t made a conscious decision not to go straight home. But here she was, finding a parking spot just up the street from Kingston Ale House. Then she was walking toward the bar. And then there she was, shaking off her umbrella and stepping through the door.

  And there he was. Jeremy. Standing behind the bar. Across from him, swiveling back and forth on a barstool, sat Whitney Gaines. Her head was thrown back in laughter. And her hand rested comfortably on top of his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jeremy’s eyes lit up the second Grace walked through the door. After she hadn’t returned a single one of his texts, he hadn’t expected to see her tonight. And he certainly hadn’t expected her to walk in…and then walk right out.

  “Grace! Hey, wait!” he called before the door closed behind her. “Excuse me,” he said, glancing back at Whitney, and he ran out from behind the bar. He was still limping a little but moving around much better after three days of treatment. Yet he was still surprised at how much faster Grace moved. She was almost in her car by the time he reached her.

  “Grace!” he called again just as he made it close enough to reach for her shoulder.

  She spun to face him yet backed away from his touch.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s stupid. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

  He’d just realized it was raining. It was only a drizzle, but after speed-walking half a block, he was starting to feel the cold and the wet. Grace gripped the cats and dogs umbrella firmly in her hand, but it hung unopened and dripping at her side.

  “Interrupt?” he asked, and she simply groaned and opened the driver’s side door.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow or something, okay?” she said, her cheeks pink. From what? The cold? Was she upset about something? He would have asked, but she was already in the car, her door closed.

  Eyes wide, he made his way to the passenger door before she could pull away and quickly lowered himself into the seat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He raised his brows. “Grace. What are you doing?”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Are you going to answer my questions with questions?”

  He grinned. It didn’t matter that he knew something was bugging her. She just made him want to smile and never stop. “Are you going to do the same to me?” he asked.

  She groaned a
nd turned away from him, back toward the steering wheel. “Really,” she said. “We can talk later. It’s fine. I don’t usually pop in unannounced, and maybe I should have called first, and—”

  He laid his hand on her forearm. “Hey, Grace,” he said, gently this time. “What’s going on?”

  She let her head fall back against the seat and blew out a breath.

  “Whatever is going on between you and Whitney, it’s none of my business. We didn’t make any sort of promise to each other, and I would never ask you to.”

  Jeremy laughed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He knew it wasn’t the response she was looking for, but the thought of anything going on between him and Whitney was so far over the line of ridiculous, he couldn’t react any other way. Then he realized it was the first time he’d ever been able to laugh at that thought. Her rejection still stung. He wouldn’t deny that. But for years he’d wondered what it would be like if she came back into his life. A part of him, despite how destroyed he’d been, had hoped for it. But fantasy never lived up to reality. Did it?

  “Grace,” he said softly. “I don’t care that we just met. I think you already know me well enough to believe that I could never have done what we did the other night if I’d wanted anyone else but you. And not that it should matter—because, like I said, the other night was amazing and I can’t stop thinking about you—but Whitney was here to get Jamie to sign some papers about the broadcast. That’s all. If she wants a pint, I gotta serve her. That’s how Jamie stays in business.”

  It was his best attempt at lightening the mood, but he could tell from her set jaw, the tenseness in her shoulders, that he hadn’t cracked the surface.

  She turned to him then, her eyes shining. Something more than her seeing him with Whitney was going on. He could feel it.

  She gave him a soft smile and nodded. “I still should have called,” she said. “It’s been one of those days, you know? I guess I just needed to see a friendly face.”

  He grinned and pointed to himself. “Like this, right?” he asked. “Doesn’t get any friendlier, if you ask me.”

  She laughed, the sound genuine, and it filled him up in a way he couldn’t explain.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m glad I’m back, too. But I think I’m just gonna head home. If I go in there now, she’s gonna ask me about the date night, and I really don’t want to think of that night in front of your ex.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that makes sense. Can I call you later? I get off at eleven.”

  She nodded again.

  “Are you…gonna answer? Because a guy can only be so persistent after four texts.”

  She dropped her face into her palms. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled. Then she met his gaze again. “I don’t know what the rules are for this,” she added. “I like you, Jeremy. And when you sat down at my table Wednesday night, I knew I wanted to kiss you, too. Right then. But I can’t. I won’t. I’m committed to seeing this thing through, which means anything in that realm is three months away. I won’t ask you to wait for me.”

  He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she didn’t let him.

  “And I can’t call off the whole game. I have to keep going on dates and document it on social media. So even if you do really want to throw your hat in the ring, are you prepared for what it will be like between now and December?”

  Jeremy scrubbed a hand across his jaw. He could understand her reaction to Whitney and her touchy-feely way of communicating. Would he be able to handle watching Grace out with a new man each week? What happened when she clicked with someone else better than she did with him?

  He shook his head. No. It wasn’t possible, not after what happened on the phone the other night.

  “Look,” she said. “We just met, and as much as I want whatever might be happening here to work out, I’ve been burned. Big-time. I owe it to myself to make sure no one takes advantage of my trust again.” She let out a long breath. “I need to know that I can trust myself,” she added. “And I’m not sure I’m there yet.”

  All of Jeremy’s muscles tensed. Maybe they did just meet, but that didn’t stop his urge to protect her, or to find the guy who’d dimmed the light he knew burned bright within her and…well…punch his lights out.

  Yeah. That would go over well.

  Instead he held it together and remembered the trust she’d given to him the other night. Commitment wasn’t his style, but here he was with the one person who’d made him reconsider. It was time to let go of his past and be patient enough to earn a future with someone like her.

  “You need to go on these dates,” he said. “I get it, and I’m not going to get in the way, Grace.”

  She pressed her lips into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but he knew what that meant.

  I really hope it’s you, but I can’t be sure yet.

  He’d just have to hope, too.

  One corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. “Will you be talking to any of your other dates after you go home on those nights?”

  She bit back a real smile, now, and her cheeks flushed crimson.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” she said.

  This boosted his confidence.

  “Can we still have…conversations similar to the one we had the other night?”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “Yes,” she said. “I hope we will.”

  That was all he could ask for, that she hoped, too. He held out his hand to shake, and she raised her brows but gripped his hand in her own.

  “Then we’ve got a deal,” he said. “I’m pretty sure it’s legal and binding once we shake.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it.

  They shook.

  “Deal,” she echoed, and he opened his door.

  “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And you’ll answer?”

  “And I’ll answer.”

  “Good-bye, Grace.”

  She smiled at him. Whatever else had been getting to her before she walked into the bar was gone now, and he liked that he had something to do with that.

  “Good-bye, Jeremy.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Okay, so I’m gonna take your order. If things are going well when I bring the drinks, you know the code word, right?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to say ‘splendid.’ That’s so not a word I would ever use, by the way.”

  Jeremy raised his brows. “That’s why it works.”

  He was trying to keep things light, more for himself than for her. After all, she was the one going on the date. He was the one who had to watch.

  “And if things seem like they are veering off track and you need an out, I’ll say, ‘Either of you watch Game of Thrones?’ And if—”

  “If things are fine I say, ‘No. I don’t have cable.’”

  The corner of Jeremy’s mouth quirked up. “And if things aren’t?”

  “I say, ‘You know nothing, Jon Snow,’ and you knock my water into my lap. Not gonna lie, but a bad date and wet jeans are not on the top of my list for the evening.”

  Yeah, well, it beats your jeans being wet for any other reason.

  That’s what he wanted to say, but Jeremy was being a good friend. At least, he was trying. But Grace’s jeans—wet or dry—were sort of distracting him.

  “This is okay, right?” she asked, her tone growing less playful.

  Jeremy nodded, the gesture more to convince himself than her. “Of course,” he said, giving her his patented nothing-bothers-me smile. Because that’s who he’d fashioned himself to be, and no matter what he thought he felt for her right now, he wouldn’t get in her way.

  She let out a breath and smiled, then shooed him away from her table. “Okay then, wingman. You need to go. Gavin will be here any minute.”

  Gavin. That was a good-looking guy’s name, right? All Jeremy knew was that h
e was some guy Whitney had set her up with…a guy who worked in the station’s marketing department and had expressed interest in Grace when he’d been called on to help write the press release for her adventure.

  Jeremy held up his hands and backed away. “Operation Mr. Right is on.”

  Grace laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  He made it behind the bar just as the ale house door opened and a guy stepped through, his eyes immediately locking on Grace.

  Yeah. Gavins were good-looking. Jeremy was comfortable enough in his masculinity to confirm this to himself.

  He narrowed his eyes at the tall, sandy-haired man dressed like he was taking her to a five-star French restaurant rather than hanging in a Lincoln Park pub. The crisp gray shirt and red tie complemented a pair of tailored black pants. At least Jeremy assumed they were tailored. They fit the guy well enough, and what the hell did Jeremy know? He looked down at his Kingston Ale House T-shirt and jeans, the server’s apron he’d just tied around his waist to play his part.

  He let out a bitter laugh. “So not Grace’s type,” he mumbled even as Grace beamed at the guy with a genuine smile as she stood to shake his hand.

  He waited a beat once the two were seated before going to take their order. They were so locked in conversation when he approached that it took Grace and her date a few seconds before looking up.

  “Hey,” he said, his jaw tight. “I’m Jeremy, your server for the evening.” He lifted the beer menu from the center of the table. “Can I get you two something from the tap?”

  Gavin grinned at Grace, his teeth too white, too straight. Again, so not her type, right?

  “Grace tells me your establishment makes green smoothies. Since she’s staying away from alcohol, I can at least do the same. Two smoothies, then?”

  Jeremy looked from the man to Grace, who smiled and nodded.

  “Sounds perfect,” she said, and Jeremy nodded.

  Your establishment makes green smoothies.

  Jeremy fought not to roll his eyes and set the menu back down.

  Yeah, asshole. For the beautiful woman sitting across from you. Last time I checked, though, they weren’t on the menu.