Worth the Wait (Kingston Ale House) Page 5

  She rolled her eyes, but Jeremy figured it was safer to drive home the image she already had of him than to let on how he’d been stewing in unexplained jealousy, thinking of Grace’s hands on every other guy who’d headed up the stairs to her makeshift spa, even if it was just fully clothed head and neck massages she was giving.

  “It’s a nice thing Jamie did for the staff,” she said. “And if you’re looking to partner up with my thoughtful fiancé, it’s probably in your best interest to show support and go on up there and get a massage yourself. I thought you of all people would be totally into it.”

  Jeremy blew out a breath, ready to combat her with the first asinine excuse he could come up with, when the television behind Brynn blared with a teaser for the upcoming news, Whitney Gaines staring back and informing him of more rain in the impending forecast.

  He squeezed the edge of the bar, the tips of his fingers turning white.

  Brynn glanced over her shoulder and turned back to him with a grimace.

  “Did she even call and let you know she was coming back to Chicago?” she asked.

  He let out a bitter laugh. “Why call when I can find out just by flipping on the local news?” He was tempted to grab the remote and change the channel, but he knew patrons would flip their shit if he forgot to change it back for the playoff game starting in thirty minutes.

  Brynn sighed. “I’m sorry, Jer—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “You know what? Maybe I will head upstairs and see what all the fuss is about.”

  She grinned. “Tabitha’s closing the bookshop tonight, so I can hang out behind the bar until you get back.”

  Jamie popped out from the kitchen just as Jeremy and Brynn traded places, and the guy beamed when he saw his fiancée, giving her a quick kiss before he headed to the tables to drop off new menus that now included his just-added holiday brew, a cinnamon and nutmeg ale Jeremy knew the patrons would go nuts for.

  Yep. He needed to escape Whitney Gaines on the big screen and the perpetually lovesick teens that were Brynn and Jamie. His only refuge, he reasoned, was upstairs. Where Grace was.

  He let out a long breath. “Thanks, B.” And he bounded up the stairs.

  Grace was packing up her supplies, so her head was down when she called out, “I was just cleaning up, but if I forgot anyone…”

  Her sentence hung unfinished as she raised her head, her eyes meeting his.

  “I didn’t come for a…for your services,” he said, realizing only as he spoke that he didn’t think he could handle her hands on him, even if it was her job.

  She nodded. “That’s probably a good idea,” she said, confirming what had been coursing through him since she found him in the hotel bar the other night. Without even a kiss, they’d crossed some sort of line between professional and personal.

  “But…” He drew out the word. “I should probably apologize for bolting like an asshole when I saw you. I just— I wasn’t—” Fuck. He was a stammering idiot around this woman. What the hell was going on?

  She smiled softly. “It’s okay,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to see you, either. I mean, I don’t really believe in coincidences, but this is pretty weird, right?”

  He grinned, thinking back to their hotel hallway conversation. “Think the universe is trying to tell us something?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me, Mr. Denning?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Just asking for your take on the situation is all.”

  She continued packing, and Jeremy spotted an item on the floor next to her bag that made the corners of his mouth tug up into a grin.

  “Still raining out there?” he asked, nodding toward the umbrella.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “It was when I came in.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, back to the lower level. There wasn’t much of a dinner rush on this rainy Monday night. Jamie could probably make do without him behind the bar for a bit longer, especially if it was all in the name of business.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We’ve got a great menu,” he added. “And I could probably find the proper ingredients to whip you up a green smoothie.”

  His heart was racing. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. All he knew was that the woman he’d resigned himself to never seeing again was here, in his bar, and he wasn’t ready to let her just walk back out the door.

  She was silent for a long moment, and Jeremy could sense the wheels turning in her head as well.

  “If we’re gonna keep meeting like this,” he said, filling the space between them, “then we should probably share something more than a bottle of water in a hotel hallway. Dinner’s on Jamie, by the way. So it’s not like this is a date or anything.”

  “I just want to be clear on something. I do think there is a give-and-take out there.” She waved her hands in the air. “Something bigger than just us. But it’s not like this is fate or anything.”

  He laughed. “Give-and-take with the universe? Sure. But you turn your nose up at fate.”

  “I’m just saying this doesn’t mean anything if I stay for dinner.”

  Fate, the universe. He didn’t give a shit about anything other than the fact that he had just bought himself more time with this woman.

  “So…you’re staying?” he asked.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I am starving,” she admitted. “And I guess since I’m officially off the clock for the day…”

  “Great,” he said, striding toward her and grabbing one of her two bags and the denim jacket that hung over a chair. “After you.” He nodded toward the stairs, watching as she approached them.

  Dinner. They would have dinner. And then he’d have whatever it was out of his system.

  He’d have Grace out of his system. Because the alternative was…

  There was no alternative. Because Jeremy didn’t get hung up on any one woman. Not when he knew how he’d end up on the other side.

  So dinner it was. Then they could put some closure on whatever was brewing between them.

  Chapter Six

  Grace stared at her pint glass and the dark purple liquid within.

  “We didn’t have kale,” Jeremy said. “But I googled, and blueberry, banana, and spinach is supposed to be really good. You’ll have to be the judge, though, since I’ll just take Google’s word for it.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin before taking the seat in the booth across from her, a pint of something from the brewery’s tap in front of him. His hair looked darker in the dim light of Kingston Ale House, the last place she expected to see Jeremy Denning again. She actually hadn’t expected to see him at all after Madison.

  “I know,” she said. “I mean, it is good. I make this smoothie all the time. It’s one of my favorites…next to the kale and apple. You’re perfect,” she added, then coughed. “It’s perfect. You nailed the ratio of fruit to greens.”

  Well, that was smooth as gravel. She felt like they were Sandy and Danny from Grease, and any second now one of them was going to start babbling about “rockin’ and rollin’ and whatnot.”

  He raised his pint, and she mirrored the gesture.

  “To perfect ratios,” he said, and her brows furrowed.

  “Is that a euphemism for something?” she asked.

  His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she wished she could swallow back the question.

  “No,” he said, not taking the accidental bait. “But since I can’t really toast to our future, I figured I’d stick to the present. Though at the rate we’re going, we’re bound to bump into each other in another day or so.”

  She laughed nervously and sipped her smoothie through the bendy straw floating in it. Jeremy raised his pint to his lips, but he kept his eyes on her, something twinkling in them that made her heart race.

  He lowered his glass before actually taking a sip and rested his elbows on the table, leaning toward her. The scent of eucalyptus mixed with spearmint wafted toward her, and she inhaled
deep.

  Shit. He’d bought the spa shampoo.

  Shit. She was still using internal profanity.

  He was still staring and not drinking his beer.

  “What?” she asked, not sure she was ready for his response.

  “What if the universe wants us to be more than just masseuse and client?”

  “What?” she asked again, because Jeremy had reduced her to a one-word vocabulary.

  He licked his lips before speaking again, and Grace fought back the heat pooling in her belly. So he was a good-looking guy. And charming. And apparently single. She was not in the market for dating, at least not for another three months. And even then she wasn’t sure she’d be ready. How would she know? Suzanne Summerville simply stated that after six months of clean living, she’d be so in tune with her body that she’d be able to distinguish attraction from real connection, that she’d be able to separate a biological response to another human from an emotional one. Right now her nerves were firing on all synapses, but they’d never so much as kissed. So what was she reacting to? His nearness? His scent?

  “You still believe in all that universe stuff, right? The giving and the taking or whatever?”

  She nodded, struggling to find her words. “You don’t, though.”

  He shrugged. “I also don’t believe in coincidences, but I wound up on your massage table. And then there was the bar, our rooms across from each other, the gas station, and now this.” He motioned between them. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m not big on surprises. I’d rather know when I’m going to bump into you next—if the universe does, in fact, have some grand plan for us. So what if we take sex off the table—because it is off the table—and try this friendship thing I’m hearing so much about?”

  Unexpected laughter escaped her lips.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve done the just-friends thing with a guy.”

  “Same,” he said. “I mean with a woman. I’ve done it with guys. Not it. The friend thing. I’ve done the friend thing. Jesus, I should just stop talking right now.”

  She laughed again, the tension in her shoulders easing, not that she’d realized it was there until it was gone.

  “I think that maybe we’re already doing it,” she said. Then she rolled her eyes at her own accidental innuendo.

  This time Jeremy laughed. Then he lifted his glass again.

  “To friendship,” he said, amending his toast.

  Grace clinked her glass with his.

  “To friendship,” she said.

  They both drank, and she couldn’t suppress her grin. But when Jeremy lowered his glass, his blue eyes had lost their playful glint.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  His mouth was closed, but she could tell his teeth were clenched by the muscle ticking in his jaw. He wasn’t looking at her anymore but past her.

  “What are we toasting?”

  The voice came from behind her—a woman’s voice. There was an air of flirtation in her tone, but judging by Jeremy’s reaction, he wasn’t planning on flirting back. Grace was about to turn to see who it was when he opened his mouth to speak.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Whitney?”

  The words were angry, but his tone betrayed him. Grace could hear a deep-rooted hurt, and her throat ached at the sound of it.

  She didn’t have to turn because the woman strode forward and bent to kiss him on the cheek.

  “Missed you, too, Jer,” she said. “By the way—I’m back.”

  …

  Okay, if the universe did have some sort of cosmic powers like Grace thought it did, the universe was an asshole. Because he’d somehow gone from hopeful about a different kind of future with Grace—getting to know the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind—to sharing his table with the only woman he wanted to completely forget.

  “This is my station manager, Todd.”

  A tall, lanky guy in a red sweater vest and pressed khakis, probably a decade older than Jeremy, slid in next to him while Grace moved to the far end of her booth for Whitney.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” Grace said with a soft smile.

  Todd held out a hand toward Jeremy, but he ignored it and lifted his pint to his lips again, narrowing his eyes at his ex. He didn’t remember inviting them to sit down, but then again, that was Whitney. She got you to do what she wanted even when you didn’t realize you were bending to her will. It took him three years to finally see that, but distance had brought him clarity. At least, that was the narrative he’d created for himself after she’d turned him down.

  “Are you on a date, Jeremy?” Whitney held her hand to her chest in exaggerated horror at having interrupted what very well could have been a date. Not that it was.

  “No!” he and Grace blurted in unison.

  Whitney let out a breath, her blond ponytail sweeping against her red scarf. She was still dressed in what she’d worn on the air that night. He was sure of it. All high fashion, completely put together. She was stunning. There was no argument there. But Jeremy no longer felt stunned.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Whitney continued, directing her coy smile at Jeremy. “How awkward would that have been, your ex-fiancée barging in on your date.”

  Grace took in a sharp breath—while she was sipping her smoothie, which resulted in a loud cough.

  “I’m fine,” she said as Jeremy opened his mouth to ask if she was okay. She coughed again but forced a smile. “Totally fine,” she added.

  Jeremy tried to apologize to her with nothing more than a look, but Grace was still regulating her breathing. So he turned to Whitney, doing everything in his power to keep his voice even.

  “Last time I checked, Whit, you had to say yes to be considered the fiancée.”

  He wanted to punch himself for letting her nickname slip. It was too familiar, and the two of them were anything but.

  She shrugged and folded her hands on top of the table. “Formality,” she said.

  Todd cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he interrupted, and Jeremy wanted to kiss the guy for taking the spotlight away from Whitney. “We were just brainstorming ideas for puff pieces we could add to the broadcast.”

  “Something to balance out the bad news that’s become so frequent,” Whitney added.

  “And I’ve been telling her that the bad stuff she’s referring to—that’s where the ratings are.”

  Jeremy let out a soft groan, annoyed with himself that he was perpetuating this conversation by participating.

  “Don’t you just do the weather?” he asked.

  Whitney reached a hand across the table, covering Todd’s with her own.

  “We have a little wager going,” she said, giving Todd a knowing smile. “If I can up our ratings with good news, I get a seat at the desk with a weekly puff piece. I’m not looking to leave the weather,” she added. “Just, you know, add more screen time.”

  Brynn arrived at their table holding two plates: the dinners Jeremy and Grace had ordered. While she helped out behind the bar whenever she came to visit Jamie, Jeremy knew they had more than enough serving staff tonight. He narrowed his eyes at his snooping friend, and Brynn answered him with a wink.

  “Spinach salad with feta and strawberries for the lady,” she said, reaching across Whitney to set Grace’s plate in front of her. “And shepherd’s pie for the gentleman.” She giggled softly as she handed Jeremy his plate. “Would your new guests care for something from the bar? Something off the menu?” She grinned, her gaze volleying from Todd to Whitney. “I’m Brynn, by the way. My fiancé is Jamie Kingston, the owner and hopefully, soon, Jeremy’s partner.”

  Whitney’s brows rose, and she held out a hand to Brynn. The two women shook.

  “Partner?” she said, stealing a look at Jeremy before directing her attention back to Brynn. “I’m Whitney Gaines.”

  Brynn’s eyes widened, and Jeremy knew she was putting on a show. “From the news?”

  Whitney nodded. “And Jeremy an
d I almost got married after grad school.”

  Brynn nodded. “Actually,” she said, “we met. More than once.”

  Whitney blinked but said nothing.

  Jeremy gritted his teeth.

  “You used to visit Jeremy at work when you guys were dating. Here. Where I often hung out, too, with Annie. Jer’s sister?” Brynn raised her brows. “Not ringing any bells?”

  Jeremy figured any other person in this scenario would flush with embarrassment. But not Whitney Gaines. Instead she plastered on a conciliatory grin—a fake one—and nodded.

  “Of course,” Whitney said. “You’re a teacher, right?”

  “Accountant,” Brynn said.

  Whitney shrugged and grinned. “Close enough. Sorry, life’s just been so crazy since I left town that I kind of forget the incidental stuff, you know?”

  Brynn plastered on an equally fake smile. “Of course.”

  “Christ,” Jeremy muttered under his breath, then finally caught Grace’s eye as she stabbed her fork into her salad. I’m sorry, he mouthed, and she gave him a soft smile.

  It’s okay, she mouthed back, and the tension coiled in his shoulders eased.

  He hadn’t blown it. Not yet.

  Whitney shifted in her seat, and she lifted a bag that rested between her and Grace.

  “Oh, sorry,” Grace said, covering her mouth as she continued to chew. “I can move that if it’s in your way.”

  Whitney smiled and handed the shoulder bag to Grace, who tried to maneuver it to her other side against the corner of the booth. But as she did, her elbow banged the wooden backrest, and she lost her grip on one of the straps. The bag fell open, dumping half its contents onto the table.

  Whitney quickly snatched one of the fallen items before Grace or Jeremy could get to it. A book titled Man Cleanse: Six Months to a Healthy, Happy You…and the Road to True Love by Suzanne Summerville.

  Whitney beamed and held out the book to her station manager. “Todd, I think we just found our segment.”

  Chapter Seven

  Grace tried to concentrate as Brynn went over the finer points of the contract Whitney sent over from the television station, but it was a little distracting watching Jeremy pace up and down the aisle of books in front of them. Brynn was working today at Two Stories, the bookstore she co-owned with Jeremy’s sister, Annie, who was out of town with her fiancé on his book tour.