Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I drain my sample before heading across the room. Since Raine turned the conversation toward awkward, we might as well address the elephant in the room.
I stand beside her as she flips to the Purple Rain album and studies the songs. “Prince?”
“My mom . . .” Swallowing, she shakes her head. “Before Mom and Nelson got together, Mom and I were obsessed with Prince. I’d get home from school, and she’d turn on Purple Rain, and we’d dance in the living room to every song on the album, laughing and playing air guitar.” She blinks back tears. “We didn’t have much back then. Music was my treat. My reward.” She drops quarters into the machine and punches a few buttons. “I Would Die 4 U” starts to play.
“Nice choice.”
She flashes me a smile before lowering her gaze back to the jukebox. “They’re all good choices.”
“We’ve never talked about it,” I say softly.
Judging by the way she tenses, I don’t have to define it. She knows what I’m referring to. That night, eight years ago, when she was just a kid and I found her at that party, blitzed out of her mind, and dragged her out before she could get in more trouble. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“Shouldn’t we clear the air?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I’d probably rather box it up and put it in storage with all the other memories best left undisturbed.”
“I can do that. If that’s what you want.”
She brings her gaze up to meet mine. Those blue eyes sear into me, and I wonder what she sees. “I think I want . . .” Her pink lips curve into a sultry smile. “Dinner.”
“I can do that too.”
Molly
I was eighteen when I climbed into bed with Brayden Jackson. He was twenty-seven. It wasn’t the first time I’d offered my body to a man as a pathetic sort of gratitude, but it was the first time I was turned down. Now, eight years later, Brayden’s my new boss, and every time I look at him, I think of that night and my relief when he grabbed me by the wrists and stopped my hands from moving down his bare chest. I should have been mortified, but instead I was just grateful that one guy, one time, saw me as more than an easy lay. That on some level he understood I didn’t really want to give what I was offering.
“So, what do you think after today?” Brayden asks. He gives the waitress a polite nod as she clears our plates, then leans back in the booth. He looks like he should be in a magazine spread with those intense eyes, the stubble on his cheeks. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone.
“About the job?” It takes a force of will to take my mind off his sex appeal and onto a professional conversation. In truth, I’m dying to know what he made of that night eight years ago and if he still thinks I’m a foolish, reckless girl who needs to be rescued. “I think it’s fun.”
The day has been full and somehow simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating. We went to bars, liquor stores, even other breweries, and talked about Jackson Brews beer. After giving introductions, Brayden would let me lead the conversation, noting the gaps in the location’s offerings and suggesting Jackson Brews products that could allow them to have a better selection.
“You impressed me.” He settles his arms on the table and leans forward, his eyes bright. “I thought I’d have to step in with details about our less-popular selections or at least answer some questions, but I don’t think you needed me here at all.”
“Well, you gave me enough study materials that I should be able to write a dissertation on Jackson Brews at this point.” I grin. It was fun to show off a little—to prove to him and myself that I deserve this opportunity. I wouldn’t put it past the Jackson family to give a struggling single mom a job, even at a loss to the company. But if pity motivated them to put me on the payroll, I want to do such a good job that they never regret it.
His phone buzzes on the table beside him, and he puts his hand over it. “Do you mind if I check this?”
“Of course not.”
He picks it up and unlocks the screen. I take advantage of the opportunity to study the rugged lines of his face. “Jake’s just checking in,” he says, tapping out a reply.
I feel my smile falter at the mention of his brother. I used to have the biggest crush on Jake. I’ve never slept with a Jackson brother, but Brayden’s not the only one I’ve crawled into bed with.