Page 13 of Jesse's Girl

“Sorry,” he says in a deep voice, sounding almost amused. “I didn’t?—”

“Just watch where you’re going!” I huff in frustration, laser-focused on the glassware that came dangerously close to shattering on the floor. My arms strain under the weight and the circulation to my fingers is getting progressively worse. I readjust my grip, pushing past him in my desperation to set down the trays. I almost lose my shit again when a loud bachelorette party swarms toward me and I barely manage to get ahead of them.

When I finally clunk the trays down on the bar’s back counter, I let out a relieved breath. Victory. Ros is busy serving customers and doesn’t notice I wrangled two racks at once. I clench and unclench my dented hands for a moment, shaking off the discomfort as the blood slowly returns to my fingers.

“Ada!” Marcus calls out, and I turn.

“Oh, hey,” I say. Renee is perched on the barstool beside my brother, looking like she spent at least an hour meticulously flat-ironing her blonde hair to perfection. I scan the bar area but don’t see anyone else with them. “Where’s Jesse?” I frown slightly, then my brow smooths out as an amused smirk takes over my face. “What, did you do your terrible Crocodile Dundee impression and send him running back to Australia?”

“Very funny,” Marcus says.

Renee ignores our sibling nonsense and turns to me. “Jesse’s here; he just went to the restroom.”

I glance behind me—toward the hallway where I just bumped into… I flex my fingers. No way.

I turn back right as a large hand claps Marcus on the back, pulling his attention. I look up.

Familiar blue eyes hold my gaze, and my jaw drops as realization rolls over me in slow motion. The shaggy beard and the long hair made him unrecognizable in the hallway a moment ago. But those eyes… Even though they’re slightly older, a bit tired, with subtle lines creasing the skin at the outer edges when he smiles? Those eyes are the same. And they’re smiling at me.

“Jesse?” I’m incredulous. I flip up the hinged bar top and walk right up to him. “Jesse fucking Bailey? Are you under there?” He startles as I grab him by both cheeks, pulling his face down slightly to give him a good once-over, turning his head side to side. I let go, dropping my arms, and a surprised laugh escapes my lips. “What the actual fuck.”

He straightens and runs a hand over his beard, chuckling at my stunned reaction. “Hi, Ada.”

Has his voice always been that deep?

“I didn’t even recognize you!” I put my hands on my hips, scanning him from head to toe. I turn to Marcus, pointing a finger at Jesse. “Did you see this shit?”

“I know!” Marcus says. “Didn’t register it was him at the airport until he was right in front of my face.” He laughs and reaches over to tug on Jesse’s beard.

“Fuck off.” Jesse swats Marcus’ hand away. “God, I forgot how touchy-feely you both are.” He shakes his head, eyes finding mine again.

“Holy crap,” I say, then blow out a breath, staring at him. The lanky teenager I used to know is nowhere to be found; instead, there’s a broad-chested man standing in front of me. And he’s muscled the fuck up. “Sorry,” I say, catching myself, “I just can’t get over how different you look.”

“Well, shit—same to you,” Jesse says, gesturing to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I say again, trying to shake off my surprise. A beat passes and I swallow, then avert my gaze, suddenly self-conscious that I’m wearing a damn miniskirt. My tight black bartending outfit might be an unfortunate necessity if I want good tips from drunk assholes, but right now I feel… on display, somehow. I clear my throat and change the subject. “Hey, how’s your mom? Sorry to hear what happened, by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks. Uh, she’s getting stronger every day. But it’s slow going.”

Ros calls me back to reality, nodding to a few customers waiting to be served. Returning behind the bar, I take their orders, though I’m strangely distracted by Jesse’s presence nearby. I must still be in shock—processing how much he’s changed in the last eight years. But, as I move around pouring drinks, I swear I can feel him watching me. I glance over and he smiles, his attention lingering on me for the briefest of moments before he turns back to listen to whatever story Renee is telling.

The crowd finally slows enough for me to offer them drinks. My brother orders a beer and Renee a glass of white wine, as always.

“What’s your drink, Jesse?”

“I dunno. What’s good?” he asks.

I scoff. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Recommend something.” He tilts his chin at the array of alcohol on display behind me. “Where I live, it’s beer or beer. Plus, I’m too tired to decide.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking.

“C’mon. Surprise me,” he says.

“Okay,” I say, shrugging, then turn to start the drinks.

I pour Renee’s wine and pull the pint for Marcus, trying to figure out what to make for Jesse. I have no idea what he likes. Probably not the cheap shit we used to drink as teenagers. Then a thought occurs to me and a private smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Fuck it. Surprise it is.

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