Page 7 of Better Luck Next Time

“There’s the woman I met in the conference room.”

She made a face, then said in a defensive tone, “Okay, I was a bitch. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ve always been the outcast Buchanan, and suddenly I had someone else vying for my spot.”

He grinned. “Well, you apologize like a Buchanan, so I think I’m currently holding the title for biggest outcast.”

Putting her hand on her hip, she gave him the side-eye. “I think I’m gonna like you, Jack. We can be outcasts together.”

He reached above the fridge and grabbed the bottle of wine. “Let’s drink to that.”

They fixed up their plates and heated them in the microwave while Jack opened the wine and poured two glasses. They carried their plates to the dining room table and fell into an easy conversation as Adalia gave him a very abbreviated, glossed-over retelling of growing up with Prescott Buchanan as a father.

“You were lucky not to have him harassing you,” she said, pointing her fork at him to prove her point.

“Maybe,” he conceded. He hadn’t told her much about himself other than mentioning his grandmother. Apparently she’d watched him while his mother worked. She’d been his entire world before she died while he was in middle school.

“I’m sorry,” Adalia said softly. Jack hadn’t said his mother was difficult, but she heard it in his voice. If he’d been close to her, wouldn’t he have mentioned her with the same affection he’d used for his nana?

He shrugged, pushing a couple of beans around on his plate with his fork. “I’m sorry that you lost your mother.”

The way he said it made her think he’d reached the same conclusion about her as she’d come to about him: they had a lot of similarities. Both had wished they’d had a father in their life—or a loving father in Adalia’s case—and they’d lost the person who grounded them right around the same time.

She poured the last of the wine into their nearly empty glasses and lifted hers. “To the youngest Buchanan siblings. We might be the outcasts, but we’re a scrappy lot.”

His eyes lit up, and he clicked his glass with hers. “To us.”

A knock rapped at the door, and Jack shot a look in that direction before glancing back at her. “Are you expecting anyone? Is that Georgie?”

“No, and Georgie would just walk in.” Adalia got up from the table and walked to the door, worrying it was one of the neighbors, like the woman with the frizzy hair and wire-rimmed glasses from down the street, who was forever complaining about Jezebel. Come to think of it, the cat hadn’t been skulking around the kitchen while she and Jack heated up their food—which meant she’d probably gotten out again.

Sucking in a breath for fortitude, she opened the front door, saying, “I’m sorry for Jezebel. I’m not sure how she got out again, but I’ll be happy to pay for the damage…”

Her words trailed off when she found herself face-to-face with Finn.

He gave her a sheepish look and started to say something, but she slammed the door in his face.

“Who was it?” Jack called out.

“No one.”

Oh. God. Why was he here? What did he want? Was this some sort of wannabe intervention?

Finn knocked on the door again. “Adalia. Open up. Please.”

“Is that Finn Hamilton?” Jack asked in surprise. He’d followed her into the entryway and was looking out of one of the sidelight windows flanking the door.

How did Jack know Finn? No, that wasn’t important. Whatwasimportant was that Finn had seen her in her most vulnerable state and now he was here. On her front porch.

Jack narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “Is there a reason Finn’s on the porch pounding on the door while you’re standing on the other side not letting him in?”

“Tell him I’m not home.”

Jack smirked. “I think that ship has sailed.” But when she didn’t smile back, he turned serious. “Is this where we move to phase two of family bonding and I step into my role as big brother? Do you want me to send him on his way and tell him to leave you alone?”

Maybe it was Adalia’s humiliation that was making her emotional, because Jack’s offer brought tears to her eyes.

Jack’s eyes darkened, his body tense. “So that’s a yes?”

What was she doing? She didn’t let other people fight her battles. Or at least she tried not to. Georgie had helped her out of her legal snafu only a few months ago.

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