Page 4 of Getting Lucky

Maisie was half tempted to stick around to watch what was sure to be the strangest mating dance known to humankind—or animalkind for that matter—but the other guests would be here soon. Even if she was mostly resigned to the whole Georgie and River thing, she didn’t want to have food on her dress in front of Georgie, who never seemed to have a single hair out of place.

“Dottie?” she pressed.

Dottie had been watching the whole Lurch–Stella exchange with fascination, but she shook it off and gestured for them to follow her into the house. “It’s those pheromones Stella wears,” she said in an undertone. “They bring men to their knees.”

Jack shot her a dubious look, but his next comment was for Maisie. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

“No problem,” she said, her mouth tipping up at the corners. He still had the goose cradled against his chest, his grip gentle but firm. She wondered if he’d hold a woman like that too. “You let Adalia get away with fostering a dog while you were away for the weekend. Stella would have eaten you alive.”

“Now, children,” Dottie said, tutting her tongue. “That artist’s temperamentdoesget Stella into trouble sometimes, but she’s a good-enough sort. I wanted to do a little something for her since Adalia was hesitant to allow any of the goats at the Art Display.”

Maisie snort-laughed. She could imagine it now—the puppies barking at the goats, the goats chowing down on paintings. It would have been chaos.

“So the after-party was her consolation prize?” Jack asked. The goose in his arms looked cozy enough to take a nap. Whowasthis guy?

“And so are you, apparently,” Maisie said with a wink. “Sounds like she had her heart set on Finn.” Finn was handsome, but to Maisie he’d always been “just Finn,” the way she hoped River could someday be “just River.” She wasn’t quite there yet, but she was trying.

Dottie pointed down the hall. “Help yourself to anything that appeals to you, dear. You know your way around. I’ll get Jack and Diego here sorted.”

Maisie met Jack’s gaze, taking in the amused tilt of his mouth, the dark wells of his eyes. “Good luck,” she said. “You might just need it.”

Once in Dottie’s room, she let herself into the closet and flipped through the clothes, feeling the bittersweet wash of memories. How much time had she spent here over the years? Dottie was River’s great-aunt, but she’d raised him since he was a teenager, and Maisie and River had been so close growing up that this house had been like a second home to her, just like the O’Shea house had been a second home to River. Most of these outfits were ones she’d seen before. Birthday parties. Halloween parties. Just-because parties. Dottie Hendrickson was a woman who liked to celebrate.

She found a green summer dress, one that would be a little long on Dottie and maybe just a tad short on her, and took off her ruined dress and put it on. It fit, and when Maisie looked in the mirror, she wasn’t ashamed by what she saw.

But you’re not blond, and your hair will never be orderly, and most of all, you’ll never be her.

Which she was okay with, really. She didn’t want to be someone else. She liked herself just fine the way she was, and to hell with anyone who didn’t. But she couldn’t help feeling a little heartsick. Because for years she’d thought her life would be one way, and now she knew she’d been lying to herself, which was the worst kind of lying a person could do.

“Get it together, Red,” she told herself, tapping the forehead of her reflection. It was a nickname her dad had given her for her hair, which had been fiery since birth. Out of three O’Shea sisters, she was the only one who was a true redhead, although her younger sister had strawberry blond hair.

She slipped out into the hall and nearly tripped over a warped floorboard when she saw Jack. He’d changed into a long-sleeved thermal T-shirt and a pair of jeans. If he’d looked good in a suit, he looked even better like this. The sleeves hugged his arm muscles, making her want to pull the shirt off to get a good look at them. And the way he was eyeing her said he thought she looked pretty good in Dottie’s dress.

But then she realized that he was wearing River’s clothes. Was that why she was suddenly so attracted to him? He had dark hair like River too, and although his eyes were several shades darker, they were still brown. Was she just looking for an imitation of River in someone else? Would she spend the rest of her life doing that?

Josie had been right: she was totally screwed.

Chapter Two

Jack stopped in his tracks the moment he saw Maisie emerging into the hallway. He’d noticed her before—hell, how could he not? She was loud and confident and didn’t take crap from anyone. Sure, he’d found her attractive the first time he’d seen her, but she was River’s friend, and there wasno wayhe was getting in the middle of that. He and River hadn’t gotten off to a great start with the brewery—admittedly Jack’s fault—and even though things were better, it didn’t feel like they were on solid footing yet.

But…holy shit.

She was all legs in that green dress that brought out the green of her eyes, glittering like emeralds. Her red hair was slightly more contained than usual, but her curls still spilled everywhere. The silky material clung to her curves—and damn, did she have curves—but his gaze was drawn back down. Her shoes didn’t exactly match the dress, but who cared when she had legs that went on for miles…

“So you’re a leg man?” she asked in a wry tone, her hand propped on her hip, which only drew the hem higher.

Busted. He grinned, dragging his gaze from the newly exposed skin to her face, which now wore a smug expression.

“I appreciate every part of a woman’s body,” he said in a tone that bordered on cocky, which wasn’t usually like him.

“Ah, you’re a politician, then.” Her voice had a hint of sharpness, and he knew she was testing him.

He took a step toward her. “Because I didn’t directly answer your question?” he asked with a lifted brow. “You’re asking me to choose a specific body part, which is impossible. But when you wear a dress like that…” His voice trailed off, letting her fill in the rest, because he was busy imagining that hem going higher… “After our near-death experience, I feel like I need to buy you a drink.”

Because against his better judgment, he really wanted to continue this conversation.

She studied him for a moment. Then her mouth twisted into an amused grin. “Okay, goose whisperer. As long as it’s not some of Lurch’s punch. The name changes, but the hangover stays the same.”

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