Page 86 of Getting Lucky

“Aren’t you the least bit curious why Dottie wants us to come?”

Sheclearly was. It was hard to deny her when she looked at him like that, her emerald eyes sparkling, her mouth twisting with barely contained mischief. And, truth be told, he was a little curious too. Dottie had been with Beau Buchanan for decades. Who knew what kind of dirt she had on Prescott. A small part of Jack, inherited perhaps from Genevieve and Prescott, longed for the power to put Prescott in his place. In the end, though, he didn’t agree because Maisie looked especially sexy when she was up to no good, or because he wanted to ruin his father. He agreed because Prescott was determined to break up Georgie’s engagement. If Jack found some dirt on him, he could hold it over his head to get him to leave Georgie and River alone—and Adalia and Finn for good measure.

They got dressed, and he let Tyrion out to pee before he put the pouting dog in his kennel.

“Hey,” Jack said as he latched the door and then handed the dog a chew stick through the slats, “if I had my way, I’d be home with you all night. But you can’t always get what you want.”

Tyrion took the stick and seemed to forget his unhappiness, but Jack’s disquiet didn’t release its hold so easily. This thing with Maisie was new and exciting, but it still felt fragile. He wanted to let it evolve without bringing his messy family business into it. Then again, his messy family business was part of him. There was no escaping or hiding from it.

When he returned to the living room, she was standing beside the tree, smiling at an ornament Iris had ordered from one of those photo printing websites. It showed a shirtless Jack holding Ruby.

“Can I get one of those?” she asked, turning to him.

He pulled her into his arms. “Why settle for the picture when you can have the real thing?” He kissed her, slow and lazy, taking the time to do it thoroughly, while he pulled her body flush with his. “We don’t have to leave,” he said. “There are dozens of other locations in this house besides the back of the front door.”

“While I’d like to explore all of them with you,” she said breathlessly, brushing her fingertips along his cheek, “we can’t stay here anyway. The ladies are having a slumber party. We’re lucky they didn’t walk in on us while we were sprawled out on the sofa.”

“Then we can just go over to your place.”

Her mouth twisted to one side, and for a moment he thought he had her, but she said, “Later. After we join the rest of the brewery tour.”

“You still want to do that?” he asked, surprised.

“Kind of?” She shrugged, then pulled back and grabbed her jacket off the chair where she’d tossed it. “Ididplan it with Finn, plus I don’t want to completely bail on River. What if Lee goes off on him?”

Jack pushed out a sigh. She was right, and he felt like a heel for suggesting they skip it.

“Well, as long as you don’t comfort him like you just comforted me, we’ll be okay,” he teased.

Her eyes widened slightly. She started to say something, but her phone rang. Grimacing, she pulled it out of her jeans pocket.

“It’s Dottie.” She answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes, we’re coming. We were just about to leave.” She bent down and picked her purse up off the floor. “Okay. We’ll hurry.” She hung up and snagged Jack’s wrist, pulling him toward the door.

They went in her car, leaving his Prius in the driveway. They were both quiet in the car, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Jack didn’t want to sit in the same room as Prescott, let alone listen to him talk. He’d prefer to go back to a time when his father was nothing but a bad memory.

Maisie finally broke the silence. “Dottie said dinner was going faster than she’d planned. She escaped to the bathroom to make the call, but they’ve almost finished eating.”

“So they had an entire dinner without discussing whatever she wanted to talk about?”

“She said she wanted to enjoy her meal first.”

What could Dottie have to discuss with Prescott that would ruin her meal? She had to be the most patient, understanding, and forgiving person he knew.

Maisie got lucky and found street parking a half block from the restaurant and practically jumped out of the car.

“Come on, Jack!” she said, snagging his hand and sweeping him along toward the entrance. He matched her pace even though it went against his every instinct. He told himself he was doing it for her.

She rushed past the hostess and took him straight to the bar, claiming a high-top table next to a wall of fake greenery. He went for one of the chairs, but she steered him into the other.

A waitress came over to take their orders, and Maisie leaned in to give her drink order in a near whisper.

“Lemon drop martini for me, and…?” She raised an eyebrow to Jack.

“Bourbon. Two fingers. Neat.”

The waitress nodded and turned away, while Maisie leaned her ear closer to the plant wall. It would have been adorable if he weren’t acutely aware his father sat on the other side.

“How do you know we’re at the right table?” Jack asked in a lowered voice.

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