Page 62 of Bad Luck Club

So he pushed himself harder in the exercise room, adding more weights to his lifts and another half hour to his run on the treadmill. He wanted to make sure he was so exhausted that he’d drift off to sleep as soon as he hit his bed after his shower. And he did, but Blue followed him into his dreams, just like she had every night since Sunday. Her deep blue eyes, her back pressed to his front on her sofa. Blue on his lap as his body stirred like it hadn’t with any other woman. His worry that everything wasn’t okay with her mother. If something happened, would she turn to Adalia and Maisie for help?

Saturday was more productive. He gave out samples at several bars and walked away with a couple of new orders. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a good start. And each order he secured filled him with more confidence.

He spent Sunday holed up in Wilmington, researching other breweries and bars in town. Since he was already there, he cold-called a few places on Monday, walking away with a new customer and the possibility of another.

On Tuesday he headed back to Charlotte and talked one of the managers into letting him host a contest in the evening. When he hosted the social media part of the contest, he used the hashtag #Buchananishome. He realized he was using multiple hashtags, which wasn’t ideal, but they needed to appeal to two different crowds—people who were out partying and those who wanted to stay at home and chill with a beer. Was it even possible to unify the two? He sent Adalia a text and asked if she had time to meet with him on Wednesday so they could brainstorm.

She responded immediately.So you’re coming home?

He could smell a plot a mile away, or a couple of hundred as the case might be.Just for the day.I’ll get there late tonight or tomorrow morning.

And you’re going to be in Greenville this coming Monday?

That’s the plan, he answered, tempted to remind her why snooping into other people’s business wasn’t a good idea. Like when she was little and had dug around in their father’s briefcase and pulled out a package of condoms. She’d been too young to know what they were, but Lee had understood the moment he’d seen her standing next to the open case, holding the box and looking at it quizzically. He’d snatched them away and shoved them back into the briefcase harder than necessary.

“Why are you so mad?” she’d asked with tears in her eyes.

“I’m not mad at you,” he snapped, furious with their father because he knew what those condoms meant.

Betrayal.

Why had he trusted the man? Why had he devoted his entire life to a hopeless determination to win his father’s approval? His love?

Prescott Buchanan didn’t spread love around like Addy and their mother. He doled out approval and, occasionally, affection in small portions, for the recipients to savor like a rich candy. Lee had emulated the same behavior, like father, like son, but now he realized it was cold and calculating. No wonder Georgie and Addy had held him at arm’s length. How could you trust someone who refused to show you how they felt?

His mind went back to Adalia’s cryptic message. Why was Adalia so interested in his plans? He suspected he wouldn’t like the reason behind it, yet he was too tired to question her.

Charlotte was only a couple of hours away from home, but he was so tired he didn’t trust himself to drive, so he crashed at a budget motel until seven the next morning, then grabbed a monster-sized cup of coffee and hit the road. He planned to do some laundry at home, then head into the brewery and grab more samples before hitting the road again on Thursday morning.

He pulled up to the house at ten o’clock, surprised to see Adalia’s car in the driveway. With her New York show only a week away, he’d expected he would have to go see her at the studio. Last he’d heard, she was working on one final piece, and then they had to be packed up and shipped to the gallery. What was she doing home?

Now he really suspected she was up to no good. He’d just made it into the house when he heard his sister call out, “Lee, do you still like eggs Benedict?”

He dropped his bag by the door and headed into the kitchen, drawn in just as much by the aroma of coffee as the lure of his favorite breakfast dish.

A grin curved Adalia’s lips when she saw him from her position in the kitchen doorway. “I thought you deserved a celebratory breakfast for all your hard work. How many orders did you get over the last week?”

He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Not enough.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

He grunted as he took a sip, then said, “Georgie needs to hire another salesperson. Or, better yet, once we get accounts set back up, let a distributor take over some of the cities farther out. I’ve been doing some research and a lot of smaller breweries use them.”

She smiled. “Good idea. You look more like yourself.”

He grimaced and took another sip. “I’m a salesperson. I’m good at it. But thanks. You look good too.” She was happy, and it showed. “You ready for your show?”

“I think so.” She gave him a pleading look. “You’re still coming, aren’t you? The job hasn’t changed that?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

“I need your help,” he said.

A grin spread across her face. “It’s about time you asked Blue out. Goddesses incarnate don’t wait around for long. Now, she likes this vegan place close to—”

“What?” He shook his head. “Not Blue.” Although something in him ignited at the mention of her name. What was it about her that drew him in so powerfully? Why couldn’t he just forget her?

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