Chapter 17 Jace
JACE
“Mind if we join you?”
All three women at the round table in the corner of the cafeteria jump, heads whipping up to look at Anton and me.
Personally, I didn’t think we had been all that ninja-like—or hell, even remotely subtle—as we approached them, but Presley, Margeaux, and Sawyer were so engrossed in their own conversation they didn’t see us coming.
“What are y’all doin’ here?” Sawyer asks, her question sounding very much like an accusation.
Anton doesn’t seem fazed, rounding the table and sliding into the open seat next to her, wasting no time in giving his fiancée a kiss.
“Munch was canceled,” he answers, keeping his arm draped around Sawyer. “And we gotta eat.”
“Canceled?” Margeaux questions, just as perplexed as the rest of us, looking between my older brother and me, waiting for us to explain. “So, where’s Gus?”
I nod to the chair in front of me, giving Presley a warm smile, silently repeating my question. She nods her head yes, a blush taking over her cheeks as her pretty lips morph into a shy smile.
There’s no reason for her to be shy now.
She certainly wasn’t this past weekend. Saturday afternoon was the only chance we got for a “grown-up nap”—as my siblings and I like to call it rather than admitting that is what our parents still get up to—only helping to build that growing desire between us.
The one we both had to ignore as Otis demanded our attention, even if all we were doing was watching a movie.
Playing house with her this weekend was everything.
My intention hadn’t been to spend the whole two days there, but something about the way she fell asleep on my chest after Otis went to bed made me feel like leaving was wrong.
Like where I belonged was right there, with them.
Sunday morning pancakes sealed that feeling.
Those might need to be a new tradition…
“Off with Auggie, handling whatever the emergency was,” Anton says. “We didn’t get much more than that—just an email saying that Munch was canceled because something came up that he and Auggie had to handle.”
In all my years working for this company, I don’t know that Munch has ever been canceled.
Not outright anyhow. We’ve had abbreviated versions—like when half of us got the flu one year—or meetings where Gus had run it because our father was out of town.
We’ve even taken it offsite because Miss Harriett was on vacation and whoever filled in for her burned the chicken. But it’s never been canceled.
So, whatever this situation is, it must be serious.
“Uh-oh,” Margeaux mutters, pulling out her phone and furiously tapping against it.
I ignore her, the brunette beauty to my right stealing all my attention. The urge to kiss her rises in me, clawing its way to the top of my to-do list, but I manage to hold back. Somehow. We are at work after all.
“Hey,” I whisper, nudging Presley with my shoulder.
“Hay is for horses,” she retorts.
“And grass is for cows.” My response is instinctive, reflexive even, despite the fact that I don’t think I’ve heard that comeback in twenty years. I laugh, my heart feeling lighter instantly. “I haven’t heard that in forever.”
“My father said it once last summer and Otis just cracked up. So now he’ll walk around going hey, hey, hey, trying to get us to respond that way. I’m surprised he hasn’t done it to you.”
My soul lifts even more at the mention of Little Man, my attachment to him strong and steady. He’s an equal part in this equation, and I’m just as taken with him as I am his mama. Well, maybe I’m a little more taken with his mama. But he’s a close second.
“New goal to try and unlock.”
“I’m sure you’ll achieve it in record time.”
Presley winks, her blue-gray eyes sparkling like diamonds.
Holding back is still the right thing to do, but it also might mean the end of me.
I’ve stolen kisses in significantly more public settings than the Hayes cafeteria, but there is something about being at this table, with my sisters-in-law, that tells me I need to respect the line.
That something being that I’m secretly afraid they’ll kick my ass.
My brothers? Eh. But their women? I’m not messing with those powerhouses.
They’ve banded together to form a mini army that would have sent Sherman straight for hills, screaming for his mommy.
And clearly, they’ve taken to Presley, including her in their the boys are at Munch lunch plans.
A fact that really excites me. It also tells me that I need to watch it, because they will side with her without thinking twice if I step out of line.
“So, whatcha talkin’ about?” Anton steals a fry off Sawyer’s plate and she slaps his hand, giving him a look that tells him to get his own. “Us?”
“No,” all three of them respond, almost in unison.
Wow…
“So that’s a yes,” Anton retorts.
“Not everything is about you,” Sawyer reminds him.
Why she puts up with his ass, I’m still not sure.
Because Dr. Sawyer Brown is smart, witty, and can run circles around most agriculturists I’ve met.
As brilliant at his job as my older brother is, Sawyer has him beat.
“But if you must know, Presley was telling us all about this little comeback war she’s entered with this new moonshine called Wink & Shine. ”
“Wink & Shine?” I question. She did tell me this.
Presley nods, looking proud of herself. “Yup. They are new to the market, catering specially to women. One of their posts used the phrase party mode, and while I don’t think it was truly a jab at Southern Brothers, but just someone using the phrase, there was no passing up the chance.
So I replied with the Southern Brothers account, and we’ve been trading comebacks every couple of days. ”
Opening the app on her phone, she pulls up the post, handing it to me so I can see. I scan down the comments, laughing at each playful barb back and forth between my brother’s brewery and this other booze.
“You come up with all these yourself?” I ask, impressed by what I see.
“Yup. That’s kinda my job,” she teases.
Damn, my girl is impressive.
“Most importantly, people are loving it. Taking sides and joining in with their own creative one-liners. Exactly what you want to see—brand recognition and engagement. And it’s free.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Presley is really good at this. Admittedly, marketing is not my thing, and social media even less, but I can’t help but be in awe of the fact that she single-handedly recognized the opportunity and whipped up this magic.
“That’s incredible, Pres,” I tell her, letting my amazement show.
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Don’t worry, it’s still not as popular as your stranger danger series. That one is on the verge of viral. So many likes and shares.”
I laugh, loving the excitement that is flowing off her. I do have to admit, she was right—stranger danger has been a gold mine of a topic. We have a list as long as our arm to still cover, and I swear I’ve already helped her make probably two dozen videos.
“That’s all you, baby,” I say, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her temple. She smells sweet, like cherry blossoms, filling my nostrils, rewarding me for giving in to temptation.
On the other side of Presley, Margeaux lifts an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth also tipping upward in unison, as if a single string was pulling them both. She totally saw me do that, and by the twinkle in her eye, she’s filing it away for future use.
“Are you going to do a what-not-to-do video for cooking safety for the holidays?” Anton asks. “Jace can give you plenty of inspiration. Actually, he can even star in it.”
Fucker…
I roll my eyes, that urge to pull Presley close morphing into one to smack my brother upside the head.
Of course he would bring that up. As the instigator of the family, he’s always looking for ways to cause trouble.
Based on that comment, he also saw me sneak in that kiss and views it as an open invitation to embarrass me.
“It was one time,” I mutter.
Presley whips her head to me, eyes wide. “One time what?”
“Jace didn’t thaw—"
We’re interrupted by Gus crashing into the chair next to me. Thankfully cutting Anton off. Because however he was about to tell this story, that is not how it went down. At least not fully.
“Everything okay?” Margeaux asks, her concern flowing out of her like an open spigot. “You canceled Munch.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He runs his hand over his face, the exhaustion becoming even more clear. “Auggie got a 911 text from Miss Belle—”
“Is Mama okay?” Anton cuts our oldest brother off.
We both lurch forward, suddenly on high alert. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of red hair, followed by a gasp, instinctively knowing that my sisters-in-law reacted the same way.
“She’s fine,” he assures us. This time, his voice is filled with exasperation. “Her dry ice is…broken, or incorrect, or something.”
Her dry ice. Our mother sent our father a panicked, emergency text over dry ice? Actually, that tracks. She takes the mini haunted house that Hayes sets up as part of Truck or Treat very seriously.
“Dad got the text, so Milo and I ran back to Magnolia Manor with him, thinking something was wrong. Really wrong,” he continues, shaking his head.
“I don’t fully understand the chemistry behind why it won’t do what it’s supposed to, but Milo does, so it’s his problem now.
I’ve got bigger things to worry about than the haunted house. ”
“Not if that dry ice doesn’t work,” Anton quips. “Then we’re all going to have a problem.”
“Okay,” Margeaux injects, fingers flying across her phone. “We can have a fog machine delivered Wednesday if need be.”
“Doesn’t that still use dry ice?” Sawyer asks.
Margeaux looks up, biting her bottom lip. “Does it?” Scrolling on her phone again, she hums as she tries to find the answer. “This says it uses either liquid nitrogen or liquid oxygen. I don’t know enough chemistry to know if that’s a good thing or not.”