Chapter 12
Sunday
I swipe a snowflake from the tip of my nose and slip my key into the lock.
Well, technically it’s Casey’s key, but seeing as I’m the person who’s currently having mini-palpitations about the state of his savings account, I think that I have the little-sister right to check out what he’s bought.
Plus, it’s a welcome distraction from my shit-show morning, when I asked Jason out pretty unsubtly via text.
I wince, my belly clenching, at how freaking embarrassed I felt when he gave me the most gentle brush-off imaginable.
And, honestly, what the hell was I thinking asking the hottest bachelor in Phoenix Falls if he wants to hike with me on a Saturday morning?
A Saturday morning . As in, the morning after Friday night.
Of course Jason won’t be available. He’ll be shacking up with some gorgeous small-towner, after a long hard week of being the big blue-collar stud that he is.
I mean, in his defence, he did follow up his text with about a million attempted phone calls, plus a rough and husky voicemail that admittedly made my heart race.
Not only is he a ridiculously skilled sweet-talker, he also has the sexiest voice to sweet-talk in.
Those gentle words paired with that deep voice?
Jason Coleson is dangerous for my fragile heart.
I push open the backdoor to Casey’s secret bar, the toes of my cowgirl boots clipping softly against the varnished hardwood. Then I begin to make my way down the corridor that hosts the office and the storerooms.
And I immediately pause.
Wait a second.
Varnished hardwood?
I blink down at my boots, eyes wide as I take in the rich brown wood beneath them.
I could have sworn that the last time I came in here the flooring was not varnished. In fact…
I nudge my pointed toe against a slightly ajar door and my jaw almost hits the ground when I see that it’s stocked with furnishings and electricals.
They were definitely not in here the last time that I checked.
Who the hell is Casey working with?!
Too surprised to stop, I brush my curls back from my face and storm down the rest of the corridor, stalling in the doorway when I come to the main room.
I gape at it in shock.
What the hell?
When I first found out about Casey’s bar it had clearly already had some work done, but now it’s half furnished and looking as though it’s in its final stages.
I step into the room on shaking legs, my breathing quickening as I take it all in. The upholstered booths. The stunning handmade tables. Even the top of the bar has a beautiful bespoke counter.
I trace the tips of my fingers over the smooth surface, unable to comprehend how much this will have all cost.
And, most of all, why ? Why would Casey – soldier-to-his-core, dedicated to his wife and child Casey – buy a bar in the first place, let alone do it up so that it could compete with any joint in Nashville?
If anything, it genuinely reminds me of Cash’s Bar – the beautiful bar that I worked on for over a decade.
It feels like a tiny piece of Nashville, right here in Phoenix Falls.
A stack of paperwork on the far side of the counter catches my eye and I’m about to walk toward it when the front entrance suddenly slams open.
I grab the bear spray out of my bag and whip around, ready to use it.
And that’s when I register who just walked into Casey’s bar.
Jason stands in the doorway, his broad chest heaving, with maybe five other guys behind him in similar various stages of shock.
His eyes slide across to the bear spray and his brow lifts higher.
“Sunday?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”
And it suddenly occurs to me that I’m the one who’s kind of… breaking-and-entering.
His eyes dip to the bear spray again and he warily asks, “You gonna spray me?”
My lips part as if I’m about to say something, even though I’m really struggling to comprehend what the hell is happening right now, when one of the crew rasps behind him, “Dude, I’m about to break my fucking wrists here.”
Without a backward glance Jason starts striding right for me, and my eyes widen as I backstep until I’m suddenly pressed against the counter. I startle and look down at it over the curve of my shoulder, before turning back to the gorgeous guy who’s narrowing his eyes on me.
The guys behind him heave their way inside, two of them carrying an enormous table, and they drop it with quiet grunts as they position it between two benches.
I quickly fumble for some words, starting with, “Okay, so this isn’t what it looks like…”
But then I’m narrowing my eyes because, now that I think about it…
My eyes shoot up to Jason’s as he looms barely two feet away from me.
I take a small step forward and his spine straightens, increasing his height.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my brow furrowing as I search his eyes.
His breathing pauses and those chiselled cheekbones slowly turn crimson.
And my jaw instantly drops.
“You’re working on this project?” I ask, and when he doesn’t deny it, I gasp in indignation because Jason knew about Casey’s bar, and he didn’t freaking tell me.
I immediately spin around on the heel of my boot but Jason is faster and he grips his large palm around my hip.
The look that I shoot him is colder than the snow falling in the square, but he doesn’t back up a step, instead moving closer.
“You knew ?” I whisper up at him, eyes darting to the guys behind us, half of which are hauling in more furnishings, and the other guys… well, they’re just enjoying the show.
My eyes snag on the guy who I met in town only a few weeks ago and my jaw almost dislocates as all of the pieces fall together.
Beckett smirks and jerks his chin at me. “Hey, Nashville,” he says casually.
Jason searches my eyes, intense and calculating.
His deep voice comes out gruff. “How much do you know?”
I arch an eyebrow. “You first.”
He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, eyes dipping to my mouth for the briefest moment.
And I can’t help but notice that his warm palm is still holding my hip.
A thick muscle slides in his throat and then his eyes are back on mine.
“Case is gonna tell you everything, but he’s waiting for the right moment. Wasn’t my secret to tell. And he’s excited for you to find out about this.”
My brow creases in confusion, even as a speck of understanding flickers in the back of my mind – my subconscious making sense of this situation even when I’m not one-hundred percent sure what it means.
Jason’s unblinking eyes stare into mine. “Don’t try to work it out.”
I quickly blink away from him, blushing the same shade of baby pink as the thermal shirt under my jacket.
“I’m not trying to work it out,” I lie, even as my eyes flicker back to the stack of paperwork across the counter.
It’s as if my mind knows why Casey has done this, even though I don’t have all of the details yet.
If Casey decided to buy a bar…
“Sunday.”
I blink innocently up at Jason.
“He’ll tell you when he wants you to know.”
I twist my lips to the side.
“But promise me that you won’t tell him that you know about this place yet.”
I almost smile at that. “Why? Will it get you into trouble?”
That handsome mouth lifts slightly at one corner. “I always get into trouble when it comes to you.”
My heart pounds in my chest because, yeah, he always did. Covering for me, spending time with me…
Being close with Jason in high school was like having my own personal bodyguard, who not only was the biggest stud on campus but my closest and most treasured friend.
My eyes trail down the strong muscles of his chest, rising and falling steadily as he watches over me.
Someone clears their throat to my left and Jason reluctantly glances over at them.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Y’all gonna make out or what?”
I roll my eyes and move to get out from the cage of Jason’s body but he suddenly plants a large fist on the counter beside me. I glance up at him, half-expecting him to be laughing it off, but his expression is totally neutral, unfazed by the taunt.
Then his palm recaptures my hip.
“Not with you watching.”
Jason’s crew member smirks, nodding in defeat because he’s been outplayed.
But then I remember that I won’t be making out with Jason – because if he’d had any interest in doing that, he wouldn’t have turned me down the first chance he got.
So I plant my palms on his chest and gently push him back a step, as I come to terms with everything that’s happened here.
Jason has been working on Casey’s secret bar, but I trust him enough to believe that what he said is true. If Casey is excited for me to find out about his secret, then I’m not going to ruin the surprise by calling him up on it. I mean, I know that running a bar was originally my area of expertise, but we aren’t the kind of siblings who get jealous or territorial – and the timing really couldn’t be more perfect. The bar will be ready for opening as soon as Casey’s due to come home, so maybe we could even use it to throw him a homecoming party when he returns.
I bank that thought for later and I remove my hands from Jason’s warm chest, watching him swallow as his eyes burn into mine.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I won’t tell Casey that I know about this place.” Then, not wanting him too comfortable, I add a little, “Yet.”
A handsome grin tugs at his lips, a deep smile-crease cutting into his tan cheek.
He rolls his shoulders, eyes flicking down my body as he says, “I can work with that.”
Oh Jason, I think to myself. I just bet you could.
“Okay,” I repeat. “Well, I don’t want to hold you up or anything, so–”
“Sunday.”
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said about your thing on Saturday.”
I avoid his gaze but I can still feel his on mine.
“I would love to have come with you, but I’m working on Casey’s yard.” Then he pulls his phone from his pocket, swipes his thumb over the screen, and turns it toward me.
“I’m not reading your texts, Jason,” I sigh.
“Not texts. It’s an email.”
Undeniably curious, I give his phone a cursory glance, and my heart stumbles with surprise as I see that on Saturday morning he actually does have something being delivered to Casey’s place, by some heavy-duty transport truck that deals with weighty deliveries.
“You didn’t have to show me that,” I tell him, trying not to smile. Because now I’m thinking that maybe he actually did want to spend Saturday with me.
And from that make-out comment earlier? Maybe he doesn’t want to do it just as friends.
“Didn’t have to. I wanted to. I would’ve loved to show you Alpine Trail.”
My heart races as I glance up at him, my cheeks flushing at the look in his eyes.
“Okay,” I say, feeling slightly bolder now. “Well… I should be back no later than one in the afternoon on Saturday.”
Jason pokes his tongue in his cheek, watching me steadily and fighting his smile.
“One in the afternoon,” he repeats roughly. “Okay. Got it.”
“Okay,” I rasp, feeling more breathless in this bar than I did when I was hiking through the snow twenty minutes ago.
He pushes a hand through his hair, smiling down at his boots.
“Okay,” he rumbles again.
And it looks like we’ve got a date.