32. Jensen
32
JENSEN
Walford’s annual May festival is a disaster. For me, anyway. I woke up this morning, refreshed and optimistic about the day after dropping a kiss on Maisy’s forehead while she slept. That optimism was dashed when I arrived at the bar to discover I forgot to order disposable cups.
Thankfully, Ainsley showed up early too, so I sent her to the store to buy every cup she could get her hands on. I would rather have too many than not enough. If Bruno’s serves beer in cheap plastic cups for the next month, so be it.
The second problem I encounter today is the emptying of the first keg. Beer drinkers of Walford and the surrounding area arrived in full force. It’s not even lunchtime, and we’ve already tapped an entire keg. That would be fine except, when I ordered inventory the other day, I didn’t consider the Friday night crowd. Long story short, I didn’t order enough beer for the festival.
Charlie, who’s flustered with his glasses sliding halfway down his sweaty nose, pours beer from cans as quickly as I free them from the cases and crack them open. My nerves are shot. I try to tune everything out and focus on pulling beers and popping tabs, but everyone who walks by demands my attention.
Brody stops by with Danny Foster at his side. The video camera Danny carries everywhere is aimed at me.
“Not now!” I snap, causing him to jerk back and fumble with the camera.
Danny’s cheeks turn scarlet, and Brody puts himself between us in a protective stance, as if I might hurt the kid. I regret directing the anger I have with myself at Danny, but I prefer not to be captured on film when I’m frazzled.
“What’s wrong with you?” Brody asks, his tone filled with disgust at my behavior.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just leave us to it.”
He casts a questioning glance at Charlie—the poor guy looks ready to crawl under the nearest table and cry—then another at Ainsley. Because my employees are unwilling to talk about me while I’m present, no words are exchanged. Brody throws an arm over Danny’s shoulders and guides him away. I’ll try to figure out how those two became buddies another day. Now’s not the time to worry about other people.
“Where the fuck is Javi?” I say, aiming the question at no one in particular as my jaw clenches.
Javi left an hour ago to get a couple more kegs and save the day. I’ll be fine once this disaster is under control and I can breathe for a goddamn minute.
“Mayor Holloway!” Tom-Tom Lee mimics a drum roll on the table with his hands and guffaws at his antics. “Two beers to go, please.”
I pause what I’m doing and level him with a glare sharp enough to slice the grin off his face. Before I say anything to offend the man, Charlie rushes forward and shoves two sloshing cups of beer into Tom’s hands. Clearly, I’m not hiding my irritation well.
“Thanks, kid,” Tom mutters. He flashes me a quizzical look before sipping his drink and strolling away.
Ainsley abandons her post at the raffle table and says, “Let me help Charlie for a bit. You can run inside, cool off, and grab more cups.”
I’m sweating like no one’s business. The back of my shirt is drenched. Hotter temperatures are expected in Texas during May, but the recent rain blessed us with cooler air. Unfortunately, with rain comes stifling humidity. The sticky kind of humidity you can’t escape, where everything clings to your skin: clothes, dirt, the grass. Right now, my shirt suctions to my body.
Accepting Ainsley’s offer of a reprieve, I rush inside and stride toward the kitchen. Because we aren’t cooking today, it’s the coolest room in the bar. I enter the walk-in cooler and let the icy air engulf me. Dragging in crisp breaths, my sinuses burn when the cold air hits the back of my throat, but I’m not bothered. Anything feels better than the sauna outside.
This isn’t me. I’m not this guy. I live an orderly, organized, scheduled, and manageable life. I feel none of those things. Perfection is beyond my reach, just past the fringes of my control. And I need to rein in the chaos before it reigns over me.
Once my ears have gone from blazing to freezing, and my hair is cool to the touch, I exit the cooler and shove myself back into the madness awaiting me. Only, when I get outside, I realize I forgot to grab the damn cups.
Everything continues on a downward spiral, including me, until Javi plows through the propped-open doors from inside the bar, hauling a keg on a dolly. Thank god . I help him place the keg on the ground, and relief washes over everyone surrounding the cart, including Ainsley, who watches me with concern.
Javi starts attaching the tap to the keg, and I bark, “I’ve got it.”
Out of nowhere, Jake appears at my side and clamps a hand on my shoulder. “You good, man?”
Bowing my head, I sneak a few deep breaths—in through my nose and out through my mouth—while praying for a miracle. I sense her presence before she steps through the crowd. Without raising my chin, my gaze drifts upward and clashes with golden-hazel eyes filled with worry and recognition.
My relief is immediate. My rescue, imminent. Everything fades away. The faces, the noises, the madness—they’re carved from my mind until she’s all I can see. My Maisy.
Calm as the heavenly blue sky above, she pushes through the throng and takes hold of my hand. “I need your help with something,” she says, her voice strong, sure, angelic.
Need .
I dread when other people throw out that word, because I’ll inevitably be asked to perform a task—and I can’t refuse. When she uses it, I’m liberated from my mind’s prison. I want her to need me. After failing her once, I’ll spend a lifetime doing anything she asks.
In my office, she locks the door behind us. “One word,” she says.
No longer trapped behind the cart outside, I take advantage of the open area and pace. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“So? Give me one.”
She already succeeded in distracting me, but I consider all the little mistakes I’ve made, the building blocks that led to this morning’s disaster. Summing them up into a single word comes easier now than it did years ago. I’m able to categorize my misgivings, and today’s debacle belongs in the most popular drawer of my head’s filing cabinet.
Stopping behind my chair, I grip the back of it and say, “Failure.”
While she drifts around my office, her body language exudes indifference, as if my heightened anxiety isn’t a big deal. “What happened out there?” she asks.
“Everything went wrong because I overlooked some details.”
“Did you work it out?” She examines the sparse furnishings, the awards on the bookcase, and the articles hanging on the wall. I now realize she’s never been in here.
“Yes.”
“Okay then. It’s done.”
I heave a deep breath and repeat her words. “It’s done.”
She reaches for the handle of the only other door in the room, and I’m on her in a flash. With my recent forgetfulness, it’s possible I left the door unlocked.
I slam a palm against it, and she jumps in fright. “It’s not safe up there,” I say, crowding her against the wall.
She looks up at me, our proximity causing her breaths to quicken, drawing my attention to her cleavage in the strapless denim dress she’s wearing.
“What’s up there?” she asks.
I slide a finger between her breasts. “Rotted floors and old bar junk.”
She crinkles her cute nose. “Oh. I’ve always wondered what’s upstairs in these old buildings. Bar junk is a letdown.”
Pressing my mouth to her ear, my voice sounds rough when I say, “It’s dangerous up there, birdie. Off-limits to everyone, especially you. Your safety is too important to me for you to risk getting hurt.”
“Yes, sir,” she purrs playfully, running her hands across my chest.
But there’s nothing playful about my reaction to her calling me sir . I lift her off the floor and sink into my chair with her straddling my lap. My hands slip into her panties and squeeze her ass, and I’ll forever appreciate that she loves to wear dresses. Easy access.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask, kneading her supple flesh.
She’s heading to Las Vegas for a music video project. It’ll be our first test—well, my first test—to see how I handle her being gone for work. If I can survive for more than a decade without her, surely I’ll make it through two full days. This trip will test Maisy as well. Will she communicate with me, or will I be out of sight, out of mind?
“My flight’s in the afternoon.” Her arms circle around my neck, pulling my head close enough to lick the swells of her breasts.
“Stay with me tonight?” I bite a nipple through her dress, which earns me a sexy little gasp.
When she rolls her hips, a soft moan escapes her. “Of course. I’ll wait up for you.”
“Good. We’ll see how many times you call me sir while begging for mercy.”
She tugs my earlobe with her teeth and whispers, “Zero.”
With a hand splayed on her back, I draw her to my chest and claim her mouth for a kiss. The languorous glide of my tongue against hers conveys my gratitude for her intervention earlier. I know a thousand other ways I can show her my appreciation, but before our make-out session escalates to something more exciting, someone pounds on the door.
“Take your time,” Javi yells. “It’s not like there’s a festival happening.”
We both groan in annoyance. Her, because the interruption stopped my thumb circling her clit. Me, because I have to face everyone who witnessed my near meltdown and resume my duties as bar owner. I’m ready to call it a day and hide away from the world, preferably while buried deep inside my girl.
Maisy and I are failing the test. With the time difference and our work schedules, we don’t find many opportunities to talk, but she could text at least. I haven’t heard much from her at all.
Thank god she comes home today. I had more patience before she agreed to “explore” things than I do now. Ever since she gave herself to me, I can’t get enough. It’s a problem, an addiction I need to kick before it affects other areas of my life.
Too late .
“Did you order the new mics for karaoke?” Javi asks, trailing behind me toward my office.
“Yep.” Nope. I forgot.
His hand lands on my shoulder, urging me to turn and look at him. When I do, he studies my face and shakes his head in disapproval. I’m aware of what he sees—dark circles, bleary eyes. I catch a glimpse of myself every day in the mirror.
“Get it together. That’s the second thing you forgot this week.”
“What was the first?”
“Hey, boss!” Charlie shouts from behind the bar. He agreed to come in this morning to organize the stock and display. “Do we have that case of vodka yet?”
We like to give up-and-coming distilleries a chance, and I promised to order bottles of infused vodka from a local company. Last month.
Javi lifts his brows.
“Fuck.” I plant my hands on my hips and stare at him, waiting for the reprimand.
He puts me out of my misery and momentary self-loathing. “I took care of it. This time,” he adds with a pointed look.
I heave a sigh. “Thanks, man.”
“Do you need to talk anything through? Unload some baggage?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve just had a few busy weeks.”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like you haven’t slept in years.”
I fist his collar, drag him into my office, and slam the door. “Don’t air my shit to the world, Javi. Especially shit that doesn’t exist.”
He points at my face, his tone equally harsh. “ This isn’t fake. You’re losing it, man. Again.”
“I have a lot going on. My attention is split.”
“See, that’s your problem. Or the opposite of your problem. You can’t split your focus. You’re all in, dude, with one thing or another. And if she gets all your attention, what happens to everything else?”
“I’m handling it,” I hiss.
“Lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. I’m trying to help you! Tell me what the issue is. What has you losing sleep? And be honest.”
Javi spins a chair around and drops into it, arms crossed, making it clear he’s not going anywhere until I confess all. Sighing, I lean against my desk and scratch my beard while deciding how much to disclose. I settle on sharing my biggest worry.
“She’s not all the way in with me,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know her. She’s holding back because she’s afraid I’ll hurt her again. I’m trying everything I can think of to get her fully on board with this. With us.”
I’m the one doing all the pushing and pulling in this relationship while Maisy stands still. It doesn’t help that her heart’s protected by a thick, invisible steel wall.
“Y’all seemed fine the other day at the festival, locked away in your office.”
“The sex isn’t an issue. It’s everything else.”
He makes an X with his wrists and shudders. “Whoa. No, dude. That’s Logan’s baby sister. Just…no.”
“She’s a grown woman, Javi.”
“Doesn’t matter. Trevor and I agreed any talk of her in a non-sisterly way is off the table.”
“Would’ve been nice if I was there when you made the agreement, but fine.”
Getting us back on track, he says, “Have you labeled whatever this is? If you need her to check a box for yes or no, then give her a damn love note. She’s not a mind reader.”
“She knows how I feel.”
“Have you asked her how she feels?” When all I respond with is a blank stare, he draws his own conclusions. Unfortunately, he’s spot on. “Ah, I see. You’re afraid of her answer. That explains why you want her to make the first move.” He chuckles. “Funny. She made the first move years ago, and how did that turn out for you?”
I point at him. “Watch yourself, Javi. Don’t imply things that never happened. She didn’t make a move.”
“My point is she asked you to speak up, and you didn’t. You want her to speak up now, but you won’t ask. You’re the maker of your own mess, man. Clean it up.”
“I can’t believe people actually pay you for advice.”
“They pay me for hard truths. To hold a mirror up and force them to look. And trust me, nobody likes what they see at first glance. We’re nothing but walking rough drafts until we open ourselves up for criticism and build on the feedback.”
“You wrote one book, and now you’re making book metaphors.”
He shrugs. “I’m a life coach. Coaches have an arsenal of metaphors at the ready.”
“I can’t give her a reason to run again, man. And this?” I gesture to myself and shake my head in disgust. “This is a big fucking reason.”
I’m a lot for Maisy to manage—physically, emotionally, and mentally—but I’ve never doubted her ability to handle me. The question is whether she wants to. As a man who despises open-ended matters, I need her verbal commitment to our future at least.
“Then give her a reason to stay. Be what she needs, but only when she needs you. You can’t force her hand, Jensen. Dial back the intensity. Back off a little and give her some breathing room. In the meantime, handle your business.”
Maisy had years of breathing room while I suffocated in her absence. Now that she’s back, I’d give up everything to keep her here, including my business.
After Javi leaves, I’m wiping down the bar, waiting on the early evening rush of people who stop in for a drink after work. Tatum munches on fries while listing all the benefits of me hosting a dance night every month. I’m only halfway paying attention to her when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Birdie
Change of plans. I’m spending a couple of days in California. See you Thursday.
I switch to the tracking app to find Maisy’s at the airport in Burbank, California, not the one in Las Vegas, where her flight to Texas is supposed to leave in less than an hour. My jaw clenches, and I squeeze my cell phone to keep from launching it across the room.
“What is it?” Tatum asks. She must notice the sudden downturn in my mood.
“Maisy,” I say.
Tatum makes the wrong assumption about what upsets me. Waving a fry dipped in mustard, she says, “It’ll get easier. I get bored when Jake’s traveling, but I find ways to keep myself busy. You should join me and Lucy on our lunch dates, or we can start a poker gang or a book club.”
“I think I’m good for now.”
Staring at the keyboard on my phone, I formulate a response. Maisy already decided on her plans and acted on them, so there’s nothing I can say to change her mind. Instead of telling her how annoyed I am with her last-minute detour, I type out the supportive text she expects from me.
Me
Have fun.