Chapter 5
Chapter Five
H olly
The first thing I notice when we walk into The Devil’s Brew is that every single man at the table looks like they bench press logs for fun.
The second thing I notice? Jack’s already scowling.
“Relax,” I murmur under my breath, brushing my shoulder against his. “I thought you said your friends were cool.”
“They were. Before they got wind of you.”
Oh, this is going to be fun.
The booth is crowded, loud, and smells like beer and fried onions. A flannel-clad testosterone bomb. Jack's crew turns as we approach, and instantly six pairs of eyes land on me. And then—on Josie. I instinctively tighten my grip on the toddler’s hand.
“Gentlemen,” Jack grunts like it’s physically painful.
The guy at the end with messy surfer hair and a wicked grin is the first to speak. “This her?”
Jack doesn’t answer. Just slides into the booth next to a guy I now know is Finn. I slide in across from him, Josie beside me like my little bodyguard. Or maybe I’m hers.
“Don’t make it weird,” Jack mutters.
Too late.
“This is her,” the flirty one—Zane—announces. “He’s never brought a woman to meet us. Ever.”
Grady leans across the table, smirking like a fox. “So. When you get tired of Jack’s brooding, call me. I’ve got all my teeth and I make a mean Sunday pancake.”
Jack doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t growl. He just takes a drink of his beer and stares straight ahead like he didn’t just hear a man hit on me in front of him.
Which, for some reason, makes heat curl low in my belly.
I tilt my head and smirk back. “You got whipped cream for those pancakes, Grady?”
He opens his mouth but Finn barks a laugh. “ She’s the one. Jack, if you mess this up, we’re adopting her.”
Jack’s eyes flick to me, slow and dangerous. “You planning to get adopted, Holly?”
I shrug, sipping my drink. “Depends. You planning to keep acting like I’m a stray you found on the side of the road?”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Strays usually come housebroken.”
“Ouch.” I smile sweetly. “Maybe I should get a treat every time I sit too.”
Laughter explodes around the table. Even Josie giggles beside me, clutching her juice cup and swinging her feet under the table.
But Jack doesn’t laugh. He stares at me like he wants to drag me across the table and shut me up with his mouth. And honestly, I’d let him.
“So, what’s your story?” Fox—quiet, bearded, and built like a bear—leans back in his chair, arms crossed.
“Jack put out an ad,” I say casually, resting an arm on the back of the booth. “I responded. And now I cook for him, help out around the place. And try not to rearrange his entire garage because apparently, that’s a war crime.”
Finn grins. “You live with him?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly, squeezing Josie’s hand.
Jack’s eyes narrow.
Zane whistles. “He let a kid in the house? Damn, this is serious.”
“It’s not serious,” Jack growls.
“Sure it’s not,” Ridge mutters.
Jack stiffens, then glances at Josie—who’s watching the group with wide, cautious eyes. Jack doesn’t say a word, but I notice the way his hand clenches on the bottle.
The protectiveness isn’t lost on me.
And I’m not sure what to do with the lump in my throat.
“So, Jack,” Zane drawls from the end. “You tapping that, or what?”
The table goes dead silent. Even Josie stops sipping.
My cheeks flame.
Jack’s gaze whips to me—dark, lethal, unapologetic.
“ Watch it, ” he spits at Zane, voice low and sharp.
Zane raises his hands, grinning. “Just asking. You know how tight-ass you get about your ‘space.’ Figured if she’s living in it, you’re?—”
Jack slams his beer down hard enough to rattle the glasses.
“She’s off-limits.”
A pause. Then Zane whistles again. “ Damn. That’s the closest thing to a love confession I’ve ever heard from Jack.”
My throat’s dry. My whole body’s hot.
Because he didn’t deny it.
He just claimed me.