Gin and Bear It (Stryker Family #4)

Prologue

JADA, A YEAR AND A HALF BEFORE

“Weddings are fucking ludicrous, aren’t they?” Ashley Stryker says to me.

Finally. He’s been eyeing me all evening from across the room. And Ash’s gaze isn’t something that anyone with a pulse can ignore, especially when it’s so blatantly heated.

God, I wish I could ignore him. But he’s only gotten hotter as the years have gone by. Some silly part of me imprinted on him like a baby duck when I was a teenager, and the feeling won’t go away despite everything that’s happened between then and now.

“Bold pickup line considering we’re at your brother’s actual wedding,” I shoot back.

And seriously, who would say that about this wedding?

Ash’s brother Wes and one of my best friends Rose put together a gorgeous event.

Their ceremony was outside of this barn-turned-event-space, surrounded by old forest. People can say a lot about Tennessee, but they can never say it’s not beautiful here.

“Who said this was a pickup line?” He smirks and for a moment, I panic. Oh god, did I completely misread this situation? “It was, don’t freak out.”

I blow out a breath. Ashley Fucking Stryker.

Wait. Ash Stryker. Hitting on me. Jada. The girl he kissed at homecoming when I was fifteen and he was seventeen. The girl he pretended was crazy and ridiculous for talking to him the next day at school, like that kiss never happened at all.

I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he just looks at me expectantly while he sips his drink.

I open my mouth to ask him if he seriously doesn’t know who I am, but then I close it. My heart sinks to the floor, then through it. All the way under the building.

I look really hot today. Not that I’m a mess every other day, but I went all out for this—I put my locs in an elaborate updo, successfully managed to follow a YouTube makeup tutorial, and put on a slinky, golden-yellow dress with a low back that’s bolder than anything I’ve ever worn before.

I never look like this, but I don’t think I look like a completely different person. Do I?

I’ve known Ash since we were kids. We were never close—I was his younger brother’s dorky friend, and he was my best friend’s brooding older brother who was always in trouble or locked in his room, listening to music.

But damn, I was around! And not just after school—our families have dessert together on holidays most years.

Then again, he’s been away with his band or out doing who knows what most of those years since I left home.

Back in high school, I had my hair in its loose, natural curls or straightened, and my glasses weren’t nearly as cute.

My style and makeup went through several hot mess eras, too.

Still. I didn’t get a whole new face. He’s never thought of me as more than his brother’s loud little friend besides that one magical night at homecoming, but I didn’t think I wasn’t worth remembering at all.

For once, I manage to stop myself from saying the first thing that comes to mind (in this instance, fuck off). He’s given me a golden opportunity to mess with him and I want to take it. It’s not revenge—he’s already embarrassed me by forgetting who I am—but it’s close enough.

“Come on, it’s loud in here,” I say, putting on a smile. I grab his wrist and pull him into the hallway. “I want to hear your reasoning.”

In the brighter overhead lights here, I can see he’s a bit drunk and exhausted.

But that doesn’t take away from the intensity of his eyes sweeping over me again.

Putting on this dress took a lot of maneuvering, a heavy-duty sticky bra, and lots of body-safe tape to keep my tits from breaching containment.

I’m glad someone’s appreciating it, even if it’s him.

“Your reasoning?” I say again, when he doesn’t respond.

“What?” His greenish-brown eyes scan my face. For a moment, there’s a confused glimmer there, like he’s trying to sort out where he’s seen me before.

But nope, it still doesn’t click. He just rakes his hand through his dark, artfully messy hair.

None of the rings he’s wearing get caught when he does.

He looks like his brothers if you only look at his face, but his brothers don’t have full sleeves of tattoos and the ability to pull off almost any haircut or outfit.

“Your reasoning behind why you think weddings are ludicrous?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Oh, right.” He meanders down the hall, and I follow him. “It’s just a lot of fanfare, and for what? To symbolize a prison?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You really think marriage is a prison? How dramatic.”

“Think about it. It’s kind of a scam.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants.

The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up too, revealing his inked skin.

The combo is derailing me, so I look down the hall instead.

“You’re tied to one person. Forever, assuming you get the idea that you can’t divorce stuck in your head.

And if you decide to split up, it’s complicated. ”

“But that’s the point,” I say slowly. “And you aren’t ‘stuck’ with them. You’re choosing them forever. It’s about love.”

He scoffs, turning around to walk backward as he looks at me.

“That’s the basis of the scam. All of the media hypes up love as the most important thing you could ever do, but neglect the fact that in reality, people will change up on you in an instant.

Or worse, they’ll slowly lose interest in you over time.

There are other important things in life. ”

I stop. “Of course other stuff matters, but love is important. And it can be hard, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Who said those are the only two options? Why are you so against love?”

He glances away from me for a moment. “I should ask you why you’re so pro-love.”

“Because I’ve seen it. It can make life so beautiful,” I say. “Like my grandparents. They’ve been together since they were teenagers, and they still kiss and dance around their kitchen like it hasn’t been over fifty years. They run our family’s hotel together, too. That kind of love is my goal.”

Ash digests what I said. “So they’re outliers.

That’s like dreaming of being a professional athlete with no backup plan.

Could it happen? Yeah. But could it happen to just anyone?

No. And even that’s not a great comparison.

You can work at sports. You can’t work at being a perfectly lovable person. It’s more like a fairy tale.”

I frown, walking past him so he doesn’t see how much that hurts. I’ve always loved love, and my grandparents always made it seem possible. My dad, who’s been a widower since my mom passed when I was four, never remarried or even dated because his love for my mom was so strong.

To have Ash reduce it to a fairy tale feels like a slap in the face.

But part of me worries that he’s right.

My only “success” in love is my off-and-on-again relationship with Troy, who I met in my hospitality master’s program.

We’re finally broken up for good after a largely passionless attempt to make things work again six months ago.

Thankfully, he quit his job at my family’s historic hotel where we worked together so we don’t have to see each other regularly anymore.

And since then? My love life has been dead, and I haven’t had the drive to go out there and date.

Maybe I’ll never find love. Especially here in Jepsen, where I know way too many people. Small towns don’t really mesh with dating new people, besides tourists. And even then, I couldn’t cross the professional boundary between hotel guest and employee.

“Well, I don’t care if it’s unlikely,” I finally say, mostly to make myself believe it. “I want to fall in love and get married someday. It’s not crazy to have goals in life.”

“So you want to walk right into it?” he asks, almost laughing. “Eyes wide open? Even though statistically, there’s a fifty percent chance it won’t work out?”

“Yep. And that statistic isn’t even entirely accurate.” I forget the details as to why, and I’m too pissed to sort it out. “You still didn’t explain why you’re so against love.”

We round the corner, which leads into a shorter hallway that ends in double doors to the outside. We’re on the opposite side of the building from where most people are now, so it’s quiet. The sound of the music in the banquet hall barely reaches us.

“Because of the reasons I said.” Ash shrugs, hands still in his pockets. “For every couple like your grandparents, there are twenty who are miserable. Plus, you can get the fun part of a relationship without the drama. Easily.”

He closes the gap between us, even though I shouldn’t let him.

Yes, Ash is very clearly a man who gets whoever he wants very, very easily.

I can see why. He’s the bassist in a fairly popular band, Cinematicas, and he travels all over the country performing.

Even if he wasn’t handsome, he could get laid anywhere he went on that fact alone.

But everything about him is striking, from his jaws to his cheekbones to his greenish brown eyes. He fills out his tailored shirt and pants perfectly with lean muscle, and towers over me even though I’m in heels.

Reason leaves my brain in a hurry. I still want him to touch me even though I haven’t been this pissed off at someone in…well, since he pissed me off last, over a decade ago.

He senses my lust like blood in the water and slowly backs me toward the wall. My heart rate picks up as he puts a hand on the wall behind me, keeping a little distance between us. Just enough for me to feel his body heat, but not so close that we’re touching. Teetering on the edge of polite.

He’s going to kiss me. Or at least I think he will—he studies my face instead, once again like he’s trying to place me.

“You recognize me, don’t you?” I say. My voice is breathy even though I’m trying to stay cool. But having Ash this close is throwing all my hormones into a tizzy.

He gives me another long, searching look. “This is a wedding in Jepsen. I recognize a lot of faces. It’s a part of small-town life that I can’t shake. We don’t need to know each other well to have a little fun.”

“Oh my god, Ash. Whatever, I’m done with this.” I push him back. “I’d say I can’t believe it, but with you, I can. Asshole.”

And I thought he couldn’t piss me off more than he has. This is somehow worse than the first kiss incident.

I maintain my composure as I walk back down the hall and into the bathroom, then heave a sigh. Tears sting my eyes. I refuse to cry over him, so I do every breathing exercise I can think of until the urge recedes.

I want to prove him wrong about love, but I don’t want to give him another thought.

The next time I see Ash Stryker will be too damn soon.