2. - – Jules
CHAPTER TWO
-
JULES
The gravel grinding under my boots both rooted me and rattled my bones. With my hand poised to push the door open, the bass sent shockwaves through my body, pulling me back to reality—I walked in.
Willow’s Tavern smelled of cedar, whiskey, beer, and peanuts.
It was familiar—safe—a haven, at least for a few hours.
The tavern was eclectic just like the owner, Willow Fox.
It was a mixture of country-chic, cowboy, and divaness.
It screamed don’t fuck with me because I’ll kick your ass and look damn good doing it. That was Willow.
My friends were easy to locate, sitting in our usual spot… an elevated nook in a secluded corner with a panoramic view perfect for people watching. They’d saved my seat. It had my back to the wall, leaving my eyes on the crowd. I loved them.
I wove through the dancing bodies, crunching peanut shells under my feet as I went. My eyes locked on my friends. That’s how I missed my brother.
“Jules, what took you so long?” Jace wrapped me up in his massive arms, lifting me in the air.
“Put me down, beast.” I worked to hide my laugh even as I was grateful for the hug.
His chuckle was deep and rumbled through me as he sat me down.
“Where’s Jonah?” They’re inseparable. If Jace was here, his other half was close.
He tipped his head to the massive table across the room from where my besties sat.
I quickly scanned the table of men. The air was snatched from my lungs.
Dean-fucking-Lockwood was sitting next to Jonah with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and the ever-present stubble that I knew was softer than it looked from our one make-out session.
The horse trainer’s body was lean, fit, and a sculptor’s dream thanks to daily riding and horse training.
I couldn’t stop my eyes from drinking in his sun-kissed skin, coal-black hair so deep not even the rays of the sun could lighten it, or maybe that’s because of the ball cap he wore.
Unlike the others around here, Dean hardly ever wore a Stetson, and thank fuck for that.
Him in one might lead to immaculate conception.
Dean was a perpetual rebel. A man who loved bucking every rule. It made him infuriatingly sexy.
I stumbled back a step when my eyes found his; he caught me, like a woman parched, drinking him down like a tall glass of water.
Those copper eyes were captivating with the irises of an angel, but the wicked glint of a demon.
Make no mistake, he was a ‘good ol’ boy’ to everyone but me.
I rubbed a hand over my aching breastbone, dropping my gaze.
He was my crush for more years than not, but he’s Jett’s best friend.
He hadn’t noticed me… until he did. Mama’s death brought him closer, then everything went wrong.
“Love you, Jace.” I signaled my departure by waving at the table of loud giggling women.
Jace hugged me, once again lifting me from the floor.
My brothers defied the limits of height with each of them at least six-foot-two.
I wasn’t short, but they were massive men.
He kissed the top of my head as we parted ways.
I couldn’t ignore the weight of Dean’s gaze stalking me, but I wouldn’t look back.
Act like he isn’t here. No matter how hard I fought it, I was lost to his magnetism.
I was almost there when I caved. I glanced back just in time to catch him eye-fucking me.
I watched with my mouth hanging open as he licked his full, kissable lips.
The sight generated naughty fantasies of his face between my thighs as I tugged his hair, grinding and using his face until I came.
A flush swept from deep in my core and set my cheeks on fire.
Heat consumed my body as my panties grew wet.
I imagined returning the favor… dropping to my knees and sucking his hard length to the back of my throat, craving the tears choking on his cock would incite.
“There you are!” Quinn’s sweet voice broke the spell.
I jerked my head away from Dean, but not before I glimpsed his victorious smirk. He saw the impact he had on me.
“Huh?” I muttered.
“Oh, this is bad.” Quinn popped out of her chair and came to me. “Come on. We’ve got your whiskey sour.”
Moira didn’t say a word when I sat. She just pushed the rocks glass garnished with cherries to me. “Thanks, doll.”
Moira leaned in and whispered, “Nash made it.” I nodded. “You okay?”
I shook my head and took a huge gulp of the bourbon cocktail.
The woodsy oak flavor danced over my tongue, followed by caramel, then vanilla.
When I swallowed, the brightness of lemon lingered.
I snagged a maraschino cherry out of the glass and bit down.
The herbal sweetness made a moan slip between my lips.
“Well, that hit the spot.” Delaney chuckled. “Let that mouthgasm rock your world, gorgeous.”
“I’ll take the gasms in any form at the moment.” I downed my bourbon.
“Hey, Nash!” Delaney’s command carried over the den of people. Why wouldn’t it? Dee was a chart-topping country music diva with pipes.
“Yeah, Dee, whatcha need?” Nash called back.
“Another round for the table. Make Jules a double—she needs to catch up!”
“Ya got it.” Nash winked and headed to the bar.
“You’re the best.” Dee wasn’t wrong, my drink was gone.
“That’s what friends are for. So what the fuck’s going on with your busybody aunties?” Quinn leaned forward to hear better.
I dropped my head back, sent a silent prayer to anyone with the power to help me, then lifted it to speak. “In under ten minutes, I was reduced to a dysfunctional babymaker.”
“Why does it matter? Your brothers can make more Jamesons,” Finley said while tracing the top of her pint glass.
I knew that contemplation. Her stoicism wasn’t indifference—she was contemplating murder—you didn’t hurt the people Finley cared for. Her quietness, like my brother Jonah, meant they were deep in thought. Best not to piss them off.
“They’re the next generation of Ardis Ranch; that’s their contribution. Since I’m not, apparently my worth resides in popping out babies.”
Perfect timing—Nash delivered our drinks.
“That’s the Inverness way. We can hate it, but it’s the mentality. What you need is a way out. A plan to get through the summer with them here.” Moira took a meditative pull of red wine like a solution would be found deep inside that glass or, more likely, at the bottom of it.
“I’m all ears.” I needed to nurse this cocktail.
Nash also brought a bowl of cherries. If he wasn’t Willow’s brother, he’d be perfect for a friends-with-benefits situation, but she’d take my head for sleeping with her hot-as-hell little brother.
Delaney slammed her hand on the table. We all jumped. “I’ve got it.”
I laughed. “Perfect. Solve my problems.”
“Get a boyfriend.”
I stared at her, took a colossal drink, swallowed, and waited… Nothing. “Dee, that’s obvious, but I’m not on the market for one of those. I don’t date—fuck, yes, but date—never.”
“I didn’t tell you to date. I said you need a boyfriend.” She held eye contact as she sipped her dirty martini.
“What are we missing?” Finley questioned.
“Get a fake boyfriend. Then lose him once your aunties leave. Make it a business transaction. I’ve done it—you know I have.”
“Yes, for the media—when it’s mutually beneficial, but why the fuck would any guy do that for me?”
“To spend some time with the elusive Jules.” Delaney smiled mischievously.
“Nope.” More bourbon… Scratch that, I needed all the bourbon.
“It could work, Jules.” Moira turned to me. “If you handle it right, it’d be perfect.”
“First off, the twins wouldn’t buy it.” They knew too much.
“And, if I told them, thanks to Jace’s big mouth, the entirety of Inverness would know.
” I held up a finger, took a drink, then continued.
“Next problem—Jett. This fake boyfriend would undergo a Spanish Inquisition-styled interrogation or possibly sudden death. No one around here is stupid enough to incur his wrath to fake date me—to screw me, maybe.”
“Jules, you do realize a fake boyfriend would have a better survival rate than a casual fuck, right?” Quinn questioned.
“Jett and I have an… agreement. We stay out of each other’s business unless it gets serious. Fake or not, claiming a man as my boyfriend will make it serious to Jett.”
“Okay, so Jett’s a problem, and the twins can’t know. What else you’ve got?” Delaney pushed.
“I need more? No guy in Inverness would be willing to go against my brothers to date me—fake or real.”
“I would.” The deep, burly voice captivated every woman at the table.
Dean appeared out of nowhere, holding a bourbon neat with eyes for only me.
He took a drink without breaking eye contact.
I couldn’t breathe. The sight of his Adam’s apple sliding up, then down when he swallowed seductively, had dewy sweat beading up on my forehead.
That was nothing compared to the rain shower happening in my thong.
“Go away, Dean,” Quinn ordered.
“I don’t think so.” Another drink and swallow. Was it hot in here?
“Seems I’m needed here.” He slid a strong, veiny hand into the front pocket of his jeans while casually leaning into the wall.
I followed the veins up his arm. In his T-shirt, I caught a glimpse of tattoos peeking out. I wanted to explore the ink and his body. He didn’t have those eight years ago.
“You need to keep your mouth shut about what you just overheard,” Finley growled. See—deadly.
“I won’t say a word.” He didn’t look at anyone but me.
“Why would you do that for a woman you hate?”
“For my own reasons. Like Jules pointed out, Delaney, your situations worked because both parties had something to gain from the agreement.” Dean took another sip. My thong was trashed.
“And what do you have to gain from being Jules’ fake boyfriend and pissing off your best friend?” Delaney bit out.
“No.” My refusal was nothing but air soundlessly passing my lips.
“That’s my business. I’ll handle Jett. I’m the only viable option. Jett’ll be pissed, but of all the men in Inverness, I’m the only one he won’t murder. He loves me like a brother.”
“That’s more of a reason to kill you, dumbass. Jules needs everyone to believe this is real, including Jett. He’ll never forgive you for crossing the line with his baby sister—his only sister who he loves more than anything. If he doesn’t end you, I might,” Finley finished and drained her beer.
“I said, no.” My voice was stronger, yet everyone ignored me.
“Say you can win over Jett, and that’s very doubtful. It doesn’t change the fact you two hate each other and have since Jules was in college. So what the fuck do you get out of toying with her?” Quinn demanded.
“Stop!” I slammed a palm on the table. That did it. “No—Dean… Leave.” My tone was strong, but I was fragile. I couldn’t let him get close again. It would wreck me—more.
“Jules, it’s me or no one. If you want your aunties off your back, meet me at Cardinal Coffeehouse tomorrow, ten am. If you don’t show—good luck.” Dean finished his bourbon, turned, and left.
In a moment of weakness, my eyes dropped to his luscious backside. I’d love to wrap my legs around his strong hips, dig my heels into that ass while he mercilessly pounded me into an orgasmic stupor.
“Jules?!” Delaney yelled over the music.
“What?”
“Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere.”
“Well, you weren’t here. Are you considering accepting him?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Quinn asked.
“Seriously, Quinn. They hate each other,” Moira answered for me.
“That makes it even better. No chance of catching feelings,” Delaney pointed out.
I popped three cherries in my mouth and downed the rest of my whiskey sour. I ordered another. Jonah would be driving me home.
My friends were right… and wrong. Dean and I did hate each other, but the likelihood of that hatred protecting us from catching feelings wasn’t in our favor. The opposite was more plausible. We hated each other because we’d already caught feelings, and it almost annihilated us.