Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“But we can’t… I mean you… I… it can’t work… right?” My lips felt numb, and my fingers tingled.
JT blew out a breath. “I’ve been thinking on this for weeks, it feels like. There are parts of my job that are driving me crazy, like I told you before… but there are parts of it that I really like. It’s part of my identity. I don’t want to give all of that up.”
I swallowed. “I would never ask you to. I feel the same about my business.”
“I can’t work remotely, and neither can you. And I’ve thought about coming back here for the weekends, even though it’s less than ideal…”
“But…?” I prompted.
“But I’m not going to lie. That commute would kill me. I can’t imagine doing it every weekend. And the weekends are your busiest time anyway. So I don’t know what the solution is yet. But I’m going to find one,” he said firmly. “Trust me.”
“Sure.” I wanted to believe him. But evidence was not on our side.
“Let’s just get through Brew Fest, then worry about it.”
I made a sound of agreement, though I didn’t agree at all. And if he thought I could simply not worry about it until after Brew Fest, he didn’t know me very well.
In fact—I yawned hugely—I was probably going to stay up all night worrying about it.
But I turned out to be wrong because with JT’s arms around me and the low, steady thump of his heart in my ear, I dropped to sleep in seconds… not knowing it was the last good night’s sleep I’d get for a while.
Chapter Fifteen
JT
If you’d asked me Saturday morning whether I could possibly dislike any part of my weekend with Flynn, I’d have laughed out loud. How could I?
I’d woken at dawn, hard as a stone, with a sleepy, sweet Firecracker still cradled in my arms in the exact spot where he’d fallen asleep, as though neither of us had wanted to move even a millimeter apart in the night. When I’d pressed a soft kiss to his head, Flynn had woken immediately. He’d lifted his head to smile down at me, and then, without a word or a sound, we’d rolled over simultaneously so that Flynn was beneath me. We’d kissed and frotted lazily until we’d both climaxed, and Flynn’s “Good morning” had been a breathy, satisfied groan as our heart rates returned to normal.
I’d spent years wishing the man would open up to me, and he finally had. I’d wanted nothing more than to feel like he and I were on the same page for once, and we finally were.
Nothing could kill my buzz.
By the midpoint of the Tavern’s lunch rush that day, though, I was beyond exhausted and frustrated as fuck. Flynn and I were on the same page, yeah, but neither of us could figure out how to turn it or what was supposed to happen next. And instead of cuddling Flynn or brainstorming solutions—ways to spend every other week in Honeybridge, maybe, or an apartment in Portland where Flynn and I could meet when our schedules aligned—I was pinch-hitting as a server at the Tavern because Amanda had come down with the same mystery bug Castor had caught the previous night, and I couldn’t stand the idea of Flynn being even more overworked than he already was.
“JT? You good?” Dan demanded.
“Huh?” I blinked up from my thoughts. “Of course. Why?”
“Because I put the tray on the bar two minutes ago, and you’re not delivering it.” He nodded down at the bar top, where he’d placed a tray of chicken wings. “Brittany and Ciaran came for lunch, not dinner.”
I scowled, though Dan was correct. And as I grabbed the tray and walked away, I heard him mutter, “Jesus. Alden wasn’t kidding about the Wellbridge attitude.”
Fucker.
It was obvious that Dan had a thing for Flynn, and he was jealous as hell. The guy barely knew me. He couldn’t possibly know that I was worried and stressed that an invisible clock was ticking down while also feeling a little bit like an asshole with double standards because I was resentful that Flynn and I were going to be stuck working at his business all day instead of enjoying the weekend… when the whole reason we only had the weekend was because I needed to get back to New York on Monday for my business.
I did not have a Wellbridge attitude.
At all.
Still, I made a point of giving Brittany an overly bright smile as I set down their food. “Sorry for the delay. Enjoy!”
Wellbridge attitude? Fuck, no.
“Thanks, JT.” Brittany popped a fry in her mouth, and her eyes rolled back. “God, the food here is so damn good.”
“I’ll pass that on to Kendall,” I said in a chipper voice. “Will that be all?”
“Mmm. Actually, no.” Brittany washed down her fry with mead and smiled brightly. “I had a question. What’s it like working here?”