Just With You (Taphouse Blues Series Book 3) Page 3

  “How’s Sadie feeling, Garret? You guys are getting close, huh?”

  Garret’s wife is almost nine months pregnant, and we’re all waiting for the second little bundle of joy to come into this world.

  “Yeah, I just finished the nursery. Sadie has been nesting like crazy, or whatever it’s called when women clean everything and stock up on diapers.”

  “Nesting,” she confirms, walking into the room with Lindsey right behind her. Lindsey comes to me, and I hand her Paxton, Brody excusing himself to go help her.

  “Linds is gonna feed him, and then we’ll get the food started, okay?” Sadie tells Garret, and he nods, giving her a quick kiss and a swat on the ass. She slaps at him and goes back into the kitchen, her cheeks blushing red from his ministrations.

  “So, when you gonna find yourself a lady and settle down, Jace? A baby looks good on your lap.”

  “I guess when a perfect lady drops onto my lap,” I joke.

  “I’m serious, Jace.”

  “I am too. Trust me, it’s been on my mind lately. With Lindsey and Brody parading Pax around and you and Sadie getting ready to pop, I’ve been thinking about it. Work has been my focus for so damn long, I don’t really know how to change that, but if the right girl comes along, then sure.”

  Garret leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs.

  “Maybe it’s time you got back out there. You and Allie broke up how long ago?”

  “Yeah, I know. But even with Allie, we never got serious. Neither of us was ready.”

  We settle into comfortable silence, but I can’t stop my brain from running all night. It’s like Garret planted a bug, and now it won’t go away. Being a father and a husband aren’t things I’ve thought about in a long time. Allie and I were together for three years, but we were never heading toward being serious. More like friends who spent time in bed.

  Maybe Garret is right. I am almost thirty-five, after all.

  Maybe it’s time to think about what I want from the rest of my life.

  §

  Putting my car in Park, I climb out and walk across the lawn. My mom said to be here at 5:00 p.m., but it’s 3:35 p.m. and I have nowhere else to be, so I figure early is better than late. Pulling the front door open, I step into their small living room and find Drew parked on the couch, my mom next to him.

  “Guess I’m not the only one who’s early,” I joke, swatting at his head.

  “Well, I am the favorite, after all.”

  “Screw you, bro.”

  “No thanks. Huge difference between being into men and being into your brother.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Sitting on the arm of the couch, I grab him in a headlock. He tries to smack me, but I have him at a disadvantage.

  “Boys, please. I love you both equally, but if you break my couch, I’ll put you both up for adoption.”

  “Nice try, Mom, but we’re over thirty. We’re too old, so you’re stuck with us!” Drew laughs, and I get up off the couch so I can grab a beer.

  As I’m popping the top, my dad comes walking into the kitchen, toolbox in his hand.

  “Hey, Pops.” I slap him on the shoulder.

  He tosses the toolbox onto the counter and reaches into the fridge for a beer of his own.

  “Jace. How’s work going?”

  “It’s work. You know.”

  “How is Garret enjoying the detective life?”

  “He’s really happy. Between the new job and preparing for the baby, he’s doing great.” Taking a pull from my beer, I rest back against the counter and try avoiding my dad’s knowing stare.

  “And you? The detective’s exam ever in your future, son?”

  I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t think so, Pops. It’s not really my thing. I’m content with where I am.”

  Taking my beer, I steer myself out of the kitchen and away from what will be his monthly lecture and inquisition into my life and job. I’m just not in the mood for it. Taking the stairs to the second level, I head into my childhood bedroom, still fully intact the way I left it almost twenty years ago.

  Band posters on the walls.

  Pictures of my high school friends on my desk.

  My camera still sits on its tripod in the corner, dust settled over the top of it. Setting my beer down on the dresser, I step over and pick the camera up, not surprised to find the battery dead. An envelope of developed photos sits next to it, and I reach out to open it.

  I flip through the photos, most of them of my family the night we got our Christmas tree back in 2004. Dad and Drew horsing around, Mom holding a mug of hot chocolate. I continue through them, a smile on my face, when I come to the last series of photos in it.

  Me, Casey, and Bryan at our final homecoming week. The football game. The parties. The rallies.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and gently set the photos back inside, the envelope going back to the dresser. Dropping down onto my full-sized bed, I lie back and stare up at the ceiling, memories of that week washing over me in painful droves.

  Every day since I lost them, I’ve tried to do everything in my power to make them proud of me. It’s been a long time since I thought about where my life was supposed to go, and I know deep down it’s why my dad is always asking what my next step is, what my plans for the future are.

  With only a semester left in my senior year of college, I went through the motions and got my degree, only going through with it because that was what the guys and I were supposed to do.

  Graduate and start our lives together.

  I never went through with graduation; I couldn’t take the stares, the whispers. I took finals early, then packed all my shit in four suitcases and left, moving back home. The business and photography degrees were useless to me.

  It was time to find a new path.

  The police academy was the decision I made. Sitting in that courtroom watching the man who killed my two best friends sentenced to only twenty-five years with a chance at parole did something to me. I saw how broken the system was. I wanted to be a part of it, to fix it.

  Help people.

  Every piece of myself that became a police officer is in their memory. Every drunk driver I arrest is one family I can save from what we lost.

  No matter how many we save, it never does anything for the guilt still lying heavy on my chest. Nothing ever will.

  “Jace, can you come help me for a second?” My mom’s voice floats upstairs.

  “Coming, Mom.” I grab the abandoned beer and head back downstairs. Stepping into the kitchen, I find her stirring something on the stove. She looks up with a smile.

  “Come try this. Dad said it was too spicy.” She holds the spoon up to me and I take a bite, my eyes instantly watering, nose burning. Coughing, I try to hide my displeasure, but Mom just groans and tosses the spoon into the sink.

  “Son of a biscuit,” she grumbles, and I laugh, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek.

  “What did you add to that?”

  “Well, your brother said my chili wasn’t spicy enough last time, so I looked online and saw that some people replace chili powder with hot sauce.”

  Resting my arm over her shoulder, I pull my mom close. “Mom, never, and I mean never trust what you read on the internet. You might as well have asked Drew what to do.”

  “Oh hush. Now would you rather have pizza or Chinese?”

  “I’d rather have chili. But since you’re offering, pizza. I’ll go pick it up for you too.”

  “Thank you, honey. You’re the best. Bring Drew with you.”

  “But, Mom… I don’t wanna,” I complain, and she swats me with the hand towel.

  “Don’t make me get your father.”

  “Fine. I swear, woman, you’re lucky we love you so much.”

  “I’ll place the order; you go find your brother.” Kissing my cheek, she heads toward the living room and I go out back, looking for Drew. I find him with Dad on the back porch, both of them nursing a beer.
/>
  “Mom is sending me to pick up pizza, and you’re coming with.”

  Drew laughs and chugs the rest of his beer, tossing it in the trash can on the deck.

  “You’re driving,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder, and I grumble after him.

  Walking out to my car, I drop down into the driver seat and wait for Drew to fold himself in.

  “It’s your fault we’re going, you know? Telling Mom to google shit. Drew, she still uses phone books. The hell were you thinking?” I joke, heading toward town.

  “I don’t know, man. She asked me right before you came over if it was good, and I said it was, but it wasn’t as spicy as usual. I can’t cook cornflakes, so I told her to go online. What did she put in it?”

  I shake my head and start laughing. “A bottle of hot sauce.”

  “Aw, shit. She didn’t.”

  We dissolve into laughter as we make our way toward the local pizza dive, and when we arrive, I find a parking spot up front. We head inside and I step up to the counter, seeing if Mom’s order is ready. She says it’ll be another few minutes, so we grab a booth to sit in.

  Drew fills me in on the latest happenings at the garage, and I tell him about what’s been going on with my job. Stupidly, I let slip how I got in contact with that social worker, Stella, and he won’t quit busting my balls.

  “I’m serious, Jace. You should have asked her out, told her you needed to talk about the case some more. Gone to see her at her office or something.”

  “Okay, number one, no. I don’t ask random people out over the phone, especially someone who I may work with in the future. Two, I don’t even know how old she is or if she’s married. Hell, if she’s even into guys. And three, I don’t ask random people out over the phone.”

  “That’s the same as number one, bro. Learn to count.”

  “I’m aware, but I felt the need to reiterate it.” I start to say more, but the woman behind the counter calls out my name, announcing the order is ready. Standing from the booth, I stride over, and when she gives me the total, I grab a couple twenties from my wallet and pay her. Taking the two large pizzas, I turn toward my brother as he gets up from the booth, both of us heading back out to my car.

  “Hey, so I meant to ask, are you busy tonight after dinner? I’m heading into the city to go to this country club. Line dancing and such. You wanna come with?” Drew asks, and I shake my head at him.

  “Dude, you know I don’t do dancing. Or country.”

  He scoffs. “You’re the only person I know who lives in Nashville and doesn’t like country music. What is wrong with you?”

  “I like it enough, man. Just not enough to dance in circles to it while getting shit-faced.”

  “Exactly. I need a designated driver,” he jokes as I climb into my car, turning the key to start my engine.

  “I’ll come, Drew, on one condition.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You don’t get shit-faced, and you don’t abandon me for the first hot guy you see.”

  Drew rolls his eyes at me, so I shrug and back out of the parking space.

  “Those are two conditions, man. But okay, fine. I won’t get drunk, and I won’t abandon you. Deal.”

  I bump fists with him, and then we make the drive back to our parents’ house in silence.

  §

  After we finished dinner with our parents, I ran home to change and shower before picking up Drew from his place an hour later and heading over to Whiskey Nights. I’m in a simple pair of formfitting Wranglers and a navy Henley, a pair of black Timberlands on my feet. I have no plans to dance, but I did my best to fit in. Neither of us is carded at the door, and we step inside. Some Brad Paisley song is thumping through the place.

  We make our way over to the bar located in the center, overlooking the large dance floor. Drew finds us an empty spot and orders a couple beers. He hands me a bottle of Bud, and I take a pull and then turn to lean my back against the bar top, looking out toward the dance floor. It’s packed, and tonight doesn’t seem to be line dancing night.

  “This place is awesome,” Drew shouts over the music, and I turn to face him as he scans the people dancing.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad, man. Where’d you hear about it?”

  “A client at the shop. He told my head mechanic about it, and Jay passed along the info to me. Figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out.”

  “I’m glad we came. Hell, I may even like the song that’s playing right now.”

  Drew fakes shock and throws his hand over his heart. “What? My big bad brother actually likes the country song playing? I don’t believe it!”

  Laughing, I smack him on the back of the head and turn back to people watching. Taking a sip of my beer, I catch a brunette stepping up next to me at the bar. I get a whiff of her perfume; it smells like vanilla. Looking down, I see long legs in tight-ass jeans, cowboy boots on her feet. Long brown hair hangs in soft curls, and my hands itch to find out if it’s as soft as it looks. She’s tall too, closer to my six-foot height than I expected.

  Standing there, I wait for her to turn her head so I can see what this dark-haired woman really looks like, but she doesn’t. A bartender makes his way toward her, and she orders.

  “Hi, can I get a tequila sunrise please?” Her voice is soft yet husky, and the sound of it has my eyes widening in shock.

  I know that voice.

  “Stella Cole?”

  She whips her head around, and I get my first look at her. Dark brown eyes, delicate features, and a pouty mouth that’s shiny in some kind of lip gloss.

  She’s fucking stunning.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Do I know you?”

  “Yeah, we’ve spoken before. Jace Miller, in the flesh.”

  Stella’s eyes widen, and she bites down on that plump bottom lip. “Holy crap, what are you doing here?”

  “Here with my brother. And you?”

  Stella looks over her shoulder toward the dance floor, her hair sliding over her shoulder. “Ashley, a friend from work.” She pauses a moment. “Well, I have to say, I’m surprised.”

  “With what?” I ask, my eyes raking up and down her.

  “That you’re young. I assumed you’d be much older.” She chuckles, taking a sip of her drink and nodding at the bartender. She reaches into her back pocket, and without thinking, I grab a ten from my pocket and slide it across the bar, telling the bartender to keep the change.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, a smile playing on her lips.

  “I know. I wanted to.” I smile back at her.

  This night just got real fucking interesting.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STELLA

  Holy crap.

  To say that Jace Miller looks nothing like I expected would be an understatement. At around six feet, he’s got dark blond hair and blue eyes. His hair is brushed back off his face, but I can tell it’s doing its own thing. His navy shirt hugs his body in all the right spots, and his toned biceps cause the material to pull.

  He looks like he’s close to my age, and his smile. Jesus, it’s gorgeous.

  Taking a sip of my drink, I lean my hip against the bar and brush my hair off my face. Jace lifts his bottle of beer to his lips, and my eyes lock on his mouth. His lips are full, and I bet they’d be the perfect combination of firm and soft.

  “So how old did you expect me to be?” he jokes, signaling to the bartender for another drink.

  “I don’t know. Definitely closer to fifty,” I tease, and he laughs.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t expect you either.”

  I watch a guy come over to us, and he slings his arm around Jace’s shoulders. He’s about an inch taller with dark brown hair and dark eyes, but they almost look the same.

  “You must be the brother,” I state, holding my hand out to shake his.

  “Drew Miller, pleased to meet you.”

  “Stella Cole.”

  Drew’s eyes light up, and he looks at his brother with a hu
ge grin on his face. “Wait, this is Stella? Shit, bro. She’s beautiful.”

  Jace smacks Drew’s shoulder. “Dude, shut the hell up.”

  “Whoa, wait. What does ‘this is Stella’ mean?” I ask.

  Drew grins at me. “It means, sweet thing, that my brother did nothing but talk about you for a week straight.”

  “Oh really?”

  Even in the dim light of the bar I can see Jace’s cheeks redden, and I find it incredibly endearing. Sounds like our brothers have both been giving us shit.

  “Drew, isn’t there some guy you should be looking for in here?” Jace growls at him, but Drew just laughs.

  “Hey, you told me no getting drunk and leaving you tonight.”

  “I take it back.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Drew drains his beer and sets the bottle on the bar. He claps Jace on the shoulder and he’s gone, moving through the crowd of people.

  “Sorry about that. He’s a total pain in my ass.” Jace gives me an apologetic smile, but I just wave it off.

  Setting my drink down, I brush my hair off my shoulders, letting it fall down my back. The music changes to a slower song, and I take a deep breath.

  “Care to dance?” I ask, motioning to the dance floor.

  “Sorry, but I don’t like to dance.”

  “And yet you’re in a country club, and your foot hasn’t stopped tapping to the beat. Fine, I’ll just be on my way. Nice meeting you, Jace Miller.”

  Finishing my drink, I turn from the bar, but I’ve only made it a few feet when I feel a warm hand grab my arm, Jace stepping up alongside me.

  “Let’s do this.” Taking me out into the middle of the floor, he finds space for us and pulls me to him, his strong arms curling around my waist. Threading my arms around his neck, I keep a small amount of space between us, not wanting to touch him any more than necessary.

  I feel a pull between us, and I have no reason to trust it.

  Yet, anyway.

  “So, Stella, tell me something about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, our bodies swaying in time to the music.

  “Anything you wanna tell me.”

  “Okay. I’ve lived in Tennessee my whole life. My birthday is February 2, Aquarius. I’m thirty-two. I love being a social worker. My favorite wine is Riesling, and every Christmas Eve, my older brother, Mason, and I have a Santa Claus marathon in our pajamas.”