Make You Mine, page 9
Cam’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look so great, Jack. You been sleeping okay?”
No, he hadn’t been sleeping well—not since the day Madeline Ross first turned up looking for a job. He was going to have to get his act together. That’s all there was to it. There were other single women all along the river, and most of them would be at the Redbud Festival. Pouring wine in the Four Irish Brothers Winery booth would give him an opportunity to meet someone new. That’s what he needed—someone new to focus on.
“I’m fine.” He pulled his tired body up and looked down at the disgusting mess his clothes had become. “As a matter of fact, I’m good. I’m going home, get cleaned up, and grab some lunch. Then back to the office. I gotta work on the Aurora bid a little bit more before we submit it.” He trudged to the center of the sidewalk, then straightened his shoulders and turned back. “Want to run with me tonight?”
“We’ll have to do the streets or go up to the park. The River Walk’s going to be a zoo.”
“Let’s hit the park. I’ll grab you about six.”
“Okay.” Cam approached him, tossing his sanding block from hand to hand. “It’s not a date, by the way. The festival. We’re going with Annabelle and Joe and his latest. Somebody he met at the casino last weekend.”
Jack’s heart sang, but he kept his expression dispassionate. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter,” he lied. “See you later.”
Chapter Nine
Friday turned out to be gorgeous—sunny and into the seventies, which was unusual for April in Indiana. The framers got so much work done on house one that Maddie sent them home early so they could get cleaned up for the Redbud Festival. Fact was, she was looking forward to meeting the Walkers—well, at least three of them, on the steps of the town hall in . . . She glanced at the clock on her dresser. Oh crap, in fifteen minutes. She took one last look in the bathroom mirror, still debating whether her outfit was suitable for the event.
Unstructured beige linen trousers rolled up twice to reveal her trim ankles—the one part of her body she actually liked; although she did like her hair most of the time too. She’d French-tucked a white tank into the drawstring pants and added a blue-striped, long-sleeved flowy linen shirt over the top. A pair of buttery-soft, uber-comfortable, blue wedge slide sandals with a flower applique completed the outfit that shouted springtime and girly. She tucked her phone, her wallet, a hair clip, and her lip gloss into a matching blue-leather cross-body bag, checked her teeth for lipstick, and gave her hair a final fluff. She was as ready as she was ever going to be.
The outfit earned her an appreciative whistle from Cam and a girl, you look adorable from Anna, who was killing it in white denim skinny jeans and a white denim jacket with a yellow T-shirt and a multicolored, patterned silk scarf. Maddie loved that she and Anna were close to the same height and thought they both looked spectacular, even though she was round and Anna was willowy. Cam seemed pleased to be escorting the two of them and offered her and his sister each an arm.
They wandered through the art exhibit, which focused on different images and other creative interpretations of the Ohio River in all its many moods. Maddie found a beautiful watercolor—a view across the river toward the hills of Kentucky, rich with autumn oranges and reds. It would look perfect in her new bedroom, so she bought it and promised Jazz Weaver, Eli’s very pregnant wife, who was running the exhibit, that she’d pick it up after the festival was over.
The evening stayed warm and the sky was starry as they wandered around the booths. The air was filled with the scent of a variety of delicious foods, from deep-fried onion rings and brats grilled with savory onions and peppers, to the sweet smell of cotton candy and caramel popcorn. It was the most food-oriented festival she’d ever experienced. Cam seemed determined to try something from every single food vendor. Normally, at these types of events, it was Maddie’s habit to ignore the food and go for the crafts. But Cam insisted, so they shared to keep from getting too overstuffed—pizza, brats, corn dogs, cookies, ice cream, caramel corn, and of course, beers from the new microbrewery, Dykeman’s Cidery and Brewery, that had recently opened north of town.
Cam introduced Maddie to the brother-and-sister brewing team, Tim and Vanessa Dykeman, whose family owned the orchard that bordered the spec home property, and she tasted some amazing hard ciders as well as a delicious lager. Annabelle flirted outrageously with shy and quiet Tim, making him blush to the tips of his ears. They moved from beer to wine when they passed the Four Irish Brothers Winery’s booth, where they lined up for glasses of pinot noir and a plate of crisp crackers and rich cheeses from Sycamore Hills Dairy.
Jack looked hot in a snug long-sleeved black T-shirt with the winery’s green four-leaf clover logo on the front, his sleeves shoved up to show off his carpenter-strong forearms. He was pouring at the other end of the booth. Maddie couldn’t help noticing how he was charming a pretty little blonde as he prepared a glass of wine for her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye while she waited for Conor Flaherty to make their plate from a cooler full of sliced cheeses at the back of the booth. The blonde was hanging on Jack’s every word, as was the brunette who appeared to be with her. They laughed and teased as he worked a corkscrew into a bottle of white. Probably something sweet—they looked the type. Young, fresh, eager. Maybe sorority girls down from IU, or maybe from Warner College, wearing tight jeans and skimpy tops, although both girls appeared way too young for Jack. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t dating them; he was pouring them a glass of wine.
Why do I care, anyway?
He caught her eye as he yanked the cork from the bottle, and his expression changed from happy and flirty to something else that she couldn’t define. A dark and sultry look that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her. She smiled and gave him a little wave that he returned with a curt nod before going back to the two girls with a smile and a word that sent them both into giggles. Suddenly, Maddie felt frumpy in her linen and stripes—like an old lady.
Stop it! You’re being ridiculous.
She returned her focus to Cam, Anna, Joe, and his date, whose name escaped her, even as Jack’s warm laugh washed over her. They collected up their glasses of wine and their food and headed for the gathering area and dance floor that filled most of the back parking lot of the Box Factory condos. Cam scouted a table near the DJ’s setup, and they all settled in to sip their wine, which was remarkable, rest their tired feet, and enjoy the music.
When the DJ changed from raucous nineties alt rock to the old Linda Ronstadt/Aaron Neville hit duet, “Don’t Know Much,” Cam rose and held out his hand. “Dance, Maddie?”
She accepted with a smile, allowing him to lead her up onto the wooden dance floor, sighing with pleasure as Cam put his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his, tucking their linked hands close to his chest. They swayed to the old tune, then moved right into the next song—a slow Eagles tune—and Maddie closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of his breath against her cheek. How long had it been since she’d danced in a strong man’s arms? She honestly couldn’t remember, and it was such a lovely sensation, she couldn’t help smiling when the next song turned out to be “Feels Like Home”—another one great for slow-dancing. Bless the DJ for keeping things easy for just a little longer.
“Mind if I cut in?” An all-too-familiar deep voice brought her head up. Jack was tapping Cam on the shoulder.
Cam raised a brow to Maddie and she nodded. Her heart sped up as Jack’s arm replaced Cam’s and his warm fingers wrapped around her hand. He was a much better dancer than Cam, leading her across the area in a series of suave moves that left Cam standing on the side of the dance floor, his eyes wide with surprise.
She leaned back ever so slightly. “You can really dance.” It sounded like an accusation, so she smiled to take the bite out of the comment.
He tugged her a tad closer. “Vast and varied talents, I told you.” His quiet, deep voice poured over her like melted butter.
“Where did you learn?” She wanted to keep talking, because if she didn’t, she was going to give in to the temptation to cuddle closer to his brawny chest and bask in the woodsy-spicy scent of him. “It’s unusual for people our age to know how to truly dance.”
He tilted his head and lifted one shoulder. “Three years at Miss Aggie’s School of Dance during high school. Our football coach forced the whole team to take lessons to improve our footwork on the field.”
She chuckled. “I saw the sign for her studio in the window above the radio station.”
“Fairly sure Coach Daniels is still making kids spend their Wednesday afternoons there.”
“He’s still there after all these years?”
He guffawed. “I’m not that ancient.”
“Well . . .” She couldn’t help teasing him. “You are older than me.”
“I’m thirty-nine.” He twirled her, then brought her back in, closer this time. “Only five years older, and Coach was right out of the egg when he started at River’s Edge High”—his brow furrowed as he did the math—“oh, good grief, twenty-four years ago.”
She gave him a saucy smile. “Like I said . . . older.”
There was that look again—the one full of heat that darkened his eyes to deep sapphire and turned her inside out. “Let’s just dance,” he said gruffly and moved their clasped right hands out from between them and into a perfect waltz position as the DJ switched to Sam Phillips’s “Reflecting Light.” The dance became much less personal when he swept her around the floor as if they were in a ballroom. His left hand, which had somehow managed to slip beneath her flowing shirt, trembled against the white cotton covering her back as he danced, his expression coolly neutral again.
She gave up trying to figure him out and stiffened her spine, respecting the distance he’d put between them with the start of the waltz. They danced past Noah Barker, the hardware guy, who was stepping expertly with Dot from the quilt store. Maddie was impressed with their moves, although Noah was too old to have been sent to Miss Aggie’s dance classes by Coach Daniels. Several other couples stopped on the edges of the floor to watch the four of them, and inanely, Maddie wished she had on a long swishy gown and that Jack was wearing black tie and tails as the music one-two-three-ed them across the dance floor.
The song ended to a round of applause from the onlookers, with the folks at the tables joining in as well. Noah and Dot took a very exuberant bow, while Jack only lifted one corner of his mouth in a shy smile, dipped his head, and returned Maddie to Cam, who was whistling and stomping in appreciation. He didn’t even say goodbye, thank you, or . . . anything. He merely hopped off the raised floor and headed for the River Walk without so much as a backward glance.
*
Jack couldn’t get away from the dance floor fast enough. His heart pounded and his hands trembled as he handed Maddie off to Cam. He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t realize he’d failed to say goodbye until he was nearly at the Four Irish Brothers Winery booth. Every single damn time he believed he had the whole Maddie Ross thing under control, he ended up feeling like a schoolboy with a crush, and he didn’t like it. Not one freaking bit.
He didn’t chance a look back at the gathering area until he was safely behind Flaherty’s booth and tearing into a new box of clear cups, setting them on the shelf under the makeshift counter.
Sean came up behind him and gave him a nudge with his shoulder. “That was some fancy footwork, dude. You still remember from Miss Aggie’s, too, eh?”
“Every Wednesday afternoon.”
“Yup.” Sean grinned. “If you want to go back over and keep . . . you know”—he jerked his head toward the dance floor and Maddie before nodding to include his brother—“we got this. Go ahead.”
“Nah. I’m good.” Jack rose from squatting below the counter. “Why don’t you go give the mayor a spin? Brush up on some of those steps Miss Aggie drilled into us.”
Sean’s face lit up at the mention of his wife, Megan. “You sure you’re okay here?”
“Yeah, things are winding down. Go.”
Sean leaped gracefully over the gate on the side of the booth. “I’ll be back to help load stuff into the truck. Wave if you need me.”
Jack glanced over at Conor, who was shoving empties into a cardboard case. “You wanna go dance with Sam?”
“She took the kids home.” He closed the case. “I’m going to start carrying some of these cases of empties up to the truck.”
Jack gave him a thumbs-up, happy to be alone with his own thoughts. Taking up a bottle of pinot that barely had a sip left in it, he considered tipping it up and draining it into his mouth, but then he glanced around guiltily. Who knew if drinking the wine was acceptable if you were pouring tastings, and he’d hate to cause problems for his friends. Was that what his obsession with Madeline had driven him to, anyway? Drinking wine straight from the bottle? He shook his head, set the wine back down, and grabbed his water bottle. Ridiculous. Contemplating one sip from a nearly empty bottle didn’t constitute anything that required therapy. However, there was no denying she’d gotten to him with her cheeky smile and flirtatious teasing.
Setting a couple of empties from the counter into the case behind him, he uncapped his water bottle and took a long drink. The booth was quiet as he sipped. A lot of folks had wound down their evening and headed home as ten P.M. drew nigh. The brief respite gave Jack a chance to think. Unfortunately.
Dancing with her was a mistake. He knew that going in, but watching her laughing and cavorting with Cam sent a slow burn through him. He wanted her, even though she was off-limits. His only saving grace was that she spent most of her time in the field, going from project to project. The only time he had to deal with her, deal with who he became around her, was at the Monday morning meetings.
She’d brought a new energy to Walker Construction, a new kind of vitality that Jack hadn’t even realized had gone missing in his family’s company. Rather, a pall had settled over the weekly check-ins until Maddie, and Jack wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t that they weren’t as dedicated to the projects or that they didn’t care, but with the economy driving up the cost of everything from materials to healthcare, worry had seeped in. And yes, Jack had to confess that his new position wasn’t the piece of cake he thought it would be when he took over as CEO.
Eli had left the office as organized as he could; they’d gone over every detail so Jack could simply pick up the reins and move on. He had carried on for the most part, and Missy was a godsend, but there was just so stinkin’ much to do. He’d started taking his moments of respite from the constant focus on work at either the high school pool where he swam laps for at least an hour or at Whitney’s or Hutchins House, where he often found someone to help him forget how mentally and emotionally drained he was.
But the solace he found was short-lived and left him longing for something more, something more substantial. The jealousy he’d dealt with over Eli being chosen as CEO over him had switched now to a different kind of envy as he watched his brother’s new life with Jasmine. The contentment, the pure joy that seemed to ooze out of Eli was the most extraordinary thing, and Jack was happy for his brother. Sometimes, when he was particularly overwhelmed and exhausted, he’d warm himself at their flame. It wasn’t that he wanted to be married—that ship had sailed. He wasn’t sure he would be able to give enough of himself to make a marriage work, but a relationship, someone to count on? That might be nice.
He’d consciously fought to keep his eyes away from the gathering area as he poured a pleasant older couple glasses of wine, chatted a bit, and rang up the sales, but traffic had slowed. Finally, he’d stopped resisting the urge. His gaze was drawn to the few couples still on the dance floor. Dot and Noah, whom he knew would close the place. Holly and Aidan, clearly crazy about each other as he swung her around to the beat of the music. Annabelle, dancing with a guy Jack didn’t recognize, and Cam and Joe had switched partners. Joe and Maddie laughed as they attempted to jitterbug to the DJ’s latest choice—an old oldie—the Brian Setzer Orchestra’s “Swing the Mood.” Their joyful laughter sent an arc of resentment through him and he turned away, gritting his teeth.
Something had to change. He couldn’t continue on this emotional roller coaster. He’d go crazy if he kept sublimating his feelings for Madeline. A thought occurred to him. Maybe it wasn’t only about her. Could he be in the midst of an all-too-predictable midlife crisis? He was turning forty in a month. Maybe his chaotic emotions stemmed from something as simple as realizing he was getting older. Did he need a red sports car? Or a cruise?
“Hiya, handsome.” His musing was interrupted by an unexpected voice. “You look like you’re doing way too much thinking for this lovely April evening.” It was the sexy brunette from the hotel all those weeks ago. She was back.
He gulped. “Hi. What, um . . . what brings you to town?”
She leaned on the counter, offering him a spectacular view down the deep V of her blouse. “I’m not actually here. I’m in Louisville. I saw the notice for the festival on Facebook and figured I’d come check it out. I tried to find you on social, but it’s tough when you don’t have a last name.” She glanced around the booth. “So, you’re a winemaker?”
“No, no, I’m not. I’m minding this for some friends.” He blinked, disinclined to offer his full name. He preferred the anonymity he’d cultivated so carefully that night; nevertheless, he needed to say something. “Can I pour you some wine?”
“Whatcha got?” She shimmied her shoulders ever so slightly—a move he would ordinarily have found enticing. This time, though? Nothing. It might as well have been his cousin Annabelle leaning toward him so suggestively.
