I open my menu and gasp. They’re so…sexy. Strip and Go Naked, Ride A Cowboy, and “Up All Night” are the first three on the list, and I find them fascinating. “Holy shit,” I whisper, scanning the rest of the selections and taking in their ridiculous names.
“Right? What a brilliant marketing plan,” Dustin boasts.
“Thank you.”
Startled, I look up into Jameson’s hard, dark eyes. Though, once I give him a slow smile, he seems to relax those stress lines. There’s something different about this man. You can tell he’s gruffer, and quite possibly had a rougher life than most. He wears his no-bullshit demeaner like a protective shield, one that tells people to stay back and leave him alone, but I don’t think that’s who he really is, what he’s really about. Of course, I have only two small encounters to base my opinion off of, but I really don’t think he’s as bad as he leads people to believe.
“Though, I can’t take credit for the names. It was actually Jasper’s demented mind that came up with them. Numbers was afraid they were too risqué, but turns out, we live in a town with a bunch of dirty bastards,” he adds with a crooked smile.
Dustin and I both chuckle. I also notice the use of the nickname they gave Isaac years ago. Jameson told me about it after they helped us move the furniture at the bakery. Over a chocolate scone, he informed us about Isaac’s passion for numbers, which ultimately led them to giving him the nicknames Numbers or Newton, for Isaac Newton.
“They’re definitely clever and unforgettable,” I agree, closing my menu and setting it aside.
Just then, our server arrives at the table. “Hey, guys. Welcome to Burgers and Brew. Can I get you a drink?” she asks politely, giving Jameson a quick nervous grin.
“I’ll have an ice water, no lemon,” I tell her.
“And for you?” she asks my brother.
“Bud Light, please.” He glances up at me. “You sure you don’t want a drink? One won’t hurt, especially this early.” I know he means well, but his suggestion slices at my heart.
Dustin and I have gone round and round about this in the past. When we go out somewhere, I don’t drink. I refuse to get behind the wheel, even after having just one sip. I won’t risk him or anyone else on the road for a beer or a glass of wine. Not when my whole world was shattered by someone who thought it was okay to drink and drive. That will never be me.
“I’m okay, thank you,” I reply politely, hating the way my heart thunders in my chest.
“Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks,” she states, turning to head away.
“Bring them some of the curds, will ya, Jani?” Jameson suggests to the server.
“I’ll put in the order, Tank.” Then she disappears toward the back of the restaurant.
“Tank?” I ask, a hint of a smile on my lips.
He shakes his head. “Nickname. My last name is Tankersley. Everyone calls me Tank but the guys. Oh, and don’t worry about the curds. Those are my treat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I argue, but am cut off.
“My treat,” he replies with a little more authority. “They’re my favorite, and I don’t just buy curds for anyone, you know. They’re Wisconsin cheese curds with a zesty ranch dipping sauce. Way better than that wing franchise has,” he states with a grin. “You don’t drink?” he asks casually, leaning against the doorway behind my brother.
“Oh, uh, I do,” I reply softly. “Our mom, she, well, she died four years ago from a drunk driver. I only drink at home.”
He nods in understanding. “I get that and totally respect it. Sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes locked on Dustin’s. Neither of us are big drinkers, but my brother does enjoy a beer every now and again. Since he can’t drive, he has a little more liberty to do so than I do, which suits me just fine.
“Hey, have you met Walker yet?” Jameson asks, standing up straight and turning toward the bar. “Yo, Walk, come here a second.”
I glance around his big frame to see another man get up from a pub table and head our way. He’s tall, dark, and quite handsome, really, but what catches my attention is the woman and small girl still sitting at the table.
“Walk, this is Lyndee and Dustin from the bakery across the street,” Jameson says. “This is Walker Meyer, the fourth owner we told you about. He runs the bar side of the business.”
Walker steps forward and holds out a hand. “You made that basket of goodies? I had to tackle this guy just to get my hands on an éclair,” he says with a laugh.
I shake his big, warm hand and return his chuckle. “Well, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Definitely. Jameson and Numbers raved about them when they returned. Sorry I couldn’t help that morning. Lizzie had a dentist appointment and was nervous, so I went along,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to the little blonde with curly pigtails. She’s dipping fries in ketchup and offers a wave. “I’ll introduce you to Mal and Lou before they leave. Mal has been dying for you to open since I told her about your bakery.”
Before I can respond, inviting them all over for free pastries whenever they want, as a thank you, another shadow falls on our table. “Hey, I thought that was you two. Welcome to Burgers and Brew,” Isaac says, squeezing my brother on the shoulder.
“Thanks!” Dustin replies eagerly. “We’re excited to be here.”
Our server returns with our drinks, but it’s a tight fit. She has to carefully maneuver her way through the growing crowd around our small table of two. But even though there are people standing around us, it’s not overly crowded. They’re not overshadowing the tables around us, making anyone uncomfortable with their presence. “Are you ready to order?” she asks.
“We are,” I state. “I’ll have the Panty Melter.” My cheeks blush under the watchful eyes of the owners.
“Me too,” Dustin adds, handing off our menus.
“I’ll get those right in. And your appetizer will be out any moment.”
We chat for a few minutes, the guys falling into an easy teasing as they tell my brother and me more about opening the business. Jameson even elaborates with greater details about the brewery next door. Their excitement and energy are contagious, and as someone who’s been embarking on the exact same journey, I feel a kinship to these men. They understand.
Just as they start to tell a horribly embarrassing Jasper story from college, a fourth shadow falls over the table. “Well, I should have known I’d find you all standing around, not working.”
My wide eyes fly upward and slam into dark, mesmerizing ones. They’re narrowed into slits and radiating enough annoyance to power a submarine. Yet, when my heartbeat kicks up, it’s in elation, not displeasure. Plus, my breathing does that weird little hitch it only does when he’s near. Everyone around the table says something, but I don’t hear their words. All I can do is focus on the imposing, gorgeous man standing beside me.
Jasper’s here.
Chapter Seven
Jasper
When Jani came back to retrieve the cheese curds, I overheard her mention to my dinner shift assistant chef, Doug, that she had to deliver them to a table where all the other owners are standing, talking to a young couple. She wondered if it was a sibling to one of them, but something told me it wasn’t. Call it my Spidey-sense, or my Lyndee-sense.