The Wedding Bargain. Lee Mckenzie
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got to know her, the less she knew about him, the better.
He slid the coaster across the bar. She didn’t pick it up, but he knew she’d keep it, and although she still hadn’t said yes, she had stopped saying no.
He swiveled a little to the right on the wobbly seat of the bar stool. “You gentlemen must be regulars,” he said to Larry and Bill.
As he had surmised, both were mechanics who worked nearby. They’d been dropping in for a beer every day after work for years, had been longtime friends of Jess’s grandfather and had more or less watched her grow up, which accounted for their avuncular affection. They talked about cars and he told them about the old Morgan he and his brother were restoring while he drank his Guinness and subtly—at least he hoped he was being subtle—watched the woman behind the bar.
Likewise, Jess kept herself busy, but he could tell she didn’t miss a beat. She perked up when their talk drifted to the old sports car he was restoring. He thought she might even join their conversation, but she didn’t. Larry said he knew of a reliable supplier for rebuilt auto parts. Michael pocketed the man’s card and said he’d be sure to give him a call when he needed something.
Twenty minutes later, after he finished his beer, he pulled out his wallet and opened it. Before he withdrew a bill, he finally made eye contact with Jess. “Walk me out?” he asked.
He half expected her to tell him to get lost, but she skirted the bar and joined him. He tossed a bill onto the counter and walked with her to the door. He wanted to touch her, but he knew she wouldn’t want that, not with Larry and Bill watching.
“I enjoyed meeting your friends at the wedding,” he said instead. “You and Rory and the other bridesmaids seem pretty tight.”
“We are. They’re like my family. Now that my granddad’s gone, they’re really the only family I have.”
Interesting. He couldn’t imagine life without a close-knit family—a biological one—and was tempted to ask about her parents. No, that could wait. She gave the impression she would open up only when she was ready and not a moment sooner.
“Having friends who have your back is always a good thing.” He pushed the door open and she followed him outside. “So I’ll see you next Thursday.”
She drew the front of her shirt closed and folded her arms over it. “No offence, but why do you want to go out with me? The woman you met at the wedding the other night isn’t the real me. This—” she uncrossed her arms and made a sweeping gesture “—this is the real me.”
“Relax. It’s business, and it’s just dinner. I’m interested to hear what you think of my plan for the new wine bar.” Which wasn’t the case at all. Once he made up his mind about something—and he already knew what he wanted in this neighborhood—he wasn’t interested in what anyone else had to say about it. He had good instincts about these things and so far following them had paid off.
“So long as we’re clear about one thing. Dinner is strictly business, and the Whiskey Sour is not for sale.”
Or so she thought. Everything and everybody had a price. He could be very persuasive, and he was accustomed to getting what he wanted. And right now he wanted the Whiskey Sour. “Understood. I’d like to hear what you have planned for this place, too.” He had the impression that she didn’t actually have a plan, though, and that was going to work to his advantage. “See you next week.”
“Sure. But really—” She was back to looking like a deer in the headlights.
“No buts.” He opened his car door, and there was no missing the upward arch of her eyebrows. “See you next week.”
Chapter Three
Jess stood by the door, watching Michael slide behind the wheel of his Boxster and drive away. Wow. That was some car. Jet-black with tan upholstery. Wine bars must be more lucrative than seedy little taverns. All she could afford was a secondhand Vespa.
After he disappeared around the corner, she went back inside. Larry and Bill were just finishing their second round, which meant they’d be leaving soon. Both were sporting ear-to-ear grins. “Do not start with me,” she warned them.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Larry said. He leaned sideways and slid the money Michael had left toward her.
Twenty bucks for a $5.95 glass of beer. Was he always this generous or did he feel sorry for her?
“Big tipper,” he said.
Jess rang in the sale, grabbed the bill off the counter and stuffed it into the cash drawer.
Larry reached for a coaster—the one with Michael’s phone number—and slid that toward her. “Better put this away for safekeeping, too.”
“I said don’t start.”
Bill laughed, a big booming laugh in keeping with his size. “He forgot his sunglasses, too. Maybe you ought to call that number and let him know.”
Sure enough, Michael’s glasses sat on the bar next to his empty glass. Had he left them behind on purpose? Maybe an excuse to come back or, as Bill was suggesting, a way to get her to call him. No, that didn’t seem like his style. He sure hadn’t needed a reason to show up this afternoon. It was obvious that he’d come here looking for a piece of SoMa real estate, and he could damn well think again. She loved this place. It was the only thing in her life that had any real significance, and she no intention of selling.
To her annoyance, though, she had thought about Michael a lot since Saturday night. She had even debated whether or not to ask Rory for the scoop on him when she got back from her honeymoon. Or she could ask Nic to find out what kind of legal work Jonathan did for him. But what would be the point? Sure, she was curious, but she hadn’t actually expected to see him again. Besides, if either of them told him that she was fishing for information, he might get the wrong idea.
She picked up the sunglasses and pulled the lost-and-found box from under the counter. The box contained two gloves that didn’t match, a cigarette lighter with an ornate letter P engraved on it, a tube of red lipstick, a couple of stray keys, several unpaired earrings and a tacky little gold vinyl change purse that contained eighty-seven cents. A bunch of crap no one would ever claim but that she couldn’t bring herself to throw out. The gold logo on the arm of Michael’s glasses indicated that they were neither cheap nor trashy. She slid the box back into place and set the sunglasses on the counter at the back of the bar. No way would she use them as an excuse to call him. If he didn’t come back for them, and she had a pretty good hunch he wouldn’t, she could give them to him when he picked her up next week.
Larry drained his glass and set it on the bar. “I’d best be getting home to the missus. She’ll have dinner on the table pretty soon.”
“Or you could take the missus out for dinner,” Bill said. “I hear the ladies like that sort of thing.”
Bill had been a confirmed bachelor for as long as she’d known him, which was pretty much forever. She also knew neither of them would let this go unless she played along with them, so she leaned on the counter and struck the phoniest dreamy-eyed schoolgirl pose she could muster. “Us gals are totally into being wined and dined.” She tipped her head to one side and batted her lashes. “Totally.”
They laughed and she joined in while they paid for their drinks. She was not the wine-me, dine-me type at all, and her friends knew it.
“Wish I could afford to give you a big tip,” Larry said.
“I don’t expect tips from you guys,” she said. “I just appreciate your business.” She appreciated their loyalty even more.
Both glanced surreptitiously at the room full of empty tables.
“No worries. Things will pick up a little later,” she said. “They always do.”
They knew as well as she did that was often not the case, but they were too polite to say it. She