If It's Only Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 6)

“I understand.” He pinches my chin and smiles down at me. “You can make it up to me next time.”

At some point, we’re going to have to talk about the future, and about what happens to us when I leave Starling for a job with another university—no matter what fell out of his pocket. But I’m a coward and can’t do it tonight. Not with Easton’s smell in my nose and my body still buzzing from our reunion.

Easton

The last time I was in the Jackson Brews bar, it was a hole in the wall, bordering on a dive bar. At the time, Jake was trying to turn it into something more. I can’t say I totally understood his vision at the time, but the transformation he’s created here is phenomenal.

Despite the snow outside, every booth in the bar is full. Patrons crowd around the tables, mingle at high-tops set around the pool tables, and lean against any free space at the bar. Waitstaff bustle about in jeans and red Jackson Brews T-shirts, and I nearly do a spit take when I see the back of one.

Jackson Brews

The bar, the beer, and oh Lord . . . the BROTHERS!

I spot Jake behind the bar, his messy skater hair hanging over one eye. I grab a stool just as its occupant leaves. “Nice place, Jake.”

He grins at me. “I forgot how long it’s been for you. You probably haven’t been here since . . .” The amusement fades from his face. “Probably Dad’s funeral, huh?”

“I didn’t make it over here during that trip,” I say, still taking it all in. Even the ritzy bars in Laguna smell a little like stale beer, but this place is sparkling. The pride in his ownership is evident. “I should’ve made the time. Seriously. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Jake waves away my apology. “Don’t give it another thought. What can I get you? Beer? Food?”

I glance at the chalkboard menus over his head. “How’s the Jackson Haze?”

“Well, it’s one of mine, so it’s excellent, of course. You like hazy IPAs?”

“I do. Let me try that one.”

“Got it.” He pours my beer and listens to a waitress from the floor rattle off an order for her table. This place isn’t all that’s evolved. Jake has too. The whole family has.

“I can’t believe you and Ava ended up together. I think she spent more time at your house when we were growing up than I did.” I shake my head. “I thought you two would never see what was right in front of you.”

“I’m the luckiest ass you’ll ever meet,” he says, and I can see in his eyes that he means it.

I see another waitress wearing a BROTHERS T-shirt. She slides into a booth with a group of women—no, she can’t be a waitress. Unless she’s on a break or something? “What’s up with the T-shirts?”

Jake plops a coaster on the counter in front of me and sets my beer on it. “The girls thought those up one night after they’d had too many drinks. The customers love them. Brayden hates them.”

Brayden was always the uber-responsible Jackson brother. “Who are ‘the girls’?”

“You know, all our . . .” He waves a hand.

“Your women?”

“More or less, but Shay is among their ranks and would punch me if she heard me describe them that way, so I was trying to come up with a better descriptor.”

I grin. “Of course she would.” And since I came here hoping to run into her, it’s all I can do not to scan the bar again at the mention of her name. I accused her of giving me the silent treatment, and she proved she wasn’t. What I should’ve said was she was shutting me out. Because she is. She has for years. I fucking let her because it was easier than facing the fact that my decisions hurt her.

I sip my beer, not tasting it when I’m so busy thinking about Shay. How did I forget the way her eyes seem to pull me under? How did I forget the way she can use that smart mouth of hers to take control of any situation?

“What do you think?” Jake asks.

I snap my head up. “What?”

Jake folds his arms. “The beer?”

I have no idea. “It’s great. Really smooth, Jake. Well done.”

He smiles. “Thanks. I’m pretty happy with this one.”

I take a breath and a chance. “Jake . . .”

He arches a brow, waiting. “Easton?”

Fuck it. What do I have to lose? “Is Shay seeing anyone?”

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Why? . . . Oh, fuck.” His lips twitch. “You still have the hots for my little sister?”

Jake knew about it too? I must’ve done an even worse job hiding it than I thought. “To say the least,” I mutter.

“I would’ve thought thirteen years in L.A. and all those actresses and models in your bed would’ve cured you of that.”