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She pats my back and whispers, “I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me too.”
She joins the party andoohs andaahs over the bookcase and her special cake. Max gives her a drawing of the family that makes Mom cry. My face hurts from grinning.
Jolene clinks her wineglass with mine. “You boys did a good thing for her.”
“She deserves the world.” I run my knuckles down Jo’s arm.Quietly affectionate.“And so do you.”
“I’ll settle for more chocolate-covered strawberries.”
“I was planning on chocolate-covered brussels sprouts, since you liked the chocolate broccoli so much.”
Her answering smile is concerningly cheeky. “As long as you don’t ejaculate on them.”
“That was in amitt, not in a—you know what, nope.” I pop my jaw, then force a placid expression. “I won’t indulge your teasing.”
She laughs. “Razzing you at soccer is gonna be extra fun.”
I attempt to glower, but the effort is useless. Everything with Jolene Daniels, Owner of My Heart,isextra fun.
chapterforty-five
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Callahan
I turn into the Barrel’s gravel lot and, no word of a lie, can’t find a parking space. It’s a large lot. Even on their busiest nights, there are free spaces on the far end.
“Looks like the grand reopening is already a success,” Jake calls from his driver’s window as he pulls up beside me on the street.
“I had no doubt.”
He snorts. “You were nervous as shit.”
He’s not wrong. Jolene’s been restless lately, having trouble sleeping at night, worried their reopening wouldn’t be as busy as they’d hoped. I could’ve schemed, ensured patrons came from far and wide to fill the place. I did no such thing. My new leaf has been turned over. Jolene has handled this venture on her own, and I’m proud as hell of her.
Jake and I both park down the street, then walk toward the bar together. He glances my way. “Did you get the kitchen shelves installed in time?”
“Barely, but it’s done.”
“And the countertops—you got the company to fix the sizing issue?”
“All sorted.” What isn’t sorted is how invested Jake’s been in this renovation, when he was specifically asked not to be involved. “If you have other concerns, you can ask Larkin directly. See if she needs anything extra done around the place.”
The edges of his jaw sharpen. “You know very fucking well I’m not welcome to work on the Barrel.”
“She might have warmed toward you. I told her your connection got us that deal on the new kitchen flooring.”
He glances at me hesitantly. “Yeah?”
“She did say, ‘Then tear the fucking floor out,’ but she didn’t follow through on the demand.” I slap his shoulder. “I’d say that’s progress.”
And I haven’t interfered in their strained relationship once. No meddling. No texting Sandra to dig for dirt on why Larkin despises my brother so much she refused to let him help me with their renovations. My level of self-control has been astounding.
Jake picks up his speed and shoves the bar door open. A blast of music and happy voices smacks me in the face. The place is packed with regulars and a slew of newcomers. Larkin’s been all over social media, drumming up buzz—a swarm of bees who will pollinate the Barrel House, ensuring it thrives. Pictures will be posted online during the night. The raucous crowd of friends and families will spread the word.
All because Larkin and Jo had a vision and followed through.
