Page 15 of Hooked on Lane (Hooked #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Lane

O kay, so maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to invite the assistant I had a crush on to my small hometown for Christmas, but what else was I supposed to do?

I couldn't leave her alone in the city. She had invited me to Thanksgiving, and now it was time for me to do the same.

I booked the first flight out of New York City so we could make it to Missoula in time to take a bus to Amesbury.

We could take a cab, but it would cost a fortune.

Jennifer was going to love the scenic route it took from the airport to my town.

It had been five weeks since I took over for Mr. Longford permanently, and chaos ensued.

Clients were nervous about letting someone else take their cases.

I have had to be more hands-on and accommodate their worries, which made me work longer hours.

Being a good boss, I didn't require Jennifer to stay past six. Just because I had to stay didn’t mean she should have to. I wasn't Mr. Curran.

It was a few minutes past seven when I closed out of my email and headed over to the dive bar.

Christmas lights hung from the ceiling. I ordered a draft beer and took a seat near the big-screen TV, watching unnoticed as the other patrons laughed and clanked their glasses together.

I sipped my beer and let the worries of the day fade away.

There was a light tap on my shoulder, and when I spun around, there she was. “Guess you had the same idea, huh?”

“Work has been so hectic these last few weeks. I’m here to meet Laura, but she's running late… again.” She took a sip of her wine and set it back on the bar.

I nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Curran sure keeps her busy.” I cleared my throat, feeling an uncomfortable itch crawl up it. “At least you have me as a reprieve, right?” I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding forced even to my own ears.

She motioned to the bartender for another glass of wine and slid onto the barstool next to me.

“So, I don't want you to think…” I trailed off when my voice quivered, not sure how to phrase what I wanted to say without sounding too forward.

“The trip to Amesbury is purely so you can get away from here if you want; there is no pressure on you to join us for Christmas or anything else.

If you'd rather hole up at the lodge by yourself, that's totally fine.” I swallowed hard and waited for her response.

“I’ve been stalking your town online,” she confessed. “You have one of those town squares, like something out of a fairy tale or a Christmas movie.” Her eyes lit up as she described the main street with its old-fashioned shops.

It warmed my heart to see her excited about the trip. “It's not for everyone but for those of us who can appreciate a rustic main street, it's one of a kind.”

A man's voice rang out, his words dripping with venom. I turned to see Jennifer's ex-boyfriend Peyton, who had obviously had too much to drink, standing in the doorway. He jabbed an unsteady finger in my direction.

“You know this place only because I told you about it. Take your new boyfriend somewhere else.”

My hands balled into tight fists. I had always kept my cool, but I was getting angrier by the second. “You think you can just show up here and push her around? She's welcome anywhere she pleases, and you'd do well not forgetting that.”

“You think you are a tough guy? She's not worth it. You'll find out soon enough.”

The air was heavy with tension as the ex-boyfriend's words echoed through the bar. I could feel my rage boiling beneath my skin and before I knew it, I lunged forward and landed a powerful punch.

The bartender, Helen, let out a laugh. “Finally, someone got him to shut up. Don't worry about it, Jen. He had it coming.”

Two of his friends grabbed him by the arms and yanked him off the floor. They obviously knew he was in the wrong.

Jennifer crossed her arms. “You didn't need to step in.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “He needs to learn that he can't talk to you like that—or anybody, for that matter.”

As she sat back down, her hand fell to mine with a soft thud. She grabbed it and examined the wound on my knuckles—a deep cut caused by hitting one of his teeth. “You should put some ice on that before it swells. Don't think you want your mother to see that.”

“On the contrary,” I replied, a faint smile playing on my lips. “She was the one who taught me to stand up for women. She would probably give me a high five.”

She wrapped a napkin around my injured hand as if she had done this many times before. “Can we get some ice for his hand, please?”

I longed to feel her body against mine, her lips brushing against my own. I wanted to tell her she had a special place in my heart and show her how much I valued her, but then the wall was back up—professionalism. Something inside me broke, and my heart was telling me to be patient.

I wish this wasn’t so god damn complicated.