Life was already too out of control for her to willingly let the reins on her life go. She shouldn’t have given in so easily the other day. She needed the money from the Madewood job. She had to be professional. And she had to stay far away from anything remotely sexual with Jack Vaughn.
…
Jack straightened the knot of his tie in the mirror that hung across the back of the bar. He smoothed down the front of his white oxford shirt and thrust his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.
It was weird to see himself dressed like this. He was used to the white chef’s coat. But Cole needed a bartender after Randy suddenly quit, leaving him high and dry. And if dressing like a penguin was what Jack had to do to help out his family, so be it.
But his brothers shouldn’t get used to it. This was only temporary. He had a business to get back to.
With his bar set up—ice piled high in the tray, lemons and limes cut up and sitting in plastic pitchers, the daily float accounted for and in the register—Jack was ready to take on the night.
Christine, one of the newer waitresses, winked. “Lookin’ good, Jack.”
She walked by with the new hostess on her arm. What was her name? Danielle? Darlene? Did he care? He was not here to become friends. He was not here to date. He was an owner for Christ’s sake and he would act like one. Even if it killed him.
The ladies smiled coyly as they walked by. The hostess even gave him a little wave of her fingers.
“This place is going to be crawling with women once word gets out Jack is working here,” Christine murmured out of the side of her mouth.
They might have the come-hither look down to a science but their skills in the whispering department needed work.
“Which means we better get in there fast before he has too many choices,” the hostess said.
They both looked over, subtlety not their intention, and giggled.
He didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t want to lead anyone on. His best mode of defense was going to be silence.
Besides, he didn’t have room in his brain for another woman. Sterling had taken up residence and occupied every inch, firing his synapses on all cylinders. His brain was on overload at the thought of her, clothed, undressed. Happy. Shy. Needy. The last four days had been torture. He wished he could drop everything and see her. But she had a life outside of her job packing up his home and he would respect that.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. And he knew exactly what he was going to do when he saw her.
“Everything ready, little brother?” Cole stood at the end of the bar, his expression a mixture of appreciation, sympathy…caution. He knew better than to acknowledge the situation.
With the restaurant set to open any minute, Jack gave the bar surface one last wipe. “Good. Ready to go.”
“If you have any questions just ask Devon. He pretty much runs the waitstaff out here so he can help you with anything you need.”
Jack nodded. “Devon. Got it.”
Jack deflated. As though he’d never used a cash register before. Or dealt with customer complaints. But he knew Cole was only trying to be helpful and supportive, and was more than thankful.
As Jack swiped the cloth over the wood surface, Neil stormed into the building.
“I need signatures. And I need them fast.” Neil loped to the bar and took a stool on the opposite side. “I have the contracts for the purchase of the land. There have been no changes since we discussed them last, so all I need is your signature.”
Neil spread out seven copies of the contract. One for each of them, the seller, and the appropriate lawyers. This purchase was a big deal for the family. The biggest endeavor the Madewood name had ever been attached to. Neil had plans to turn an old farm into the biggest, most eclectic culinary experience in the country. Once complete, the Madewood Farm would house indoor and outdoor dining facilities complete with event space, a gourmet food store, apple and berry picking when in season, and a family picnic area. It figured that Neil would be the one to dream up the idea, make the move, finalize the plan, and run with it. Just as his stature was big and overbearing, so were his ideas.
“Me first.” Cole grabbed a pen from his pants pocket, armed and ready to sign in all the right places. “I have to get back to the kitchen.”
“Jack?” Neil held out the contracts Cole had finished with.
He nodded and set to work.
“I finally have a meeting scheduled with Carson Kelly to discuss the design and construction,” Neil said. Carson Kelly was the most prominent architect in the city. “Damn old man was impossible to get an appointment with.”
“Didn’t he do that complex?” Cole asked. “The one with the—”