Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor Book 2)

Jackson Brews is packed. After a few teases in March, another seemingly endless Michigan winter has finally released us from her clutches, and the balmy temps and sunshine have chased everyone out of their homes and to the streets of downtown Jackson Harbor. It’s one of those nights when patrons have to squeeze through a mass of bodies to get to the bar. Soon enough, school will be out and the tourists will return, and nights like this will be the norm at Jackson Brews. I’m grateful for the tourists and all they do for our community, but seeing the place packed with locals fills me with pride.

Jackson Brews was just a hole-in-the-wall brewpub when I took over. Dad didn’t set out to open a bar; he wanted to brew beer. He was good at it, and before he got sick, he was distributing all over town and into Grand Rapids. The Jackson Brews brewpub was here, but it wasn’t anything special. Customers could stop by and get one of Dad’s brews, and maybe a deli sandwich and some fries. It was functional, but not a destination.

I was in college when Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and when the treatments were making him too sick to work, we all stepped up. Brayden had already been working at Dad’s side on deals to expand distribution. It made sense for him to take over that side of things, but everyone knew he wasn’t the right choice to manage the bar. Carter had just gotten on at the Jackson Harbor Fire Department, and Ethan was in med school. Shay and Levi were both too young, so that left me: a twenty-one-year-old kid who wanted his family’s bar to be the best fucking bar in town. It didn’t happen as fast I wanted it to, but it happened, and I can’t help but be proud. I think Dad would be too if he could see it.

The bell rings as the front door opens. I instinctively glance in that direction but freeze when I see Ava, dressed to kill and looking right at me. Anticipation jackknifes down my spine before I can check myself.

She’s dressed for her date, you idiot.

She squeezes her way through the crowd and steps behind the bar to stand by my side. I inhale deeply and close my eyes for a beat as I process her floral perfume—a junkie taking a hit. When I open my eyes again, she’s surveying the crowd with a shake of her head. “I think I need to cancel my date and help you. Jesus. Where’d they all come from?”

I shrug. “Gorgeous day. I think it’s the first sunny day over forty we’ve had this spring.”

“Do you have the back patio open?”

“Yep, and it’s standing room only out there too.” I wave to a regular then step away to pour his beer and start his tab. I fill a few more drinks and send an order back to the kitchen before turning back to Ava.

Her face is scrunched up with worry. “You need me.”

“You are trying to get out of your date.” When she dodges eye contact, I dip my head to catch her gaze. “Cindy and I have this covered.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Not that I want her to go on this date, but I’m not going to be the guy who stands in her way either.

“I’m so nervous. I suck at first dates, and the pressure is on, you know what I mean? I’ve pretty much given up on finding someone.” She tugs at the hem of her dress. “But I didn’t dream about growing up and finding the perfect sperm to have a baby with. I dreamed of the perfect guy. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Ava, and I’m hoping we’re a great match so we can fall in love, get married, and have babies ASAP.’”

I swallow hard and put my best-friend hat back on. “Maybe don’t lead with that.”

She shakes her head. “But I’m a thirty-year-old divorcée who can’t even put on her own makeup. I had to have Ellie help me.”

Her eye makeup is darker than she usually wears it, and she’s swapped out her typical light pink gloss for a pink that’s so dark it’s almost red. It’s all a step up from what Ava would do on her own, but not over the top. “She did a nice job.”

“I feel like I should be working the corner somewhere.”

“Relax. You look amazing.” I’m not exaggerating. She’s wearing a little black dress—emphasis on little—with her favorite red heels. I haven’t seen this dress before. If I had, I’m positive I’d remember, so I’m guessing it’s Ellie’s. It shows her off. The neckline exposes more cleavage than she usually does, and the hemline exposes more leg. No red-blooded heterosexual male is going to be able to resist her, even if she uses “I want a baby” as her opening line.

“I feel like a washed-up old lady who’s trying too hard.”

“Well, you look like a wet dream.”

She frowns and studies me. “You mean it?”

Fuck yes, I do. I’d like to pull her into the kitchen, press her against the walk-in cooler, and show her just how much I mean it.

But I’m supposed to be prioritizing our friendship. I fold my arms. “Fishing for compliments tonight?”

“Maybe.” Her lips twitch. I’m having a lot of trouble keeping my gaze off those lips, but it’d be best for everyone involved if I did.

She fidgets with the hem of her dress again. “Is Levi around?”

I shake my head. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to see him before my date. You know, for the confidence boost. He knows how to give compliments and make a girl believe them.”

Grunting, I press a hand to my chest. “I’m hurt. Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m calling you my best friend. You’re the one who’s going to have to feed me Oreos and chocolate martinis if I end tonight feeling ugly and not good enough. You have a vested interest in bolstering my confidence.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re still calling me a liar. But that’s cool. I’ve been called worse.”

She laughs, and her dark hair brushes her bare shoulders as she shakes her head. “Hey, guess who’s coming to town?”

“Who?”

“Mother Teresa.”

I frown. It’s been so long since I heard that nickname, and it takes me a minute to understand she’s referring to her stepsister. When that realization hits, my stomach sinks. “Wow. Molly? Seriously? When? Is she coming back for good?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

I take a deep breath and ignore the sick gnawing I get in my gut any time Molly’s name comes up in conversation.

Ava doesn’t seem to notice my awkward rush of questions. She rolls her eyes. “I doubt it. She never stays more than a day or two. Apparently, she has some big news to share with everyone.”

Thanks to her father’s obvious favoritism, Ava has always been incredibly jealous of her younger stepsister. Ava was ten when her dad left her mom. He immediately moved in with Jill, and Jill’s beautiful blond daughter became the center of his world.

When Ava first told me about it, I figured she was just being a jealous kid, but then I saw it for myself over the years. I can’t blame her for the innate sense of competition she feels toward Molly.

The only thing Harrison ever did right when it came to Ava was to make it clear that he wanted her and not Molly. Her father initially tried to set Harrison up with Molly on one of Molly’s brief visits to town. The story, as Ava’s father tells it, was that Harrison said he didn’t feel right taking Molly out when he couldn’t stop thinking about Ava. That sentiment alone was enough to win Ava’s heart.

“What do you think her news is?” I ask.

“God only knows. I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say something like an all-expenses-paid trip to Haiti to launch a not-for-profit that uses rehabilitated circus elephants to improve local literacy rates while providing the impoverished access to clean water.” She chuckles softly, and I grin. Her ridiculous exaggeration of Molly’s volunteer work is a good approximation of how Ava’s father represents it to the world. “Whatever her news is, can you imagine me following it with my plans to buy myself some sperm? Dad would flip and use Molly as an example of all the ways I’ve screwed up my life.”

I grimace, imagining the scene. “Are you really going to tell your dad your plans?”

“I think my news can wait. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think it might be wise to not tell anyone else and pretend I got knocked up by accident. Even my friends don’t seem to understand why someone would make the choice to be a single mom, and I don’t need them to. If they’re more comfortable believing I was irresponsible and accidentally ended up pregnant than with the truth—that I desperately schemed and plotted for a baby—then so be it.”

“So be it,” I say, forcing a smile. Christ, she’s serious about this, and I can’t believe I’m thinking it, but I’m grateful for Ellie and her Straight Up Casual idea. Ava needs a chance to mull this over for a couple of months.

She looks at her phone. “I should probably go.”

On a date. To find Mr. Right. To interview a potential father of her children.

This blows.

I sweep my eyes over her again—because she needs the confidence boost and because I fucking want to—and shake my head slowly. “I hope the asshole you’re matched with appreciates the value of your company.”

She wraps her fingers around my biceps and squeezes. “Thanks, Jake. I needed that.”

“Message me when you’re home safe.”

“Sure thing.” Then she heads out of my bar.

After the front door swings closed behind her, I push out into the dining area and stand at the window. The sidewalks are lined with people enjoying the perfect weather, but I spot Ava instantly. Her hips shift side to side as she heads down the block to Howell’s. I breathe through the tightening knots in my stomach and start counting down the seconds until I get that text.