Page 46 of Major Love

“The cell service sucks, Jason,” I laugh quietly.

His mouth lifts into a smirk. “Okay, let me rephrase that. I’m going to call you.”

I can’t stop smiling which feels extremely dangerous, so I think that the safest option is for me to get out of his truck, ASAP.

I click the door handle and he instantly unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

I roll my eyes in amusement. “You’re not about to get soaked for me,again,” I laugh.

Ten seconds later, he’s leaning against Casey’s doorframe, watching me as I unlock the cabin’s front door.

“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?” I ask teasingly.

He swipes the rain from his jaw, smiling down at me, and I walk backwards over the threshold, feeling happier than I have in ages.

I kick off my cowgirl boots as Jason holds onto the awning, watching me in amused silence as the drizzle patters behind him.

“I’ll call you,” he reiterates, before finally pushing off the doorjamb. And without a sliver of hesitation he adds, “You looked really beautiful today.”

My pulse races with surprise as Jason steps back from under the overhang, his piercing gaze searching mine as the rain soaks his shirt.

And when he catches me checking him out, a handsome smile lifts his mouth.

I breathe out a laugh and roll my eyes, and I don’t stop beaming even after he’s in his truck.

Because it looks like these feelings might not be one-sided after all.

Chapter 11

Jason

Knox’s voice sounds out from the interior of the bar behind me.

“What did you get up to this weekend?”

I grip my hands under one side of the heavy custom-made bar table, my brother Mitch hauling up the side opposite me, and on a silent count of three we heave it from the back of his tail-bed, carrying it as steadily as we can through the open entrance of Casey’s bar.

It’s been snowing all weekend, meaning that the temperature is freezing, but I can’t deny that right now both of my biceps are on fire.

I ignore Knox’s question for the moment, my sole focus on this table and how goddamn heavy it is.

“Jesus Christ,” I rasp, as we finally drop it down, ready to shove it in the back booth closest to the bar’s counter. “I know I said that it needed to be sturdy but what the fuck did you make it with?”

Our intentions with the furnishings for Casey’s bar were that they’d be easy enough to move around, but not so easy that a patron could flip them over if things got heated. From the looks of things, if a patron tried to flip a table that my brother made, they’d probably end up knocking themselves out before they lifted it an inch.

Mitch grunts, rolling back his shoulders before we shove the table between the upholstered bench-seats.

He gives me a dry look and says, “What do you think I made it with?”

I smirk and shake my head. “I can see that it’s made of wood. What I’m deliberating here is how much fucking metal you’ve secured it with.”

“Want me to screw this one down?” Madden asks, grabbing a couple of bolts from his back pocket, and I stomp some of the snow off my boots because it’s getting slippery as hell in here.

Seeing as Case might want to make some furniture adjustments when he gets home, I rub my hand down my jaw and shake my head.

“Keep them unbolted for now. No-one’ll be able to move them around, anyway.”

Mitch rolls his eyes and then cracks his knuckles, before jerking his thumb toward his truck. “Let’s go grab the other ones.”

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