Page 25 of Until Ireland

Jackson sat at the kitchen island, reading over some manual he received from Flame. The binder was pretty thick, but with the way he ate up the words on the page, it had to be interesting. Then again, I found the technical manual for a 1970 Ford Maverick fun to read in my spare time, when I had any. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

Jackson glanced up at me and whistled. “Damn, Ireland, you’re going to knock his socks off.”

Better compliment than Hunter and Landon. “Thank you.” I did a small turn for him to give him the full effect, then stepped back to the island. “This from Flame?”

He nodded. “It’s all the dos and don’ts of the kitchen. Plus, there are some other health and safety standards in here. Because of the high volume of food consumed in the restaurant, everything has to meet quality standards. None of the meat can be subpar or the dairy or vegetables. It’s a lot to take in, but I already have the basics under my belt from culinary school.”

He started working for Mack last weekend, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t a bit jealous of him. Sure, Mack and I talked as much as we could, but it wasn’t the same as seeing one another. I hadn’t realized how desperate I’d been to be in his arms again until this morning as well. The thought of his lips pressed to mine caused my toes to curl and my breath to hitch. I needed a Mack fix, stat.

Because I’d been determined to finish all of the other work in the shop so I could concentrate on the Aston when the parts came in, I hadn’t had a chance to ask him how it was going. “Do you like being there?”

Jackson folded his hands on the notebook. “Get it all out of your system.”

I stared at him for a second, confused by his statement. “What?”

“You’re looking for an in with Mack, aren’t you?” Jackson was a little different than us. He was more private. Strait-laced. The only tattoo he had was a kiss from our mom and her date of death. He’d always been happier away from the noise Hunter, Landon, and I could create, and we could getloud. So, breaking through those walls were tough sometimes.

“No, not at all,” I said. I didn’t need an angle with Mack. “Can I not ask my baby brother if he’s enjoying his new job?”

He blew out a breath, and his shoulders sagged. “Guess I’m a little antsy. Sorry.”

I waved him off. He was also the epitome of a redhead. Quick to temper and even faster to burn out. “If the stress is too much, concentrate on school and Flame. I’ve been bugging the hell out of Hunter to hire a kid to clean up for us after school and be a parts runner.”

“It’s not that,” Jackson said. “I don’t want to let you or Mack down. This job has the potential to change my life.”

Pretty profound for a nineteen year old. “Well, if you keep stressing yourself out, you won’t be able to live long enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

Jackson chuckled. “True. You’re right, Chef Matthieu said the same after last night. I feel like if I don’t impress them, then they won’t think I’m hungry enough for the job. If I work too hard, well... You know.”

“How about you concentrate on having fun today with us. Tomorrow you can worry about the work.”

Jackson snapped his fingers. “I forgot.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Your risotto recipe.”

I grinned. “So, you made it, huh?”

“Yep. Better than Chef Matthieu.” My brother had a knack for food in the same way Hunter, Landon, and I had one for cars. “Guess I impressed both of them on the first day.”

“Good.” I folded his notebook closed. “Relax, then. We’re going to be leaving soon. Today is all about forgetting about your worries.”

“Sure enough,” Jackson said. “I think I’m going to ride with Landon. Don’t want to be too pretentious driving the Comet to Mack’s house.”

“I’m taking the Custom, and Hunter’s taking his Harley. Man doesn’t like being confined.” I shrugged.

He laughed. “Yeah, he’s always been a little off in the head. Maybe Mom dropped him on it when he was a baby.”

I cackled. “Don’t let him hear you say that too loudly.”

Our parents hadn’t been gone for very long, only a couple of years. Saying they were dead was a little too hard still. Seemed like only yesterday they were leaving Nashville to head to Gatlinburg for a weekend getaway. On their way home, some asshole drunk driver swerved into oncoming traffic and hit our parent’s car head-on, killing our father instantly. For three days, our mother languished in a coma while they tried to ascertain whether or not she had brain function. When the diagnosis came back our mother wouldn’t survive, we made the hardest decision ever. We kept her alive long enough for her organs to be used for donation and then let her go. Three years later, the pain remained, some days as fresh as if it’d just happened.

Jackson had only been sixteen at the time and still in high school. Since Hunter had been our eldest brother, he became Jackson’s guardian, and we all moved in together. It never occurred to any of us to move out either. We were happy together, and after the last year with all the bullshit with Edgar, I’d been grateful for them too.

“Oh, I don’t care if he hears me,” Jackson said shoving off the stool he’d been sitting on. “It’s the truth.” He had one of his favorite band shirts on, along with a pair of skinny jeans and Vans. “I don’t have to get all fancy, do I? I mean, I was supposed to be casual when I went to Flame, but someone said ‘wear your uniform, Jackson...’” He pitched his voice high, trying to mimic me.

I grinned. “I didn’t want you to look like a slacker. So, shoot me. First impressions are the best impressions.”

“Fuck,” Jackson grumbled. “I hate you sometimes.” He headed for his room, taking his notebook with him.

“I love you too, little brother.” I laughed.

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