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Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

U tter silence fell in the distillery at the shatter of glass as Del dropped another tumbler. Followed quickly by a very mature patron shouting out, "Job opening!"

A few drinks and everyone's a goddam comedian.

"You okay?" Kelley reached for the broom, handing it over with a worried glance. "That's the third glass you've dropped tonight."

"Fine." The terse word left his lips without thought. He grabbed the broom from her hand, sweeping the shards with unnecessary vigor. Kelley held up her hands in surrender. He was being an ass, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Today he'd received yet another resounding "no" for a bank loan. He didn't own a home, have a proven track record with loan payments, and being only a quarter owner of Jack's, couldn't use that as collateral without the signature of his siblings. Yeah right, like his brothers would ever agree to that. After five days of denial after denial, he finally had to admit it.

No one was going to give him a loan.

And without a loan, he couldn't get the cash for the restaurant. Without the cash his risk-averse brothers would shut down his idea, therefore relegating Del to be the screw-off sibling forever. Dammit! The plan was solid. Why could no one see that? His teacher sure had when the guy suggested Del take his senior project into the real world. Professor Fines had been so impressed he requested a table on opening night.

Maybe the guy had been blowing smoke up his ass.

Doubt wormed in the back of his brain. An insidious little bitch he couldn't get rid of. Maybe everyone was right, and this idea was stupid. Teachers were supposed to be encouraging, right? Professor Fines probably just wanted to boost his ego. Give the metaphorical gold star.

Shit, he could use a gold star right about now. At least then he'd have something to pawn.

Having exhausted all his options in the banking industry, Del didn't know what step to take next. The internet was always an option. But crowdfunding took time, and there was no guarantee of meeting the goal. He needed the down payment his brothers required in less than a month.

As he threw the broken pieces of glass into the trash can—there's another two bucks he'd have to scrounge up for the tight-ass twins—the sound of forced laughter drew his gaze. He glanced at the back table where Cassandra sat with yet another date. This guy looked even worse than the last four. Hair mussed, a weird yellow stain on the front of his pants, and did his shirt really say… He squinted. Holy shit, it did. The guy actually wore a shirt with FBI: Federal Boobie Inspector emblazoned in big white letters.

No wonder Cassie looked ready to deck the guy.

He chuckled as he put the broom away. Man, she was batting a zero. He didn't understand why marrying some guy just to get a house was so important to her. But hey, his brothers didn't seem to understand why he needed this restaurant idea to happen either, so who was he to judge?

An idea started to form in the back of his brain, but before he could process it, Cassie stood, flipped her date off, and headed to the bar. Del grabbed the vodka and started making her a martini as she plunked down at the counter.

"What the hell is wrong with your gender?" She clenched her hands as if strangling the entire male population. "I am seriously thinking about switching teams."

He smiled, grabbing a glass—not dropping it this time. As he poured, he noticed her date glance at her, shake his head, and mutter something before storming out of the distillery.

"Hey, Kelley!" She called down the bar to his co-worker. "Wanna get married?"

Kelley shook her head. "Sweetie, you know I love you, but you have a serious Colin O'Donoghue addiction, and we both know that's a deal breaker. Plus," the woman motioned to herself. "You wouldn't know what to do with all this ."

"Fine," Cassie grumbled. "You're right. It would just make things so much easier. Men are pigs."

"Oink, oink." Del passed her the finished drink with a wink.

She mumbled the mixer-god phrase before taking a big swig. "As stupid as that annoying thing you make me say is, you do make a damn good martini, Del. Thank you."

"I've also been told I bear a striking resemblance to Colin O'Donoghue." He bobbed his eyebrow, teasing her like normal. But then something happened.

The idea in his brain clicked, and a light bulb flicked on. He'd heard of people having clarifying moments before, but he'd never actually believed it, until now. The answer to their problems was so clear it practically punched him in the face.

Knowing himself to run half-cocked when excited, he tossed the thought over in his mind for a minute or two. After he'd taken care of a few more drink orders and had a lull in the flow, he made his way back to Cassie, who was just finishing off her martini. With a deep breath, he went over his idea one more time.

Yeah, it would work. The plan was damn near perfect. A grin curled his lips. And he'd have a lot of fun executing it, too.

"Thanks, Del. I needed that." She slid the empty glass over to him.

He began to make her another, and when she protested he said, "On the house."

Cool green eyes narrowed. "I have to get home."

"We both know you walked, so there's no risk of you being too tipsy to drive." Cassie lived three blocks over. She always walked. "Besides I want to talk to you about something." He passed over her freshly made drink.

She took a sip, eyeing him warily. "I'm not calling you a god since I didn't order this."

"Fair enough."

Taking another sip, she closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping her full, pink lips. Damn if it didn't hit him low in his gut. One slim finger reached out to push back a dark brown curl that had fallen from her upswept hairstyle. He loved her hair, wild and gorgeous. Like the woman herself. The kind of hair a man dreamt about wrapping his fingers around in the throes of passion. The woman was sexy as all get out, even when berating his ass. Maybe that's why this idea appealed to him. They could have so much fun with it.

"Okay, talk," she said.

Taking a deep breath, he launched right in. "I have a proposal for you."

She waited a beat, taking another drink from her martini before waving her fingers. "What?"

"That's it." He shrugged. "I'm proposing. Marriage."

Her jaw dropped, green gaze going wide. Then her lips twitched, and she began to laugh. He started to smile, but his humor died when she doubled over, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh my God, Del. Thank you." She sat up, wiping the tears that had leaked out. "I needed a laugh."

"I wasn't joking."

Her mirth dissipated. "Wait…what?"

"I'm serious. Do you want me to get down on one knee?" He started to bend when she lurched over the bar, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him back up.

"Stop it." She glanced around, but no one paid them any attention. "What the hell, Delta?"

Leaning in close, until their noses were inches apart, he spoke in hushed tones. "Look, you need a husband. I need cash. We can solve both our problems."

She shook her head. "Are you suggesting I buy a husband?"

"People mail order brides, don't they?"

"Yeah, but those are strangers they've never met. I know you. We're…friends."

She didn't sound too sure about that.

"Besides," she continued. "What the hell do you need money for?"

He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. "I need a down payment for a restaurant."

"Restaurant?" Her brow furrowed. "You're leaving the distillery?"

"No, I want to add a restaurant to the distillery, but my brothers want me to have the startup funds and…no one will give me a loan."

Chapped his ass to admit it, but desperate times called for humiliation. He needed money, and she had plenty available.

"So you're offering to be my…?"

"Investment." He glanced around, but no one was paying them any attention. "Look, you need a husband. I need startup funds. I'll pretend to be the doting hubby if you loan me the cash to prove to my brothers this restaurant is a good idea. You'll be a silent investor and make your money back within five years. Plus more. It's a win-win."

"But, we don't even like each other."

"From what I gather, most married people don't."

"Del." She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tight. "Be serious."

"I am."

At his stark tone, she glanced up.

"Think about it, Cassie. You need a husband. One who isn't a total dick like the douches you've been meeting in here the past week."

"Hey," she protested. "They weren't all bad."

He raised a brow, and she grimaced.

"Okay, fine. They were all terrible." She dropped her head onto the bar. "Ugh, I hate online dating."

"Then stop. Ditch the profiles and marry me."

She turned her head to the side, glancing up at him. "A husband for hire?"

He shrugged. If that's what she wanted to call it, he didn't care. She could call him anything she wanted as long as he got his investment money.

"What would this offer entail? If I were to accept."

Her head lifted, gaze roaming down his body. She plucked the toothpick from her drink, placing the olive skewered on it between her teeth and sliding the fruit slowly off the wooden sliver and into her mouth. His dick hardened at the sensual move. She probably didn't even realize she'd done it. Green eyes heated as she glanced him over.

Or maybe she had.

Rather than be insulted by Cassie suggesting he basically be her man-whore, the idea intrigued him. He couldn't deny Cassandra Brown had starred in more than one of his late-night fantasies. Her small stature conjured up images of him lifting her against the wall, pressing her firmly against the hard surface and his hard body as he sank into her warmth. Her dark, curly hair could never be controlled, no matter how hard she tried, but he loved it. It made her look wild, untamable.

And who would want to tame her? Cassie had a fire in her that burned bright. Every emotion shone from those emerald eyes. The woman was a terrible poker player, hence the bet he won. She couldn't bluff her way out of a paper bag, but she could bring a man to his knees with just a look.

Or a smile.

Cassie had a great smile. Lit up a room whenever she graced people with it. He hadn't had the pleasure of receiving it too many times. She mostly scowled or rolled her eyes in his presence, but to be honest, that was his fault. He liked to rile her.

"Are you saying you want a full-service marriage?" He leaned closer, so close he could smell the briny olive on her breath. It made him want to take a drink of her. "Cause that can be arranged, Sassy."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, saw her lips part and gaze turn hazy. Was she actually thinking about it? He'd been messing around, but there was a small part of him totally gung-ho for the idea of a fling with Cassie. He inched closer until he could feel her warm breath on his lips. His gaze darted to hers just as her eyes started to close. Holy shit, he was going to kiss Cassandra Brown. They were actually going to—

Sharp laughter made him pull back. Cassie covered her mouth, but the gales flew through her clenched fingers. She doubled over, tears tracking down her cheeks for the second time that night. He had no idea he could incite such hilarity. He should change careers and try stand-up comedy.

"Good one, Del." She dabbed at her eyes with a bar napkin. "For a moment there, I almost believed you. Can you imagine? You and me married?" She laughed again, pushing back from the counter.

The weird thing was, yeah, he could imagine it. Not the whole happily ever after thing. To be honest, one woman forever wasn't really his deal. He liked variety. But there was no reason they couldn't fake it long enough to both get what they needed and, hey, if they could have a little fun at the same time, why not?

"I'll see you later, Mixing God. Thanks for the laughs." She gave him a small wave, shaking her head with a chuckle as she made her way out of the distillery.

Damn, that didn't go the way he planned. No matter. He'd just try again. He wasn't ready to give up on Cassie. She might think he'd been joking, but she was about to see how serious Delta Jackson could be.

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