1. Jones

CHAPTER 1

Jones

M ia fucking Cappella.

At one time she was my world. My everything. She owned my heart.

I was obsessed with her.

But that was a long time ago.

When Mia left town eight years ago, she took that pathetic fuck with her. And I swore I'd never be pussy-whipped again. I'm not that loser anymore.

I call the shots. Who I date. Who I fuck. It's my business.

And just because Mia Cappella has turned up in Maple Ridge again doesn't mean I'm about to change any of that. Even if she still looks as beautiful as she did the day she walked out on me.

"Hey?" Maverick calls from the other side of the bar, chucking a peanut at my head.

The soft whack to the side of my forehead is enough to snap me out of my Mia daze.

For now, at least.

"Man, the service here sucks lately," he complains with a smirk. "I'm still waiting for the beer I ordered."

"Shut the hell up," I groan, swiping a glass off the shelf behind me. "When you become a paying customer around here, then you can complain."

"Fine, fine." Maverick holds up his palms in surrender. "But just because Mia is back in town doesn't mean you gotta be Oscar-the-fucking-Grouch."

I pull the tap and fill the pint glass for Maverick, exhaling a long breath. Between Mia leaving and my mom dying, I learned life is too short to spend it in a constant state of anger and sadness.

Being mad at Maverick never lasts long anyway. Not when he ditched me to go across the country for college while I stayed and went to the community college in Denver. And not even when he and my little sister hooked up and tried to keep it a secret from me.

"For the record, my mood has nothing to do with Mia," I say as I slide the glass in front of him.

He quirks a brow at me but must decide to not call me on my bullshit today, and takes a sip of his beer. Maverick and I have been best friends for too many years that he probably knows what I'm gonna say before it even comes out of my own mouth. So why I thought I'd be able to lie about this, I have no clue. Maybe it's an effort to not let any of this bother me.

Truthfully, having Mia back in town scares the shit out of me. Seeing her at Brew Box this morning was like stepping back in time. She hasn't aged or changed a bit. If anything, she's more beautiful.

And that pisses me the hell off.

If I wasn't working tonight, I'd be sitting on that open bar stool next to Maverick, slinging back an ice-cold beer. The days of drinking while on the job, taking advantage of any kind of alcohol at my fingertips, and living day to day either drunk or hungover—or both—are over.

Thank God.

At my lowest, Maverick was not only by my side, but he also carried me. I can't look at him and not remember all he did for me. And it's enough for me to resist going down that road again. Because relying on people is not my forte.

I fill a glass with club soda, toss in a lime, and take a sip before leaning my elbows on the bar top. Maverick is still eyeing me. He knows I'm gonna blow, one way or the other. He's patient, though. He'll wait it out however long it takes me.

Rolling my eyes, I finally relent. "Eight years," the words crawl out of my throat in a scratchy growl.

"Eight years," he repeats, with a subtle shake of his head.

"What the hell?" I grumble. "She leaves town and doesn't even bother contacting me once. In eight years."

Maverick shakes his head. "It's brutal."

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I understand her need to leave. I do. But to stay away so long? Without reaching out. It doesn't make any sense."

"You sure you weren't being your usual dickish self?" Maverick quips.

I glare at him. "You know I wasn't like that with her. Ever."

"Oh, I know. She would've never given you the time of day. Mia was way out of your league."

"Not helping," I grunt.

The door of the bar opens and tension pinches across my shoulders while a group of women file inside. I exhale a shaky breath and take another sip of my soda.

"Did she at least give you an explanation?"

"We didn't really have a chance to catch up. I had to get over here to open and she had to get back to Base Camp."

The group of women distracts me as they make their way to the bar. I recognize one as someone I hooked up with at last year's fall festival. She wanted a relationship. As usual, I didn't.

"Doesn't matter, though. Whatever her explanation of disappearing on you. You've moved on. You're co-owner of a bar, and you're in your first healthy relationship since Mia left. You don't need her bullshit excuses."

"Uhh," I say, rubbing at the back of my neck. "I broke things off with Sabrina."

"Fuck. Seriously?"

"Don't act so surprised. You know I'm not a relationship kind of guy."

Maverick looks like he's going to argue but gets interrupted by an attractive blonde pressed up against the bar, her tits falling out of a slinky black dress, and a flick to her hand to snag my attention.

And damn, she's got it.

"Excuse me, bartender," she calls, her full pink lips in an adorable pout.

I abandon my best friend. "Hey, beautiful. What can I get for you?"

She smiles at the flattery. "Tequila shots. A lot of them."

I nod. "You got it."

"And maybe, you should throw in one for yourself too." She lowers her voice, "That is, if you're interested in celebrating with us."

My grin is immediate. "What are we celebrating?"

"My girl, Grace, just got accepted into medical school."

This is followed by a loud whoop and cheering by the group of women. The blonde nudges the guest of honor closer to the bar. She stumbles forward. Black hair, big smile, and eyes dark as sin.

Grace. The woman I hooked up with last fall.

Her smile vanishes as recognition sets in, and those sinful eyes gloss over.

"You work here?" she asks, disgust dripping in her voice.

I clear my throat. "I own the place." I leave out the part of only being a partial owner. That doesn't feel relevant.

"We'll go somewhere else," she blurts, spinning around.

"Please don't," I find myself saying. "Stay. Celebrate. The first round of shots is on me."

The blonde's smile grows, and she pumps a fist in the air. "Hell yes! We're staying."

"Fine. But you're not joining us."

I hold up my palms. "No worries, not planning on it. I'm working."

Grace eyes me skeptically.

Sure, I'm still a playboy who hooks up with women any chance I get. But I've changed since last fall. I'm a business owner now. And I don't drink while I'm working.

Though when I'm off the clock; that's an entirely different story.

While I quickly fill shot glasses with tequila, I almost don't notice when the door of The Pines opens. But even though it's been eight years since Mia and I were together, we haven't lost the connection we once had. I sense her presence as if it's the wind. It sends a shiver dancing across my skin. And when I glance up in the direction of the door, and we make eye contact, I suck in a breath.

The sight of her, after all these years, in my bar is almost enough to send me into a panic. Mia is gorgeous in such an effortless way. Her long, dark hair falls down her back, and her sparkling green eyes can be spotted from across the room.

She drags her attention away before I do. Of course she does . She shrugs off a black jacket and reveals bare, tan shoulders. Shoulders I used to kiss. And massage. And rest my head on.

Fucking hell.

I groan too loudly, and it doesn't take Maverick long to figure out why.

Mia isn't alone. She's accompanied by my little sister, Cammie—Maverick's girlfriend—and Cammie's best friend, Rosie. There was a time back in the day when the three women were inseparable.

"You're a real fucking asshole, ya know that?" I grumble. "You knew they were coming here, and you couldn't have at least warned me?"

Maverick shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. "Sure, I knew. But I had nothing to do with this. The girls planned it. And something tells me, this has nothing to do with you, either."

"The hell it does."

"You weren't the only one Mia walked out on," he reminds me and instantly I feel like a dick.

I slide the tray of tequila shots across the bar. "Here, enjoy." I wink at the blonde, and I'm fairly certain that if Mia hadn't just walked in that door, I'd be taking her home with me tonight.

But Mia is here.

It's not as if I feel like I need to be loyal to her. It's just that she brings with her a whole hell of a lot of baggage. And memories. Some good. Some bad. And every single one in between.

They're all crashing into me like waves, each one bigger than the last. Mia was my first. My first real kiss. The first girl I said I love you to. The one I lost my virginity to.

She was supposed to be my last of all those things too.

But then there was the baby.

It shouldn't surprise me when it's Cammie who approaches the bar. She passes me a sympathetic smile before slinging her arms around Maverick's neck from behind. He grips her forearms and brings her in close.

I suppress a groan and try not to think about my best friend groping my little sister. Even though it's been a year since they started dating, I'm still trying to get used to it.

"Hey, Jones," Cammie says, the pity evident in her voice.

I hate pity. It reflects weakness. And I'm not weak.

"You couldn't have brought her somewhere else?" I bite out.

"Sorry, big bro, it's Wine Wednesday. And you know Rosie's on a budget."

My jaw pops as I clench my teeth together. "And I bet she's enjoying this all too much."

Cammie shuffles around and drops onto Maverick's lap. "Don't do that. You know she wouldn't intentionally hurt you. Especially not when it comes to Mia."

She's right. I do know. I nod and release a shaky sigh. "Yeah, I know."

"Besides, we all thought you weren't going to be here. You're supposed to be off Wednesdays."

"Right. Yeah, Ben is sick so I had to cover for him."

"Sorry," she said, wincing. "We took the table way up in the far corner, you won't even know we're here."

"Just get them their drinks and we can go back to shooting the shit," Maverick suggests.

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for a best friend like Maverick. Between the two of us, we've been through it. But sometimes my sister's sunny disposition rubs off on him and I miss the old Maverick. The one who was ready to go head-to-head with anyone who started any shit at the bar. He was my wingman. My partner in crime.

"Fine. Wait here while I fill your wine glasses," I mutter.

She smiles gratefully. "Thanks."

"But if you need refills, you're gonna have to find one of my servers because I'm not coming by your table." Behind me, I slide three wine glasses from their holders.

"Deal. But, Jones, you can't just avoid her. She's going to be here for a while. At least until the end of summer."

Dread stretches across the tops of my shoulders. I spin back around and frown. "She said she was only staying until her dad was good enough to handle the store on his own again. Why would she need to stay through summer?"

Cammie's eyes skirt away while she chews on her lip.

"Camille," I lower my voice, using her given name.

She and Maverick share a look and I swear if he knew something and didn't tell me, we're going to be exchanging more than words. There's only one time when the two of us got into a real fight—when he and Cammie started dating and snuck behind my back.

Holding up his palm he says, "Hey, man, I don't know anything about this, swear."

"He doesn't." Cammie vouches for him.

I lean across the bar and narrow my eyes at my sister. "What's going on? Tell me, now."

"You know Mia's dad has to relearn everything since the stroke. Talking, walking, processing," she pauses, fidgeting with the buttons on Maverick's jacket, and doesn't look at me as she continues, "He won't be ready to co-host Bikes and Beers this year. Mia is taking his place as the event host for Base Camp Sports."

The background sounds in the bar are suddenly blaring. The lights are too bright. My heart pounds harder.

Louder.

Faster.

As my attention draws to the Bikes and Beers promo poster on the wall past Cammie's head, my brain plays catch-up on what this means. Mia's dad is the owner of Base Camp Sports. He and I have organized and hosted Maple Ridge's biggest summer event Bikes and Beers together for the past five years.

Apprehension crawls up my spine.

"I can hardly stand to look at Mia," I spit out. "How am I going to work with her?"

Cammie shakes her head, her eyes downcast. "I don't know."

"Bikes and Beers is the biggest event in Maple Ridge. Me and Mr. Cappella work for weeks leading up to it. And now you're telling me Mia is taking Mr. Cappella's place?"

"I'm sorry, bro. But maybe this will be a good thing," Cammie suggests, and she actually looks hopeful.

"A good thing? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit right now?"

"Relax," Maverick warns in a low voice that reminds me I've got witnesses.

Glancing around, I notice I've caught the attention of some customers. I attempt to play it off and force a smile to my lips. But all I really want to do is smash my fist into that wall with the Bikes and Beers poster on it.

I lean my elbows on the bar top. "You saw how I was after Mia left. You know the shithole I was in. How can you think this will be a good thing?"

Cammie gives me a look of sympathy. "Because you two obviously have some unfinished business to take care of. Why else would she leave town without a word to any of us?"

Unable to resist, my gaze searches the room and stops when it finds Mia. She must feel me looking at her because our eyes lock. In that moment, the events surrounding her disappearance eight years ago flash through my memory.

I rub at my chest subconsciously where there's a small, aster tattoo. The one I got in memory of the baby girl we lost. The baby girl no one knows about, but I still think about it every day.

My throat thickens and I try to clear it before replying, "Yeah, I guess you could say, we've got some unfinished business to tend to."