Barking Up the Wrong Tree, Page 3

  “You got all of this when he came in to grab lunch today?” I ask curiously, knowing that as outgoing as Pap is, he’d have gotten as much scoop as possible.

  “That was about it,” Pap says. “The order was ready since you’d called it in. But I do know something else that he didn’t have to tell me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He played professional football for the Bears,” Pap says slyly, and my eyebrows shoot up.

  “He did?”

  Pap nods confidently. “Recognized him. In fact, I would have recognized him from his college days at University of Southern California where he was one of the best linebackers in college football. He was a first-round draft pick for the Bears, and he played four years there.”

  I don’t doubt Pap in the slightest. The man may bleed black and gold for his beloved Pittsburgh teams, but he knows everything about all sports. If he’s not watching the news, he’s watching ESPN. He can talk everything from tennis to NASCAR to soccer, and about a million different sports that range in between.

  “Explains why he’s so big.” Big and muscley and gorgeous.

  “Ruptured an Achilles tendon, I seem to remember,” Pap says as he taps a finger to his chin. “An injury you can sometimes come back from, but he didn’t. Must have been pretty bad.”

  Very interesting. So Mr. McDaniel was a college football standout, an NFL linebacker, and now someone who made enough money that he needed major tax deductions. The whole football thing makes him infinitely more attractive, and I know that’s so totally shallow. But I don’t care, and for two reasons.

  I’ll most likely never see Jake McDaniel again. More importantly, I just don’t care if I’m a shallow ogler of men. It’s the way I am, and I love my carefree life of casual dating. When there’s a good enough connection, I’m not above a very casual hookup, either.

  It’s the way I prefer it.

  “Speak of the devil,” Pap mutters, and I turn to him. He isn’t looking at me, though, rather at the door.

  When I glance over my shoulder, I’m surprised to see Jake walk in. His gaze sweeps the bar and comes to land on Pap and me. With a genial smile, he walks our way and I take a moment to do what I do best when there’s a good-looking man around.

  I check him out.

  He’s wearing a different pair of jeans. The ones at work today were faded, but these are dark denim. A black V-neck fits his bulging muscles like a second skin, along with a matching black leather belt and some fancy-looking black shoes that don’t belong on a farm or in Whynot.

  “Good evening, Pap… Laken,” he says as he sidles up to the bar on my right, looking over my head at Pap who sits to the left of me.

  “Jake,” Pap says genially.

  But I blurt out, “You played professional football?”

  Jake blinks in surprise before smiling down at me. “Yup. Four years with the Bears. How did you know that?”

  I thumb over my shoulder at Pap. “He recognized you.”

  “Are you impressed?” Jake asks with a waggle of his eyebrows, and then turns to Sam-Pete to order a beer before he gets an answer.

  When he looks back at me, I wrinkle my nose. “You’re a Ravens fan. Not much about you impresses me now that I know that.”

  Rather than be offended, Jake gives a bark of a laugh and I’m charmed by the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. No joke. Steelers and Ravens fans don’t generally get along, but he seems completely cool with it.

  “You’re cute when you’re all worked up about your football, but I’m not overly competitive these days,” Jake explains. “If the Ravens win, that’s awesome. If they don’t, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Once I left football behind, I left it behind.”

  “But how could you do that?” I ask curiously, because I thought all professional athletes had it in their DNA to play their sport until they were dragged off the field in a wheelchair or something.

  “Because I had other stuff I wanted to do in my life,” he says with a shrug. Sam-Pete brings Jake his beer, and he takes a moment to pay him. “I had a degree and a desire to go back to school for another one. Football was a big part of me, but it wasn’t my entire life.”

  “Were you sad when you had to give it up?”

  “Yeah,” he admits with a smile. “It was an amazing part of my life. My team was like my extended family.”

  “So what exactly do you do now?” I ask, turning my back completely on Pap. He won’t take this as rude because A) Pap indulges all of his grandkids, and B) he’s never at a loss for companionship. Someone will meander up to him to discuss the farm report over a beer, or even a heated discussion about baseball.

  Jake slides an empty barstool over and sits down. He turns to face me, resting a foot on the rail along the bottom of the bar, and casually perches his arm on the top. “Manufacturing. Computer chips to be exact.”

  “I thought all of that was pretty much done in China now?”

  He appraises me for a minute before he says, “A gorgeous and smart lady who’s up on current world market trends. Interesting.”

  I smirk at him, trying to ignore the flutter low in my belly that he thinks I’m gorgeous. That’s the first indication he’s given of any interest outside of rounding up wayward goats. Not that it makes a difference… seeing how he’s leaving tomorrow.

  “China manufactures a great deal of component parts for the largest computer manufacturers in the world,” he says, “but that’s mostly for consumer products. My company deals in parts for the business side.”

  “Interesting,” I say with a sincere smile. Learn something new every day. But I’m curious about something else. “How did your interview with Jenks go?”

  “I hired him,” Jake says confidently. “He gave a great interview, had the necessary skills to keep the farm running, and actually had a legitimate reason why he didn’t show up to work for you on Friday.”

  This surprises the hell out of me so much that my shoulders jerk back defensively. “What could possibly be a good excuse?”

  “He said he gave his notice to you in writing two weeks ago,” Jake tells me, and my mind spins. There’s no way. I would have remembered that. I jerk again when he adds, “Said he put it on your desk with a stack of mail he picked up from the post office.”

  I groan as my head drops. I’m terrible about going through my mail. My business and personal bills are paid on auto draft, so I don’t have a pressing need to open the mail when it comes in. At least once a month, I’ll make myself do a general cleanup of my desk, but it really just means throwing most of it away.

  I’m guessing his notice is right on my desk where he said it is, in a big pile waiting to be reviewed.

  But still…

  “But why wouldn’t he have said something? Why not say on his last day, ‘It’s been great working with you, Dr. Mancinkus. Thanks for everything.’?”

  Jake shrugs and picks up his beer. “Maybe because you never mentioned his resignation to him. He could have thought you were mad.”

  Ugh. That makes me feel bad now, and I don’t like feeling bad. I would much rather believe Jenks is an irresponsible jerk, because let’s face it… that’s his general reputation in town. He doesn’t ever last very long at a job, and when he’s unemployed, he lives with his mom over on Willow Tree Lane. I wasn’t his first job, and working for Jake won’t be his last. That’s just the way Jenks operates, but still… it appears he might have a slight bit of responsibility since he gave me notice.

  “Well… I’m glad then that you found someone,” I finally say, holding my beer out so he taps his against mine. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” he says and then takes a sip. When he sets it back down on the bar top, he leans toward me a bit. “So what’s your story, Laken Mancinkus? How did a beautiful and clearly talented veterinarian end up in this small town?”

  I give him a coy smile, pleased with his flirting, then broaden it to a grin. “I was born and raised here. Pap’s my grandfather.”


  Jake’s eyebrows shoot high in surprise. “He is?”

  Leaning to the left, Jake looks at Pap, who I can hear is talking to Billy Crump about a sale they have on pork shoulders at the grocery store. When his gaze comes back to me, I laugh. “Yes… he’s my grandfather, and my whole family lives in this town.”

  Jake’s brown eyes go warmer, and I can tell that means he respects the concept of a close family. He surmises, “So it was only natural for you to come back home to practice.”

  I give a slight shake of my head. “Actually… I was going to be a big-city vet and stay in Raleigh after I graduated from NC State’s vet school. I practiced there for two years before moving back home to open shop.”

  “Big-city life not for you?” he teases.

  I snort. “Something like that.”

  Actually, nothing like that, but he doesn’t need to know I wasn’t running from the city itself.

  Jake leans slightly again, glances at Pap, and then looks back at me. “I’m having a bit of a hard time flirting with you while you sit next to your grandfather. Want to go play some pool?”

  “You’re flirting with me?” I tease and bat my eyelashes. “I hadn’t caught that.”

  “I’ll have to up my game then,” he replies with a wink.

  I grab my beer and stand up from my stool. “Loser buys the drinks.”

  “You’re on,” he says as he pushes from his seat. “But I’m really good.”

  “Honey,” I say tartly over my shoulder as I saunter toward one of the three pool tables in Chesty’s. “I was practically birthed on one of these tables with a beer in my hand. You’re going down.”

  ♦

  Three hours later…

  Jake and I stumble out of Chesty’s, laughing our asses off.

  “I would have killed to see the look on your brother’s face when he bit into that donut,” Jake practically wheezes.

  I had been telling him about the prank war my brother, Lowe, engaged in with his wife’s best friend, Morri D, last month. Morri had Lowe’s favorite donuts filled with mayonnaise rather than the light vanilla creme that he goes crazy over. Lowe hates nothing in the world more than mayonnaise, so it was a really good trick.

  When the door closes, I take a step and actually wobble. The giggle I emit pretty much confirms I’m toasted. Not fall-down, stinkin’ drunk where I won’t remember tonight and will be puking my guts up in the morning. But the kind where I’ve got no inhibitions left and I’ll wake up with a bad headache.

  There’s a huge difference.

  “I sure hope you’re not driving,” Jake says as he steadies me by the elbow.

  I turn and point down to the end of the block where Mainer House faces us. “Staying at Lowe’s house tonight. He and Mely are out of town. And speaking of driving, you sure as hell can’t drive to Farrington Farms tonight. You’ve had as much to drink as I have.”

  “I’m bigger than you,” he says in a low voice as his free hand comes up to hold my other elbow. He steps in a little closer and looks down at me. “So I can handle a bit more.”

  And oh, wow.

  Big mountain of a man who practically blocks out the moonlight stepping in so close, I could probably kiss him by going to my tiptoes.

  So I do.

  I raise up and to my delight, his head bends down. I press my mouth to his and he accepts.

  We’d been flirting hard all night, pounding beers and playing pool. Pap went upstairs a few hours ago, and once he was gone, the flirting intensified even more. There’s no denying the attraction between us.

  Jake backs me into the brick wall beside the door to Chesty’s, his hands moving from my elbows to my face. His kiss is commanding, and there’s no mistaking the intention behind it. It makes my blood race and my toes curl.

  When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Going to invite me to stay the night with you?”

  I smile at him, curling my hands into his t-shirt. Giving a tiny tug, I say, “Why, yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Good,” he rumbles low with appreciation before tilting his head to place his lips at my neck. “I accept your invitation.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Jake

  “Have you made a decision on buying the Sioux Falls plant?” Kelly asks me.

  I glance up from the balance sheet I’d been reviewing to my chief operations officer, Kelly Marshburn. She’s in a chair opposite my desk, one long leg crossed over the other, swinging her foot casually.

  Except it’s not really a casual move. Kelly can’t sit still and always has to have some part of her body moving.

  I know this and a hundred other things about her because she’s my ex-wife. She’s also brilliant, beautiful, and, because we parted amicably, she still works by my side at MCD Ventures.

  “Outside of the build-out costs, it’s a no brainer,” I tell her. “The question is what will we do with the plant in Tuscaloosa?”

  My main manufacturing plant for computer motherboards is in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Kelly brought a plant for sale in South Dakota to my attention, and it’s of interest to us because there are no corporate taxes in that state. We’d have a big expenditure of costs to build-out the plant to produce our product, but we’d make up for it within a decade because of the better tax benefits.

  “Break it apart and sell it,” she says with a shrug. “Or just keep a nominal operation there and run it at a loss for the deductions.”

  Damn taxes. Seems like all I do is maneuver around them, looking for any loophole that will help me save money. It’s why I bought Farrington Farms, although not the only reason.

  “Have Dan run some numbers on selling it versus running it for a loss,” I tell her as my gaze drops back down to the balance sheet. “Then give me your recommendation.”

  I’ll most likely rubber stamp it because when I said Kelly was brilliant, I mean like genius-level brilliant. She was one of my professors at Kellogg when I was getting my MBA, and yeah… I slept with my teacher. I was twenty-five, fresh off an injury ending my pro-football career, and wanting to enhance my undergraduate degree. I was one of those rarities in that I completed my degree before I entered the draft. Kelly was twenty-nine, and she was the sexiest professor I’d ever seen.

  I’d married her by the time she turned thirty.

  When Kelly and I decided to split, it was definitely amicable, but that didn’t mean we weren’t heartbroken it couldn’t work. But as my mom told me the day I signed the divorce papers, “Marriage is a long game where you play by the same rules. But as people, we are always changing… evolving. You either grow together, or you grow apart.”

  It was the best advice she ever gave me, as it made me realize it was okay that Kelly and I didn’t work. We were married for ten years and the fall of our marriage rested on the fact I wanted to have kids, and Kelly did not.

  This wasn’t something we realized in just one day. Our marriage first started out based on a keen mutual attraction. That developed into a solid companionship, and then we went into business together. Kids weren’t something we really discussed, although it turns out I just assumed she’d want them one day, and she just assumed I did not.

  Still, I regret nothing. Kelly was my first real love, and I continue to love her in a brotherly way now. I’m so damn lucky that we have the ability to work side by side.

  “So how goes the farm life?” Kelly asks, and my head pops back up to look at her. She’s got a smirk on her face, because she thought it was adorable I bought a farm. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to talk to her since I got back to Chicago yesterday.

  “Well, my foreman quit before I even got there, the goats got out, and I ruined my clothes trying to run them down. I got the local vet to help me out, but she demanded I work off my bill in her clinic rather than take my money.”

  Kelly snickers, and I glare at her.

  “What did you do about your foreman problem?” she asks, getting back to business. She is a business woman at heart.

  “I h
ired someone else luckily,” I tell her.

  “Someone you trust?” she inquires.

  “Come on, Kell,” I tease her. “We hire people all the time. We don’t have time to do thorough psychological evaluations to determine if they’re trustworthy.”

  I then pick up the balance sheet to hand it across the desk to her. “Tell Dan this looks fine.”

  Standing from her chair, Kelly snags the balance sheet from my hand. “Want to grab dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say and then, as an afterthought. “Where’s Doug?”

  Doug is the man she’s been dating since we divorced. He’s an entrepreneur himself, older than her by almost fifteen years and doesn’t have children on the agenda. I bet they’ll marry soon, probably something low key. I won’t be surprised if she comes into the office one day and just announces she did it.

  “He’s in New York,” she says, and it should sting a little over the wistful sound of her voice, but it doesn’t. I’m glad she’s happy.

  “Seven o’clock?” I ask her.

  “Sounds good. Meet you in the lobby.”

  And with that, she’s gone. Back to her corner office on the opposite side of the building where she will be elbows deep into the grind for the rest of the day. We share the same work ethic.

  I turn to my laptop and start going through emails. I normally will have these puppies cleaned out by the time I go to sleep Sunday evenings, as I like having a fresh, empty email box on Monday morning. But I was exhausted by the time I got back yesterday.

  Or rather… Laken Mancinkus exhausted me.

  My lips curve up at the sweet and sexy memories of my night with her Saturday. It was an epic one-night stand, which isn’t my usual modus operandi. I’m all about having real companionship in my relationships, but there was something about Laken that made her absolutely irresistible to me. There was no second guessing myself when I propositioned her.

  Even when we woke up the next morning and the alcohol had dissipated, I had no regrets. None on her part either, and I know this because she was all laughs and joking about our hookup, which may have only been for one night, but it wasn’t only one time if you know what I mean.