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Series: Whiskey Sisters #2
Welcome to Mayhem, Minnesota, home of the Knitty Kitty, The Little Slice of Heaven Pie Shop, and O’Halloran’s Pub—owned by the four young women known as The Whiskey Sisters.
In the wake of her divorce, Jameson O’Halloran has gone man-vegan. And this is one diet she’s determined to stick with. Even when her long-lost ex-brother-in-law shows up looking like two scoops of double dutch dipped in chocolate… She’s not giving in. Been there and still wearing the messy T-shirt.
It’s been a decade since Scott Clarke left his family and his hometown, never to return. But when tragedy strikes, he finds himself dragged back to the land of gossip, judgment, and the one woman he absolutely, positively, without a doubt can never have. His brother’s ex is off-limits. He just needs to keep repeating that to himself until it sinks in.
“What? Do I look that bad?” he asks.
“No, you look fine. Fine. Yes. Nope, you’re good. Good, good…I was just…” I scramble for some reasonable excuse to be staring at him. “I—It’s just that I couldn’t help but notice your tattoo.”
Yes! Brilliant save, Jameson!
“Oh, you know, I forget it’s even there sometimes,” he says, bringing his smooth, broad chest closer to me so I can get a better look at him. It. At it. The tattoo…
He’s pointing to the image on his right pectoral muscle, a vibrant orange skull intricately decorated. It has a bright array of red and pink flowers and small jewels adorning it.
“They call this a sugar skull.”
Before I can help myself, I reach out to touch the colorful picture that takes up a large section of that side of his chest. I pull away before my fingers make contact.
“It’s okay,” he assures me, taking my hand and pulling it to his chest. “You can touch it.”
I keep my hand there for a beat longer than I should before reluctantly extricating myself. “Well, I…uh…I think it’s beautiful.” I glance down at my watch. “Oh! I’ve got to get the chicken in the oven.”
I start to turn toward the other naked flesh in the room.
“Of course! Sorry, yes, I, uh, I think I saw a sex pack—sorry, six pack. There’s a six pack of toothbrushes in the hall closet.”
Holy hell! What was that? I try to appear composed, even as I feel the two hot, red spots that are forming on my cheeks. He chivalrously turns to leave before I’m in full-on beet mode, but not before I catch a little color on his face, too.