JINX

CHAPTER ONE 

“Eat right. Exercise. Die Anyway.” 

NED

A three-mile run and shower under my belt, I pushed open the door of the breakfast spot that served the best egg white and veggie scramble in Nashville.

Run? Egg whites? Who dis?

Ha. It’s still your boy, Ned Dixon. I just upped my game since you saw me last. The beer gut (a side-effect of owning a sports bar) and overage frat boy lifestyle are in my rearview mirror. We all have to grow up sometime, you know? 

Yeah, but when a man makes changes, it usually means one of two things - a health scare or a new woman in his life.

Trust me, I’m perfectly healthy. 

Then who’s the woman? 

Can’t a guy just level up?

Whatever. But hey, since you aren’t ready to spill what’s really going on with you, how about an update on…

Hold that thought. My stomach is growling, and I’m hungrier than a mutha. Fortunately, my best friend since childhood is a French-trained chef. Even better, Justice changed his mind about moving to New York City and opened his new restaurant here in town. 

There was always a wait for a table at Le Toast, which was only open until one o’clock in the afternoon. So I timed my weekday visits to coincide with the short lull between breakfast and brunch. Justice would take a break from overseeing the kitchen, and we could shoot the shit for a few minutes.

I seated myself at my usual table. Not long afterward, my friend appeared, clad in a white chef’s jacket and bearing food. Justice slid the hot plate in front of me and then plopped into the chair across the table. 

I frowned at the perfectly plated omelet. “This isn’t my Greek scramble?”

“The ingredients are the same.”

“Y’all run out of coffee?”

Justice grunted. “Man, I’m not your damn wife. Quit nagging and eat.”

“Wife? Shiiiiiid.” I picked up my fork. “If that crease in your brow these days is any indication, I’m good with being a bachelor.”

Exhaling, Justice rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “I can’t believe Alex and I have been arguing about this so long. Correction. I’m arguing. As far as my stubborn-assed wife is concerned, the discussion is over.”

I shoveled a forkful of eggs into my mouth while my friend filled me in on the ongoing battle disrupting his marital bliss. Justice and Alex being at odds again felt strange seeing as how the two of them had been totally loved up since they’d ended that crazy, hundred-year-old feud between their families. In fact, I’d been best man at their wedding earlier this year, and now they have a baby on the way.

Aw, a baby. 

Actually, that’s kind of the problem. Don’t get me wrong, the two of them are thrilled Alex is pregnant, and I can hardly wait to be a godfather.

So?

Well, it all started shortly after the gender reveal, but technically this isn’t my business to tell.

Justice signaled a waiter across the room, and two cups of coffee were delivered to our table. “I want my kid named after me. So what. Justice Lawson, Jr. is a good name, but Alex acts as if I’m suggesting we name him Elmer,” he continued. “I don’t understand why she’s being so obstinate.”

“You’re being a hard-ass about it too, though,” I pointed out.

“Hell, yeah. This is my first kid, my son.”

“Her son, too,” I added.

Justice’s eyes narrowed. “You taking her side?”

“Nope.”

“But you do have an opinion,” he pressed.

I had one all right, but I knew better than to share it. The number one rule of maintaining friendships with your married friends – don’t pick sides in disputes between them and their wives. 

But just between you and me, I think… Ah, never mind. 

“Then you agree that Alex is being totally unreasonable here,” Justice said, expectantly. “Right?”

Ignoring the question, I focused on my plate, only opening my mouth to stick more food into it. 

A grunt sounded from across the table. “Oh, so you’re just gonna chow down on free eats and not say anything.”

I put my fork down. “Just like you occupy a barstool at my place when a big game is on, drink free beer, and stuff your face with wings.” Still, I couldn’t help feel for him, plus it was Justice’s special chicken wing recipe that was keeping my bar hopping in a time when more fans were opting to catch games on their sofas rather than coming out to the neighborhood sports bar.

“Well?” Justice asked.

“You need to chill, man,” I said, which was pretty much my solution to any problem. You’ve got to admit, most shit just had a way of working itself out. 

“Easy for you to say,” Justice replied. 

“You and Alex have months left to agree on a baby name.”

Justice pushed out a sigh. “I guess.”

“The important thing here is a healthy baby boy,” I reminded him, picking up my fork.

“Named Junior,” he grumbled.

“See, that’s why you’re in the doghouse or does your wife have you sleeping on the roof?”

A smile breached Justice’s stoic expression. “You just can’t let that go, can you?” 

“Not in this lifetime.” I mean, how many dudes fall crazy in love with a woman who left them trapped atop a hot roof during the hottest summer on record?

Guess there’s a bit of truth in that old saying, treat ‘em mean to keep ‘em keen, huh?

Maybe for Justice, but you can miss me with that whole enemies-to-lovers trope. Too complicated. Why make life hard when it can be simple? If there’s an easy button, then I'm going to hit it. 

More like if there’s an easy woman, you’re gonna…

Whoa! You got me all wrong. That’s the old Ned. This new and improved version prefers to see what a woman has going on between her ears. 

Just smart, huh?

It goes without saying that she’s got to be pretty, with a smile so bright that it reaches her eyes, and an ass so shapely you could stare at it all day long or use it as your pillow all night long.

It still sounds like you have a special someone in mind.

Well, maybe there is…

Justice cleared his throat loudly. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Where’s your head?” 

“Business stuff,” I lied. “The NBA season tips off tonight.”

“Save it, man. You don’t get that dumb expression on your face over bar business.” My friend took a sip from his cup, and I wondered how any coffee got past the know-it-all smirk on his lips. “So, did you finally ask that neighbor of yours out?”

Ahhhh, again with the neighbors, huh? 

Don’t go getting ahead of yourself. This is nothing like Justice and Alex’s story. There’s just this woman who opened up a business in the old ballet school next door to my bar, one of those paint a picture with your friends deals. It’s called Pop-In & Paint.

If I remember correctly, you live in an apartment above your bar. Does this woman live above her business?

Yeah, but…

Neighbors.

Whatever. 

“Well?” Justice asked.

“Shouldn’t your nosy ass be trying to figure out a way to get on your pregnant wife’s good side?” 

“Besides allowing Alex to saddle our kid with one of those turd names out of that stupid baby name book she’s been carrying around, what do you suggest, mister too chicken shit to ask out the woman he’s been panting after for months?”

While I didn’t much care for the way Justice had summarized my situation, I was grateful we were back to talking about his troubles instead of mine. “I already told you to relax. Besides, you always say my advice is crap.”

Justice shrugged. “The fact that I’m asking for it should show you how desperate I am. Maybe I should get her some fancy chocolates or flowers?”

“Nah, those are for Valentine’s Day,” I shook my head. “It’s October. Jewelry, maybe?”

“I already gave her the earrings she’d been hinting about for her birthday last week.” My friend frowned. “Still, I have to pry that damn baby name book out of her hands every night.”

“Can you think of anything else she might want?”

Justice shook his head. “Not really.”

I thought about it as I chewed another mouthful of food, then swallowed. “Buying Alex something is probably the wrong way to go, anyway.” I reached for my coffee cup. “Maybe you could take her someplace special. Nowadays, women prefer experiences over stuff.”

How insightful! Didn’t realize you were so deep.

I'm not. Just repeating shit I overheard on Ladies Night at the bar.

Justice stroked the layer of beard along his jaw. “We already do a weekly date night.”

“A trip?” I tossed out, then remembered that while Justice and Alex had each received sizable inheritances, their money was now tied up in their new house and the restaurant. “Perhaps, a weekender?”

We tossed around a few potential locales, before Justice decided Miami would be the perfect place to persuade his wife to see things his way finally. 

 “A little sun. A lot of lovin’.” My friend’s mouth stretched into a grin. “By the time we get back home, my wife won’t care what we name the baby.”

Justice sounded confident. Still, I’d hold off before getting Junior embroidered on any baby gifts.

My friend’s gaze shifted to the other side of the dining room before he returned his attention to me. “Now back to what we were talking about before. Don’t you think it’s time you finally made a move on your neighbor?”

For the record, it’s not like me to stress over a woman like this. I like them, and they like me. However, my laid back approach to life didn’t apply when it came to Waverly Hart.

Have I mentioned she was smart? 

Waverly was a bank vice-president, before accepting a buyout offer and using the proceeds to open her business. The woman definitely had her shit together, and I’d had to make sure I had my own in a pile before hitting her up for a date.

“I already told you, I’m working up to it.” I reminded my friend.

“What’s the big deal?” Justice shrugged. “We both know how it’ll all go down. You’ll be all into her and the newness of the relationship, but the moment things aren’t easy, breezy, you’re out.” 

“It’s not like that,” I countered. 

My friend raised a brow. “Bruh, it’s always like that with you,” he said. “I’m not throwing shade. Just stating facts.”

“Maybe Waverly’s the one for me, just like Alex is for you.” 

Justice’s jaw dropped, and then he laughed as if I’d just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Get the fuck outta here, Ned,” he said, swiping a tear from his eye. “First off, you haven’t as much as held the woman’s hand.”

Justice may have a point.

I get all that. A few months ago, I would have been the first one to call bullshit on a guy talking about love at first sight. Then I got my first glimpse of Waverly, and as sappy as it sounds, I’ve been head over heels ever since.

Um, yeah, that does sound sappy.

Still chuckling, Justice continued. “Let’s say your neighbor is the one,” he said. “No matter how strong the love is, romantic relationships take commitment and work. I don’t see you putting in either.”

What could I say? Justice had my history with women and a lifetime of knowing my ass on his side. Nothing I said was going to change his mind, and I wasn’t about to share my new theory on love at first sight.

“So, keeping what I just said in mind, what are you waiting on to ask her out?” Justice asked.

I frowned. Justice was my closest friend. Still, it wasn’t like him to be all up in my business like this. “Damn, man. Why are you so pressed about it?” 

Justice’s gaze shifted to the other side of the room again before he stood. “I’m not.” He inclined his head. “It’s just the girl you say might be ‘the one’ is seated at a cozy table for two, smiling at some dude.”

I spun around in my chair, spotted Waverly, and for one long moment, there was no one else in the entire restaurant but her. 

The truth was the sight of my neighbor knocked the breath from my lungs, each and every time I saw her was indeed like love at first sight.

Have I mentioned she’s fine as hell?

Waverly’s hair was pulled off her heart-shaped face into a puff of springy coils, and when she laughed, the gold hoops dangling from her ears glinted in the light. She was laughing now, drawing my attention to lips slicked with a gloss that made me think of cinnamon candy. My gaze drifted to the guy seated across from her, who was also laughing. 

There was no ring on my neighbor’s finger. Nor had I spotted any boyfriends sniffing around in the months since Waverly had moved in and set up shop next door. I’d grown too comfortable with the fact that she was single. Thought I had plenty of time.

As if he’d felt my eyes on them, Waverly’s breakfast companion glanced over at me and grinned, and then the muthafucker started holding her hand.

Justice was right. 

When it came to making a move on my neighbor, I’d better shit or get off the pot – if it wasn’t already too late.