Bourbon summer, p.23
Bourbon Summer, page 23
My mind whirred, stalled, then circled again. “You want me to meet your parents?” The squeeze returned. I could barely draw a breath.
She flailed her hands around. “You don’t have to, I swear. Meeting them would make this more serious than it is. I’ll figure out something to tell them.”
If you think I’m going to let my daughter get engaged to some man-child still suckling from his mama’s teat, you’re dumber than you look. I swallowed hard. “No, it’s . . .”
I frowned, hating her declaration of how casual we were. But wasn’t that the way I wanted it? Her blush was furious, and it wasn’t from passion or the game. She was embarrassed.
The acid in my stomach crawled farther up my throat. Would she leave thinking she’d overstepped? “I met Katrina’s parents.”
She drew back but didn’t say anything. I appreciated the small downturn of her lips. A hint of distaste at my ex’s name. I knew how she felt, because I felt the same every time I saw fucking Brock.
“It didn’t go well,” I continued. “They grilled me about what I did, what my future aspirations were, and what I did in my free time.”
“And that’s when it all blew up?”
I sucked my teeth against my lips. “It started with some bullshit from her dad and just snowballed into a large explosion and a few public tantrums from Katrina.”
“She sounds delightful.”
“Her dad was too. He had political aspirations. My last name made him excited. But he was expecting a Tate and he got me.”
“No offense to your brother, but that’s just stupid. He should’ve been delighted that his daughter had such good taste in men.”
I smiled unexpectedly. “You would’ve been the only one with that opinion.”
“I wouldn’t have been. You just picked the wrong women.”
They’d all bemoaned picking the wrong guy. The wrong Bailey brother. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Her pink lips turned down. “It’s more than that. And don’t worry. Dad can be pushy, but he usually only asks because it’s the first test a guy can fail with him. I can make it clear we’re not playing that game.” She grinned. “Pun intended.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “No.” A tennis game with her father should be no big deal. I was an adult, and it wasn’t like her dad was Katrina’s father. “It was just a surprise.” I wasn’t expecting to relive the experience like it’d happened last week.
That cultured fuck’s voice rang through my head. You’re a guy who lacks ambition of his own. You can’t make my daughter happy. You can’t even make your own money without your mommy and daddy’s help.
I blinked. The last part had morphed into Bobby’s voice. I prodded at my temples. Dammit. I wasn’t a goddamn kid anymore, standing quiet while someone trashed me. Nor was I some guy who’d gotten dumped. Years had passed. “I’ll do it.”
“Seriously, Tenor. It’s okay. I’ll talk to Dad—”
“No. Next weekend.” I tipped her chin up so she could see how fucking serious I was.
“Mom’s not back from her trip until the end of the month.”
The cool beat of relief inside my chest couldn’t be denied. I’d suck it up and meet her parents, but I’d take the extra time before then. “Whenever your mom’s ready.”
She put her warm hands on either side of my face. “Thank you. I promise to keep Dad reined in.”
That was ominous. I gave her a quick kiss. “Drive safe.”
Her saucy smile as she got behind the wheel would’ve been my undoing if she hadn’t been driving away.
I waved, then tossed my tennis bag into my pickup. I checked my phone.
Teller: You in town?
I punched in my response. Yeah. Ruby just left.
Teller: Meet me at Mountain Perks.
I arrived at the coffee shop before he did. It closed in an hour. I lingered in my pickup until he parked behind me. Downtown was quiet for a Sunday. Only a few people drifted along the sidewalks outside of the shops. Only Mountain Perks and Lilly’s Pad, the flower shop, were open. A small eatery at the end of the block had already closed for the day.
I got out and Teller lifted a brow. His gaze dipped down to my athletic shoes and touched on my basketball shorts. “Been a while since I’ve seen you outside of jeans.”
“I wore a suit last weekend.”
He whistled. “Never did tell me how that wedding was. The bride just put up a billboard outside of town if you’re looking to buy.”
“Not from her.”
He flashed a grin. “She ain’t making friends here, that’s for sure. And her new husband is pissing off as many contractors as possible building that monstrosity of theirs.”
“Good.”
He laughed and we went into the coffee shop. The rich scent of roasted coffee beans surrounded us. I ordered a coffee with cream. Teller ordered something with caramel.
“Your drinks are getting fancier,” I said after we got our order.
“Makes up for my life getting simpler.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
He scowled. “Not for you, old man. You found someone. I have nothing when I get home except for the cold foam residue around my glass.”
“I hope you’re happy for a long time with it.”
“Not as happy as you and Ruby.” He grunted. “I’m glad you took a chance on her. You’re different.”
The cream in my coffee curdled in my stomach. I wasn’t different. I was the same. That was the issue. I hadn’t changed for anyone, and that had always been the issue. “Did you invite me here to ask about Ruby?”
“In a way.” He rolled his shoulders. “Wynter caught me, asked if I’d be willing to have pictures of me taken when I’m doing a tasting. I was against it, but after booking three weddings and now a reunion too next summer, I figured I’d see if my face could sell some bourbon. Ruby might be onto something.”
As long as Wynter didn’t ask me. “Not that I mind, but why couldn’t this wait until we’re both in the office tomorrow?” I didn’t mind talking about Copper Summit business anytime or anywhere, but I’d never want to test whether my mug could sell a thing.
“We haven’t talked much lately.”
“You miss me,” I teased.
His scowl was supposed to be playful, but I caught the flash of loneliness. “You buzz away as soon as you’re not needed every weekend.”
For Ruby, I did. Cruz and Lane had also returned to Colorado to help with Foster House. Was Teller feeling like the lone bachelor among a ton of happy couples? The whole family was pairing off, Cruz and Lane were slowly decreasing their time with Bailey Beef, and that left Teller on his own.
Did that mean I wasn’t a bachelor anymore? Was I off the market? It wasn’t like I had wanted to be on the market after my last foray. My emotions had taken a few hits in the last couple of hours. My feelings for Ruby were getting inconveniently deeper, and then I would be meeting her parents soon. Something that had never been pleasant. Also something that wasn’t insignificant.
I hadn’t wanted to name what Ruby and I were. That’d make it real. A word could be undone. A relationship could be ended. A girlfriend could become an ex. Love could turn to heartbreak. I’d been at this hopeful point before, wondering what amazing things lay ahead, only to be kicked to the curb and left behind.
All this was supposed to have been just a date to a wedding, and somehow, feelings had grown, blossomed, dug roots around my heart. Those tendrils would become permanent soon, but I had no control over whether they stayed or got ripped out. That power was in Ruby’s delicate hands. And I’d had no one to talk to about any of it.
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “The whole thing with Ruby. It’s not how you think.”
Was I really going to do this? Now that the wedding was over, I felt less like I’d be shoving all the blame onto Ruby. I’d dug the hole I was standing in.
So I did it. I told him about how Ruby and I had really ended up dating. His eyes widened as the story progressed. Though I kept it G-rated.
“Damn.” He shook his head, disbelief crossing his face. His astonishment spoke volumes even if he’d only listened. “You really think you were faking?”
“That’s all it was.” Her moans when she got herself off in my bed rose in my head. Maybe faking hadn’t been all. “That was all it was supposed to be.”
He pondered me for a moment. “Being alone was safe. Telling yourself it was fake was safe. So, now what?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not in safe territory anymore. You care about her.”
“Of course I care about her.” And didn’t that feel like the most dangerous thing I could do?
“You’re not letting her in.”
“I have.” I’d opened so many doors to her that I’d thought would always remain closed to a woman. “She’s seen me paint my figures.”
“No, I mean—” He shook his head. “You’re not ready to hear it.”
Anger blazed a trail across the back of my neck. I’d opened up to him and he was chiding me? People had been telling me what I wasn’t my entire goddamn life and I was sick of it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Teller dragged in a long inhale, tapping his fingers against his mug. “Relationships aren’t about how fun you can make them. Katrina only cared about how it looked to the outside world. She didn’t care about quality.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Katrina’s not in my life anymore. I don’t want her to be.”
“I saw her last weekend.”
The jolt of shock was unwelcome. “Okay?” I gave zero fucks about Katrina or that she was in town, even though she kept coming up lately. The only reason I hated running into her was that it made me feel like that pathetic guy from ten years ago who’d put up with her in the first place.
“She was going into Flatlanders.”
That I hadn’t seen coming. “Doesn’t seem her style.”
“I think she avoids you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.” It was lucky I hadn’t moved after her little shit-talking tour. All of her former coworkers at the bank either gave me those knowing, sympathetic looks or avoided my gaze altogether. I had moved all of Copper Summit’s financials online after that.
“People know you, Tenor. No one bought any of her shit.”
“She wasn’t lying.”
“She’s more fake than you and Ruby were pretending to be. She’s trash and that’s why she’s going to Flatlanders. It’s a shithole.”
A woman walked by, stopped, and pinned Teller with a glare. My stomach dropped. Madison Townsend. Shit.
She folded her arms over a cream-and-maroon flannel. Her jeans were as worn as Teller’s. “How exactly would you know? Been sneaking in undercover?” Her shrewd gaze shifted to me. “I expected better of you than spreading lies about my brother’s place.”
I didn’t care to get dragged into the Scooter-and-Teller drama. I kept my mouth shut.
Surprise passed through Teller’s eyes, but he quashed it quick enough with the calmness he used to really piss people off. “He doesn’t have to, Mad Maddy.”
Her left cheek twitched at the nickname. She ground her teeth together and fury flashed in her eyes. Teller’s expression was aloof, almost teasing.
My brother could be infuriating with little effort. I almost felt sorry for her. But she could’ve kept walking and left the conversation with my brother between me and him like it had been meant to be.
Teller scratched his chin. “Did you move back because Scooter wasn’t causing enough trouble?”
Her eyes sparked. “Do you only wag your tongue about Townsends when you need to feel superior, Bailey?”
“Nah.” His smile was slow. “I only let my tongue taste quality.”
She jerked, visibly stung. “Someday, you Baileys will realize that not everyone has it as easy as you.” She stomped away and slammed her way out the door, the bell tinkling for dear life.
I exhaled. “Jesus, Teller.”
He frowned at me. “What? She started it.”
“ ‘I only let my tongue taste quality,’ ” I mocked.
“You’ve heard how bad the drinks served there are.”
He couldn’t be that clueless. People thought I was the naive one of the Bailey crew. “You made it sound like she was cheap.”
“What part of saying I only let my tongue—” He blanched. “She did not take it sexually,” he hissed, but his expression was fraught, like he truly had only meant to insult the crappy bar pours and not the woman herself. I believed him, but I wasn’t Madison.
“She did.” I might’ve been indignant about her interruption as well if I hadn’t seen her be sort of considerate with Ruby.
“She didn’t have to start shit. If she’s that loyal to her asshole of a brother, then she’s probably just as much trouble.” He waved it off and took a long pull of his coffee.
“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ruby
Tenor’s pickup was still in the lot when I pulled into Copper Summit. It was Wednesday night, but he usually left shortly after my shift started. He also stopped in to say hi, and I was already looking forward to it.
As I closed in on the entrance, I spotted lots of bustling inside. People around the counter. Wynter was coming toward the door. She smiled when she saw me, but it had the tension of I hate to tell you this . . .
She opened the door and held up a sheet of paper that read Closed. Sorry for any inconvenience. “I’m so sorry. I was hoping to catch you before you left Bozeman. I forgot you were meeting me earlier.” She shook her head, her blond hair flying. “I got distracted in the flurry. I’m so sorry. We’ll reimburse your mileage, of course.”
Wynter and Autumn were behind the various cocktails in the bar, and today, I had planned to join them on their brainstorming sessions to create content. Wynter would be busy mixing and tasting, and I’d catch it all. I knew before I’d even started that these posts would be dynamite.
I wasn’t worried about the drive, but I had looked forward to hanging out with Wynter and Autumn. “Oh no, what happened?”
I scooted around her and entered. Tate and Teller were behind the bar. Teller tugged at the collar of his black Copper Summit polo. Tate wore a green flannel with the sleeves rolled up like he’d come straight from the ranch, which he likely had. Each had a grim expression, and both of them were looking at something at their feet. A toolbox was open on the counter and various tools were scattered around it.
Wynter taped the sign to the door. “I found water on the floor when I came in here earlier.” She grimaced. “One of the sink pipes was leaking and it got under the flooring.”
I went to the edge of the bar and peeked around. A guy was sprawled on his back, most likely a plumber, his head tucked under the sink cabinet. A light glowed from the vicinity of his head.
“Sorry about your shift tonight,” Teller said to me. “Hopefully, we can be up and running by Friday.”
“No worries.” I wasn’t working for the money. The shifts were my social life.
Ouch. I knew that was the case, but also . . . if I didn’t have my bosses, I wouldn’t have friends.
I was about to dig my phone out, but I paused. Wynter had told me that Teller had finally permitted us to use him for content, but I didn’t want to surprise him. My work wasn’t supposed to be a jump scare for individuals. “Supporters love a behind-the-scenes peek. Mind if I grab a few shots right now? It’d just be profile shots.”
Teller’s jaw tightened for a moment. “As long as you don’t use hashtags like #toowettowork or #amanandhisleaks.”
Next to me, Wynter snorted, and Autumn giggled.
“I’m going to use ‘a man and his leaks’ for my new tagline,” the plumber said.
“I promise, no embarrassing hashtags,” I said. “I’ll protect your honor.”
He lifted his chin, gesturing for me to do what I needed to. For the next few minutes, Wynter and I tossed ideas back and forth and circled Teller. She got some images and so did I.
The whole moment was more humbling than it should’ve been. I was the social media girl, but now my ideas were getting put into play. I was flexing more of my marketing degree, and today I felt like one of the team more than I ever had. For a girl with no family connections anywhere, I was honored to be connected to this family.
“I’ll send mine to you, along with the ones I get at the next tasting we can host.” Wynter squeezed my arm. “Tenor might be in his office if you want to catch him before he leaves.”
I’d already made the trip worthwhile. The cherry on top would be seeing Tenor before I went home to my empty apartment. “Sure.”
“I’ll help you find him.”
She followed me out of the tasting room and into the lobby. A tour must’ve just finished. Several people milled around the souvenir stands and another three were in line to check out.
“Ah, there he is,” Wynter said, nodding toward the large windows that overlooked the distillation room. “You can just go right in.”
My gaze was immediately drawn to Tenor’s broad back as he stood at the half ring of computer monitors the distillers used to log temperatures, batch numbers, and inventory. He propped an arm on the standing computer desk and scrolled through something I couldn’t make out. “Let me know if you want to reschedule,” I said to Wynter, my gaze still on Tenor.
“I called Autumn, and we decided to meet at Curly’s and make an evening of it anyway. Myles was already planning to stay home all night with the kids. You should join us.”
Pleased, I smiled. “That sounds fun.” A whole lot more fun than driving straight back home while everyone else had plans.
“Great. Just head there after you’re done talking to my brother.” She rushed off and I ducked into the distillery room.
The door shut behind me, blocking out the chatter of the guests. The machinery in the production room on the opposite side of the stills was quiet, resting for the night. No glass clinking or forklifts beeping as they backed up.
