Bourbon Summer (Bourbon Canyon #6)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Ruby

My stomach had been a ball of nerves all night. I was staying with Tenor tonight. I hadn’t talked to him all week. Other than legitimate emails about advertising budgets and which influencers I could negotiate with, there’d been no contact all week.

It was half an hour before closing when Brock walked through the door.

Why was he here? I looked behind him. “Where’s Cara?”

He sniffed as he looked around, his lips turned down. “I’m supposed to fill out papers for the wet bar at our wedding.”

“Oh.” I glanced around, but I already knew there’d been no contract left behind. Why didn’t they have him do it online? “I can message Teller real quick and see where I can find them?—”

“It’s your boyfriend.” Brock’s frown deepened.

“Tenor?”

“Do you have more than one?”

He lashed out when he was irritated. In the time we had dated, I had often been the target. Why had I stayed with him after I had realized that?

Maybe I did have daddy issues. “Tenor’s more than enough.”

He made a disgusted noise, but his gaze stroked down my body. I wore a tighter shirt than normal, but the pale yellow paired nicely with my dark hair. Purely coincidental and not at all because I liked when Tenor’s gaze roamed over my body. My black skirt hung looser and was twirlier than the one I’d worn last weekend. I’d buy more skirts if there was a chance to have Tenor’s warm hands on my legs again.

The door from the lobby opened and Tenor entered. His hard gaze landed on Brock and his eyes narrowed.

His pickup had been in the lot the whole evening, then a couple of hours ago, he’d left. He’d returned an hour later but hadn’t come into the bar. It wasn’t like I’d been watching the door for my entire shift, hoping he’d hang out with me for a while. Thankfully, I’d had a couple of four-tops and a smattering of couples to take my mind off his absence.

Tenor stalked toward us, weaving around the tables as if he couldn’t just stomp on one and crush it. “Brock. Thanks for coming.” His tone was flat.

He came around the bar and stopped next to me, putting his hand on my back. I leaned into his touch. Funny how a week had felt longer when I’d been waiting for another moment just like this.

“I’m in the area, thanks to my fiancée .” Brock brushed a palm over his hair. “Surprised you’re not with the times.”

“We are.” Tenor made circles with his thumb on my back. “Have a seat.”

Brock cocked his head. “I could’ve signed electronically.”

I might’ve just been wondering the same thing, but I wanted to growl at Brock for dissing Copper Summit and Tenor along with it.

“Yep. You could’ve.”

Brock and I both waited, expecting Tenor to elaborate. He didn’t, and I bit back a smile. Brock sat, annoyance scrawled over his fine features. He danced his fingers over the collar of his sharp pewter dress shirt, and the arrogance was back in place.

Tenor grabbed the bar’s tablet and poked around, pulling up documents. He started rattling off cancellation policies and the types of drinks—bourbon only—we’d serve. I was about to leave when Tenor started covering media policy, outlining what the distillery would and wouldn’t take pictures of, what the media release entailed, and how much of a discount the couple would get if they agreed.

Had Tenor asked Wynter about that? Wedding events didn’t fit her usual themes of bold, original, and family. Excitement started taking hold. Would I be able to take some of the images? I looked forward to working the wedding rather than attending.

I lingered long enough for Brock to succumb to the generous discount and sign, then left them to clean up newly empty tables. I spied on them as best I could. Tenor didn’t offer Brock a drink or wait on him in any other way. Tenor’s low voice rumbled. He was professional but also disassociated. Brock could slam his fist on the table and tell him there was no way Copper Summit would serve one drop at his wedding and Tenor acted like he wouldn’t care.

Brock fidgeted as if his annoyance would tear out of his skin, and while I was washing glassware and restocking, I got a front-row view. He was used to being treated like a VIP. In his father’s company, he was almost the boss. In Bourbon Canyon, he was an outsider. Someone who had to prove himself. And if push came to shove, he’d likely fail.

My night massively improved.

Finally, Tenor closed the tablet and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Of course.” Brock tried to be smooth, but his voice was tight. He accepted the handshake and stalked out.

Tenor and I were alone at the bar.

“You were ruthless,” I said, pride gushing from me. “You were completely professional and absolutely cold.”

He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. He wasn’t slouching again. Was he at ease around me? “Is that a bad thing?”

It was hot. Utterly smoldering. “When it comes to him? No. He needs to be knocked down a peg.”

“I’ve found less is more with people like him. Plus now I have video proof he was here to go over the terms of the contract in case he and Cara want to retaliate for whatever reason. I’ve gotta protect the company.”

“Not many others see through people like Cara and Brock. I didn’t at first.” Cara had been my best friend. I’d continued giving her a chance, believing her that I had been too sensitive or that she had just been kidding until I finally admitted that she didn’t make me feel good about myself. And she was likely doing it on purpose.

Brock had been my boyfriend. I had handed him my heart and he’d left it on the curb. Three times.

“I’m holding out hope Cara, at least, has matured since then, but she’s with Brock so...”

“Some are insidious with their insults.” He pushed his glasses up. “Others are blatant. The insidious ones are just as hurtful.”

I hugged myself. “They weren’t exactly wrong. Neither of them ever lied to me.” Their brutal honesty was what had hurt the most.

“If Brock didn’t say ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ he’s an asshole. People don’t have to be cruel when they break up with someone. Just like friends don’t demean friends.”

“Brock definitely gave me a long ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ speech.”

“He’s an idiot.”

Apparently Tenor had his own history with people like Cara and Brock. Brara? Crock? I giggled. Tenor lifted a brow.

“I combined their names to make it easier to think of them,” I explained. “Since they’re a pair now—Crock.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t even say it, or I might accidentally slip around them.”

“And then we’d lose all that primo content!” My curiosity refused to abate. “Can I ask about the media release and discount?”

“I discussed your idea with Wynter.” My alarm was soaring before he shook his head. “I left you out of it. But the night before our meeting, I ran the numbers. We’re down this quarter, the lowest retail sales numbers in the last five years. The retailers are putting in smaller orders, and that trend can’t continue long before we’re scrambling. We can blame a lot of things—the economy or the cool start to summer—but the fact is we’re down, and we shouldn’t just be counting on holiday sales to boost us.”

Pleasure wrapped around my heart like a vine. He’d taken my suggestion to heart. “Who’s going to get the images?”

“You. We’re going anyway. Wynter said she’ll cover all the dos and don’ts with you.”

I wanted to grin from ear to ear, but I played it cool. “Pretty soon, I’m going to get an image of you and Teller in the feed and then Copper Summit’s engagement metrics are going to explode. I can see the views racking up now. There’ll be so many shares—exponential. All that free marketing!”

“Good try, but this face does not need to be on anyone’s feed.”

“You’d stop the scroll. Trust me.”

He grabbed a rag. “I’ll help you close down.”

Teller wasn’t against being featured, but putting him in any graphics went against Wynter’s wishes. With Tenor, it was something else. He truly didn’t think he was enough to get anyone to care.

Didn’t he own a mirror?

I’d do the world a public service and stare at him as much as I could.

After we’d finished closing duties, he let me out of the bar and locked it behind us. Time to leave. With him. What I’d been waiting for all week. Tingles spread through my body. The fake sleepover. Only I really would be under his roof.

“The roads to my place get pretty dark,” he said softly. “I’ll drive slow.”

I wandered toward my car, parked a few spots down from his blue pickup, and tipped my head back. Tall trees lined the lot, but the sky opened above them. The sounds of frogs filled the night. “It’s always so quiet out here. So peaceful.”

“Yeah.” His voice drifted to me. “It’s beautiful.”

I didn’t dare look at him. If his gaze was on his truck, I’d feel foolish. Like this, I could pretend he meant I was beautiful. This weekend was all about being fake.

I inhaled a deep breath. The scent of warm grain surrounded me. If I ever worked at another company, I’d miss this smell.

I got in my car and followed Tenor.

He drove by his mom’s place and turned down a road I’d never been on. Wynter had told me once that her parents had divided off portions of their land for each kid. She’d built on hers and now lived there with Myles and their daughter. Same with Tate. Summer’s land bordered the home she had with Jonah. Though Autumn didn’t plan to develop hers. She lived on her husband’s family land. Junie had a cabin somewhere close to Rhys’s place. Teller and Tenor had each built homes, but they were the last ones single.

The road took a few more meandering turns before Tenor pulled into a gravel loop. Light cut through the darkness as a garage door opened. In the swath of my headlights, all I could make out was a smaller log home with large windows. A rectangular gray shop with black trim was positioned on the other side of the loop. The view must be fabulous during the day.

I’d get to see it.

So many perks to fake dating my boss.

He pulled into one side of the big garage. Tools neatly lined the shelves and a workbench was built into one wall.

I whistled, grateful he couldn’t hear me. The garage alone was as big as the apartment I’d grown up in.

He hopped out and waved me into the spot next to him.

My stomach knotted up. When the garage door closed behind me, I inhaled a shuddering breath.

This isn’t real. I’m not his girlfriend. He’s only being nice. In fact, at the wedding we’ll be more like coworkers.

I could so easily picture this scenario in my future though. Driving home after a day at the office and having Tenor greet me.

The image vanished. My imagination couldn’t go that far out of bounds.

“Where’s your bag?” he asked.

“In the back seat.”

He retrieved my suitcase and ushered me to the door of the house.

Was this how it should be? Brock had never carried my bags. If I’d stayed at his place, he had barely looked up from his computer. His work had been more important than me. I’d get a head nod and a “What’s for supper?”

“Just go on in,” Tenor said from behind me.

My heart crawled into my throat. There was no way this could get more surreal. I’d walk in and find a mess. Beer bottles and takeout containers littering the floor and piled on the counter. It didn’t matter that Bourbon Canyon didn’t have much for takeout options. And he’d have a weight bench instead of a couch and a big-screen TV. Maybe an Xbox. Or a PlayStation. Or both.

I opened the door and he flipped on the light after me.

Log walls rose to beamed ceilings. The space wasn’t large like Mae’s house, but it had just as much character. Across from the kitchen, an impressive rock mantel framed the fireplace on one side of the house. The open floor plan was broken only by a wall that must border the bedrooms and bathroom.

“Nice.” The smell of savory food wound through the air. My stomach clenched. I had forgotten to pack a meal for work. “Whatever you had for dinner smells amazing.”

“I haven’t eaten yet. I came home to throw one of Mom’s meatball dishes in the oven. It should be warm for us.”

I had thought he’d barely noticed it was my night to work. I’d thought he’d just hung around for the meeting with Brock. But Tenor had left to get dinner ready.

My throat grew thick. How low had my standards been?

Tenor was going to show me. And then he’d be gone.

Tenor

The meatballs tasted like sawdust. Having Ruby in my house messed with my head. This place was my safe haven. Anxiety clawed up my throat until I wanted to ask her to leave. Even worse, I wanted to show her that any poor sexual experiences hadn’t been her fault either.

She chattered about her day and I struggled to hold on to my humanity. The way her shirt molded over her breasts derailed my best intentions. And that goddamn skirt. It twirled over her lush thighs, teasing me with each move.

She hadn’t worn that skirt for me, but when she walked—and goddamn, when she bent over to wipe off tables—she became my own personal show. She performed just for me.

I had to be the responsible one here. I had power over her. Not just her job but with her reputation. I would never be like her ex—or like mine. Or like any of the other people in our past. Yet I was caught between wanting to toss her out in the dark and haul her off to my bedroom.

I stabbed a meatball. My appetite had fled as soon as she’d fluttered her eyelashes over her first bite. I was ravenous, but not for food.

This was what happened when I cut myself off for so long. No. I controlled my body. I could handle my urges.

“Your home really is beautiful.” This was the second time she’d gushed about the house.

“Thank you.” I shifted in my seat. My unruly dick kept trying to join the conversation.

“I can’t shut up about it, I know. I tend to prattle on about the things I like.” She crossed one leg over the other under the table and I bit back a groan. “Mom and I always lived in apartments. After I moved out and could support myself, she could finally buy a condo.”

While I was interested in her life, the first part had caught me. “Who said you prattle on?”

“Oh, um...” Her gaze flicked away and she dug her teeth into her lower lip. “Mom always laughs about it, but I never got the sense she was annoyed.”

“Brock?” I gritted out the name.

“Yes, him too. Other guys I dated. My dad. ‘You talk a mile a minute, Rubes. You don’t give a guy a chance to finish a thought.’” She gave me a tight smile before taking a drink and shifting her gaze away. “I only let Dad call me Rubes.”

My brows lifted. I’d been ready to hunt Brock down and tear his limbs off one by one. Her dad? Did he know she didn’t like being called Rubes? “I grew up in a house often filled with foster kids. Some would stay for days, some for months. My own sisters were fosters who my parents adopted. I shouldn’t be so shocked to hear about how parents treat their kids.”

She blinked. “He’s not that bad.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “But he has no patience. We get along better as adults.” There was a note of longing in her voice. “When he comes to visit, we play tennis.”

“I used to play.” My rackets were stored in the garage. None of my family played, so it was something I rarely talked about, except with a few friends from school. “I still do sometimes, with my old coach and when a friend comes home to visit his parents. Sometimes I’ll meet him in Billings to get a quick game in.”

“Is that your Wednesday nights?”

“No.”

Her expression was expectant like she was waiting for me to elaborate. I wouldn’t.

“I enjoy it,” she continued after a moment, toying with her fork. “Dad’s usually more relaxed when we’re playing. He learned to play in order to get ahead at his job.”

“They say tennis and golf are the best ways to network.”

She grinned. “He doesn’t have the patience for golf.” She set her fork down. “Maybe we can play sometime.”

I’d never played with a girl. I had joined tennis so I didn’t feel like such a loser with football stars as siblings. The last thing I had wanted to do after school was get slammed around by other kids. I’d had enough fear of that during my school day. So I’d joined our small tennis team. “If you promise to take it easy on me.”

“I’m not to be feared, don’t worry.” Her laugh curled around me. I’d never be able to rest within these walls now that I’d heard her laugh here. She finished her last couple of bites and stood, taking her plate with her. “You cooked; I can clean.”

I rose, nearly knocking my chair over. She was a guest. Mama taught me better than this. “No, I got it. I can show you your room. It’s the first door on the right.”

She hovered by the sink, her plate in her hand.

My heart raced. I had cleaned the house and put away everything that could possibly cause her to think or act like I was nothing but an irresponsible man-child. My hobbies were my own. I’d share my enjoyment of tennis and be a gentleman.

“Sorry.” I pushed a hand through my hair. I needed a trim. I usually did, but I hated the barbershop. Salons were worse. I wanted my hair trimmed with no chitchat. Between Gary, the barbershop owner who tried to get as much Bailey dirt as possible, and Riley at the salon trying to shampoo my hair with her tits shoved into my cheek, I just let the length go. “Mama made sure we’re proper hosts even though I told her no one was ever visiting or living out here but me.”

Surprise flitted over Ruby’s features. “You don’t want anyone out here with you?”

“Present company excluded.” My lame attempt at a rescue didn’t soften her shock. I doubled down so she’d know how serious I was. This was my line in the sand, and if she was worried I’d pursue her after the wedding, I’d put her mind at ease. “No plans to get married either.”

Her eyes were round. “Oh.”

That was that. “Go ahead and set the plate down. Get some rest. I’ll be gone for a while in the morning to help with chores.”

I usually spent most of my weekends helping around the ranch, but I couldn’t have Ruby wandering aimlessly through my house. She didn’t seem like an invasive person, but I also couldn’t have her peeking into my bedroom.

I’d shoved everything from the spare room in there. A path around my bed was all the space that was left. I could’ve taken my stuff out to the shop, but I didn’t want everything to get dusty. And I didn’t want to store it in one of the ranch’s outbuildings. My family had a way of butting in without meaning to.

She rubbed her hands together. “Okay. Well. Good night.”

There had to be a way to diffuse the awkwardness. Unlike her dad, I liked when she prattled. “I’ll try not to surprise you with any shirtless moments.”

She laughed. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Her cheeks bloomed red and she scurried down the hallway.

“First door on the right,” I reminded her. I was smiling when I loaded my little-used dishwasher. Sometimes, Cruz and Lane or my brothers came over, but I didn’t host otherwise. Nor did I feel the need to hide my hobbies from them.

Ruby was different. She made me wish for a lot of things I’d given up on. But she wasn’t mine. Never would be.