Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ruby
I spent my Friday shift at the bar waiting for Tenor to walk in and help me close. Closing time was fast approaching and he was nowhere to be seen. Teller’s pickup was still in the lot, but where Tenor usually parked next to him was empty.
Two guys were at a corner table. I’d served them before. They usually talked quietly together before leaving ten minutes before close.
I washed some glassware and stocked behind the bar. Before long, everything was tidied and ready for the next day. The scrape of chairs announced the customers’ departure. Just as they were walking out, the door connecting the tasting room to the lobby swung open.
Teller entered and he nodded when he saw me. “Hey. Just gonna make sure you get everything locked up okay. Tenor’s helping Lane fix some hydraulics.” He scratched his beard. “We’re haying soon.”
“Oh. Okay.” Acute disappointment hung heavy on my shoulders. Tenor was busy fixing a tractor on a Friday night when his girlfriend was supposed to be arriving at his place?
I wasn’t his girlfriend. Tenor wasn’t Brock ignoring my arrival. But the new handkerchief dress I had bought with my tips from the last month was wasted on regulars who were all either married or not interested. Nor was I interested in them.
“Thank you,” I said, regaining my composure. Even if I were Tenor’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t pout because he hadn’t helped me close. I’d get on with what I was doing. He wasn’t avoiding me. It’s that we weren’t really a thing. “I just need to cash out and clean that last table, then I’ll be done.”
“No rush. I got the table.”
He grabbed the rag while I counted the small amount of cash that had come in tonight. When we were done, I sent the shift reports to Tenor and tucked the tablet away under the bar.
Would he be at his place when I got there?
As if reading my mind, Teller leaned a hand against the bar and propped his other on his hip. “Tenor said he left his door unlocked.” He tapped his fingers on the countertop. “Everything okay between you two?”
Alarm flooded into my veins. Why would Teller be worried? “Did he say something?”
“He’s been in his head more than usual.”
I ran through the events of last weekend. The barbecue at Mae’s had been fun. We’d eaten next to each other, I’d chatted more with his sisters and Mae, and then I had headed home. Like most weeks, we hadn’t messaged each other. I spent Monday through Friday a single gal. Perhaps a little melancholy. I might’ve missed Tenor. I might also have interpreted his weekday radio silence as proof he wasn’t into me.
Overall, things between us were normal for a couple who was fake dating. “I can’t think of what might be bothering him. The wedding maybe? We haven’t made a big splash in public yet and he hates attention.”
The wedding or our nondate tomorrow night. If either was the case, we didn’t have to go. That’d be the end of us, but as much as I wanted Tenor—a lot—I wanted a man who couldn’t get enough of me.
“He does hate it.” Teller’s gaze went icy. “That jackass in school really did a number on him.” He gave me a sharp look. “Did he tell you about Bobby?”
I shook my head. “No details. But he spoke a bit about what it was like for him.”
“Tate and I tried to interfere. The asshole was in my grade even though he was older than me, but he was good at getting to Tenor when he was alone. Nasty kid.”
“Poor Tenor,” I murmured. “I’m sure he didn’t fight back.”
“Tenor always makes sure he’s the bigger guy. It’s why the breakup with Katrina was so hard on him.” Teller swiped a hand down his beard. “He tried to be the best guy she could dream of. He was everything but himself.”
“I doubt that.” Distaste for the conversation danced on my tongue, leaving a sour tang. “Tenor is always himself. She just didn’t look very hard.”
Teller barked out a laugh. “It’s nice to see he’s gotten better taste since then. Just don’t let him scare himself off. You’re good for him. We can all see it.”
“He’s been good for me too.” There’d be no scaring him off. I hadn’t gotten him in the first place.
Teller didn’t go for the door. “Wynter also asked some probing questions. About how Junie shouldn’t be the only face of Copper Summit anymore. Asking if I’d like my picture taken.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t decipher his tone. Was he unhappy with the idea? “Yes. I can crop out your face. Blur it or get angles that preserve your anonymity.”
“No one wants to see my face.”
I rolled my eyes. “I had this same talk with Tenor. People very much do want to see your face.” I made a frame with my hands and he was at the center. “The whole plaid-and-bearded thing? Catnip. People who never thought to sample bourbon will be thinking about it after seeing you with a glass.” I dropped my arms.
He tugged at his polo. “I’m not wearing plaid.”
“You wear it enough.”
His brows drew together. “I still don’t see it.”
“I’d get them to see it.” Just a picture of him the way he was now would make a good post. “But like I said, I’d work in your comfort zone.”
“I don’t need to be targeted as the last single guy in a bourbon empire.”
Some guys would be on board. Snagging women who came for tours with hearts in their eyes? Not Teller, apparently. I respected him for it. “I’d keep that in mind.”
He considered me for a moment. “If you can talk the others into it, then I’ll think about it.”
“Are you saying that because you’re sure Tenor won’t agree?”
His smirk told me I had busted him. “How long have you been going out?”
“A few—” I almost said weeks, but we’d told them... what again? “Months. A couple of months.” I managed not to make it sound like a question.
“And I haven’t seen him pop up anywhere in a photo. If he’s on board, then I’ll do it. How’d the meeting with Madison go?” My surprise must have been obvious because he winced. “Sorry. We’re a family company, so that means we’re in everyone’s business.”
“You should run that by Wynter for a marketing slogan.”
He grinned. “Somehow, I don’t think that will sell.”
My brain was already in post mode, thinking of fun sayings and images I could get for it.
A family company means we’re in everyone’s business.
We’re in everyone’s business and in everyone’s glass.
Want this family in your business ? That could go with an image of any of them.
None of that would happen of course, and neither would helping Flatlanders Prohibited. “I texted Madison to let her know where I worked”—that my name was Ruby and not Rue—“but that I would love to help her with the general stuff. There’d be no conflict of interest. She said thanks, but no, thanks.”
Teller shook his head. “She’s as bad as her brother.”
“She was professional about it.”
“The Townsends shun Baileys and good opportunities.”
The conflict seemed to go back farther than when Teller’s ex had run off with Scooter. Either way, it wasn’t my business.
We walked out of the bar and locked up. Teller waited for me to get into my car and drive away before he left.
The trip to Tenor’s was dark, but I’d traveled the roads enough that I was comfortable.
The light in the living room was on. Excitement rose in my belly. Was he home?
Just as I parked in the empty garage, my phone dinged.
Tenor: There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself. I’m going to be late.
I stared at the message before stuffing my disappointment down and sending back Ok .
I gathered my things and went inside. His place was quiet. Peaceful. Still beautiful, and with his bookshelves and his painting supplies spread across the table, it was homier than the first time I’d stayed.
My phone buzzed again. A thrill twirled in my stomach as I dumped my suitcase in the guest room and dug my phone out of my purse.
Dad: Hey, Rubes. You around?
Me: Are you in Bozeman?
Dad: Will be. Want to meet for a match?
I grimaced. He picked up tennis when he needed to network beyond glossing over his glory days of football, but he was still an obnoxious jock at heart. He made a casual game of tennis into a cutthroat competition. He’d taught me to play on my weekends with him, and he’d urged me to join the high school team. Torture sounded a lot like practicing after school for hours, not to mention how Dad would scream at the sidelines. I hadn’t wanted to experience him getting removed from a tennis game. We still had father-daughter matches, but at least I could limit his shit talk to just us.
Me: Sorry, I’m out of town this weekend and next. Another time?
Dad: Soon. I’ve got another meeting lined up.
Me: Can’t wait.
I looked around the empty cabin. On the plus side, by the time I met up with Dad, I wouldn’t have to hide from him that I was seeing someone from his old hometown. This arrangement would be over by then.
Tenor
I had missed Ruby all damn week. I’d missed her last night. I was missing her this morning.
I finished at the ranch. I could hang out all day, but the other guys had everything covered. Mama had made muffins and here I was, rushing home with them.
After parking outside, I jogged to the door. The sun was bright and the birds were happy. Unlike last night when I’d entered a quiet cabin. Ruby had been asleep in the guest room.
She hadn’t helped herself to my bed while I wasn’t there. I’d stood in the hallway like a fucking stalker, watching her door, listening for any movement, desperate to see her after a long week of coming home to an empty house.
Fuck, I was in a bad way.
I entered the house. The place was quiet.
“Ruby?” I went to the kitchen and deposited the huckleberry muffins on the counter. Mom had also sent another dozen eggs. My stomach clenched. The breakfast sandwich I’d brought with me to do chores had long since burned off.
No answer came. I checked the garage. Her car was gone.
Dammit. I closed the door and peeked into the guest room. Her suitcase was open on the bed.
I pinched between my eyes. Get it together. We had a date tonight. Not a date, dammit. We were going out to eat. For show.
I could wait until she returned to see her. Was she wearing a dress or a skirt?
I’d know in a short time. All I had to do was be patient. I could paint a couple of models while waiting. Mow my lawn. Pull some weeds. Dust. There was plenty to do while waiting for her.
I reached for my phone before I could deliberate further. I typed out Where are you? and sent it.
I waited, rooted in place in my hallway.
Ruby: Mountain Perks.
I was outside and in my pickup within seconds. I flew to town, only obeying the speed limit when I hit city limits. Downtown bustled with activity on a Saturday morning. Cars lined the block around the coffee shop and the boutiques next to it. I took the first spot I could find a few blocks down.
In the coffee shop, I spotted Ruby right away. She sat at a back table, facing away from the entrance, book in hand. Her coffee mug was pushed to the side and an empty plate was at the edge of her table.
The couple who owned the hardware store passed me.
“Hey,” Buddy Kenwood greeted, sticking a hand out. “How’s it go?—”
“Good to see you.” I gave him the quickest handshake ever and continued past him.
I probably knew everyone in the place, but I didn’t stop to look. My strides ate up the distance between me and Ruby until I leaned down, tipped her face up, and pressed a kiss to those lips that continued to haunt my dreams. It was for show. That was the only reason I was kissing her.
A small, surprised squeak left her, but she brought a hand to my face and ran her thumb over the scruff on my cheek.
I pulled away enough to say, “Hey.”
Her lips curved up. “Hey yourself.” Bewilderment filled her gaze. She closed her book and set it down. The Pride and Prejudice cover was firmly in place. “Is everything okay?”
The conversation around us had dwindled. Attention was likely planted right on us, but I didn’t care. “Yes.” Now it was.
I swiveled around and sat on the small, round metal chair across from Ruby. I glanced at the other customers. Some curious looks were cast our way. My high school tennis coach gave me a nod, his smile wide. I dipped my head in return.
I folded my hands on the tabletop. “I missed you.”
She lifted her brows and looked around. Comprehension filled her eyes, along with acceptance. Damn. She thought I was doing this all for show.
I was. I had to be. I could not miss Ruby this bad when next weekend was our last time together. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”
She was wearing goddamn blue jeans and those fuckers might undo me worse than a dress.
“I wore a dress last night.” She shrugged with the sassiest attitude I’d ever seen.
Another thing I’d missed. “What do I gotta do to get you to wear it to dinner tonight?” I leaned to the side just a little and checked out what I could see of her lower half. “Those jeans though, Goldilocks. Damn.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Are they just right, Warhammer?”
A few weeks ago, I would’ve died in public if anyone had called me that out loud. I’d be transported back to school when I’d gotten teased for joining the board game club. Then to ten years ago at the gas station, answering questions about my secret nights away from Bourbon Canyon. Katrina had worked hard to make me sound like some creep who catfished women.
“Anything you wear is just right,” I said.
Her smile turned shy and she looked down.
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I mean it. It’s not for”—I lifted my chin toward the main seating area—“this.” I drew my hand away. I wasn’t doing everything for show, but touching her was getting harder to resist.
How many times had I pictured her in the same positions I’d read about in that damn book of hers?
Every night. Multiple times.
She flicked the edges of her book and that damn fake cover. I didn’t care if she wanted to conceal it in public. Just never around me. “Did you get what you needed done in town?”
“What do you mean?”
She laughed. “You surely didn’t drive in for coffee with me.” She pointed to the empty spot in front of me.
I hadn’t made the trip for coffee. I had made it for her. When I’d come back to an empty home, I’d fled to town and right to her. That wasn’t very fake boyfriend–like. “No, I gotta stop at the hardware store.” Which was closed, or Buddy wouldn’t be here right now since he worked most Saturdays. Hopefully she hadn’t seen him. Even better if she didn’t know who he was.
“I was just going to return to the house and wait for you,” she said. She licked her lips like she was hesitant to say something.
“Ruby?”
She shook her head. “It’s about work.”
“You know I don’t mind.”
“You might about this. I talked to Teller last night.”
Ah hell. I knew what she meant. Teller and I had read the email and pushed off the topic until the next meeting. I should’ve known I couldn’t escape it when my weekend guest was the brainchild behind the idea. “Updating our brand?”
She grimaced. “You talked to Wynter?”
“She said we should discuss it at our next meeting, but that including more of us informally might help growth, so whoever wants to help you out should talk to you.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “And you didn’t talk to me.” I opened my mouth to apologize, but she shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Teller isn’t hyped about it either. I just wish I could show the real heart of Copper Summit, which is all of you.”
“We put our heart out there.”
“You put out a polished version. People want to feel like they’re getting backstage access.”
I tapped her book, hidden under what she hoped was a more socially approved cover. “You wanna show off those abs?”
She looked taken aback for a moment, then she gave me a sheepish grin. “Touché.” She put her hand on mine. “The thing is... I wouldn’t press so much if I didn’t think that you guys are just used to the way it is here in Bourbon Canyon, where everyone knows who you are. The town loves your legacy. Out there?” She fluttered her other hand toward the window. “Copper Summit is just some bourbon with June Bee’s face on the ads, and the spirits market it getting more crowded. Being a family distillery isn’t the selling point it used to be. It’s pretty much the standard.”
A vise squeezed tighter around my ribs. She was right. More and more niche distilleries were popping up, each with its own unique story. I wanted to help her, but I also wanted to make bourbon. I wanted to run the numbers. I didn’t want to deal with the people. “Sometimes it’s bad enough getting recognized in my hometown.”
She tried to hide her disappointment but failed. “I’ll figure something out. You do enough. So does Teller. Maybe Wynter and Autumn will let me get some content while they’re creating recipes. Wynter liked my idea of letting customers name some cocktails.” She patted my hand. “I’ll head back now and you can finish your errands.”
The subject might be dropped, but I couldn’t escape the notion I’d let her down. She had a point. I just couldn’t put myself out there, and I’d rather not revisit why. “Let me walk you to your car.” I took her empty coffee mug and plate to the bin by the trash and followed her out.
She went to the driver’s door and I propped my hand on it. I was playing with fire, but I also couldn’t pass up a valid reason to kiss her.
She tilted her face up and I leaned down. I kept the touch to a mere brush of our lips. Any more and I’d end up pinning her to the door and plundering her mouth. All in the name of putting on a show.
“See you in a bit,” I said as I stepped back.
She bit her lower lip. “See you.”
I stood on the sidewalk and watched her go. Now I’d have to drive around town for half an hour because I had no damn errands to run.