Bourbon Summer (Bourbon Canyon #6)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ruby

People milled on the lawn of the Bourbon Canyon nine-hole golf course. Women in colorful dresses dotted the crowd, along with men in slacks and sport coats, all acceptable attire for the garden wedding.

I tugged on the bodice of my pale-blue dress. The bottom of the skirt brushed my ankles, and large white lilies decorated the fabric. I would’ve gone with a solid color, but with my luck, I would’ve shown up in a dress too similar to the bridesmaids’. Cara was likely the type of bride to kick me out for the grievance. As much as I didn’t care for her, I wasn’t interested in ruining her wedding. I hadn’t needed to worry.

The four bridesmaids, two of them from high school who continued to act like I was invisible, wore tasteful, soft-yellow gowns, and the groomsmen, most of whom I had met while dating Brock, were in trendy blue suits. As far as classiness went, the wedding hit all the right notes. The ceremony had been short and sweet. Cara had grinned at Brock, and she’d had to wipe her mouth after their first kiss as man and wife.

I took a sip of my blackberry bourbon. Jenna, the girl working the wet bar, was fairly new at Bourbon Canyon. She took a few shifts at the bar each week. Tenor and I had stopped to chat with her as soon as we’d arrived. I’d taken several pictures of the setup and her preparing drinks. Then I’d done a ton of snapshots of my cocktail.

The only subject I really wanted to photograph was Tenor. He was checking on Jenna again. Teller was running stock in the background, and he’d been so stealthy I’d almost missed him. I took at least ten photos of each of them.

Tenor nodded and started for me. I inhaled a shaky breath. The nerves in my stomach took flight. The real him was much more potent without a camera lens between us. He wore a pair of black cowboy boots with his charcoal-gray slacks. Once again, he wore a shirt a size too big, but it worked for him. The top button was undone to keep the look casual enough for a golf course wedding and his gray sport coat kept his shirt from gathering around his waist. He’d gotten his hair trimmed and he kept it combed off his head.

He adjusted his glasses as he reached me. He wasn’t fading into the background today, not like he ever could. He cut a path toward me and heads turned. Most—but not all—the guests were from out of town. I recognized a few other classmates and they chose to pretend I didn’t exist, but they couldn’t miss the tall, handsome man who was fine in a casual suit.

“I got you another drink,” he said, handing me a highball glass. “But there’s a kicker.”

“Oh?”

“I want to get a picture of you with it.”

I almost laughed him off, but he was holding his phone like he was ready to shoot. “The contract said wet bar and employees only.”

“Exactly.” He took a few pics.

“Wait!” Had my mouth been hanging open? Did I look like Snow White had gotten into the evil queen’s liquor stash?

“Payback. I saw you taking your opening.” He pocketed the phone.

“I promise I won’t post anything with you two.” But on the off chance he and Teller would change their mind, I was ready. “How’s Jenna?”

He tipped his head down. “Hanging in there. Apparently to keep from being a bridezilla, Cara assigned the job to her mom. Jenna got interrogated before the reception started about why there were no other options than bourbon.”

The wet bar was a hit and Cara’s mom could suck a lemon wedge. Teller had stocked plenty. “Good thing we told Jenna where to find a copy of the contract the new son-in-law signed. In person.”

A satisfied glint entered his eye. “Came in handy. Mom of the bride turned beet red, but Jenna made sure to gush about how thoughtful it was Teller and I had included different signature mocktails to be served too. Then she said she couldn’t wait to serve the drink Cara named.”

“Jenna’s a good one.”

His gaze stroked over my face. “We hire amazing people.”

“I have to admit, I like the name Cara came up with for the blackberry fizz.” Instead of simple syrup, Wynter had used maple syrup. It was like a pancake in a glass, which was what Cara had named it.

“That was a good idea.” Tenor put his hand on the small of my back, a move that never failed to anchor me and make me feel treasured. “Letting brides name a mocktail.”

“And those brides feel like they got a backstage pass.” I nudged him. “I promised you I’d keep you out of it.”

“So then what are the pictures for?”

“My spank bank.”

He sputtered and coughed. I handed him my glass for a drink. His expression promised retribution when he took a sip, but he was smiling when he set the glass down on the closest table.

A guitar plucking came over the speakers as the band got everyone’s attention. With his hand still on me, Tenor and I faced the stage set up on the patio behind the clubhouse.

Fairy lights and yellow tulle decorated the pergola. Cara’s laugh rang over the crowd. Brock was standing with his groomsmen, his gaze on me and Tenor. I grinned and lifted my drink in congratulations. His returning smile was tight.

I took my attention off him, feeling nothing but relief that I wasn’t the one in the wedding dress saying yes to him.

Cara marched up to him, hooked her arm through his, and dragged him to the three-tier cake.

Tenor slipped his hand in mine and we gathered to watch the happy couple cut their slice of cake. As Cara adjusted Brock’s hold on the knife, her “silly goose” rose over the notes from the band queuing up. Lines of tension ran along his jaw as his new wife corrected him in front of the crowd.

I almost—almost—felt sorry for him. He hadn’t shown me what a good boyfriend was like, but I had been a good girlfriend. Was I the most exciting? No. The sexiest? Well, Tenor made me feel that way, but to Brock, I hadn’t been. Yet I’d been a considerate, caring partner. I had asked about his day. I had brought him meals when he was sick, and I had never demeaned him in front of his friends or family. I had cared for him.

Have your cake and eat it too, Brock.

He’d wanted more, and he’d made me feel like less when it hadn’t been my fault.

My time with Tenor had shown me that. Tenor had said he’d show me I wasn’t the problem in my relationships. He had, and we weren’t even dating for real.

Brock and Cara each balanced a small square of white cake with raspberry swirls in their hands. Cara lifted her piece to his mouth—but he smashed his chunk into hers. I wasn’t the only one to gasp. Tenor gave his head a small shake and squeezed my hand.

A scandalized squeal shot from the bride and she smudged her cake across the groom’s face. The couple might be laughing now, but their eyes shot fire.

“I’ve never been so glad to have been dumped,” I murmured.

“I was thinking the same,” Tenor replied quietly. “She reminds me of my ex.”

“You wouldn’t have rammed your piece of cake into your new wife’s face.”

“Not even if I was begged to.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I would, however, feed her each bite so slowly, so carefully, so sensually the crowd would have to look away.”

My breath caught and intense jealousy fired in my stomach. Who was the lucky bride and what lake could I throw her in? “I’m not sure I’d want to see Crock do that either.”

His chuckle was low, and I grinned. I leaned into him, letting the warmth of the bourbon fill me as the evening cooled off a few degrees.

After the sweet mess was cleaned up and the couple returned to mingle, the band started. Cara, with a freshly washed face and damp stains on her dress, dragged Brock to the middle of the dance floor.

I had to give it to her. Other than the cake fiasco, she could put on a good party. Too bad she and Brock would be permanent residents of Bourbon Canyon once their honeymoon was over. The bones of their new house overlooked the ninth hole. How often would I have to see them? I wasn’t pining over my ex, and I was no longer intimidated by her, but I’d rather have this little town be my sanctuary.

When the bride and groom’s first dance was over, all the guests were welcome to join them on the dance floor. Tenor twined his fingers through mine and lifted the glass from my other hand. He set it on a nearby table, then led me toward the dancing couples.

“I—I don’t dance.” My wedge shoes made it easier to navigate the grass until we hit the hard platform of the dance floor, but they wouldn’t help me find some rhythm. I had two left feet. In wedge heels.

“You don’t have to.” He twirled me into him. “Just follow me.”

I draped an arm around his big shoulder and hung on while he coaxed me through some steps. Eventually, I caught the pattern and hugged closer to him. “You’re good at everything.”

“Don’t ask me to line dance. I’ll be on my ass in seconds.”

I giggled just as a couple bumped into us.

Cara’s crystal blue eyes pinned me. “Ohmigod, you made it.” She peeled away from Brock and yanked me away from Tenor. A cloud of perfume smothered me as she tossed her arms around my neck. “So glad you could join us. But then you had to since you’re also working, right?” The insecurity was a surprise. She was the bride. This was her day. Why worry about my reasons for attending? She’d made it clear I wasn’t important in her life.

“Uh, congrats again.” I pried myself away from her.

She caught my wrist. “You and I should catch up after Brockie and I get back from Jamaica. I don’t know anyone in town.”

“Sure.” She most likely wanted to use me to get clients. We had nothing else in common and no other reason to hang out. “I’ll be around Wednesday and Friday nights at Copper Summit.”

Tenor curled an arm around me and pulled me back toward him. “Then I tend to dominate her weekends.”

Oh. Yes. I had a boyfriend I was in Bourbon Canyon for. That was, until people figured out Tenor and I were no longer dating.

How would that go?

Did we make an announcement? Tell people one by one? Or did we just do our own thing and let others wonder?

I preferred the latter option. Others could privately wonder what I’d done to scare Tenor Bailey away.

“We’d better let you keep dancing,” Tenor said. “Don’t want to take away from your first night as a husband and wife. Congratulations. Beautiful wedding.” He spun me away.

I didn’t bother to look at Cara or Brock. I rested my head on his chest as he swayed me to a slow song. “That was the smoothest exit I’ve ever witnessed.”

“You don’t owe her a second of your time.”

“She hasn’t been bad .”

“But she doesn’t make you feel good.”

True. Cara wanted to rekindle a friendship that she’d killed off. She would no doubt agree with Brock about my work and my romance novels. I was dull. Except with Tenor, when that was okay.

I smiled and soaked up his heat as he led me around the dance floor. Over the next two hours, we danced, checked in with Jenna, tracked down Teller, and laughed when some single women from town spotted Teller and tried to drag him onto the dance floor. Tenor didn’t leave my side.

Once the crowd started thinning, my happiness dimmed. This was it. The end of my month with Tenor Bailey. It was over. I was back to being fully single. For real.

He led me along the sidewalk around the clubhouse to the parking lot.

“I can’t believe that’s over,” I said to distract myself. No more weekends with Tenor. No more hanging out casually with his wonderful family. No more quiet nights in his cabin in the middle of nowhere.

When Cara had first invited me and I’d roped Tenor into my lie, I’d thought I’d wither away from embarrassment each day until the reception, which would be the final nail in the sarcophagus of my personal life. Instead, I’d had a wonderful time with my fake boyfriend.

The stars overhead twinkled brightly behind wisps of clouds. I tipped my head back to admire them and sighed. Tenor would be gone in the morning when I woke up and drove out of his personal life. He’d return to being one of my bosses. Only I’d know how firm his lips were when he kissed me. How coaxing his tongue could be. What he looked like in nothing but boxer briefs.

He’d know what I sounded like when I came next to him in his bed.

Totally normal working situation.

“What if it wasn’t quite over yet?” he asked.

My hopes surged. This is it! screamed somewhere in my brain. He wanted to date me for real. The month with me had only shown him that he was ready to see someone again, and I was that someone.

I really liked him.

I wanted to find out where kisses like his could lead. I clutched my hands in front of myself. “What are you thinking?”

Tenor yanked the passenger door open. “Since you aren’t driving home tonight, I have a stop planned.”

That didn’t sound like I can’t live without you, Ruby. You’re my Goldilocks. Just the right woman for me. But I’d go wherever Tenor took me.

“Okay. Show me what you’ve got, Warhammer.”

Tenor

I drove toward my place but turned off on a rutted path between the trees. They were thinner on this side of the road as the foothills rose and dipped across the land. The trail didn’t quite extend to a creek that was mostly dry after the spring runoff.

When I reached a small clearing, I swung the pickup around. The box of the truck faced the best part of the view. During the day, it was breathtaking in a simple way. A slice of Montana that didn’t make it onto the postcards but was stunning all the same with its simplicity. Trees and rolling hills led to the mountains. Farther to the north was the back side of a popular ski resort, but here it was quiet. Peaceful.

Perfect for my last few moments alone with Ruby. When we returned to the cabin, she’d retreat to her room. I’d go to mine with nothing but memories of how that dress of hers swirled around her hips. How good she felt in my arms. The way she clung to me.

Ruby Casteel was a vixen who had no idea of her sex appeal. Had her douchebag ex been too wrapped up in himself to see it?

At least it hadn’t been Ruby getting her face plastered with cake after her vows. It hadn’t been her eyes filled with disappointment and betrayal. Cara must’ve told that dick she didn’t want a cakey mess on her big day and he’d ignored her.

The highlight of the night was that it hadn’t been Ruby in that fitted wedding dress, promising herself to someone forever. The relief cooling me all night was startling. Ruby wasn’t off the market.

In the morning, she’d be fully on the market. Back in the dating pool. She would return to Bozeman and our paths would only intertwine when it was about work.

Fuck.

“I’ve never been this far out of town,” she said, peering out the window at the darkness beyond. “The sky is so vivid.”

“The light pollution from the ranch doesn’t reach this far, and the clouds are clearing off.”

Her eyes shone in the dash lights. “Are we stargazing?”

The genuine excitement in her voice amplified my own. “Yeah. You said you never get a chance to.”

“No.” A line pinched in her forehead. “You remembered.”

I remembered everything about her. She liked fruity bourbon cocktails, no bitters—she frowned ever so slightly whenever she had to use bitters to make a drink. She preferred her books smutty and her reading private. She didn’t think she could dance, but she trusted the right man to lead her. When it came to food, she loved anything homemade, but not by her. And when she slept, fully relaxed after a climax, the world could disintegrate around her and she wouldn’t wake up.

I liked to study, and Ruby was my favorite subject.

She opened the door and hopped out, breaking my reflection.

Ruby was special, but I wasn’t the guy for her.

Except she seemed to like me. Appreciation filled her eyes when she checked me out. Her grin and excitement were real when we were together. And she got along with my family.

Why couldn’t it work?

Right, every breakup ever. In the beginning, I’d set out to prove to her that she hadn’t been the issue. When she attracted men who would trip over themselves to be with her, she’d see I wasn’t a catch. An older bachelor with board games in his pantry and a cabin built for one wasn’t a catch. The orgasms wouldn’t be worth it.

I climbed out in the dark, cool air.

“The Milky Way just opens up above you.” Awe filled her voice.

I had put it there.

From the back seat, I dug out a pad and some blankets, along with a small bin I’d stashed before we’d left for the wedding.

I juggled everything in one arm and dropped the tailgate. The moon was almost full, giving me enough light now to see a shadowed Ruby and her curious expression.

“You came prepared,” she said.

I spread out the foam pad I used for camping. Teller and I used to go more often. Then I flipped a blanket over it. “I didn’t think we would stay at the wedding that long and I didn’t want you to be let down by a boring night.”

“I’m certain no night with you could be boring.”

“Exhibit A : painting tiny models.”

She laughed. “You underestimate how much I love to read for hours on a comfy couch.”

I almost believed her.

“I’m glad I went to the wedding. That feels weird to say.” She leaned against the edge of the tailgate as I finished arranging the pad and blanket. “I got some closure I didn’t know I was looking for—from Crock as a whole. I don’t want anything to do with either of them and I have nothing to prove. Whatever they made me feel, it’s about them. Therefore, it means nothing. Yet, at the same time, it is because of Crock that I’m able to reach beyond the standard brand of Copper Summit. And because of you.”

“It wasn’t me. I just nudged the ball, so it was easier for you to get it rolling.” Would I feel the same if I went to Katrina’s wedding? Maybe. The urge to prove myself was still strong, and I’d sworn to leave it all behind. And if I had to see my childhood nightmare celebrate the beginnings of a happy life? If I had to cater to him in any way? No fucking chance. That guy had been a menace as a kid and as an adult. The only closure I could imagine was hearing he’d gone to jail for being an insufferable asshole.

Ruby was a better human than me.

“Want some wine?” I pulled the bottle out of the small cooler.

She hopped up on the tailgate to sit with her legs dangling down. “You brought wine?”

“Rhubarb wine. It’s from a winery in Miles City.”

“You go out of your way to buy Montana-made products, don’t you?”

“The people and businesses in the state have been good to us. I want to give back.” I used the corkscrew I had packed and opened the bottle. “The glasses are plastic,” I said as I poured and handed her a cup. “Didn’t want broken glass ruining our date. Our last fake date,” I amended before I could fool myself.

“Last fake date,” she echoed and held up her cup. We clicked them together for a dull cheers and exchanged smiles.

Fuck, I wanted this to be real. If it was, I’d down this wine and wait until she finished hers. Then I’d tip her backward and crawl on top of her, spreading those lush thighs of hers wide. I’d keep the dress on but slide it up her body until she was bared to me.

Lust kindled hot in my gut. I gulped half my wine.

The appreciative noise she made when she took a drink didn’t help my dirty thoughts. “You think of everything.”

It was one of my greatest faults. Too much thought, not enough sincerity. Wasn’t that what I’d been told before? I’d lost track of which woman had said that.

I climbed next to Ruby and we sat side by side, our heads tipped back to look at the stars.

“I was wondering how we do this,” she said quietly. “How are we going to fake break up?”

Goddamn fake breakup. “You can tell everyone whatever you want.”

She let out a delicate snort. “Why yes, we’re no longer seeing each other. He was a perfect gentleman, a fabulous kisser, and he could dance like a dream. But!” She clicked her tongue. “He can’t line dance, so I kicked him to the curb.”

I chuckled. “That’ll work.”

“I’m not throwing you under the bus,” she said in a serious tone. “You’ve been nothing but amazing.”

That hadn’t mattered before. “We just grew apart. You can blame the age difference or the fact that I’m your boss. You can let people assume whatever they want to.” Anyone in Bourbon Canyon who’d been around during that time with Katrina would realize I was the problem.

“Okay,” she almost whispered.

“You can still stay at Mama’s on Friday nights.”

She bumped my arm. “I promise I’ll be all right.”

She would be, but that also meant she wouldn’t be at my place. “If the weather gets bad, keep her in mind.”

“Sure.”

I recognized her stubborn tone. “I’ll pick you up and dump you on Mama’s doorstep if you think you’re driving in stormy weather.”

Her laughter rang through the night. “Okay, okay. I promise.” She gently kicked her legs. “I don’t work at the bar for a week and a half.”

Dismay filled me. Shit. The Fourth of July was this week. We only kept the bar open as a tasting room for the tourists who flowed through the area and came for tours and gift shop purchases during the holiday. The cocktail bar would be closed at night, then reopen the week after the Fourth to give the temporary employees plenty of time off.

“What are you going to do for the Fourth?” I asked.

“Ummm... soak up the AC and read. You?”

“I help with the parade. Tate does a float every year for Bailey Beef, and Teller and I arrange one for Copper Summit. Cruz and Lane are coming back and they ride horses behind the ranch float.”

“That sounds fun.”

“You should come down.” What was I doing? This was our last night. A clean break. “We can pretend a few more days. Unless you’re going to hang out with your mom.”

She blinked at me in the dark. “Even when my mom is in town and not off frolicking in some national park somewhere, we don’t do Fourth of July holidays. She always worked for holiday pay and either got a sitter or sent me to my dad. He never took me to the parade. Dad doesn’t have the patience for crowds of people.”

“Then come down. Hang out. You can get some pictures and we can pretend for another day.”

She smiled and I swear the goddamn stars twinkled brighter.