Chapter 2 #3
I shivered. I hadn’t expected to be so attracted to him. My obsession had started as a little girl’s adoration. He was my Prince Charming. He had battled my dragons when I was scared. Then I’d seen his picture as an adult, and the curiosity had smoldered until I’d seen him.
Then he’d opened that wicked mouth.
Could he fuck as hard as he talked?
“What’s going on?” she asked.
I couldn’t tell her. It was why I’d gotten a place that was solidly in Denver and not closer to the distillery.
I couldn’t chance any of my siblings figuring out my true goal.
If I confessed to Summer, she’d think I was crazy and tell my brothers.
They’d tag-team me with their lectures about wasting my time.
They’d be even more upset that I was thinking of working for the enemy.
Foster House wasn’t direct competition, but they were competition, and that was enough for most of my family to feel betrayed. My brothers, really. My sisters rarely mentioned Myles. Daddy didn’t seem bothered. He just said, You gotta be better. Otherwise you’re not the best.
Myles was the harshest. And the hottest. “I got fired. And he was an asshole about it.”
“Who?” she asked, indignant.
The beautiful thing about family who were also close friends—they were incensed before knowing the full story. “No one. Just some power-hungry guy who walks all over his executive staff.”
She scoffed. “Wynter, you are not going to be an assistant when you can come home and be in charge of the whole marketing department.”
My family was holding the position for me.
I had even been doing the work before I’d moved away from Bourbon Canyon.
Before I’d let my apartment lease go and moved to a town where I knew one man, and he didn’t know me.
“Just for a little longer.” Long enough to learn about the guy who’d gotten me through some of the worst times of my life.
“But Daddy…”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, and the room spun. “Daddy’s sick. I know.” I’d gone home for a few days last month. I’d talked to Daddy, and what he’d said had nudged me over the cliff from cyberstalking to applying for a temp job. Home is where you land. Fly until you want to go home.
I needed to fly a little longer, and Stella Crane was supposed to have surgery.
She’d never said what type, and it wasn’t my business, but it was going to be lengthy, and she needed someone to replace her.
But her domineering boss hadn’t wanted to hire a replacement, temporary or otherwise.
Even if I was perfect for the position. I’d been groomed for distillery work.
Like Summer said, I could run the show. Any one of us Baileys could—even all the Kerrigans.
“Daddy’s not going to last much longer.” Her voice cracked and tears burned the backs of my eyes.
“Fucking cancer.”
“I know. Every time I get a phone call from Mama or one of the guys, my heart drops. Waiting for it is almost as bad as…”
“Yeah,” I whispered. Losing both parents suddenly on a stormy night? That had been a nightmare and had caused bad dreams and a fear of storms for the rest of my life.
“Remember when Mama Starr would buy a ton of toilet paper for people who lost loved ones?” Summer giggled.
Mama Starr was our birth mother when we had to differentiate her from Mama Mae, who was Mae Bailey.
We’d also called both our fathers Daddy.
We’d been lucky enough to have both in our lives, however fleeting.
“I was so mortified to be walking up to a house where everyone else was carrying a casserole, and Mama had TP in one hand and paper towels in the other.”
I laughed with her, but my memory drew a blank. “I must’ve been too young to go with you.”
“Autumn still gets embarrassed when she thinks about it.” Summer sighed. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m giving myself tonight, and then tomorrow I’ll figure out what I want to do.” Going home to watch Daddy grow weaker and frailer wasn’t it.
“What if we found a way for you to work in the Bozeman office with me?”
My heart warmed. Summer could be a pain, but she was always looking out for those she loved. Working next to her would be fun, but I hadn’t expected to leave Colorado so soon. “I’ll let you know.”
A little while later, I hung up and stared at my nearly empty wine bottle. The room was spinning around me, but I scrunched up my face. I missed Bourbon Canyon. I missed waking up and seeing the mountains every morning. I missed hearing cattle in my backyard. I missed fresh eggs for breakfast.
I missed being surrounded by family.
I might not remember a lot about Mama Starr, but I distinctly recalled the fear of having no home. Of my meager belongings being packed in a garbage bag while a stranger spoke to me in slow, overly enunciated words.
My stuffed ox, Bunyan, was on the couch.
“Myles, is that how you spell your name?”
“No, mine is spelled with a y.”
Such a simple exchange. So patient with me. He’d argue with Daddy, a little less with Mae, and my brothers had constantly bickered with him. But with me, he’d had all the time in the world.
What had made him such a cold bastard?
Would I be satisfied never knowing?