34. Tanner
34
TANNER
I t’s been a week, and we have no leads. And I am angry. The ex is elusive and on leave, not that I have told Victoria that. She seems convinced that while his calls are excessive and disruptive, she doesn’t believe he is capable of such a physical threat to her safety. But the issue is, no one can locate him, just like her father, as he’s apparently nowhere to be found either.
She has just lived like normal, digging around in the garden, making sure Gertie, the babies, and Marmalade are happy. But I am still livid. I have been at her place every day, looking after the animals with Kevin as she heals from her wounds, and her mom stayed for the week, taking care of her. The two of them have been shopping up a storm in Whispers and getting the inside of Marie’s place ready for the kitchen replacement that is happening soon. I loved seeing her face light up while spending time with her mom, but I haven't been in her bed since the crash, and I am eager to see her today. I thought meeting her mother might be weird. Hell, we are closer in age, both parents, but the common thread we have is the care we have for Victoria. Meeting and chatting with her mom was effortless, and she didn’t seem to have a problem with me or my age. Her only issue was that I was to take care of her daughter, and I swore to her before she flew out this morning that I would. Now, as I end the online meeting with Sawyer, I lean back in my chair, sighing in frustration.
“Hey, Tanner,” Jasmine says, popping her head in the door. I frown because it’s the weekend and the office is empty. I am not sure who let her in, but she probably came via the restaurant.
“Hey, Jasmine. How can I help you?” I ask, standing, wondering if she is here about Victoria.
“Oh, just stopping by, dropping off the new floral arrangements to the restaurant for the week,” she says, smiling. I hired her to fill the distillery with local flowers when she opened the florist. Something I did to support her, trying to encourage small business in the town. “I got your favorites this week.”
“Have you seen Victoria today?” I ask, keen to get her friend’s feedback on the situation. I know Jasmine as well as anyone in this town can. But I wouldn’t say we are close or anything.
“Oh no, I haven’t, but I wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” she says, stepping farther into the boardroom and closing the door behind her. My body stiffens immediately.
“What?” I ask, stepping to the side, eager to hear what she has to say.
“Well, I am just a bit worried about her. With Marie’s place and the social media, I mean, someone tampered with her brakes, Tanner. It is too much, and what happens when she just leaves and goes back to the city? It’s bringing a lot of attention to town that might not be the good kind…”
“Leaves?” I ask, tilting my head, my heart stopping. Last I spoke to Victoria, she was staying. A fact that I am very supportive of.
“She obviously can’t handle the small farm she has, and once the house is done, it will be a money pit to keep going. She misses her mother greatly, and now her safety is compromised,” Jasmine says, worry etched on her face. None of what she is saying makes a lot of sense. Victoria already has a plan for the property that will bring in some income. I know she misses her mom, but her mom isn’t in the city anymore, and in terms of handling the farm, she is doing better than anyone expected.
“Well, Jasmine, I don’t think she is going anywhere. Was there anything else?” I ask, wanting to get out of here and over to see the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
“No. No. I just worry about her, that's all,” she says with a small smile, one I match. It is nice that Victoria has local friends, and both Jasmine and Lacy have been there for her from the start. I know she appreciates them.
“We all do,” I confirm as I step toward the door and open it, offering Jasmine to walk out first.
“Okay, well, have a great afternoon and let me know if you need anything. I am always happy to help.”
“No worries. Thanks, Jasmine,” I say, closing the door and walking to my office in the other direction. I dump my laptop and paperwork and walk straight back out to the front of the office building and push out the front door. I need some fresh air and warm sunshine, so I stand in the driveway for a moment, letting the sun hit my face, thinking about things.
The sheriff has nothing. He and his team continue to patrol the town, and they have been doing drive-bys up and down Distillery Drive all week in case they see anyone or anything. All the locals are on edge and eagle-eyed for anyone who doesn’t look like they belong. I called my security team that I use periodically, and they have already assessed and measured Marie's place and they will be installing cameras within the next few days.
I take in a breath, looking around outside at the front of the distillery office. The weekends are always popular here, and the restaurant is full, the parking lot overflowing with tourists, all who drive here to sample my whiskey in the tasting room, have a tour of our facility, and then indulge in a meal in my restaurant before driving off later today. But here near the office, the garden is quiet and in the parking lot sits my truck, along with a few of the workers’ cars, and the new truck I ordered a mere week ago. My standard black polish shines bright against the sun. I hope she likes the logo. Lacy helped design it. Marie’s Place in a blue that matches the tiles on the fireplace she likes so much .
Looking up the driveway, I see a vision walking toward me. Her hair loose and blowing in the breeze, a summer dress that floats on her body, looking like God answered all my prayers. I step toward her, meeting her halfway, surprised to see her here.
“So this is your lair?” she asks with a smile. She must have walked here. It isn’t far, and with the truck now ruined, she has no way of getting around. The girls or I have been her chauffeur most of the week.
“What have you got there?” I ask her, my hands immediately going around her waist and pulling her closer to me. I can smell fresh cookies. My downfall.
“Well, I don’t have much to really give to people to say thanks for all the help over the last week, so I found another old cookie recipe in Marie’s things and thought I would try it this morning. You are my guinea pig. If you like them, then I will make a big batch and deliver it to everyone who has been over to see me or send me well wishes,” she says, my hand absentmindedly rubbing up and down her back.
“No one expects anything,” I tell her.
“Yeah, but it is a lot. Rochelle with the food, the girls for visiting and driving me around…” she says, sighing, obviously feeling overwhelmed with all the support she has received. I decide to take her mind off it for a while.
“Well, now that I have trapped you in my lair, come in, let me show you around,” I say, swallowing. I have never brought a woman here before. She calls it my lair, but it is certainly my space. My whole life is poured into this place. The bricks and stone I helped to lay, the design of the building I drew when I was young and just dreaming of having a business like this. I am proud of what I have built, but it showcases all of me, like opening up myself and giving her everything of me, leaving me raw. I hope she likes what she sees.
“You seem worried.” She looks up at me, concern furrowing her brow .
“I just haven’t ever brought anyone here. People come to the restaurant and for meetings obviously, but… I have never brought anyone here who really means something to me,” I tell her honestly, and my chest burns as I wait for her response.
She looks from me to my distillery and back again. “You know I like you for you, right? Not all this. Just for the man you are,” she asks me, and I balk. I never knew I needed to hear her say it. People associate me with my whiskey so much, it is almost like we have become one. But for her to point out that the Whiteman’s brand is not what she is with me for, it settles something within me, and I smile.
“Just don’t sniff too much; I don’t want the tourists to be put off,” I tease her, knowing she will probably never sample my liquor.
“Can’t promise anything,” she says, smiling, and I walk with her inside the admin building, taking the cookies from her and putting them in my office.
“So this is where all your deals are done?” she asks, glancing around. I lean against my desk and watch her take it all in. Taking a quick look at the bookcase, the photos of Connor and I that I have around the room, then she looks over the bar, the crystal decanters and glassware, along with a few shelves of bottled whiskey, the limited editions I have made over the years.
“Some of them,” I say, liking her in my space. In my world.
“I love this table.” Her hands run up and down the recycled timber of my desk, feeling the bumps and ridges .
“I made it a few years ago,” I tell her, and she looks at me, wide-eyed.
“Made it?” she asks, head tilting my way.
“Out of old whiskey barrels.”
“It is amazing. You could sell this type of thing,” she says in awe, and my chest warms with pride.
“Nah, it’s just a hobby. The whiskey keeps me busy enough.” Taking her hand, I pull her to me. She smiles, standing between my legs where I sit on the edge of my desk, my hands curving around her waist. I feel like I can finally breathe when her hands glide up my arms and circle my neck.
“Hey, baby girl,” I whisper, leaning down and kissing her slowly. It is an I have missed you kiss. Because even though I saw her every day, I still missed kissing her, touching her, and having alone time together. Now in my office in the peace of the afternoon, I’m relieved.
“Hey…” she breathes out, melting into me as I rub my nose with hers.
“Come, let me show you around,” I say, grabbing her hand, and we walk out, slowly looking around my space as I show her the office and one of the barrel rooms.
“This is how we store the whiskey during the aging process,” I tell her, spotting a tour going on down at the other end of the space, all getting the same information. “I have another seven rooms like this, the whiskey all at different aging stages and a variety of single malt or grain, depending on what I am trying.”
“I still don’t really have any idea of the difference between all the whiskeys, but I can appreciate it.”
I kiss her forehead and bury my nose in her hair, taking a breath before I pull her along again, and lead her into the main distillery.
“This is where the magic happens.”
Her eyes widen as she looks over the large shiny vats and tubes where fermentation and the distillation of the product takes place.
“Looks like a mad scientist lab,” she says with a laugh.
“It can feel a bit like it some days too.”
“So I am guessing you were a science major?” She looks up at me, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“Sure was. Turns out, I am pretty good at it,” I say with a smirk, then I wrap a hand around her waist and pull her body back into mine. We stand toe to toe, our heads close, and I take a moment to really look at her.
“How are you feeling, baby girl?” I ask her as I rub up and down her back. The tour group followed us in, and while I see them gawking at us, I couldn’t care less.
“Better. Physically, much better,” she says, her eyes on mine.
“And mentally?” I ask, eager to see where her head is at.
“Mentally, I don’t want to think about it anymore. I think about who it was and why every minute of every day and I am tired. I have no idea, nothing,” she says, her tone soft but frustrated, and I nod. I know she has been because I have been doing the same.
“Another thing that’s been on my mind, though…” She pauses, and it makes me a bit nervous, but then her smile takes over her whole face. “I can’t believe you flew my mom in and got me those incredible flowers.” She is looking at me like I hung the moon for her. “Thank you so much, Tanner. For everything.” Running her hands up my arms, they settle around my neck as she leans in.
“Anytime,” I tell her, kissing her on the lips and almost getting lost in the way she feels, but then I hear the tour group’s chatter. Pulling back, I press one more quick kiss on her cheek, then walk us past the group. I don’t want to get negative reviews for passionately kissing and offering them a show.
The tasting room is packed full of people, and then the restaurant is also full to the brim, everyone sampling, eating, and buying. Heads turn to look at us as we walk through. I am well known for the whiskey, but I don’t jump into the spotlight too much. A few people come to introduce themselves, and one family even asks for a photo. I don’t make a habit of being here, so my presence is a novelty to our restaurant staff, who are all smirking at me. All the while, Victoria smiles wide, taking it all in.
I try to see it all from her eyes. The footprint of the property is massive, the warehouse and bottling facility not anywhere I have even taken her yet, and I appreciate that the business I have built is not like anything she has ever seen before. I watch as her gaze sweeps over everything, the smile never leaving her face, and I notice the admiration and pride within that expression. It makes me feel like a king.
I am proud of two things in my life. My son and my whiskey, and getting to share that with her makes me the luckiest guy in the world.