Chapter 17
TRISTAN
I’m hefting a cord of oak out of one of the property trucks Friday morning when Katie’s voice rings over the parking area.
“Don’t you have people for that?”
“You volunteering?” I shout back. I toss the stack on top of all the others.
Charring night is soon, and I want to see what happens when we use a wood fire for some of the barrels instead of the usual gas fire.
I think the flavor will be better. I swipe the back of my hand over my forehead before I turn toward Katie, who is wending her way through the cars—Aiden’s vintage Ferrari, my black Italian sports car, Sienna’s roadster.
“Seems like you could use the…” My words trail off when I catch sight of her hair.
“Exercise,” I finish softly. I blink. The image of Katie doesn’t change.
That’s really her. Standing in front of me in a cropped top and tiny, fluttery shorts, with movie-star hair.
It tumbles around her shoulders in a riot of curls and waves.
This isn’t the Katie I know. That Katie wears it ruthlessly straight and tied back at all times. This Katie looks—don’t even think it, Tristan.
“What did you do?” I take an unconscious step forward.
She nervously fingers one of the curls. “I colored it. Cut it too. What do you think? It’s my natural color.”
“I think—” I clear my throat.
You look hot. I want to touch it.
“Tristan.” She scowls. “Don’t say anything rude.”
“It looks soft.” The words slip out. “Good,” I amend quickly. “Really good.” My heart is dancing in my chest, and I strip off the gloves I’ve been wearing and toss them on the pile while I avoid looking at her and wait for my pulse to settle.
“No camp counselor comments?”
Only if you fantasize about wrapping your camp counselor’s hair around your hand.
“There’s still time,” I say lightly. “But no, it’s more Venus rising from the sea. If she shopped for luxury athleisure before she climbed into the clamshell.”
Katie tries to scowl, but I see her fighting a smile and failing.
“What made you change it?” I slide her a look, feeling like I’ve been knifed in the chest when I catch another glimpse of The Hair. It makes her skin glow.
“I wanted to feel good for my date.” There’s a world of meaning behind those words, more of the nerves that were on display on our practice date last Friday.
“He’ll like it.”
“You think?” She brightens, and I want to punch something.
“He’d be a fool not to.” Her brows tug down, and I quickly add, “Red’s incredibly rare.
You know hair color is way more complicated than people realize?
It’s not as simple as Mom’s hair color plus Dad’s hair color.
You shouldn’t have dyed it. Only two to five people have it out of every hundred. Big mistake.”
I clamp my lips shut at the way she’s smiling at me, bemused and warm. “What?”
“I like your facts.” Her smile grows. “You’re making me feel less nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous. Ryan doesn’t matter.” I lean against the truck bed, and she hops up next to me.
“We’re doing an obstacle course today.”
“You are?” I can’t help my surprise. “That doesn’t seem like Ryan’s thing. Isn’t he an actor?”
“I know.” She laughs. “But he asked me what I wanted to do and I kept thinking about how you said the first step was confidence. I told him physical activity and competition were where I felt most confident.”
“Good for you.”
“This might be a mistake,” she says ruefully. “I’ll probably get too competitive.”
“Confidence is hot,” I remind her.
She scrunches her nose. “I’m going to hear your voice in my head while I’m on this date. Confidence is hot, Bailey. The first step to good sex is feeling sexy.” She does a horrible imitation of my voice, and I chuckle.
“That’s so not what I sound like.” I bump her with my shoulder, but I’m smiling at the thought of Katie on her date, talking herself up, forcing herself to enjoy her time with Ryan.
“What are you doing today?” she asks.
I stiffen. “We have a meeting with the heads of the distilleries.” I meet her questioning glance. “Aiden wants to announce my new role.”
“Ah.” Her gaze roams over my face. “And you…don’t want to? Why not?”
I look away, over the driveway, to where the grass on the other side of the main house slopes gently to the cliffs.
“I’m the spare,” I say, surprising even myself.
I don’t talk about this. “I’m the benchwarmer.
What if Aiden comes back from his trip and wants the job back?
It’s his, not mine. I’m just a temporary replacement.
” I have always been a temporary replacement. I swallow down the words.
Katie is silent for two long heartbeats.
“Benchwarmers still win championships,” she says softly.
My gaze slices to hers. I expect pity or judgment, one of those uncomfortable emotions people heap on you when you start cutting yourself open and letting them see the soft parts. Instead, she just looks thoughtful.
“I guess that’s right.”
“Plus, Aiden needs you.”
“He does?”
She gives me a rueful smile. “Of course he does. He’s the face of the company, but you’re the heart.”
“I’m the brains, actually. And maybe the looks.” I tug on a wayward strand of her hair. I’m not the heart. I’m the background guy. The ideas guy. I don’t think anyone at Prince Bourbon wants me to be the CEO except for Aiden.
In the distance, the Crownhaven gates clang closed.
“That’ll be Ryan,” she says, but makes no move to stand. I hold myself still, fighting the wave of irritation at his interruption.
“Tristan,” she whispers urgently. “Can you give me kissing tips?”
My head whips around. She’s looking at me expectantly. You signed up for this, asshole. Help her get laid and stop mentally volunteering for the job.
I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, picturing how I start a kiss.
Picturing how I’d start with her. “Start slow,” I say, my eyes on her mouth.
“Start slow and see what he likes.” Her lips part.
My head feels light. “The right man will let you lead. Don’t go for tongue too soon.
Test the waters. If he makes a sound, you’ve got him.
” My gaze goes back to her face. Her pupils are dilated.
My own breath is shallow.
“Is that what you like? I mean, what you do?”
I swallow. “Yeah, Bailey.” I clear my throat. “That’s what I do. That and more.”
I can’t help the way my gaze dips to her mouth again, wondering what it would feel like to have her test the waters. Would she moan? What would it be like to let her lead?
My insides feel like warm honey.
A car door slams.
I let her wrist drop.
Katie’s head jerks in that direction. She blinks furiously, then stands in a rush and smooths her shorts.
“He’s here.”
I nod, at a loss for something smooth to say.
She starts walking away, and everything inside me tenses at handing her over to him. What if the date is bad? What if he’s not a safe driver?
“Katie.”
She looks back. “Yeah?”
“Call me. If you need anything, okay?”
Her brows lower. “You’ll be in meetings. You have a date. It’s fine. I’ll—”
“I’ll step out if I need to. Call me.”
She nods and then disappears into Ryan’s car. I have the unaccountable urge to put my fist through the side of the truck next to me.
This is what she wants.
I’m not a fist through the car kind of guy. I learned long ago that wanting things you can’t have will only get you into trouble.
I shove my hands into my pockets and walk back inside to get ready for my meeting.
Thirty minutes later, I’m in a suit and tie and I’m sitting across from Aiden in the small conference room at our office. The head distillers are on videoconference.
We’re making small talk, but only half my attention is on the screen. This feels wrong. I hit the mute button.
“Next time, let’s do this in person. These guys aren’t videoconference people.”
Aiden startles, then nods. “You’re right. My mistake.”
He unmutes us and clears his throat. “As you all know, Mac is retiring at the end of this year and we’re looking for his replacement.
We wanted to speak to all of you first, as the most experienced distillers we have.
You’ve all been with Prince Bourbon for fifteen plus years, and we value your input. The floor is open.”
Pat is quick to unmute himself. “We’ll need to start looking right away. Since you’ll be gone.”
Aiden nods. My pulse quickens. Upheaval is bad for the company. And with how long bourbon ages, a gap today means problems ten years from now.
“And,” he adds, “there’s no one we can promote from within outside of this group.”
Darcy, the quiet one, folds her arms and watches us. Miguel, the youngest, resettles his cap on his head. None of them want to gainsay Pat. I frown.
“No one?”
Pat’s gaze is challenging, even through the computer. “No one.”
Aiden gives me a look. Pat has been angling for a promotion for years.
Neither of us wants to give it to him because we don’t like his attitude, but frankly, at this point, we need his experience.
Too much knowledge died with Dad and too many bottles were lost when Grandfather closed the Hart’s Hill distillery.
We got back a few, but not all, and Aiden is rebuilding it, but it won’t be done for years.
We can’t afford dissension and we have to keep Pat happy.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Aiden says firmly. I can see wheels turning in his head. How do we do this diplomatically?
I can see Pat nearly sneering through the video.
He thinks Aiden is a weak leader. I’ve heard him say it before, but only when he thinks none of us can hear him.
He’s exactly the type of guy I hate. The type who likes to make others feel small so he can feel bigger.
I would rather die than let anyone make Aiden feel small.
“It’s what I said, isn’t—”
“That’s enough.” My voice slices through the room. Everyone falls silent.
My hand clenches and unclenches under the table.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I blow out a long breath and think about the notebooks I have filled with ideas, the times I wake up in the middle of the night to jot an idea down or test a new recipe.
This company is mine. Ours. I care about it so much that my whole chest aches when I think about things to improve or mistakes we’ve made over the years.
You’re the heart, Katie told me.
“We appreciate your input. You’ve all been loyal employees of Prince Bourbon for years.
But I believe in leaving no stone unturned and I’d like to see your recommendations for the best people on each of your teams by the end of the week.
And I’d like two recommendations from each of you for distillers you admire outside the company.
Half of the candidates must be from underrepresented groups. ”
It’s a statement, not a question, and everyone nods, even Pat, who looks murderous.
I’m breathing hard when I hang up the call.
Aiden is grinning at me. “Congratulations, Mr. CEO.”
“What do you mean? We haven’t announced yet.”
His smile grows. “Too late, Tris. I think you just did.”