Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Campbell
A day later, I’m back at the distillery for my meeting with all the heads who can make it.
They’ve agreed to meet before the Baldwin tasting.
Little embarrassment from my breakdown yesterday lingers, and it’s because Durban treated me so kindly.
He understood and he didn’t argue. Thanks to him, I didn’t drag my feet to this meeting today.
I didn’t even dread facing Durban. He’s the support, the reassurance, I didn’t get that day I quit and went home to my life falling apart.
Lane’s leaning on a railing that circles a mash tank. Durban’s standing behind me like he’s my bodyguard. Iverson’s already done for the day and has given his opinion to Durban, but Haven and Cruz are on either side of me.
“We do a monthly rafting and tasting weekend with Sy’s?
” Lane asks. Durban doesn’t have to tell me that Lane’s the unofficial leader.
His is the final say. My years in the event world have taught me how to tell who really runs the show.
Haven and Durban defer to Iverson, and along with Cruz, they all turn to Lane.
“Yes, that’s correct. Rafting first, of course.
No alcohol until the outdoor events are done.
Rafting and Tasting is the working title.
” I saved face yesterday with both Durban and Bryce.
All it took was having a breakdown in front of a man who seems to keep witnessing me at my worst. Crying with the peaceful sound of a flowing river as a backdrop, about things I’ve gotten drunk over, made me think of how to combine the two, but in a safe way.
To Bryce’s credit, he pretended my fleeing from his office never happened, and with Durban there, he was on his best behavior. He was also interested in hosting a company team-building event that included the hot new distillery in the area.
“You’ve done recruiting events before?” Lane asks.
I nod. “A lot of businesses are willing to host events, but they don’t always have the bandwidth for planning and recruitment.
That’s where I come in. Everything will be done through Foster House and Sy’s Water Adventures though, so whoever is your designated contact, they’ll sign off on everything for me.
” I try not to twist my fingers. Durban knows why I don’t want my name attached to anything.
I need more of a base so my old boss and her husband can’t undermine me.
Lane glances at the others but settles his gaze on Durban. “You okay to be that guy?”
I’m afraid to look.
“No problem,” Durban says without hesitation.
I twist enough to face him. “I don’t want to take you away from your duties.”
He shrugs. Crap. Will it be my fault if he gets pigeonholed into PR and marketing and loses the chance to experiment with the products like he wants to?
Wait—I can work with that. “What if you make something special for this group?” I ask.
Surprise lifts Durban’s brows. “Like what?”
I think quickly. I don’t know much about distilling and timelines, but I also can’t have the task getting assigned to someone else. “I don’t know. Something you haven’t done before that you can essentially beta test on this crowd? Something new.”
His focus on me intensifies. “I see.” He shifts his attention to the others. “I can do a barrel-aged vodka infusion.”
“I say go for it.” Cruz checks the time. “The wedding crew is going to be here soon, and then we’re on, Haven.”
The two leave.
The alarm goes off on my phone. I switch it off. “I’d better get in there too.”
I chance a peek at Durban. His dark gaze swirls with something I can’t identify. We haven’t made plans to do anything during the tasting. Has he lost interest? Did my breakdown yesterday scare him off?
I’m wearing a dress with my ankle boots for nothing. At least I look good, and I’m on the clock, so I follow in the same direction as Haven and Cruz.
The guys are behind the bar, digging out Glencairn glasses and smaller ones that are more like plastic shot glasses. They’re murmuring to each other about tasting order and how much each person can get served.
Cars start pulling into the lot. My parents offered a couple of the staff as drivers.
It’s only going to be the happy couple, Stanford’s parents, and some of his cousins.
January’s parents won’t return again until the ceremony, and Sydney told me she was waiting until the final hour to show because of work.
Stanford’s got January tucked into his side as they walk toward the entrance. She has her hand lovingly on his stomach, and her face has a flush I know all too well. Freshly orgasmed.
Old tension and crankiness ignite behind my ribs. Stanford’s doing it on purpose. All the time we were together, I thought I was in love, when he really just resented me. I was his trophy, and now he’s trying to prove he’s got a shinier version.
This is going to be a long night.
I greet them all with a smile as they enter, my cheeks starting to ache much quicker than usual.
“Priscilla, hello. Chester, you’ll love their lineup.”
They both ignore me, and I want to snarl at them, to hold my hands up in claws like I’m going to swipe at them, to do something unhinged to finally earn how they think about me.
Instead, I nod politely to an aunt and uncle I’ve never met. Then a few cousins of Stanford’s. All of them avoid my gaze.
Once they line the bar, I hover at the edge of the room by the door to the merch store.
Haven launches into his spiel about Foster House’s origins, its goals with whiskey and humanitarian efforts, and then this site, Foster House Gold.
Lane’s pickup pulls out of the lot. The only staff remaining are the two tasting hosts and Durban.
A wall of caramel-whiskey-scented heat surrounds me and there’s a light touch at my elbow.
Durban leans down to whisper in my ear. “Now a good time to talk about the special product just for Rafting and Tasting?”
My hopes take another dip, but chatting about plans is better than standing here like I’m invisible. “Yeah. Your brothers have it handled.”
The tasting is supposed to go an hour. He cocks his head toward the door and leads me out. He takes the stairs up to his office, and what he said before about me on his desk runs through my head.
My nipples pucker and heat flushes my body. Is this going to happen after all?
When I reach the top of the stairs, he takes my hand and strums his thumb along the back.
He pulls me into his office and doesn’t bother closing the door. “Did you think I forgot?”
“I thought you changed your mind.”
“No fucking way.” He lifts me to a seat on the edge of his neat desk like I’m nothing more than a doll, and a thrill blasts through my veins. There’s a miniature bottle of whiskey on the edge of the desk.
He twists the cap off and sets the edge at my lips. “Didn’t want you to miss out on everything.”
Not only did he not forget, he planned this. If I wasn’t soaking my underwear before, I am now. To mess with him, I lick the rim of the bottle.
A deep rumble sounds in the room. “You’re playing with a loaded gun, Belle.”
“What exactly is that gun loaded with?”
With another growl, he tips the bottle and whiskey coats my tongue, waking my taste buds. Holding my gaze, he takes a pull, sets the bottle down, and claims my mouth.
I open for him automatically. Warm whiskey trickles into my mouth, and the flavor is softer but richer with him in it. I moan and wrap my arms around his neck. He grips my thighs and pushes himself between my legs, deepening the kiss.
I’ve been waiting for this. I’m wrapped around him, and he’s all restrained power and solid muscle. Caramel and oaky tones hit my tongue with each stroke of his. I’ll never be able to see a bottle and not think of how he scrambled my brains with nothing but a kiss.
He pushes my skirt up, but keeps going to brush his fingers over my abdomen. His touch is electric, sizzling along my skin and waking me up in ways I never thought could happen. When he reaches my breasts, I arch into him, breaking the kiss. I need that pressure.
He works a path along my jaw and down my neck. “I know you’re going to taste so fucking good.”
I take a second to catch on that he’s not talking about the kiss. He yanks me to the edge of the desk. His knees hit the floor, leaving his head right where I need to be satisfied.
Windows surround us. Anyone who takes the stairs will see me with my dress bunched around my waist, my knees spread, and Durban between them. My heart pounds harder.
He kisses the inside of my thighs and energy zips from my core and up my spine. “No one’s going to see us.”
“What if your brother or Cruz comes to find us?”
“They won’t.” He grips my hips and drags his mouth and nose up my leg. “I want to rip this fucking underwear off.”
I picked one of my favorite pairs this morning. They’re lacy and sheer and a poor decision for actual, functional use. They’re perfect for a guy to see. Right now, I hate them too.
“But I’m not going to.” He pulls the fabric away from my pussy with his teeth and lets it go. I can feel how damp it is on the recoil. I soaked through them before he even put my ass on the table.
He licks me through the fabric and a shudder racks my body. A moan slips out, sounding loud in his office.
He brushes his strong hands up my legs, the calloused, roughened fingertips rasping against my skin. He moves my underwear aside, his hot breath gusting over me. Everything’s so sensitized, I’ll come from that alone.
“I fucking need this.” His voice is ragged, his eyes ravenous when he looks up at me.
“I’m the one who’s going to come.” I sound breathless.
He brushes his thumb over me, dragging it through my wetness. “Yeah, you fucking are.”
He traces the path his thumb took with his tongue, and everything inside me coils tighter. I drop my head back and my knees fall open wider. He reverses his route until he lands on my clit and then he’s ruthless. Pleasure courses through my blood, each wave higher than before.