Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cruz
Haven strolls into the tasting room ten minutes before he said he’d relieve me so I can get ready for the picnic with Elodie. He nods at the few tourists scattered throughout the bar, along with Ned and Isadora, the couple who own the local gas station.
When Haven rounds the counter, I don’t leave right away.
“Thanks, man.” I give the counter one last wipe after making Isadora’s cherrytini. I need to get Elodie out to try one of those—if I can ever get her away from the bakery for more than a few hours at a time. She works too hard, and she’s going to drop if she doesn’t let up.
Whatever is driving her must be big.
“Not a problem.” He flips through the recent orders on the tablet, familiarizing himself. “Got nothing else to do.”
“No hot date yourself?”
“Seems everyone’s got one but me.” He gives me a casual smile, but there’s a kinship in his eyes that I recognize from my pre-Elodie days.
Since those weren’t long ago, I get where Haven’s coming from.
He’s done everything with his brothers his whole life and now they’re all living in separate houses.
Iverson has a wife and kids, and Durban and Campbell’s wedding is next summer.
“I’m sure there’s some lucky girl out there for you.”
He smirks. “Unless she comes into the tasting room or hangs out at the auction barn, I’m not meeting her.”
“You gotta get out more.” I’m one to talk. All of us involved in Foster House have sown our wild oats, and the quieter life is more appealing.
“Eh. I’m fine. I went out with Allison a few times last month.”
“Allison Johnson? From the vet’s office?”
He nods and grimaces at the same time. “I swear I heard her introduce me as her future husband to some friends who came into Bootleg on our second date.”
“Oof.”
“Yeah. Haven’t asked her out since, but she keeps asking what my weekend plans are.” He picks up a rag and juggles it from hand to hand. “So if she ever asks, I’m working.”
“You do work a lot,” I say drily.
“All the time.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m not cockblocking you though. Go. Have fun.”
I run home and pack the fried chicken I made last night for our picnic. The salad isn’t pasta today, but I picked up veggies from the farmer’s market. I stuff the special dessert I bought into a cooler with extra ice.
When I drive around the front, the sign on Dee’s Sweets says closed, but Elodie’s inside, in front of the window, talking to a man not quite as tall as me.
She’s got her hands on her hips like she’s facing off with him and he’s towering way too fucking close to her.
Instead of pulling around the back as planned, I park right in front.
They both notice me. Elodie’s eyes go wide, and the guy stiffens, but he takes a goddamn step back.
Not going to help, jackass.
There’s something about his power stance in front of Elodie that rubs me all the wrong ways. His side-slicked hairstyle and the polo and khaki shorts don’t help. It’s an absolutely normal look for the beginning of August—and it makes him seem like a giant prick.
Elodie turns to him and says something just as I climb out. His smirk gives me the urge to smear that smug grin all over the sidewalk.
The door isn’t locked. I step inside and give him a hard glare before focusing on my woman. “Hey, Elodie. Am I interrupting?”
“No.” The word is carefully controlled. “He was just leaving.”
“Everything all right?” I ask lightly, but I’m coiled tighter than a rattler ready to strike.
She shakes her head without looking at me and shoves her glasses up her nose.
“Sorry.” The man spins around and sticks his hand out. His smile is as fake as the gold watch on his wrist. “I’m Dean. I was just stopping in to ask for directions.”
I don’t take his hand, narrowing my gaze on him instead.
He drops his arm, and that fake smile of his falters. “I don’t come to this part of Montana enough to know where all the good restaurants are. She was nice enough to stay late and give me some recommendations.”
The flash in her eyes is enough to tell me he’s lying, but I’d know anyway.
This motherfucker thinks he’s slick, but he’s not.
He’s just like every loser my mom tried to date after my roughneck dad.
She thought she was moving up in the world, finding men in suits and slacks instead of my blue-collar father.
She assumed their appearance meant they were better men, but the clothes hid the rot.
They could be more manipulative and underhanded. Some utterly lacked a conscience.
I get the same vibes from this motherfucker.
“Go to Billings,” I say, keeping my steady stare on him. “Plenty of good places to eat there.”
“That’s what Dee was saying.”
Elodie’s cheek twitches and her nostrils flare.
I open the door. “Better get going, then. Don’t want to miss out.”
His brows lift like he can’t believe my audacity. I have it in spades. Just because I don’t use it doesn’t mean I won’t.
“All right, then.” He does a half bow toward Elodie and she gives him an are you serious? look. “Thank you for the help. I’ll be sure to stop here the next time I’m in town.”
“Sure,” she says, her tone flatter than cardboard.
I don’t get a nod when he passes me to leave. He walks down the sidewalk to the end of the block and turns so I can’t even see what vehicle the asshole drives.
I shut the door and throw the dead bolt. She needs a more robust security system. Turning back, I grip her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry I’m not changed yet. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll be right back.” She breaks out of my hold and tries to scurry away.
“Elodie.”
She stops and puffs a strand of hair that’s escaped her bun out of her face. “Yeah?”
“What was that all about?”
“That?” She scoffs like the stranger didn’t bother her. “You know how some guys get. Waste a girl’s time and not care.”
“You should tell your cousin.” Weird that I’m recommending contacting Deputy Palmer. I used to be the last guy to advise going to the police. I was on a first-name basis with them for a very different reason.
“I will.” She flashes a smile as false as Dean’s. “Sorry he made me late.”
She might want to forget about Dean, but I won’t. “You’ll tell me? If he becomes a problem?”
“I won’t let him become a problem for anyone.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
Curiously, she eyes me. “What would you do? Fight him? Run him out of town? You don’t want to be that guy again.”
The old Cruz never needed a reason. This Cruz will do it for Elodie. “Some people need to be run out of town.”
“And what of your reputation? It’ll spill over to the distillery if you’re driving off tourists.”
It might, and I don’t want to do anything to risk the distillery’s reputation or bottom line.
We’ve worked too damn hard to establish a niche company in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not only the Foster House Gold site.
I can’t tarnish any part of Foster House.
I won’t do that to Myles. I won’t disappoint Lane either.
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to deal with asshole customers alone. ”
“Thank you. I also don’t want creepy customers to ruin what I know is going to be a lovely picnic. I’ll be right back.”
She disappears and I’m left with the last few minutes on repeat in my head. Who the hell is Dean, and why did he target Elodie at closing time? That’s shady-as-fuck behavior. Has he done it before?
Would she tell me?
Regardless, she’s brushing it off when she was clearly disturbed. What if it happens again? What if I’m not here?
Maybe I need to talk to the deputy.
Maybe I need to track Dean down and teach him a goddamn lesson about cornering women.
I push a hand through my hair. Shit. I’m supposed to be picking her up for a date, not planning my next fight. Whoever he is, he’s not ruining today. I stop at the window and fiddle with my hair until I look less rumpled and more like a country Prince Charming.
When she emerges from the back, her long hair is in a ponytail that gives me lots of inappropriate-in-all-the-best-ways ideas, and that’s only the beginning.
She’s wearing athletic shoes, so no hummingbird tattoo today, but her shorts let me see more of her bouquet tattoo than ever.
The shirt is going to be my undoing. I want to be a gentleman and give her a romantic picnic experience, but the hem of her shirt brushes the top of her waistband, and the way it hugs her breasts is going to hold my attention far more than the fried chicken I packed.
“You look hot as hell, sugar.”
She’s put her contacts in, and those big hazel eyes turn shy. “Thank you.”
I lead her out, and she locks up.
I nod to the bag. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t pack enough?”
“I was also taught not to show up without a gift for the host. I grabbed a couple of cupcakes.”
“I have dessert, but we can eat yours.”
“We can have both,” she whispers, grinning. “I packed a small piping bag of frosting.”
“I might have plans for that.”
She tosses me a coy look. “I might be interested in what they are.”
I’m still smiling when I take off. She’s a shit ton more relaxed than when I first arrived. The picnic is already a success. “I hope you like cold fried chicken.”
She groans. “I love it. Where did you get it from? The grocery store’s bakery makes some of the best. I have it a few times a month since I don’t have time to cook it myself.”
I clutch at my chest with one hand. “You assume I didn’t cook it? Ouch.”
“Oh my god, you’re right.” She covers her mouth, horror in her eyes. “I did assume. I’m so sorry.”
I laugh and turn onto the highway to get to my place. “I’m a man of many talents. Mae was so pleased when I started watching and helping her in the kitchen. I even asked to knock off early to catch her prepping some of my favorite meals.”
“Did you ask because you enjoyed it? You’d rather fry some chicken than rope some cattle?”