Chapter 5 #2
His jaw turned to granite.
I held my hands up. “I know. I’m from a private family, too.
” Everyone in our small town knew our business, but outside of Bourbon Canyon, people only knew what Daddy wanted them to know.
“And I get it, you don’t want to use your employees as poster children for look at me and how I help other kids like me, aren’t I a good guy? ”
He arched a dark brow.
“But what if you gave them those numbers? Since you started Foster House, how many kids who’ve been in the foster and juvenile system have you helped?
If you’ve formed scholarships, how many college kids have the funds helped?
How many adults got back on their feet because whatever umbrella company you formed made it possible?
You don’t have to divulge names or even specifics, but maybe tell them generals.
Tell them why it’s important to remain incognito.
” Another idea sparked. “Maybe you spin it as your contributions in the community are as customized and individualized as your product. Something like ‘Foster House makes top-shelf whiskey, and we pay it forward, top-shelf-style.’”
I blew out a breath. There, I was done.
He dropped his gaze, something he didn’t do very often. A small furrow formed in his brow. “That’s a horrible tagline.”
I laughed. “That’s what you have marketing people for.” I didn’t mention I’d majored in marketing in college. I was sleepy, dammit.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, he seemed weary. A moment later, he was back to being sharp. “I might be able to work with that.”
My triumphant joy was wiped out by a crack of thunder. I jerked, and Myles’s attention was back on me full force.
“I don’t like driving in storms.” If I told him I hated thunder and asked him to read to me, would he figure out who Wynn Kerrigan really was? Didn’t seem like a big leap, but the lack of recognition in his eyes made it a mile-wide chasm.
He pushed away from his desk, stood, and went to the windows. Lightning flashed, outlining him against the night—broad shoulders, unshakable resolve, authoritative stance.
He pulled up his phone. “A large system is rolling through. Strong weather for at least an hour.”
Anxiety clawed at my throat. “Shit, really? I hate driving in storms,” I muttered again. Then it’d be really late, and I’d be driving at night while extremely tired.
“You’re really worried?”
I could tell him. Reveal everything. I wanted to know how close he really was with Daddy. I wanted to know what he thought about the Baileys. I wanted to know why he’d formed his own distillery empire when he could’ve been invited into the Copper Summit world.
I wanted to know why he’d left me.
Yet the odds that he’d open up to me instead of driving me out of town were dismal. He was a vault. I’d now created a situation where keeping the truth from him only made the telling of it more complicated—and looked worse for me.
“It’s a fear I haven’t been able to kick as an adult,” I explained. “And I’m not used to staying up so late.” He kicked up another brow as if to ask why a young, single woman was in bed with a book by ten. “I don’t have a good reason to be out late anymore.”
His gaze hooded, and he looked away. I might be reading into his reaction, but from what I knew of him, he’d make sure I had a damn good reason to be up late, one that wasn’t work related.
He glanced at his watch. “You can stay here. I’ll grab some blankets and a pillow.”
Fear skittered across the back of my neck.
“I can’t stay in the distillery alone.” I sounded like a coward, but I’d be the only soul at the base of the mountains southwest of Denver.
The security system would only tell Myles’s team what bogeyman had attacked me and when, but cameras wouldn’t help in the moment.
He gave me a funny look. “Ms. Kerrigan, where do you think I live?”
“In Denver?” Where else would he live?
“Here.” More lightning flashed across the sky behind him.
“Like, here here?”
He pointed to a door on the far end of his office.
I had assumed it was a closet. I’d ignored Daddy’s advice about assumptions there.
“When I got the loan for the place, I couldn’t afford the payments on top of another mortgage or even rent.
So I moved in.” A muscle pulsed on each side of his jaw.
Was this an admission he didn’t want to make?
Wouldn’t Wes Clayton be surprised? I was. Myles had a big fucking house, but his living space was only as big as a decent-sized loft. “You have a better view out here than any place in town.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “I doubt that. My windows face the mountain. It’s a lot of rock.”
Almost humor. I’d take it. “Good thing you spend so much time in your office. That view is stunning.”
“Yes, it is. Wide open and full of possibilities.”
“It’s why you put your office on the top floor, facing this direction, isn’t it?
” He could see out. The mountains behind the building, but visible in the periphery, and rolling green hills and valleys in front, cut only by the highway in the distance and the road leading to the parking lot. “You don’t like being limited.”
“No. I don’t.” He drew himself straighter. “And you don’t like to drive in storms. You shouldn’t either. The road gets hard to see, and the highway isn’t much better. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared through the door, and I almost fell off the chair craning my head to see into his loft. All I caught was a dark, open space.
A few minutes later, he returned and dropped the blankets and pillows on the plush couch against the wall of his office.
“You actually use that thing?” I’d thought it was nothing more than decoration. A prop.
“It’s quite comfortable. I’ve spent several nights on it when I was working late.”
“With your loft next door?”
His gaze strayed to the window. “I like to work.”
Or…he had nights where the past blocked him in with the mountains. His offer to sleep on the couch carried more significance if that was the case. It was like offering me his safe space.
I might have the best sleep of my life and then—shit. “What about the morning?”
“What about it?”
“I don’t have an apartment next door. I’d like to clean up and change, but what will people think?”
A flash of heat lit his eyes, and he fisted his hands at his sides. “Right. You can get up when you feel it’s safe to travel. Take tomorrow off.”
The weekends were long enough. I had explored Denver, but I worked too much to make friends.
Saturdays and Sundays, I hung out with me, myself, and I.
I refused to inspect how much I looked forward to his rifle-shot messages coming in at all hours of the night.
“I don’t need the whole day off. If you decide to pivot with your pitch, then you’ll need help. I can run home and come back.”
He ran his hand along his jaw. The scrape of his whiskers against his hand set a steady, inconvenient beat between my thighs. “Very well. I’ll make tomorrow a lighter day. I need to think about what you said.”
“Oh.” The warm sensation in my belly was worse than the desire filtering into my veins. “Sure.”
He glanced around, his gaze bouncing off the couch. I was afraid to move. The intimacy of making my temporary bed wasn’t like when he’d sat with me and read. We were both adults now. The energy between us had changed from comforting and understanding to sizzling and tense.
“I’ll let you rest.” His tone was as clipped as his steps to his loft. He disappeared inside.
Was I so tired I was imagining a connection between us?
I shook my head. A peal of thunder rattled the windows, and I jumped for the couch.
The glass was making the storm seem closer.
Thunder bracketed the building. God, I hated the sound, but I could collapse from relief at not having to drive in this weather.
I whipped the blankets out and climbed onto the couch.
The booms were relentless, and my heart was wedged in my throat.
His scent surrounded me and was the only reason I wasn’t trembling.
I couldn’t ask him to read to me. Even if he did know who I was, that’d come off as weird. Was there another way I could listen to his voice?
Yes! I grabbed my phone, brought up one of the conversations with the master distiller. Ellie did most of the talking, but I fast-forwarded to a spot where they’d had a back-and-forth about different spices to add to a batch of mash.
The noise of the storm faded to the background, and after twenty-two years, I got to fall asleep to the sound of Myles’s voice again.