Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wynter
I had just hit the road back to work. My apartment was on the south side of Denver, the side closest to Castle Rock.
At least I was used to commuting. From my house to Bourbon Canyon.
From Bourbon Canyon to Bozeman. And from Bozeman, anywhere.
To trek anywhere in the Montana countryside, the hours stacked up.
The drive from my place to the distillery wasn’t more than a half hour if traffic was light.
I’d get there by three, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being late.
Myles had messaged me with a stern order to take my time, get a nap in, and eat some food.
Then he’d followed up with a Seriously, eat a good, late lunch, and be here by three.
My radio went silent as a call came through. I recognized the number. Summer.
I answered. “I wasn’t ignoring your messages.”
I hadn’t had time to respond. The nap I’d taken—under orders—had been three hours long and included dreams of a muscled man with flat abs, a morning scowl that was the sexiest thing ever, and sweatpants that didn’t hide size.
“Really?” Summer’s dubious tone held a lot of snark.
“Seriously. I’m going back to work, so I can’t talk long.”
“Wait—you got a job?”
I screwed my face up, grateful she couldn’t see me. “Yes, but it’s just a temp job. It pays well though.”
“It should, for no benefits. You know who has good benefits?”
I chuckled. “Leave it alone, Summer.”
“Have you at least called recently?”
Sadness bloomed hot in my chest. “No.” I wasn’t one to call home a lot. I’d stayed with Mama and Daddy for a few weeks before I’d moved to Denver. Being home had reignited the need to hunt down Myles.
I’d found him and called home, omitting details about where I was working and for who, felt deceitful. I didn’t want my last conversations with Daddy to be of me lying.
“Well, he’d love to hear about you. He thinks you’re lost and confused and wandering the Colorado countryside, finding sports bros to hang out with and make poor decisions with.
Next thing you know, you’re going to live in the city.
Your husband will drive a pickup that’s only hauled skis and not cow mineral or chicken feed.
And your kids will say things like bruh. ”
“The kids in Bourbon Canyon say bruh.”
“No, they’ll say bruh next year, when something trendier has taken its place in more urban areas. Ask Autumn.”
My second-oldest sister was a teacher. So was my oldest brother Tate’s wife. I loved hearing their stories.
I missed them. “My contract is up at the end of October. Then I’ll be home.” For better or worse.
“I think you’ll end up home before that,” she said sadly.
The sense of impending loss collared me around my throat. “Shit, I’ll call them, okay?”
“Tate’s been worried about you.”
Crap. Worried older brothers were never a good thing. “Tell him I met a real rugged outdoorsy guy, and he’s keeping me busy.” One thing about my three brothers—anything sex related, and they kept their distance while dry heaving.
“Have you?”
Myles wasn’t really outdoorsy. Maybe he had a private ski slope on that mountain, but I wouldn’t be in Denver long enough to find out. “Not really. My boss is hot, but he’s a workaholic. Kind of like your man.”
“Boyd knows how to have fun.”
“Does he?”
“We’re not talking about me,” she said primly.
Why did Myles work so much? He’d done well for himself.
He could afford to relax a little, but he seemed to block everything out on purpose.
The way he chatted with Cadillac Sam didn’t give me the impression he was a recluse.
No one was watching him clock in and out.
He didn’t get cookies for working twelve-hour days.
He was driven, but sometimes, it was like he was hiding.
“At least you have something good to look at while you’re getting paid,” Summer said.
“Amen. Hey, I’ll call Daddy, okay?”
“Talk to Mama, too. She’s been isolated in the house with Daddy.”
Guilt ate at my stomach lining. I should’ve thought of Mama Mae. She and Daddy were #goals. My sisters and I had been so damn lucky to fall into a home with another wonderful couple. The right kind of lightning hit twice.
I hung up with Summer and voice activated a call to Mama.
“Hey, buttercup,” she answered. Her delight only magnified my guilt.
“Hi, Mama. I just wanted to check in. Summer said everyone’s getting worried.”
“Oh, you know how they are.” Her chuckle was all the comforts of home wrapped in a sound. “I bet you’re having a good time in the city.”
“I am. I’ve met some cool people. I’m glad I did it. How’s everyone?”
She gave me updates on Tate and Scarlett and their kids.
My other brothers, Tenor and Teller, were helping Tate on the ranch and working for the family business.
Autumn had thrown herself into helping on the ranch for summer break.
June was trying to break into the country music scene.
She traveled a lot, but last I’d heard, she was in Nashville.
“How’s Daddy?” I asked once she was done with the updates.
“He’s awake. Would you like to talk to him? Today’s a…good day.”
Good day. Meaning the pain wasn’t fogging his mind. “Yes, please. Love you, Mama.”
“All my love, Wynter.”
Shuffling came through the line, then Daddy’s weak voice. “Buttercup.”
Tears misted across my eyes. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Having big Denver adventures?”
“Yes.” The last few weeks built up. I wanted to talk about what I was doing.
I didn’t want to be vague and feel like I was lying.
Most of all, I didn’t want to wonder what Daddy would think.
He was an honest man, and he wasn’t prone to sharing business that wasn’t his to spread. “Is, um, Mama close by?”
“You got some secrets, buttercup?”
I smiled at the interest. His days had to be hard, feeling like a burden, like he was waiting for the end. And here I was with piping hot tea. I only hoped he’d still be receptive after I told him. “Maybe?”
“She’s in the kitchen getting a roast in the oven.”
Good enough. “Okay, so—I got a temp position with Myles Foster. He doesn’t seem to realize who I am though, and I’m not telling him.”
“Well.” More shuffling came through the phone. “Let me shut the door in case Tate stops in.” His heavy breathing was audible. “Okay. Care to share why?”
“I’ve just been wondering about him. He built a product and reputation off the Baileys without acknowledging us, and he acts like his time with us never happened.” He’d just left. He’d left like we meant nothing. He’d left when important people had already left me.
“And why haven’t you told him who you are?”
“I don’t want to ruin it, and I think it would.
I think he’d banish me from Foster House.
” I had no proof, just intuition. Myles did not play games.
“He’s interesting, and I’m learning a lot working for him.
A lot of it I already knew. He has the strangest mix of corporate networking and a minimal personal touch, but he’s not faking it and his tactics work.
I don’t want to get kicked out. He’s got a weird chip on his shoulder that I can’t identify. ”
“That chip is none of your business, Wynter. Like I tell Tate, that kid went through a lot we’ll never understand, and he doesn’t owe us a thing.”
I sighed and turned off the highway. I’d be at the distillery in minutes. “I know. I guess another reason I don’t tell him who I am is because he says things that he got from you.”
“Mm-hmm.” Daddy wasn’t surprised at all.
“You trained him?”
“No. No.” Daddy chuckled. “I talked with him. Like a young man, not like a troubled kid. He was a sponge, and I liked to talk. Some days, Myles listened better than my own kids, and that was a nice treat.”
I smiled again. “He quotes you a lot.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I thought he just helped around the ranch.”
“Oh, you know. Some days, he’d come with me to the summit.” The distillery in Bourbon Canyon. “One weekend, Tate was sick, Tenor had a tennis match, and Teller was too young to care, like you girls, and he came with me to work each day. We talked, you know.”
Daddy would never say about what. Myles had acquired that aspect of Daddy’s personality, too. “I’m glad you did.”
“He’s doing well?”
“Yes. He works a lot. It’s his life.”
“It’s safe,” Daddy said simply. “You gonna tell him who you are now?”
“He has a big meeting coming up with Mainline. Maybe after that. I don’t want him paranoid I’m stealing state secrets.”
“Sharing is caring. A rising tide lifts all boats. He should remember that.”
“He doesn’t need the stress right now.” Myles ate a big bowl of stress for breakfast as it was. In those gray sweats.
“You’re a good kid, you know that?”
“You made it easy to be a good kid, Daddy.” I pulled into the parking lot. Cars filled over half of it. Right. Tastings were in the afternoon. More cars would fill in as it got closer to three—since I was twenty minutes early.
A knock came on the other end. “Ah, there’s your mother. She worries about me. I love you bunches, Wynter.”
I blinked back tears. “I love you more than all the snowflakes in the world.”
When the line disconnected, I fought the tears.
I sniffled and blinked. If I touched my eyes, I’d have red-rimmed lids and puffy bags underneath.
I had to put the call with Daddy out of my mind, or I’d walk into Foster House a mess.
I couldn’t think about how that might be the last time I talked to him.
I couldn’t admonish myself to be grateful I’d actually gotten a chance to tell him everything I needed to instead of having him gone in an instant.
My daddy was dying, and since I’d already lost one, I knew how hard it would be.