Chapter 20 #2
“They’d have to rely on me to grow to meet their needs.” I could put my plans on paper all I wanted, but people were unpredictable, and the economy could take a shit just as I signed a contract. There were a lot of factors I wasn’t stressing about while I was in Montana.
“You can do it, and you showed them you can,” she said as if that solved it.
Her words circled around me, closing in like a warm hug. I wasn’t used to bald confidence in me, plain and out there for everyone to see. Even Darin hadn’t been that showy, like he’d feared obvious affirmation would make me run. Not Wynn.
“I learned from the best.” My hand slipped down her back to rest on her hip, and she wiggled that round ass against me.
“I can’t believe Dad didn’t tell us he helped you.” Tate shook his head.
“Dad was like that,” Tenor said. “We were playing checkers, and he was playing chess.”
“We didn’t fuck around when we thought Myles could replicate everything we were doing and grow bigger than us.” Teller studied me. “But you haven’t come out with a bourbon product.”
“Didn’t need to. There are fewer flavored whiskeys dominating sales. I saw an opening and went for it.”
I got more evaluating glances from everyone but Wynn.
“He said Copper Summit already does bourbon right, so there was no need to compete.” Wynn rolled her eyes toward me. “But he’ll never tell you himself.”
A smile played over my lips. My petite, sassy champion.
Autumn hopped down from her stool and went around the bar.
She dug out a jar of Luxardo cherry liqueur.
She added a stream to her bourbon-and-Sprite mix and stirred it around.
“You guys remember when Daddy tried to make apple whiskey?” She looked up at me.
“This was before you first came out with your line. He wanted a local small-batch line to sell at farmers’ markets.
The whole place smelled like spiked apples for months. ”
“So many apples,” Wynn groaned.
Junie giggled. “None of us wanted to drink it after feeling like we bathed in it every day.”
Summer’s fond smile had a faraway quality to it. “Then when we did, we couldn’t taste a damn bit of apple.”
“It gets lost in the profile of the grain,” I couldn’t help but explain. This has been my life since my early twenties. After I had mastered whiskey, I’d started playing with other flavor profiles. “We back-mix the fruit for the flavor.”
Wynn chuckled. “That’s on us, not researching the how-to properly. No more fruit after that.”
Tate slipped off his stool, gently setting Scarlett on her feet. She took his seat while he went around the bar. He squatted and dug in a bottom cupboard, in the far back, and withdrew a bottle full of smooth amber liquid.
When he straightened, grief rippled over his features.
“Dad wanted us to split this on the night of his funeral. It’s why I suggested we come to have a drink.
Mama knows. Dad always said bourbon’s made for sipping and to enjoy the best bottles with family.
” He piled several squat glasses on the counter.
Each one emblazoned with the coppery mountains that were Copper Summit’s logo.
Splashing bourbon into each one, he continued, “This is a small batch he made for the family. One of Granddaddy’s recipes that he made only for Baileys.
With each toast, every one of us shares a memory of Dad—oldest to youngest.”
“To Dad.” We all raised our glasses. He took a sip and smacked his lips.
“Damn, that’s good.” He tipped his head back like he was sifting through which memory he wanted to share.
“Dad taught me how to drive stick by making me try to go uphill. I killed the pickup ten times before we crested the damn thing. Your turn, Foster.”
Surprised, I looked around, waiting for an argument, but all I saw were expectant faces. Wynn’s fingers gave me an encouraging squeeze.
I wasn’t one of them. But I was holding a special batch of bourbon just for Baileys, and I had memories of Darin to share. Tate’s had been lighthearted, and I’d keep mine the same. I lifted my glass in a salute. “He told me to dress for the job I wanted—and that ladies love a man in a suit.”
“To Dad!” Wynn shouted, and we all drank. She leaned back to murmur, “I like the cowboy look, too.”
I pressed a kiss to the base of her neck. An action as natural as breathing.
One by one, everyone shared a lighthearted snapshot from their life with Darin. After the first round of toasts, my phone buzzed. I tried to ignore it, but messages continued to flood my phone.
“Excuse me.” I lifted Wynn down. She gave me a questioning look that I didn’t acknowledge. Only one person would light up my phone like this.
I walked into the dark entry area. They had an info desk like Foster House. More like, my distillery had an info desk like them, but as per my brand, I did it bigger and staffed the thing full-time with Braxton until he left for college.
As soon as I read the first message, the warm glow created by the alcohol turned into a cold ball of lead. The litany of messages meant Gianna was drunk or high or both.
Did you go to that bastard’s funeral?
Myles.
MYLES.
You did, didn’t you? I knew it.
What’d he ever do for you?
That whole family sucks.
You’re not one of them. You know that, right?
You’ll never be like them.
People like that use us to feel like heroes. Fuck them.
You come all this way and you don’t stop in? Fuck you.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.
You don’t wanna come see me? Fine. I’ll find you.
I ran a hand through my hair. Shit.
Shit.
Gianna was on a tirade, and when that happened, everyone in her vicinity would pay.
She wouldn’t wait for my confirmation or denial.
I was close enough for her to get her hooks into.
The Baileys were in mourning, and I couldn’t let her intrude.
I couldn’t let her taint anyone else’s life like she had mine.
I’d told her no, and she wanted to make me suffer, to ruin any good thing I had going in my life.
There was only one thing to do. The only way I dealt with her when she threatened any peace I found.
“Hey,” Wynn said from close behind me.
I spun, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Hey.”
Her gaze dropped to my pocket, then lifted to my messed-up hair.
She lifted her brows like she was waiting for me to elaborate on who was on the other end of the phone and what had upset me.
I wouldn’t. She probably wondered who contacted me so late at night, but again, I wouldn’t tell her.
I’d never drag Wynn into the dirty past that infused my present. “Let’s get back to the toasts.”
Her expression morphed into disappointment. “Sure. We waited for you.”
All my life, I’d tried to have better, to get treated better, to be better. I deserved it, and I refused to let that belief wobble. But when it came to the Baileys, it’d always been clear. They deserved better than me.
Wynter
Floating on a solid buzz, I crawled into bed, already undressed.
Same with Myles. He climbed in behind me and was immediately over and in me.
With my mouth fused to his as he rocked in and out, I didn’t have to worry about keeping quiet.
He brought me to an easy climax, and I shuddered in his arms as he tightened through his own release. We had come together like we were one.
“That was different,” I whispered to him. He was still inside me, and I stayed wrapped around him. I’d never experienced such a soft, passionate climax, but there was something about it. Something that niggled at the back of my mind.
He gave me a long, deep kiss. “Everything about you is different.” Carefully, he withdrew and tucked me in next to him.
I was too tired to worry about cleanup or condoms and in his warm and cozy embrace, I couldn’t bring myself to move. I let my eyes drift shut. The alcohol muted the warning bell at the back of my brain. The phone call. The haunted look in his eye. The sex that felt like a goodbye.
Sleep overwhelmed me. And when I woke to the sun streaming through my blinds, with a dull ache at my temples, I knew before I opened my eyes he’d be gone.
Just like I knew I wouldn’t find him helping with chores or cleaning eggs.
His guest room would be empty, and his car wouldn’t be parked by the garage.
He’d left me again.