Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gideon
While it was clear my wife liked her job at Copper Summit, I wished she’d quit now so we could go home and I could get between her legs again.
I was a man obsessed. She’d barely been able to pry herself away from me to go to work yesterday.
Now, it was Saturday night. I was semi caught up on work—after sating myself in my wife—and was actually enjoying the evening.
Autumn laughed and joked with her customers.
A few of them talked to me. Since the only open part of Copper Summit was the bar, and the entire site was a distillery, I was safe from being around Dad.
He’d called yesterday, asking if I wanted to help with bullshit projects. Regardless, I almost said yes, but legitimately, I’d had meetings and reports to get to my assistant to type up for next week’s meetings. I’d also needed space from him.
Autumn was more than a nice distraction. She was my focus. I was unsure about Dad, I didn’t know what he’d do, and I wasn’t clear on how I felt about home, him, and everything else.
“Voilà.” Autumn slid a clear glass mug in front of me.
I frowned at the white frothy drink with a sprinkle of cinnamon. I’d already had a concoction that included Scarlett’s lemonade, a light, fruity cocktail that was outside the realm of anything I normally drank. This was out of the entire universe. “A bourbon milkshake?”
“No.” She laughed, then paused to consider the idea.
“You know, that might work and appease Teller and Tenor’s desire for more limited-edition drinks.
I’ll have to brainstorm with Wynter.” She tapped the glass.
“You’re the guinea pig. This is our annual bourbon eggnog.
Wynter and I switch up the recipe each year, but it’s pretty much on me this year. ”
“I’ve never had eggnog.”
“It’s delicious, I swear.”
“Raw egg with my drink?” I said dubiously.
“We use pasteurized eggnog. It’s safe, I promise.”
I took a drink. The play of spices hit my taste buds first. Cinnamon, probably nutmeg, maybe ginger, and something else I couldn’t identify. Smooth bourbon fused with the creamy flavor. “It’s good.”
She grinned, pride shining in her eyes. “I added ginger and cardamom this year. Mostly, we just add a new spice each year and take one off.” She leaned on the bar top. “We learned the hard way we can’t veer too far from the traditional eggnog flavor. Peppermint nog was an epic fail.”
She looked over my shoulder and straightened. “Teller, hey. Everything okay?”
“Can’t I have a drink and talk with my sister?” He pulled a stool out, keeping an empty one between us. He fit in with the clientele in a green-plaid shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. His dark hair was almost shaggy, but his beard was trimmed. “James.”
“Bailey,” I greeted in return. I wasn’t dressed much differently. But not because I wanted to blend in. My attire just made sense. Made it look like I was accepting this new marriage and new life . . . in a place where Dad wouldn’t be.
“She’s testing her new concoctions on you?”
He was joking, but he was also diminishing her job.
The bar was an advertisement for the distillery.
Autumn did ground-level marketing for the company.
People didn’t just come here for the drinks.
They came for that ambience, and also for the employees who served them and added pleasant conversation to cap their day.
“Good thing you have such a savvy sister when it comes to mixing drinks.”
Teller’s brows drew together. “I didn’t say she wasn’t.”
“But you didn’t say she was.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long fucking day, James, and now you’re telling me I’m a shitty brother.”
“You’re not a shitty brother.” Autumn set an empty squat glass in front of Teller. “You’re bossy, stubborn—which I’ve heard is a family trait—and you tend to treat me like an annoying little sister. Sometimes, I wish you took me as seriously as you take yourself.”
If I smiled, I’d look like I was gloating, but pride rang through me.
She hadn’t flinched away from the topic.
Maybe she’d told him before and it’d run off him like rainwater, but this time, she had me to corroborate it.
He pondered her as she grabbed a bottle from the top shelf, Copper Summit Gold, and poured two fingers for Teller.
He spun the glass in his hand. “Is this about what Tenor brought up?”
Autumn glanced at me like she was seeking permission to stand her ground.
I put as much encouragement in my gaze as possible.
She said, “It’s about Tenor discussing it with Tate first, and then you, and then telling me like I’m just another employee and not part owner.
I’ve taken over running the bar, but it’s my and Wynter’s area of expertise.
Would you two discuss marketing campaigns without her? ”
Teller frowned. “You already have a job—”
“I have two,” she said firmly. “And it’s my decision to decide if I’m overwhelmed or not. I’m not an injured kid anymore. I realize it’s inconvenient that I’m not around Copper Summit as much as you guys are, but you can call, text, or email.”
“Shit,” Teller grunted. “I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”
She rolled her eyes. “You did, but you weren’t taking me seriously.”
Teller rocked back like she’d hit him. “Fair enough. I’ll make sure Tenor and I come to you first.”
Autumn dipped her head, gratitude and relief in her eyes.
Teller pinned me under his gaze. “You’re trying not to laugh.”
I didn’t hide my snicker.
“You wouldn’t laugh if she called you out.”
“She’s put me in my place a time or two.” I took a sip of my boozy, creamy drink. The flavor was growing on me. It’d become my favorite fucking drink if it irritated Teller.
“I’ll encourage her to do it more,” he grumbled.
She went into the storage room, came out again with a couple of new bottles and started restocking the bar. Was she purposely giving me and Teller space? Or was I invading her work and expecting her to cater to me instead of doing her job?
Teller rotated his glass on its edge. The air between us wasn’t strained, but it wasn’t light.
I should stay away from the sale topic, but I didn’t. “Did you ask Hank to fix fence?”
Teller continued swirling his glass. “He asked if we’d mind. I figured he wanted to keep himself busy before the holiday season.”
I pushed the words back. I was not going to ask the significance. “What about the holiday season?” Lost that fight.
“His charity work?” He took a long sip, glanced at me, and did a double take. “You don’t know about the charities?”
Other than what I’d heard the Baileys mention, no. I didn’t know a lot about what Dad was like since I’d left. “We don’t talk.”
He wiped off his mouth. “I don’t get that. I talked to my dad every day until he died.”
“Did he get drunk every day and ignore you? Forget to buy groceries or treat you like hired help that didn’t get paid? Did he yell at you for five minutes straight when he was the one who’d spent the grocery money on beer?”
Teller’s jaw tightened.
“Did he neglect everything that meant anything to you until it died?”
I got a small shake of his head as a response.
“I don’t have to mention the sale on top of it all. He drank away everything else, and he’s selling what should be mine, what my mother wanted to go to me. So excuse me if I’m ignorant about what he does for charity.”
“He plays Santa at the senior center,” Teller said.
“He’ll dress up for the school’s field trips when they sing for the residents.
He works at the food pantry year-round. It’s usually only open once a week, but between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, the office hours are three days a week.
Then there’s the toy drive. I heard he can wrap a mean gift. ”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Teller’s right cheek twitched and he took a big gulp that was more like a shot.
He polished off his drink and glanced at Autumn like he was making sure she was still across the room.
“The man you know isn’t who the rest of Bourbon Canyon know, and I think once you understand that, maybe you’ll understand his motivations.
What you experienced was wrong. But if you truly fell that madly in love with my sister, and she was suddenly taken from you, would you keep your shit together?
Or would you lose it until the pain dulled enough to face it? ”
That’d never happen. I’d have to fall in love first. “I was a kid.”
“I know.” His voice was soft, compassionate.
“I’m just saying you might understand him.
Look, no one knows why he’s not turning Percival over to you.
I looked up what you’re worth. God knows you can pay him for it.
Maybe it’s pride? He doesn’t want to live off the son who didn’t have a chance to live off him?
I don’t know. No one does. But reminding him of every way you hate him probably isn’t going to soften him up to stop the sale. ”
I didn’t hate my dad. That was part of the problem. “And you’ll go through with it if he does?”
“Better us than some rich out-of-stater who doesn’t give a shit about Montana and thinks the local residents are quaint and disposable little peasants.”
I didn’t want to see Percival going to some stranger either. I didn’t want hunting cabins built, and if I heard the word “rental” thrown around in regard to the property, I’d burn every structure down. Pretty rich coming from a corporate city guy like me.
In Bourbon Canyon, I wasn’t as much that person as I had been over a week ago. Each step I took in town shed one more layer of polish. “I’ll agree with you on that.”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “How are things with you and Autumn?”
I drank a mouthful of eggnog. Fucking hot. That wasn’t what her brother wanted to hear. “She hasn’t kicked me out yet.”
“You also haven’t moved in.”
What’d he mean by that? How would he know? Had he gone into her bedroom and seen my suitcase open on her dresser? Had he judged the new clothing that I hung on a folding chair next to it?