That’s how I ended up here, looking like an idiot in front of said man and my business partner. God, I felt sostupid for not having made the connection before. Now that I knew, though, there was no denying Logan was related to Jay. The son was the spitting image of the father, from their hair color and blue eyes to the way they were built and how they smiled.
“Well,” Jay said, “now that we got that out of the way, what do you guys say we get this show going?”
“Yes!” Delia cheered. “Which reminds me, I have a question for you.”
Jay nodded and inclined his head toward an area he and his crew must’ve staked off in the last few days, which we moved toward. The scope of building, even the simple outline of stakes and strings, was impressive. It was hard—damn near impossible, actually—to gauge these things when they were scaled down on a computer screen. But seeing it like this? It was fully sinking in that this little dream of mine was finally becoming a reality.
“What’s your question?” I asked Delia.
“I was hoping Jay would let you and I do a ceremonial first dig of sorts.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because,” she said, shooting me a sidelong glare that was no doubt prompted by my irritated tone, “shooting some video and photos of this moment would be a great way to kick off our social channels.”
Somehow, I managed to keep forgetting this was a big part of why Delia was here, was what she was good at. I supposed I was of an age where I had difficulty imagining how a few photos and some videos would draw people to our business, but I’d also participated in enough various ad campaigns over the years to recognize the benefit.
“Okay,” I agreed at last. Then I turned to Jay. “Is that okay with you?”
“Perfectly fine,” he said.
“Actually,” Delia broke in. “I was hoping Jay would join us. We can do a couple shots with just us, but I want one of us shaking his hands or something. We can hang it up in the distillery when it’s finished.”
“Do you want me to get one of my guys to do this for us?”
“Sure,” Delia said. “That’d be a lot easier than getting my tripod set up.”
Jay turned and hollered a name at the group gathered nearby. One of the men broke free, ambling toward us. He spared no glances for me or his boss, his gaze focused solely on Delia. Appraising. Clearly wondering how he could find his way into her pants.
I didn’t like it at all. After the shit with Clarke, I was feeling protective of the girl, and I didn’t appreciate the way men tended to leer in her presence. She wasn’t decorative, something sent here to dress up the job site. She was here because she owned this land, and because she was half responsible for paying them.
Before she could speak, her phone already brandished in her hand, I took it from her and passed it over to the construction worker. “We need you to take a video and some pictures of us breaking ground,” I told him gruffly.
Jay disappeared briefly and reappeared with two spades, passing one to Delia and one to me.
“Where do we want to start?” I asked him, and he pointed to a spot on the edge of the staked outline of our building.
“Here is good.”
As Delia directed the worker on what exactly she wanted him to do, I took a deep breath, anticipation dancing along my limbs. It was finally happening, the day I’d dreamed about for years. Lawless, Birdie’s, and Overtime were successful, and businesses I was proud to have my name on. But I’d never built something from the ground up, and I couldn’t wait to watch the distillery take shape over the next few months.
Once Delia finished her instructions, we took our places in the spot Jay had indicated. Delia counted us down, and we dug in. The gusto with which she approached the task surprised me. I’d half expected her to tease out a little clump from the surface, but she really slammed the shovel into the ground, going so far as to slam her foot down on the edge of the blade to drive it deeper into the dirt. The mound of earth she moved was bigger than mine, and when we paused with them on our shovels to pose for pictures, I couldn’t help but grin at her.
“What?” she asked when she met my eyes. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Your face is fine, Whiskey,” I said softly around my smile. “You just continue to surprise me.”
She scoffed. “‘Your face is fine.’ What a compliment.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell her what I really thought of those beautifully arranged features, but snapped it shut. Now was not the time or place.
Hell,neverwas not the time or place.
“Is that it then?” I asked instead, gesturing between us.
She called to the construction worker, “Did you get what I asked?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
