I followed him with the mugs. “I’m sure she has her own issues.” Tonight, she hadn’t been nearly as hurtful as when we’d had classes together in high school. I’d sat with my other friends at lunch, the quiet, bookish ones who also liked Hollywood gossip. They’d been my refuge from wondering why I wasn’t enough. That lunch table had been my oasis. I’d looked forward to it. In the tasting bar earlier tonight, I hadn’t had a table of friends to look forward to. I’d had to be my own oasis.
He turned abruptly. I tipped my head back to meet his gaze. The yellow in his eyes sparked. Contained energy rolled off him. I was a short statue in front of a towering Tenor.
“She very well may,” he said, “but she has no right to make others feel worse because of them.”
He said it with so much vehemence I put a hand on his chest. His heart thudded under my palm. “It’s okay. I know what she’s like.” I did know what she was like, which was why I hadn’t been able to bear her doing it to Tenor. “It’s just been a blissful seven years since graduation, and she took me off guard.”
But now I was alone with Tenor, touching him. Hard to have regrets— Oh my god. I had my hand flat on his hard pec. I jerked my arm back. “Anyway, I didn’t want to cost the distillery her business with the wet bar.”
He gripped my wrist. The power in him was intoxicating. Did I look like a Chihuahua barking up at him? He’d be a Great Pyrenees. He looked fluffy, but there was a lean dog under that fur, and they were insanely protective.
Geez. Having a bunch of ranchers as regulars was getting to me.
He ran his thumb over my skin. His gaze was on my lips. The air between us charged, and my breath quickened. “I’d rather lose her business than let her affect you.”
He released my hand, and just like that, I wasn’t an oasis. I was an island. A deserted island.
“I’ll show you where the room is.” He scooted around me.
Stupid me. I’d made this situation even more uncomfortable for him. He probably worried he’d lead me on. I needed to do better.
I followed him through the house. The main area was three times the size of the first apartment Mom and I had lived in. With its open floor plan, the house’s ceiling soared above me, wooden beams crossing from the walls to the peak. Despite all the wood, the space had a lived-in feel. Cozy throws covered the two couches and a love seat. Pillows were tucked in each corner by the armrests. A giant stone fireplace claimed its space as a showpiece, but the large-screen TV mounted above it made it more inviting.
Wow.
He led me down a short flight of stairs. I stopped by a row of photos. A framed family picture centered the grouping. A younger Mae and her late husband, Darin, grinned from the middle of a gaggle of kids. Tate and Teller stood taller than their dad. The sisters were so young, but I could still pick out who was who. Summer’s solemn face was between the older brothers. A redheaded Autumn smiled next to a grinning Junie—that girl had known she’d be commanding a full stadium one day. Wynter’s pale hair gave her away. And behind them was another boy. The shirt on the kid in the picture was tight around his stomach. He was shorter than his brothers, but he was bigger in other ways, and his face was rounded with full cheeks. Dark-framed glasses were perched on his face.
I met Tenor’s gaze. The muscles in the corners of his jaw flexed and his expression had turned guarded. I suddenly felt like I was prying into his personal life just by looking at a family photo. “I can’t believe you were once shorter than your brothers.”
“I was never the littlest brother.”
I shrugged. “You’re always going to be their little brother.”
His expression softened slightly. “Right.” He disappeared around the corner like he couldn’t get away from the photos fast enough.
I took another step and landed by his senior picture. He wasn’t smiling in his like his brothers had. His arms were crossed and he was wearing clothes much like he wore when he didn’t have his Copper Summit polo on—an oversized shirt, this one a white button-up, and black jeans. Same longish hair. Same dark-framed glasses. But he’d leaned out, and even seated, it was obvious he’d grown at least a foot since the earlier photo.
I skipped down the rest of the stairs before I could get caught spying. Another sprawling family room greeted me. The fireplace was smaller and less ornate, but the TV was not. A couple of couches lined the room with a few recliners. This house was set up to host, that was for sure.
Tenor was beside another hallway, waiting for me. A wall of doors lined the space behind him.
He pointed to two next to each other. “Cruz and Lane are in those rooms.” He spoke low and gestured to another door in the middle of the hallway on the other side. “The bathroom. There’ll be extra of anything you need. Mama’s always ready to take people in, and she’s got more supplies than a hotel.”
“I wish my mom would’ve had a Mae in her life.”
“Yeah?” he prompted.
I bit down on my lip. He wasn’t interested in my past. One of my college dates had asked why I was such a downer when I’d told him Mom’s story.
Tenor studied me, waiting for me to continue.
“You don’t want to hear about my family drama.”
An emotion I couldn’t identify lit his eyes, then he was back to impassive Tenor. “I don’t mind.”
He was easy to talk to, and maybe after the glaring reminder I lacked friends in my life, I wanted to talk. “My mom had me just before she turned eighteen. Her parents cut her off, and my dad wasn’t interested in a relationship, so she was left on her own. She went to school online and worked at a daycare since she had no one to help with me.”
His face grew harder the longer I spoke. “She was left alone with a baby?”
