Her cheeks pinked. “Are they just right, Warhammer?”
A few weeks ago, I would’ve died in public if anyone had called me that out loud. I’d be transported back to school when I’d gotten teased for joining the board game club. Then to ten years ago at the gas station, answering questions about my secret nights away from Bourbon Canyon. Katrina had worked hard to make me sound like some creep who catfished women.
“Anything you wear is just right,” I said.
Her smile turned shy and she looked down.
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I mean it. It’s not for”—I lifted my chin toward the main seating area—“this.” I drew my hand away. I wasn’t doing everything for show, but touching her was getting harder to resist.
How many times had I pictured her in the same positions I’d read about in that damn book of hers?
Every night. Multiple times.
She flicked the edges of her book and that damn fake cover. I didn’t care if she wanted to conceal it in public. Just never around me. “Did you get what you needed done in town?”
“What do you mean?”
She laughed. “You surely didn’t drive in for coffee with me.” She pointed to the empty spot in front of me.
I hadn’t made the trip for coffee. I had made it for her. When I’d come back to an empty home, I’d fled to town and right to her. That wasn’t very fake boyfriend–like. “No, I gotta stop at the hardware store.” Which was closed, or Buddy wouldn’t be here right now since he worked most Saturdays. Hopefully she hadn’t seen him. Even better if she didn’t know who he was.
“I was just going to return to the house and wait for you,” she said. She licked her lips like she was hesitant to say something.
“Ruby?”
She shook her head. “It’s about work.”
“You know I don’t mind.”
“You might about this. I talked to Teller last night.”
Ah hell. I knew what she meant. Teller and I had read the email and pushed off the topic until the next meeting. I should’ve known I couldn’t escape it when my weekend guest was the brainchild behind the idea. “Updating our brand?”
She grimaced. “You talked to Wynter?”
“She said we should discuss it at our next meeting, but that including more of us informally might help growth, so whoever wants to help you out should talk to you.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “And you didn’t talk to me.” I opened my mouth to apologize, but she shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Teller isn’t hyped about it either. I just wish I could show the real heart of Copper Summit, which is all of you.”
“We put our heart out there.”
“You put out a polished version. People want to feel like they’re getting backstage access.”
I tapped her book, hidden under what she hoped was a more socially approved cover. “You wanna show off those abs?”
She looked taken aback for a moment, then she gave me a sheepish grin. “Touché.” She put her hand on mine. “The thing is... I wouldn’t press so much if I didn’t think that youguys are just used to the way it is here in Bourbon Canyon, where everyone knows who you are. The town loves your legacy. Out there?” She fluttered her other hand toward the window. “Copper Summit is just some bourbon with June Bee’s face on the ads, and the spirits market it getting more crowded. Being a family distillery isn’t the selling point it used to be. It’s pretty much the standard.”
A vise squeezed tighter around my ribs. She was right. More and more niche distilleries were popping up, each with its own unique story. I wanted to help her, but I also wanted to make bourbon. I wanted to run the numbers. I didn’t want to deal with the people. “Sometimes it’s bad enough getting recognized in my hometown.”
She tried to hide her disappointment but failed. “I’ll figure something out. You do enough. So does Teller. Maybe Wynter and Autumn will let me get some content while they’re creating recipes. Wynter liked my idea of letting customers name some cocktails.” She patted my hand. “I’ll head back now and you can finish your errands.”
The subject might be dropped, but I couldn’t escape the notion I’d let her down. She had a point. I just couldn’t put myself out there, and I’d rather not revisit why. “Let me walk you to your car.” I took her empty coffee mug and plate to the bin by the trash and followed her out.
She went to the driver’s door and I propped my hand on it. I was playing with fire, but I also couldn’t pass up a valid reason to kiss her.
She tilted her face up and I leaned down. I kept the touch to a mere brush of our lips. Any more and I’d end up pinning her to the door and plundering her mouth. All in the name of putting on a show.
“See you in a bit,” I said as I stepped back.
