Wynter taped the sign to the door. “I found water on the floor when I came in here earlier.” She grimaced. “One of the sink pipes was leaking and it got under the flooring.”
I went to the edge of the bar and peeked around. A guy was sprawled on his back, most likely a plumber, his head tucked under the sink cabinet. A light glowed from the vicinity of his head.
“Sorry about your shift tonight,” Teller said to me. “Hopefully, we can be up and running by Friday.”
“No worries.” I wasn’t working for the money. The shifts were my social life.
Ouch. I knew that was the case, but also... if I didn’t have my bosses, I wouldn’t have friends.
I was about to dig my phone out, but I paused. Wynter had told me that Teller had finally permitted us to use him for content, but I didn’t want to surprise him. My work wasn’t supposed to be a jump scare for individuals. “Supporters love a behind-the-scenes peek. Mind if I grab a few shots right now? It’d just be profile shots.”
Teller’s jaw tightened for a moment. “As long as you don’t use hashtags like #toowettowork or #amanandhisleaks.”
Next to me, Wynter snorted, and Autumn giggled.
“I’m going to use ‘a man and his leaks’ for my new tagline,” the plumber said.
“I promise, no embarrassing hashtags,” I said. “I’ll protect your honor.”
He lifted his chin, gesturing for me to do what I needed to. For the next few minutes, Wynter and I tossed ideas back and forth and circled Teller. She got some images and so did I.
The whole moment was more humbling than it should’ve been. I was the social media girl, but now my ideas were getting put into play. I was flexing more of my marketing degree, and today I felt like one of the team more than I ever had. For a girl with no family connections anywhere, I was honored to be connected to this family.
“I’ll send mine to you, along with the ones I get at the next tasting we can host.” Wynter squeezed my arm. “Tenor might be in his office if you want to catch him before he leaves.”
I’d already made the trip worthwhile. The cherry on top would be seeing Tenor before I went home to my empty apartment. “Sure.”
“I’ll help you find him.”
She followed me out of the tasting room and into the lobby. A tour must’ve just finished. Several people milled around the souvenir stands and another three were in line to check out.
“Ah, there he is,” Wynter said, nodding toward the large windows that overlooked the distillation room. “You can just go right in.”
My gaze was immediately drawn to Tenor’s broad back as he stood at the half ring of computer monitors the distillers used to log temperatures, batch numbers, and inventory. He propped an arm on the standing computer desk and scrolled through something I couldn’t make out. “Let me know if you want to reschedule,” I said to Wynter, my gaze still on Tenor.
“I called Autumn, and we decided to meet at Curly’s and make an evening of it anyway. Myles was already planning to stay home all night with the kids. You should join us.”
Pleased, I smiled. “That sounds fun.” A whole lot more fun than driving straight back home while everyone else had plans.
“Great. Just head there after you’re done talking to my brother.” She rushed off and I ducked into the distillery room.
The door shut behind me, blocking out the chatter of the guests. The machinery in the production room on the opposite side of the stills was quiet, resting for the night. No glass clinking or forklifts beeping as they backed up.
The place was quiet. Just the mash in the short, wide tanks bubbling, a warm, grainy smell filling the room. Still riding my content-creation high, I grabbed a couple pictures of Tenor from behind. The shot exuded quiet power and contemplation. Competence.
God, he’d be catnip to the introverted bourbon lovers.
I wove around the tank to Tenor’s side.
He clicked a button and the monitor went dark. He turned, his lips tipping up. “Hey.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I knew.”
My belly warmed and I fought anaw-shucksgrin. His gaze dipped down my soft yellow camisole top to my cargo capris. I wasn’t wearing a skirt, but there was no less heat in his gaze.
I showed him my screen. “I’m not using these, but should you ever decide to put yourself in front of the camera, you should use them.” I smirked. “For now, they’re for my personal use. I may send them to Wynter only to show her the authentic aesthetic I had in mind. Unless you want me to delete them.”
