“I’m here.” Still reeling, but here.
“I just know how Bryce is, and I don’t want to bug Iverson. Daddy will take it as just another sign I’m not going to cut it in this business or in Huckleberry Springs. So congrats. You’re the only other decent guy I know, but you can say no.”
The fuck I can. “Want me to pick you up?”
“I can meet you at the distillery so we can talk about how all the Baldwins would like a tasting night.” She sucks in a deep breath. “And they don’t want you to host it.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I believe Pricilla said that you look like you’re either going to dump a drink on them or bite their hand.”
“I don’t bite unless I’m asked to.”
There’s a quick inhale on the other side, then a frustrated exhale. “I wouldn’t know because Stanford is getting jealous. That’s the other reason they don’t want you.Theybeing Stanford.”
“That fucker’s getting married. What does he care?”
“I think January should be asking him that question, but he’s probably gaslighting her. I will happily tell them it won’t work out.”
No, otherwise it would make Campbell look inept. “We’ll make it happen. I’ll talk to the guys.”
And I’ll make plans for Campbell while the Baldwins are busy with their drinks.
Campbell
I greet Clem as I breeze through the Foster House entrance. She’s dusting off bottles on display. I tap my shoes off on the rug. It’s been raining on and off all day. Right now, it’s on.
“Edna was hoping to catch you while you’re here,” Clem says. She’s got Dutch braids in today. It’s one of my favorite styles when I’m home, but since I’m technically working and the Baldwins already think I grew up milking cows and yodeling—which sounds fun—I’ve been keeping my styles chicer.
“Okay. I’ll let Durban know I’m here first.” I’m two minutes early. I would’ve been sooner, but I got caught talking to Stanford’s grandma about the names of the animal heads mounted in the game room. They havenone. Daddy only called his kills “dinner” because they were many of our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners growing up.
“Edna’s in the tasting room with him. Go on in.”
I keep from sprinting to see Durban. That almost-kiss days ago has taunted me every moment of the day. I think about it at night. What was he going to do? What did he plan? Would my pants have come off? A little dry humping?
Everything I thought of, and it was a lot, sounded amazing. I haven’t even done any self-care because I want to experience the explosion he can cause.
Edna’s sitting at one of the low-top tables, sipping on a glass of clear fluid with a mint leaf floating inside. She beams at me. “Campbell. Nice to see you again.”
Durban’s in a chair next to her, his arms folded and his gaze traveling down my body. I’m wearing jeans today to keep from giving Bryce any thoughts that I dressed up for him. I put on a loose vest over a long-sleeved shirt. The rain has kept the day cool.
“Hey, Edna.” I give her a quick hug before she can stand.
She grins and raises her glass in a cheers. “Durban’s letting me crash your meeting to talk about my hookers.”
Durban arches a brow.
I slide into a seat next to him. “Hookers and booze. My favorite combination.”
She giggles and pushes up her wire-rimmed glasses. “My daughter told me to leave all the cocktail wordplay alone.”
I laugh. Durban’s faint smile makes this the best conversation of the week. Other than when we were inthe tack room. “I’ll think of a title. Do you have a day or time?”
She nods. “Durban here said Monday afternoons are good since the tasting room is closed. Most of my group are retirees. And Clem and Elodie.”
“My grandma taught me to crochet,” I say. “I picked it up easier than knitting.”
“Then you’ll have to join us.” She pats my arm.
