He shrugs. Crap. Will it be my fault if he gets pigeonholed into PR and marketing and loses the chance to experiment with the products like he wants to?
Wait—I can work with that. “What if you make something special for this group?” I ask.
Surprise lifts Durban’s brows. “Like what?”
I think quickly. I don’t know much about distilling and timelines, but I also can’t have the task getting assigned to someone else. “I don’t know. Something you haven’t done before that you can essentially beta test on this crowd? Something new.”
His focus on me intensifies. “I see.” He shifts his attention to the others. “I can do a barrel-aged vodka infusion.”
“I say go for it.” Cruz checks the time. “The wedding crew is going to be here soon, and then we’re on, Haven.”
The two leave.
The alarm goes off on my phone. I switch it off. “I’d better get in there too.”
I chance a peek at Durban. His dark gaze swirls with something I can’t identify. We haven’t made plans to do anything during the tasting. Has he lost interest? Did my breakdown yesterday scare him off?
I’m wearing a dress with my ankle boots for nothing. At least I look good, and I’m on the clock, so I follow in the same direction as Haven and Cruz.
The guys are behind the bar, digging out Glencairn glasses and smaller ones that are more like plastic shot glasses. They’re murmuring to each other about tasting order and how much each person can get served.
Cars start pulling into the lot. My parents offered a couple of the staff as drivers. It’s only going to be thehappy couple, Stanford’s parents, and some of his cousins. January’s parents won’t return again until the ceremony, and Sydney told me she was waiting until the final hour to show because of work.
Stanford’s got January tucked into his side as they walk toward the entrance. She has her hand lovingly on his stomach, and her face has a flush I know all too well. Freshly orgasmed.
Old tension and crankiness ignite behind my ribs. Stanford’s doing it on purpose. All the time we were together, I thought I was in love, when he really just resented me. I was his trophy, and now he’s trying to prove he’s got a shinier version.
This is going to be a long night.
I greet them all with a smile as they enter, my cheeks starting to ache much quicker than usual.
“Priscilla, hello. Chester, you’ll love their lineup.”
They both ignore me, and I want to snarl at them, to hold my hands up in claws like I’m going to swipe at them, to do something unhinged to finally earn how they think about me.
Instead, I nod politely to an aunt and uncle I’ve never met. Then a few cousins of Stanford’s. All of them avoid my gaze.
Once they line the bar, I hover at the edge of the room by the door to the merch store. Haven launches into his spiel about Foster House’s origins, its goals with whiskey and humanitarian efforts, and then this site, Foster House Gold. Lane’s pickup pulls out of the lot. The only staff remaining are the two tasting hosts and Durban.
A wall of caramel-whiskey-scented heat surrounds me and there’s a light touch at my elbow.
Durban leans down to whisper in my ear. “Now a good time to talk about the special product just for Rafting and Tasting?”
My hopes take another dip, but chatting about plans is better than standing here like I’m invisible. “Yeah. Your brothers have it handled.”
The tasting is supposed to go an hour. He cocks his head toward the door and leads me out. He takes the stairs up to his office, and what he said before about me on his desk runs through my head.
My nipples pucker and heat flushes my body. Is this going to happen after all?
When I reach the top of the stairs, he takes my hand and strums his thumb along the back.
He pulls me into his office and doesn’t bother closing the door. “Did you think I forgot?”
“I thought you changed your mind.”
“No fucking way.” He lifts me to a seat on the edge of his neat desk like I’m nothing more than a doll, and a thrill blasts through my veins. There’s a miniature bottle of whiskey on the edge of the desk.
He twists the cap off and sets the edge at my lips. “Didn’t want you to miss out on everything.”
