Brittany raises her eyebrows.
“You don’t want to know,” Cole mutters, rubbing the back of his neck again. “What’s your instinct about this guy?”
“I don’t want him hanging around,” she says, her gaze flitting to me again. “I sat him at a table in the back.”
My interest piqued, I glance at Cole. “It’s okay. We can take a detour.”
He glances at me, and I see what he’s not saying. I’m wearing his shirt and sweatpants, and if we go into the tasting room together, everyone will know that we’ve boned, or are boning, or whatever it is we’re doing. It’s obvious he’s not down with that, so I offer, “I’ll wait in the car.”
“Wait in my truck,” he says, shoving the key at me.
I’d object—it would make more sense for us to head to Nana’s house in separate cars—but I get the sense that he’s uncomfortable with letting this whole charade play out in front of Brittany. Besides, if we go there in a caravan, it’s far more likely everyone will take an interest in our shenanigans. I take the keys and salute him. “Thank you, oh bossy one.”
Brittany laughs, which earns her a sour look. Cole tells me to turn the engine on so I don’t freeze my ass off, and they take off for the tasting room. I head out back.
It feels a little weird getting into Cole’s truck, even though I easily recognize it. I turn the engine on so I can turn on my seat warmer, and it makes me grin when Lizzo comes on over the speakers, from an old-fashioned CD, no less. Something tells me it’s Jane’s music.
Cole really is a good father, and while being a parent isn’t part of my lexicon, I find that strangely…sexy. I liked being up in his sanctuary this afternoon. I could imagine Jane working on the computer while Cole made cookies, because apparentlythat’s something he does.
Or something he does when Tornado Holly isn’t around.
Nothing about today is like I expected it to be…except the sex, I guess. Because I knew it was going to be hotter than anything I’d ever experienced, and it was.
“Whew, you’re in trouble, girl.”
“You always talk to yourself?” Cole says, his voice muffled by the window.
I jolt a little as he opens the driver’s side door and slides in behind the wheel. I didn’t notice him because he must have left the brewery through the front.
“I could say no,” I tell him. “But we both know that would be a lie.” I tilt my head, studying his dark mass of hair, his short beard, that mouth that does wicked things. “What was that all about? With the guy, I mean.”
He frowns. “Some jackwad wants to buy the brewery. He came by the other day in a nice suit with a shitty offer. I threw him out on his ass, so today he came back in a shitty outfit with a slightly better offer. I still told him to fuck off.”
I frown back at him. “Who is he?”
He quirks his mouth to the side. “He said his name was Deacon. Didn’t catch a last name.”
“Didn’t he give you his card or something?”
“No,” he says, his mouth twisting to the side. “Shit. I meant to get more information from him if he came back, but I was distracted.”
By me.
I shrug slightly. “It’s probably worth your while to find out who he is, isn’t it?” Before I can second-guess the impulse, I find myself offering, “I can look into it for you. I’m good at researching people. Just tell me everything you know about the guy.”
He gives me a lingering look, as if he’s not sure whether I’m joking, which pinches my heart a little. Have I been that much of a bitch?
Then he nods and follows my instructions to my grandmother’s house. “Okay, Holly, I’ll bite.”
My heart warms at this evidence that he’s changed toward me. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that he flat-out refused my offer to cyber-stalk the Labelles for him.
“He didn’t tell me much,” he continues.. “But the first time he came in, he seemed to sense that I might need the money.”
My eyebrows lift. “Do you?” I remember he’d said as much about getting Jane a computer, but I’d always known Ziggy’s to be busy. It wasn’t unsuccessful by any means.
His hands tighten on the wheel. “Everyone in town knows the Labelles are bad news.”
“Indeed,” I say, then lift a hand. “Millie was the exception to the rule, but her parents must have contacted my grandmother three dozen times about setting her sisters up with celebrities. Mind you, she didn’t say no out of any kind of matchmaker ethics. She couldn’t pull it off, is all.”
