“Huh. You hate bartending?” Julian leans back, seemingly entertained by this family dinner.
I close my eyes, just as the chatter from the room goes quiet.Fuck me.
“She’s a fantastic bartender,” Julian adds, crossing his arms.
If I could make him shut up right now, I would.
Chapter Seven
Julian
“I’m sorry,but this is the first time we’re meeting this guy, right?” The sister with the wild bold-red hair—Jo, I think—asks rhetorically. She has the same green eyes and high cheekbones as Wyn, but with a “fuck off” attitude. She looks at Wyn, and then at Stevie, the boisterous one, before she adds, “How is it possible that someone I’ve never met is telling us something as wild asour sister, Dr. Wynona Crowne, an organic chemistry professor, is actually also ‘a fantastic bartender’? Since when, Wyn?”
“Doctor?” I ask, looking at Wyn as she shifts and fidgets in her chair. The way she glances at Birdie, and then Jo, looking for a lifeline makes it clear that there are pieces colliding here that she wasn’t anticipating. The biggest one of them being me.She hasn’t lied only to me. But what I was called out here to do before she walked right into the middle of it makes me realize how much is being kept from her as well.
“Plot twist!” Stevie interjects with a laugh. Her voice sounds familiar, similar to Wyn’s, but...I’ve heard it before; I know I have. “Julian,” she says with obvious amusement. “Our sister has been holding out on us if this is true.” She crosses her arms and throws Wyn a leveling glare. “You areabsolutelyhelping me tonight.”
Wyn shakes her head, face flushed, clearly ready to get the fuck out of here.
“You're the podcaster,” I say, finally realizing why her voice sounded so familiar. I look at Wyn, though, as I smile knowingly and add, “The Distilled Truth.”
Stevie laughs, delighted, holding up her glass. “I knew I liked you. So...” She takes a sip of her wine. “Does this mean you’re a true-crime fan or a whiskey snob?"
“Maybe a little bit of both now.” I clear my throat, deciding to play a little. “I was at a bar once where they played your podcast every week, and the bartender would curate whiskey flights to complement the whiskeys you would review before each case breakdown.”
In my periphery, I notice the detective, who decided not to leave, is quietly observing, making me realize how out of my depth I am.Fucking great.There are layers of why this job has become more dangerous than I ever anticipated. Every part of my gut is screaming to get the fuck out of here. Except when I look at Wyn again, her green eyes are on me, still trying to figure out why I’m here in the same way I’m trying to do with her.
I need to talk to her. Alone.
“I know there’s a lot of listeners, but that’s—” Stevie takes a second, eyes tearing. “That’s pretty amazing to hear. Where was this bar?”
I glance at Wyn, who looks about ready to throw something at me with the way she’s glaring. So I shake my head. “Can’t remember the name.” And technically, it didn’t have one.
“Why are you here?” Lu interrupts from my side. “We were expecting your father.”
I sit back in the chair, trying to get my bearings on the swift change in conversation and tone. Out of everyone at this table, I have a feeling she might be the biggest wild card.
“Lu,” Birdie says firmly with a swift jerk of her head—calling her off. “Not here.”
Lu ignores the warning and smirks at me. With a singsong tone, she bites into a piece of the bread that Birdie had been cutting and says, “A quiet one.” She looks down at my lap and then back up, eyes trailing slowly all the way to the top of my head. “Good-looking too.”
I meet her glare, remaining quiet so I can figure out exactly what kind of trouble these women are capable of doling out. The fact that I was just tied up in the back greenhouse is being ignored, either because this is a common occurrence, or because she didn’t know. Lu’s hair is darker and short, the way Wyn’s was when I met her as Naomi. There’s no mistaking, though, that all these women, regardless of their different styles, are related. I didn’t notice at first, but each of them has deep-green eyes and high cheekbones. Individually beautiful, but in the same room, it’s the kind of beauty that intimidates and ruins plenty.
“Who was the last one you brought to dinner?” Lu asks Wyn.
Wyn squints at her mother, her nervousness drifting into something more annoyed, or maybe even pissed. “What are you doing, Lu?”
She shrugs her shoulders, grabs her glass of wine, and says, “What? The last one you brought to dinner was exceptionally dull. Then he came back again two times after you, well, wentwherever it was you went.” At that, she takes a gulp of her wine. “Not sure who invited him,” she mumbles. I watch the three sisters all look at each other, silently exchanging a full-blown conversation.
Wyn sits back in her chair, relaxes the grip she has on the arms of it, looks her mother square in the face, and lies. “The details of my se—” She detours the word when she sees Nash listening. “Spicy life, Lu, are none of your goddamn business.”
Her sister, Stevie, snorts out a laugh, while Jo just smiles, crossing her arms and watching her mother choke on Wyn’s words. I don’t know the dynamic, but I’m a quick learner, and I can’t help but want to praise Wyn for standing up for herself.
I usually don’t mind silence, but I don’t want to have to answer any more questions, especially from the detective who hasn’t stopped paying attention. “You have a beautiful home,” I say, shifting my attention to Birdie. But she was already watching me stare at her granddaughter.
“Thank you, Julian,” she says with a tilt of her lips as she butters a piece of her bread.
The house mirrors its owner—layers of character and a labyrinth of detail. From the velvet drapes and gold metal vines that part them at the center to the walls that are bathed in busy, rich-toned wallpaper that, on a closer look, I realize has a pattern of women dressed as goddesses, some naked or wearing flowers as stars and constellations swirl around them.Fitting. The eclectic taste could feel gaudy in some circles, but the artistic part of me respected their taste and style.
