“You and your talking,” she said, but her tone was playful. Emerson sighed and took a sip of her coffee. “Listen, I’m fine, really. It’s a business thing…and after sleeping on it, I feel much better about things.”
Connor reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He hoped it felt solid to her. Grounded her. Showed her that he wanted to be there for her. He ducked slightly to look straight into her eyes, and damn, if those big brown eyes weren’t trying to hide something.
“If you’re fine, then I just got drafted to the Nuggets,” he replied. “Look, I’m not going to push you. If you want to talk, I’m here. If you just want to sit and drink coffee together, I’m game. If you’d rather I just gave you some space today, I can be on my way. But I guess I’m kind of hoping we might be working toward something more than friends with benefits. I can’t make myself clearer than that.”
Emerson was silent for a moment before squeezing his hand. “I hope that, too. I’ve got a business problem. But I need to know that you’re serious…no, not that…that you won’t share any of the information I share with you.”
Connor held her gaze. “I deal with confidential mergers and business acquisitions. You can trust me.”
Trust me. He considered for a moment his father’s preoccupation with the Dyers and the circumstances of their first meeting. Unease crept through him. Sometime soon, he’d need to tell her about his father.
But looking at Emerson now, he wanted her to know she could trust him. Any ideas he might have had to purchase Dyer’s Gin Distillery were put to rest. He’d remove them from his acquisition list, unless Emerson decided to sell. There were plenty of other distilleries to buy.
His father’s obsession with her company would never be anything more than that. It had been an uphill battle to convince him to even consider buying Dyer’s. And it only served to give him and his uncle something else to disagree over.
“We’ve got a very real cash flow problem. Dyer’s Medallion is selling really well, which is a great thing. But at the start of the summer, we lost the events hall during that freak storm we had. The insurance hasn’t paid out yet. We got a lot of bad press because we had to cancel so many weddings. It got so bad that my sister had a mental health emergency.”
“That must have been really tough for you all. And then with your father…” He didn’t need to say more.
“Yeah,” Emerson said sadly. “Even before all this, it’s been a lot.”
“Is your sister okay now, though?”
Emerson nodded. “She’s not back at work, but she’s doing so much better. I fear this new issue will cause regression for her, though.”
“What else has happened?”
They sipped their coffee, as Emerson explained.
“The distillery is in an okay state.”
Connor listened as she explained Medallion’s demand, the equipment working flat out, and Jake being too busy to come up with a new product for the Medallion line.
“Your assets are just about keeping up?”
“Yes,” Emerson agreed. “So, yesterday, I went to the bank to see what options we had to get a loan for some improvements, only to find Dad took out a loan and spent it in round figures over the next few days, and I don’t know why. And because I naively went to the bank to talk to them about a loan for something my father apparently already asked for money for, the bank is suspicious.”
“Shit,” Connor said. A million thoughts flitted to mind, the main one being that the bank could recall the loan any day they wanted if Emerson couldn’t prove that they used the money for its original intentions. “How much was the loan for?”
“A quarter of a million. And we most definitely don’t have that money to pay back, on top of repairing the events venue, let alone starting any renovations.”
“What options do you have? What are your next steps?” He wanted to know what she had already considered before speaking.
“I’m going to spend today seeing if I can find out where those payments went. I have access to Dad’s old business email account, so I’ll see if I can find anything there. If he paid advances on anything, that would be so helpful, but I doubt it. I think people or products would have showed up by now.”
Connor thought about the situation for a moment. “What about the insurance? You mentioned you were due a payment?”
Emerson nodded. “Yeah, for the events hall. I’d asked Dad, but there seems to be a run of issues. They lost the initial claim, then took ages to send out an auditor. Dad said it could take up to ninety days to get the check just before he passed away. Then I forgot to change the business contact name after Dad died. I need to submit the paperwork before they’ll even talk to me.”
From what he remembered, Paul Dyer had passed away toward the end of July, which meant the check was only a few weeks or so away. “So you sit tight. Keep maxing out production like you’re doing. Can you lease equipment rather than buy it?”
“I’m going to have to consider all of that. Dad hated debt. I’d talked to him about taking out a loan to refurbish the factory, but he’d always said no…that we should save for it. We never could’ve considered that as an option before. That’s the main reason I feel so weird about the loan Dad took out. It was so unlike him.”
Connor had cut ties the previous year with a vodka producer whose CEO had suddenly started dipping into the accounts, and from what his father had told him about Paul Dyer, the man had lacked scruples. “Do you think he took the money?”
“No!” Emerson cried. “Of course not. He was a good and honest man.”
Connor immediately regretted asking. But Emerson’s answer was so passionate, her eyes showing genuine hurt at the question, that he wanted to believe her.
“I’m sorry, but I had to ask. Stranger things have happened in business.”
Emerson folded her arms across her chest. “Well, you’re wrong. There must be a good explanation.”
“I’m sure there is,” Connor said. “For a moment, I forgot we were talking about your father.”
Who also happens to be Paul Dyer.
The man had a track record of stealing what wasn’t his. How could Emerson and his father’s view of the man be so polarized?
He shook the thought from his head.
Emerson stood. “I need to get into the office.”
Connor realized just how deeply his comment had sliced. “Emerson,” he said, getting to his feet. “Thank you for telling me what happened.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran his palms down the length of her arms until he could hold her hands.
She reluctantly let him.
“You don’t know my father,” she said, quietly. “He was a good man. Whatever he did was for the good of the distillery.”
But even as she said the words, Connor could hear the hint of uncertainty.
“Afternoon coffee,” Jake said, placing a mug next to her elbow.
Emerson closed her father’s laptop. She hadn’t been able to find any information about their insurance claim or the loan on it over the weekend, which was odd.
She glanced at the clock, noting it was close to five in the afternoon. “Thanks. How was the production run today?”
“Constance is like a new woman. Back in her groove after the service.”
“Perfect.” Relief flooded Emerson. A good Monday was helpful. A great week would be awesome.
“So, I drove over to see Liv on Friday night, and I was just passing yours when I noticed a fancy-looking Mercedes in your driveway.” Jake peered at her over the top of his own mug.
“My driveway is up the end of a long track that is nowhere near the main road, so do you want to be a bit more specific with your just passing story?”
Jake laughed, and his eyes—the mirror of hers and their mother’s—crinkled in the corners. She had a vision of him hiding beneath the very desk she was sitting at when he was about six years old. Hide-and-seek in the distillery on the weekends was not considered to be the major hea
lth and safety issue it would be now, with so many more staff operating at full tilt. She’d screamed when he jumped out at her after she found him, and she’d refused to play any more games with him.
“Remember when you pouted all day because I wouldn’t play hide-and-seek with you anymore?” she asked.
“I do…and good attempt at stalling. I was going to ask to borrow your lawn mower because mine gave up the ghost, but I did a U-turn when I saw you had company and borrowed Dad’s from Liv.” His eyes dramatically narrowed. “Fess up. Who owns the Merc?”
She wasn’t ready to share Connor with anybody yet. It was hard to believe that it was only three weeks since she’d met him. And they were already taking all the right steps toward something more intimate, more permanent.
At least they had been until he’d so easily and naturally suggested that her father might have been on some embezzling scam to screw his own company, and ergo children, out of the company. But she remembered how he’d tried to make amends over the weekend, and she was finally beginning to think she’d been too sensitive.
“New guy. Early days. His name is Connor.”
Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His mug looked like a doll’s toy in his large hands. “I don’t know whether I should say something about being safe or ask if he treats you well or demand you to bring him for Thanksgiving next month.”
Emerson laughed. “Or you can just remind yourself that I’m a street-smart woman who knows how to take care of herself, and that at least two of those statements were suspiciously patriarchal, and that I don’t need you looking out for me in that way.”
Jake grinned. “Or you can just realize that I’m simply a younger brother who cares for his older sister, and get over yourself, and still invite him for Thanksgiving.”
“Fine, I’ll see if he has plans. But seeing as it’s a month away, I might wait awhile. See where things go for a little bit,” Emerson said.
Jake stood. “Well, seeing as his car was still in your drive in the morning, I’d say things have already gone quite a way.”
“Jake,” she cried, launching the nearest thing to her hand, an apple, at his head. “Were you spying on me?”
He caught the apple, as she’d suspected he would, and laughed. “I swung by the bakery and got you one of those cinnamon buns you like. Saw the car was still there and figured it would be rude to drop off just one, so ate it on the way back home.”
“Asshole.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said. “Catch you later.”
Emerson collected the paperwork the insurance company needed to change the contact on the policy, so they could talk to her about the claim, and sent a digital copy of everything to the email address Andrew had given her. It was six o’clock, and she was slightly mad that something so important had taken so long.
Her phone vibrated, and she picked it up.
Any chance you’re free for dinner at my place tonight? Cx
For a moment, she vacillated, acknowledging that she might still be feeling overly sensitive about his comments regarding her father and the loan. Everything else, when put into the pros and cons columns, stacked mightily in Connor’s favor. His questions about her father were his only misstep in an otherwise delightful, fledgling relationship.
I’d love to. What time?
I’ll be home about 7:30 so any time after.
They exchanged a few more messages about logistics before Emerson got back to work.
At fifteen minutes before eight, she pulled into the parking garage and into the bay number Connor had instructed. Once parked, she grabbed her things and took the elevator to Connor’s floor. It was a short walk down the contemporary, gray-and-white hallway until she reached his door and knocked.
When he answered the door, Emerson could have sworn her breath left her body. He wore a black V-neck T-shirt that fit him to perfection, setting off the color of his eyes. His jeans hugged his hips and thighs, and he was barefoot. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair.
“Hey, come in,” he said, holding the door wide enough for her to pass through with her bags. Once she’d placed them all on the wooden bench and hung her jacket on one of the cute metal coat hooks above it, he spun her around, caught her in his arms, and kissed her. “I missed you,” he whispered.
She’d missed his arms around her, and the scent of him, and the feel of his body against hers. She’d been a jerk to have negative thoughts about him, and she needed to fix it. “I’m sorry. I took the comments you made about Dad too seriously. I know you were just asking questions. I’m sorry I was standoffish this weekend. I just needed to reconcile it.”
“I’ve been kicking myself for asking. I know if anybody asked questions like that about my dad, I’d be mad. My uncle, yeah, I’d let ’em pass…and likely even agree. Ask them about my mom, I’d knock someone’s lights out for even suggesting it.”
“So, we’re good?” Emerson asked.
“Yeah, we’re good. Let me give you a quick tour before I have to get back to the dinner. This is the living room.”
The light wood flooring carried on through the whole apartment. Straight ahead was a luxuriously plush ivory sofa. A white media unit ran along the wall and a soft rug in navy blue rug pulled the area together. It was sparser than her own home. Every piece seemed very…deliberate. Symmetrical prints in black-and-white, a solitary plant that resembled an aloe, a side table made from an inches-thick slice of a tree trunk.
To the left was the kitchen. “Wow, this is beautiful,” she said, running her hands over the contemporary square wooden table. It was tall, much taller than a normal table, and the eight chairs in crushed blue-gray fabric were part chair, part stool.
“I didn’t want a predictable table. I wanted something I could eat at, or hold a poker game around, or serve food at a get-together on. I found the stools, which were perfect, but I couldn’t find a table. I ended up having it custom made.”
“It’s stunning.” Emerson continued to look around. Not that it mattered to her, but Connor appeared to be wealthy. The apartment was likely a million-dollar property, the furnishings luxurious.
The kitchen was all white with a large, industrial double-door fridge with freezer drawers.
“These things are huge.” She opened it to find shelf after shelf of labelled containers. “I knew you meal-prepped,” she said, laughing.
Connor grinned. “I’d like to argue it’s convenience, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to a healthy dose of both competitive spirit and vanity. Want to grab that bottle of San Pellegrino off the door there?” He bent to check on whatever was in the oven.
“Smells good,” she said, placing the bottle on the counter. “What are we having? Rice and three slices of sweet potato?”
“I didn’t realize you were such a comedian, Emerson. And for the record, it’s sheet pan fajitas,” he said, spooning a ripe avocado out of its shell.
“Is that even allowed on your plan?”
Connor grinned. “Yup.”
Emerson ran her hand down his bicep, which flexed as he continued with his task. “Maybe I should try your plan.”
“If that’s a genuine suggestion, I’d be happy to show you how. If it’s a less-than-subtle comment about my body, I’d be happy to show you more of that, too. But tonight, let’s eat dinner first, so I can build up my stamina.”
Connor winked at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
And the laughter help put her worries to one side, at least for a couple of hours.
“Stay the night,” Connor said as they cleared the plates from the table. They’d spent dinner talking about their work. He’d found himself telling her a little bit about his uncle and the petty outburst he’d had the other day. Connor’s father had asked him to do an organizational structure review, including of Cameron’s finance department. Cameron had been furious when Connor told him he had no intention of sharing the findings with anyone other than his father. Connor and Emerson found th
emselves discussing the merits of working with family members and the strain that could bring to relationships.
She’d understood and that had meant everything.
Emerson could drive home—they’d stuck with water for dinner, so it was safe—and at ten thirty it was early enough for her to go. There was no other reason for her not to drive home, apart from the fact he didn’t want her to leave.
He placed the last dish in the dishwasher, put a tab in the dispenser, and set it running.
Emerson was silent for a moment, and he could tell she was thinking over his suggestion. “I’d love to, but I don’t have any clothes for tomorrow. I’d have to leave here super early to go home to shower and change.”
Connor mentally ran through the problem. Nothing he owned would be suitable for her work, and neighboring stores were likely closed. “I have a washing machine and dryer if that helps.”
Emerson laughed. “Because nothing says I didn’t go home last night like showing up to work in the same outfit, no matter how nicely it smells of laundry detergent.”
“Fair point.” He leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. Negotiation was his strong suit, and he was determined to persuade her to stay with him in his bed. “I normally get up at four forty-five in the morning to get my workout in and then head to the pool. For an extra eight hours with you, I could ditch the workout, take you home, and bring you back with clean clothes.”
As if she understood this was a bargaining game, she crossed her arms. “That’s a big play, Finch. I know how much your fitness routine means to you.”
“Big enough for you to stay?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. I have my own car here, I could drive myself home.”
“Where is the chivalry in that? Being equal and treated with respect does not negate the idea of being a gentleman. Plus, it’s slightly mercenary. If I take you home in the morning for clothes, we could even shower together. In fact, I really like that idea.”
Love in Numbers: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Love Distilled Book 1) Page 11
