by Carrie Elks
The paper was folded neatly in two, the line so crisp she could probably have cut her fingers on it. Becca pulled it out of her locker in the still room and unfolded it, her brows knitting as she read the top line.
Job Description. Lead Distiller. Project A
There was no note to say who it was from, or an explanation for why it had found its way to her locker. Just a printed piece of paper with a list of required duties, knowledge, skills, and desirable qualifications written on it. Becca folded it back up carefully and slid it into her pocket.
“So you got it?”
Becca looked up at Garrett Rhys. He’d been a lead distiller at GSC for longer than she’d been alive. He worked on the GSC legacy lines, and was three years away from retirement.
“Did you put it in there?”
“Not me. Mr. Carter. He offered me a copy, too. I said thanks, but no thanks.” Garrett flashed her a smile. “I like working on the current lines. By the time any new whiskey matures, I’ll be long retired.”
He wandered over to the mash tun, and Becca opened the description again. Why had Daniel not given it to her himself? Or emailed it to her – they so rarely printed things out nowadays.
It was like being back at school and having a boy pass her a note. Except she wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing.
There was only one way to find out. She flashed Garrett a smile and headed out of the still rooms, the warm malty air replaced by the airconditioned crispness of the office corridors. With the job description rolled up in one hand, she used the other to rap on Daniel’s office door.
“Come in.”
She pushed it open, arranging a neutral smile on her face. “Hi,” she said before she’d stepped inside. “I was just wondering why you’d put this in my locker?” Then she realized Eliana was in his office, sitting in the leather chair opposite his, her ankles elegantly crossed.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Eliana’s eyes were soft as she looked at her son. Then she smiled at Becca. “Let you two talk alone.”
Daniel nodded, but his eyes were on Becca. They weren’t the empty ones she’d seen before, but they weren’t full of heat either. Just purely professional, cool and collected.
The way she wanted it.
Eliana patted Becca on the shoulder as she passed her. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“Sit down,” Daniel said, nodding at the chair his mother had vacated. Today he was wearing a dark blue shirt, open at the neck as always. It brought out the blue in his eyes, making them look more vivid than ever. His thick, dark hair was raked back off his face, and there was a hint of a shadow on his jaw.
Becca unrolled the job description. The neat line from where he’d folded it was still there. “Garrett said you left this for me.”
“I did.”
“There’s no note attached,” she told him. “Nothing to tell me why you left it.”
The corner of his lip twitched. He was so damn distracting. She’d never met somebody who aggravated her so much. Or made her heart skip a beat every time their eyes clashed.
It was unnerving.
“Why do you think I left it?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. As though he was playing a game she didn’t know the rules to.
But she’d been brought up to play games. She knew them intimately. “Either you want to taunt me about a job that won’t be mine, or you want me to apply for the job.”
Their gazes connected and there it was again. The fizz of electricity that made her body react in ways she didn’t want it to.
She kept her face impassive, not moving an inch. She wasn’t going to be the one to look away first.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to look away either. The corner of his lip was still lifted, his head tilted to one side. He had such delicious lips when they weren’t twisted into a scowl. They held a hint of cruelty to them, but a fullness, too. And for a moment she wondered what they’d feel like on hers.
Focus, Becca.
Her eyes were feeling dry. Itchy. She had to clench her teeth in an effort not to be the first to blink. Her heart was racing, her legs squeezed together in an effort to ignore the warmth pooling deep inside her.
Why was she so attracted to this man? If he’d stood and pulled her over the desk right now she wouldn’t have protested. Just the thought of it made her breath catch.
Her eyes were as arid as the desert. It hurt not to blink. And damn Daniel Carter was still half-smirking at her with no effort at all. He was going to win.
She didn’t like that feeling at all.
“I want you to apply for the job.”
The words didn’t register at first. She was too busy blinking to take them in. But then her breath slowed and the rush of blood through her ears calmed down, enough for her to realize that he’d spoken.
And what he’d said.
“Are you okay?” The half-smile turned into a full smile as the other side of his mouth lifted. He was actually smiling at her. For the first time in two weeks. Becca gave a mental fist bump because it felt like she’d just won a gold medal.
“I’m fine.” Apart from the blood heating up her cheeks and the pulse between her thighs, that was. “I was just wondering why you want me to apply when your opinion of me is so low.”
The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Who says my opinion of you is low?”
“You said, and I quote, ‘my best isn’t good enough’.”
“Maybe I don’t think you’ve given us your best yet. And I only said you should apply for the job. Not that it’s yours.”
He was so damn irritating. Becca inhaled sharply and looked at him. This time she blinked slowly, letting him know she wasn’t starting another staring battle. She needed all her energy for talking. “So let me get this straight. You don’t think my best is good enough. You think I’m too young to be a lead distiller. And I’m too friendly with the staff and have a sweet tooth.” Irritation washed over her.
He lifted an eyebrow. “On the plus side you have a very good memory.”
“Thanks. I think. So why do you want me to apply for the job?”
“Because my mother asked me to give you a chance.”
“Do you always do everything your mother tells you to do?”
He laughed. “Are you asking if I’m a momma’s boy?”
She shrugged, even though she’d never met somebody less like a momma’s boy in her life. “I was just wondering.” She kept her voice nonchalant, even though it was taking a concerted effort not to show her surprise at his amusement. It was a game she was playing to win. “Because I’m not sure I want to work for a guy who takes all his direction from his mom.”
He was smiling now. As though he was enjoying the back and forth as much as she was. Becca knew it was dangerous. He was the boss, he owned the business, if she pissed him off she could lose her job.
But he didn’t look pissed off. He looked entertained.
In a weird and totally messed up way, she was, too.
“How about we agree that I want you to apply. Does that work for you?”
“What if I don’t want to?” She arched an eyebrow.
For the first time he looked disconcerted. It was subtle, of course. A blink. A shift of his hands. The wavering of his smile. “Don’t you want to?”
Of course she did. Even if it meant working closely with Mr. Hyde, because she still wasn’t sure there wasn’t a sweet Dr. Jekyll lurking beneath his pretty face. She loved her work. And she had a lot of ambition, even if people thought she was just a friendly, easy-going kind of woman.
The thought of being involved in this project made her skin tingle. Almost as much as the thought of working closely with Daniel Carter did.
“I’ll think about it.” She lifted her chin, her gaze steady.
He looked like he was biting down a grin. His eyes boldly held hers, as though he was ready to battle with her all over again.
“Do you want to know why I had concerns about you applying?”
Su
re. Hit her with it. As if he hadn’t put her down enough already. “You look like you want to tell me.”
“You’re too willing to please. And that’s lethal in a distiller.”
Becca stared back at him, unflinching. “Do I seem willing to please you?”
A ghost of a smile passed his lips. “No. You don’t. Why is that, do you think?”
It was like an elite game of tennis. He served, she volleyed. He hit back hard and she had to leap to keep up. She felt exhilarated.
“Maybe I think you’re impossible to please.” She arched an eyebrow.
He ran a finger along his jaw, his stare speculative. “You could be right. But I think it’s more than that. I think you don’t want to please me.”
There was something in the way he said it that made her blood heat up. His voice was slow. Measured. And too damn sexy.
“Why would I want to please you?”
“You shouldn’t. You should only want to please yourself. That’s what I’m looking for in a distiller. Somebody who knows what they’re tasting. Who understands what they like, and not because somebody told them to like it, but because every sense they possess delights at the flavor. Because they understand the pleasure that taste can give and can’t live without the way their body feels when they experience it.”
Her skin felt like it was on fire. “I understand pleasure.”
“Do you?”
Their gazes locked. “Yes.”
“Okay. We’ll do a taste test as part of your application. Meet me in the barrel room on Friday evening.”
Becca blinked. She was set to go out with Naomi, Alex, and his Army friend on Friday. She’d opened her mouth to tell Daniel she couldn’t make that night, but she’d quickly closed it again. Because it would only confirm his prejudices against her.
“I’m free between six and eight p.m. After that I’ll have to leave. I have a prior engagement.” There was no way she was telling him about a date.
“Six it is then.” He nodded. “Thank you for your time.”
She knew when she was being dismissed. Becca nodded and stood, walking toward the door. “Thank you for yours.”
As she walked out, she could have swore she heard him murmur, “It was a pleasure,” but it might have been the blood still rushing through her ears. As she passed by Eliana’s office – the door unusually open – the elegant lady beckoned her in.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“I have to do a taste test.”
Eliana’s lips curled. “You’ll be fine. You’re an excellent distiller. And don’t mind Daniel, he can be an ass sometimes.”
Becca bit down a laugh, because Eliana’s thoughts echoed her own. “Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
Becca checked her make up in the bathroom mirror, touching her fingertip to her bottom lip to smooth away a lipstick smudge. She’d had to get ready for her night out while at work, as she’d have no time between her taste test and meeting Naomi and her husband at the bar. Glancing down at her tight jeans, off-white silky shell, and black wool jacket, she wondered if Daniel would think that she’d made an effort for him.
And then she decided she didn’t care. He could think whatever he wanted. She’d do this stupid taste test then call a cab to take her to town, while messaging Naomi a drink order so she could down it as soon as she’d walked inside Moonlight Bar, because she was certain that Daniel Carter would have driven her crazy by then.
The thought of two hours alone with him in the barrel room – actually a separate building to the rest of the distillery – was enough to drive her to drink.
When she walked back out of the bathroom, Naomi was waiting for her. She let out a low whistle as she looked Becca up and down. “You look hot. Shawn won’t know what hit him.”
She’d forgotten about Shawn. Which was weird because all this effort was for him, right? “By the time I get there I’ll probably look a mess. I’m not sure I’ll even have any hair left.”
Naomi grinned. “Daniel’s not so bad. And at least you get to look at that face while he’s putting you through the labors of Hercules. He asked me a question in our team meeting yesterday and it took me a whole minute to realize he was talking to me. Have you seen those eyelashes?”
“Shame the inside isn’t so pretty.” Becca shrugged.
“He seems okay. He asked Ryan about his father – even I didn’t know he was in the hospital. And then he asked me about Alex and how he’s handling life out of the Army.”
Becca’s mind wandered back to the day she lost her shirt button, when he was sitting on Sandy’s reception desk and the two of them were laughing.
So it really was only Becca he hated. No, maybe hate was too strong a word. They clashed. Like a personality mismatch or something. Except for when she sparred with him.
Then he seemed to like it.
“You okay?” Naomi asked.
Becca gave her a genuine smile. If Daniel wanted to rile her up, she’d give it right back to him. “I’m real good. I’ll see you some time after eight.”
“Don’t be late. Three’s a crowd.”
The GSC Barrel Room – also known as the rickhouse – was more of a warehouse than a room. The four story wooden building loomed large at the rear of the estate. It was a traditional whiskey rickhouse – the barrels stored on their sides in racks, allowing air to flow around them as the whiskey inside matured. There was no climate control inside. The natural highs and lows of the West Virginian climate were used to drive the whiskey into the wood, creating an aged, oak flavor.
The rickhouse was labor intensive, thanks to the way the barrels were stored. It took two men to take a barrel from the racks and roll it to the floor. In the past they’d experimented with different storage – having the barrels upright on pallets that could be moved by forklift trucks – but in the end the flavor suffered.
The staff in the rickhouse were gone by the time Becca arrived. The door was unlocked, and she pushed it open, her heels clacking against the concrete floor as she walked inside.
The air surrounding her was temperate. In a few months it would be almost unbearably hot, especially in the upper levels. In winter, the temperatures plummeted, requiring the staff to wear thick goose down coats and hats to keep themselves warm.
But it was all worth it for the end result.
She called out, unnerved by the silence surrounding her. “Hello?” From the corner of her eye she saw some movement, and turned her head to see him standing there.
Dark tailored pants. A crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His sleeves were rolled up to right beneath his elbows, exposing strong forearms, warm skin peppered with hair, and a watch that looked like it cost her annual wage.
He was in the shadows so it was impossible to see his eyes. For a moment she felt exposed in her tight jeans and shell top. As though he was staring at her delicate throat and dark hair flowing over her shoulders in a cascade of waves.
She heard him inhale sharply.
“Did you dress up for me?” His tone sounded almost bored.
Becca bit down a smile. So they were playing again. “Nope. I have a hot date after this. You just get to enjoy me first.”
She felt different wearing these clothes. Confident. As though she could rule the world.
He stepped out of the shadows. His thick hair was messy, as though he’d been raking it with his fingers. A single lock fell over his brow, and damn if the dishevelment didn’t make him even more attractive. “I’ll try not to delay you for too long.”
Oh please delay me. She was really careful not to say it out loud.
Cool and calm. That’s what she needed to be.
He took two glasses from the tasting table, passing one to her. “If you’re going out later, we should get on with this. Pick a barrel that will impress me.”
“I don’t imagine anything will impress you.”
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Try me.”
She looked at him f
or a minute, her eyes assessing. His dark hair gleamed beneath the low lighting of the rickhouse. The curve of his jaw twitched as though he was pressing his teeth together.
Equals. They were equals. “Okay follow me.” She turned on her heel, heading toward the stairs.
Neither of them said a word as they walked, the only sound was the clack of her heels on the wooden floor. Daniel kept his eyes ahead, not looking at her, though she saw a flicker of surprise in his eye when she didn’t turn left toward the vintage barrels that had been there since his father’s time. Instead, she headed up the stairs to the second level, never once looking behind her to check if he was following.
There was something different about him. He was being less abrasive. She tried not to let it unnerve her.
When she turned left down an aisle, she saw him biting down a smile as if he knew where she was going.
The 2012 Small Batch Select. Her very favorite GSC whiskey. She reached out to touch the barrel, aware of his eyes scrutinizing her. Weird how much she liked that.
Holding the stem between her delicate fingers, she lifted the glasses to the barrel tap, filling them with the scantest of amber fluid before turning it off.
Her neck was straight, her jaw set, as she handed him a glass. Their fingertips barely touched but it was enough for her to feel it.
The pulse of electricity rushing through her body.
She looked up to see if he’d felt it, too, but his expression was unreadable.
He took a deep breath in, lifting the glass to his nose. “Tell me about your choice.”
She ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, her gaze catching his. “We had a lot of storms in 2012. I remember it well. I was seventeen at the time and every outdoor event at school was called off.” Her eyelashes flickered. “How old were you then?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Were you working here in 2012?”
He glanced down at her lips, as though they held all the answers. “Yeah.”
“Then you should remember how humid and steamy that summer was. When you stepped outside it was like walking into a hot shower. The creek was so clear and pure. I guess all the water around here was like that.” His eyes were still on her lips. Unmoving.
