The door opened and Gemma poked her head inside. Reid felt like an idiot for even thinking it could have been Lila, even for a second. “Hey Reid, you busy?”
He looked at his open laptop. “No, what’s up?”
“I have the ingredients and cost lists for the honey batch for you.” She handed over a scrap of paper where she’d jotted down the ingredients.
“Thanks.” At least it would give him something to train his brain on. He clearly wasn’t getting anything else done. “And I only had to ask you half a dozen times.”
“Yeah, I wanted you in a good mood for the favor I’m about to ask you,” she said, sitting on the corner of his desk.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What is it?”
“Remember the guy I went out with last night?”
“Okay, but no connection?” he repeated her earlier words.
“You forgot cute. Yeah, well, he called and wants to get together for happy hour. I’ve decided to give him another chance.”
“And what’s that have to do with me?”
“Welllll,” she said sweetly. “Remember when we were talking about travel bloggers and influencers earlier? I set up a tour with one today. But if I’m at a bar, I can’t be here.”
“Still doesn’t sound like my problem,” he told her.
“Reid. Please. It’s just an hour of your time.”
“Gemma—” With the lack of sleep from the night before, he’d planned for once on having a relaxing evening, finishing up his work, crashing on the couch with a drink and watching TV. But who was he kidding? More likely, he would end up staying at the distillery until after dark, and then using his home office to finish up whatever tasks seemed necessary on a Friday night—if only to distract him from going back to Lila’s hotel room. “I don’t give tours.”
“But you know your way around the distillery. It’s nothing in-depth. You know enough to give her a basic tour and let her try a few things.”
“You should know I’m too busy to show around someone who thinks she’s too good for a group tour. Especially one of those Instagram influencers. Those people are all style, no substance.”
“Listen to yourself. Those influencers have more reach than many large marketing firms. They know how to spread the word. If she likes us, Reid, she could make us huge. She’s doing us a favor here. I arranged it with her weeks ago. It’ll take an hour out of your oh-so-busy afternoon, and then you can get back to working on the financials for this batch.”
“How did you know—”
“Because you’re my brother and I know you. I could see the gears turning in your head the minute I put that bottle down in front of you last night.”
“I can’t do the tour.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. Get one of your workers to do it.”
“They’re all gone for the day.”
“I’m—”
“I know, you’re busy,” she finished for him.
“No, I’m uninterested,” he told her flatly.
“No, you’re impossible. And I’m out of here,” she said with finality, heading to the door.
“I don’t give tours,” he said again.
Gemma huffed out a breath. “You’re such an asshole. You know, maybe you need to get laid, Reid. It might put you in a better mood.”
“Drop it.” To the contrary, it had been just a few hours since he’d left Lila’s hotel. He could still feel her on him, the need for her clawing its way up his back. Lack of great sex wasn’t his problem, but he wasn’t about to share that with Gemma. It would give her too much ammunition, and he would never hear the end of it if his sister knew he’d gone back to the woman’s room that morning.
“I’ve got work to do,” he tried again feebly, knowing full well that there was no doubt he’d stick around the distillery while his sister went on her date. “But fine, I’ll do your tour. She gets an hour of my time, and that’s it.”
Gemma smiled, knowing that, as always, she’d gotten her way with her older brother. “You’re the best. And I’ll forgive you being such a grumpy bitch, if you promise to do something fun today,” Gemma called out to him.
Alone again, he snorted. He’d had plenty of fun already. But there was still work to be done. He had to make sure the distillery was poised for massive success, and if that meant entertaining some blogger for an hour to ensure a positive review, then so be it. Inexplicably, Lila kept making her way to front and center of his brain. And it surprised him how much he’d rather spend another hour with her than with anything having to do with rum.
* * *
When the cab stopped outside of the Rexford Rum Distillery, Lila was surprised the small, two-story building—gray concrete, unassuming—was her destination. The only thing marking it as the right place was the old wooden sign—the one she recognized from the picture of Reid and his siblings—bearing the Rexford name along with Established 1809.
She paid the driver and got out of the car. She walked up to the wooden door and pulled on the large iron handle. The door didn’t budge. Locked. Her driver pulled away from the curb, and she was left standing in the empty parking lot.
“Just great.”
Looking in through the small windows, she saw the equipment of the distillery, but the room appeared dark and empty. Gemma had told her that they would be closed to the public by the time she got there, but that she would be out front to meet her. Lila looked around for any sign of life, but the place was completely vacant.
She’d confirmed with Gemma the day before and double-checked the time in the email. She was on time, at the right place. She didn’t have a phone number for her, besides that of the distillery, and she dialed. Several rings went in before the voice mail started, so she hung up. She knocked on the door before feebly trying the iron handle again. Still no movement. From a look around at her surroundings, she knew she wasn’t in the safest area of Miami, and the sooner she could gain access to the building, the better.
Alone in the empty parking lot, she figured she’d walk around the side to see if she could find somebody, or another way in. She came to a side door. She pulled the handle, surprised when it opened. She walked inside, and was greeted by a stony silence, a sterile concrete staircase that led upstairs to the second floor. Lila took to the stairs, hoping she would find someone there. Or I’ll be kidnapped in this creepy-ass building and never seen again...
So, doing what was almost instinctive to her, she turned on her cell phone camera and started a livestream of herself, lost and trying to find another person in the Rexford distillery.
“Hey, guys, it’s Lila,” she said into the lens as she climbed the stairs, “and as you know, I’m in Miami right now. I should be touring the Rexford Rum Distillery, and sampling some amazing rum, but instead I’m lost in a horribly boring hallway. There’s no one around, and I have no idea where I’m going. Hopefully I find someone to help me, and not be doomed to walk these lonely hallways forever.” She opened the door on the second floor, turned a corner and breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful to be in a carpeted reception area, with some furniture and uninteresting art prints. She turned back to the video recorder on her phone. “Still no signs of life, but at least I’m not in some concrete dungeon. If I don’t make it out alive, avenge me.” She saw that there were already hundreds of people watching her video, asking questions, leaving comments. There was a hallway past the reception desk that seemed to lead to some offices, and she walked further. Maybe she’d find someone down there.
* * *
Reid, alone in the office, cocked an eyebrow at the click of high heels and a female voice that reverberated throughout the empty hallway outside. “Oh shit,” he muttered, looking at his watch. He’d missed his appointment with the travel blogger. He’d meant to go downstairs earlier to let her in, but he’d lost track of time going over the costs for G
emma’s new batch of rum.
He got up from his desk and walked out into the hallway and didn’t see anyone. But he could hear her down in the reception area, around the corner out of his sight. He tilted his head and listened to the far-off voice. The laughter in it was familiar. He knew that voice. He started down the hallway in the direction of the sound, turned the corner to where his receptionist’s desk was located, and smacked into a small, warm body, sending the woman crashing to the floor.
The first thing he noticed was the flash of red hair. He was frozen in place. A buzz of electricity shot throughout his body as she looked up at him from the floor. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He shook his head and, remembering his manners, reached down, extending his hand to help her to her feet.
“Well, it was either find a way in, or stand outside.”
Reid frowned. “That’s not what I meant. How did you find me here?”
“How self-obsessed are you?” she asked him, brushing off her skirt. “Reid, not everything is about you, you know? I’m here for a tour.”
“You’re the travel blogger Gemma invited?” he asked, incredulous, unable to believe that this was just a huge coincidence.
One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched upward. “You know, I’m sensing a lot of attitude from the person who didn’t keep an appointment, leaving me stranded in the parking lot.”
He relented. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to meet you outside, but I lost track of time.” For several beats, he stood in dumbfounded shock. He couldn’t believe that she was there. In his office.
“Why don’t we start over.” She extended her hand, officially introducing herself. “Lila Campbell.”
Even though he knew touching her would prove to be a mistake, Reid shook her hand. “Reid Rexford.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You know, I didn’t expect to see you again, but I’m not upset about it.”
She picked up her phone and looked into the camera, ignoring him. “And, ladies and gentlemen, I successfully found another human being. Everyone say hi to Reid.” She turned the camera on him, and he saw himself in the screen.
Reid gave a humorless wave, and she put away her phone. “You were recording?” He couldn’t stop the rigid tension that straightened his spine at the thought of her recording on premises, in an area where she shouldn’t have been.
“I just went live for my audience. They like those little slices of life.”
He was still tense from being on her camera, and he worried that she’d explored other parts of the distillery without supervision. Neither of them spoke until she looked around. “So, is Gemma here? She’s supposed to show me the place.”
He shook his head. “No, she got called away and had to leave unexpectedly, so I’ll be showing you around if that’s all right.”
A quiet moment passed between them, and Reid knew they were both thinking about the night—and morning—they’d spent together. There was an inkling of doubt in his mind, though. He flashed back to how they’d met. Had she known who he was the entire time? Was hooking up with him part of her plan? Seducing him to get inside information? He’d been burned in the past, and he wondered if, like his ex-wife, Lila had set him up. And she had had access to his phone. He’d been hacked, manipulated before. But as he looked at Lila, he didn’t think so. He hoped that it was his intuition, not his libido, telling him to trust her.
She raised one eyebrow. “You and me alone in the building, you think that’s a good idea?”
It was as if she’d read his mind. He led her down the stairs to the distillery. “I think I can behave myself if you do.”
Reid couldn’t help but watch the sway of her short, flowy dress as she walked. He was entranced by it, filled with the familiar pulses of desire. He could still feel her. Taste her.
“So, where do we start?” Lila asked him, glancing at him over her shoulder, catching him in the act of checking her out.
“Start?” he asked, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.
“The tour?” she reminded him. “That’s why I’m here, remember.”
Right. “Yeah.” He tried to recover. “We start right here. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you all the ins and outs of Rexford.” He hadn’t intended any innuendo in his words, but as soon as they were out of his mouth, he realized exactly what he’d said. He hoped she hadn’t caught it, but when Lila spoke next, he realized that he’d met his match.
“You promise?”
* * *
Lila attempted to keep her eyes off Reid’s ass as she followed him around the distillery, trying her best to listen as he told her about the business and the process of making rum. She looked up at the man beside her as he walked her past copper vats, dodging hoses and other equipment as he talked. Despite its popularity, Rexford Rum was still a small family operation. “So how did you guys come to start up a distillery?”
“Rum is in our blood,” he explained. He stopped in front of an old hand-drawn portrait of a man. Reid pointed at it. “Joseph Rexford was our ancestor, and also a thief and a vagrant,” he said with a smile. “Generations ago, he fled Scotland evading arrest, and he somehow made his way across the Atlantic Ocean and landed in the Bahamas. He began his new life as a rumrunner, illicitly bringing Bahamian rum to the Florida coast. He was one of the first notorious distillers and bootleggers—a profession he passed on to his sons, who passed it on to their children, and so on. The Rexford clan was also responsible for sneaking rum into the US during prohibition in the 1920s. Since the 1700s, the Rexford name has been synonymous with rum.
“Rexford Rum operated on a small scale through the generations. After prohibition, our great-grandfather legitimized the business for the first time. By the time it was my father’s turn to take the helm here, through bad luck and worse investments, there wasn’t much left, but Mom and Dad turned it around. They made the distillery successful, but when Gemma, Quin and I took over, we made our rum the best.”
Lila was certain he had just given her the speech given to most tour groups. But she wanted to know more about Reid and the Rexfords. “Was rum always your calling? Did you want to follow in the family business?”
“I was always intrigued by the lore of Joseph Rexford. I liked the idea of a family history filled with pirates and bootleggers, but when my mother passed away, my dad gave up the business and moved out west. Between myself, Gemma and Quin, we didn’t want it to die on our watch.” He looked around thoughtfully, as if he was recalling the memories and experiences he’d had in the room. “We all grew up in this building. It’s been in the family for more than one hundred years. Our grandfather and father taught us everything we needed to know. Gemma was distilling long before she could legally drink—but that’s strictly off the record,” he said with a sly wink. “And now she’s the master distiller. It’s been about ten years now since we officially took it over, and we’ve acquired the neighboring buildings and expanded operations significantly.”
Lila looked around the distillery. While the equipment was gleaming and kept in pristine shape, the signs of age and wear of the building itself were apparent. But she could tell Reid truly loved the place. “And even though you could work out of a new facility, you still run it out of the same small building.”
“Yeah.” He reached out and patted the stone wall. “This place is the heart of the business. There’s a lot of history inside these walls. I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else every day.”
“You’re a traditional guy,” Lila noted.
He nodded. “I wasn’t always, but yeah, I guess I am now. My brother and sister think I’m old-fashioned, but the Rexford name, my family, the rum, that’s all there is, right?”
For several seconds, Lila considered her own family. Her parents who didn’t support her; the ex-husband who didn’t believe her capable of anything. She blinked their images from her mind, and saw that Reid was watching her. Th
eir eyes met for a moment, before the intensity in his stare made her avert her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess.” Desperate to change the topic, she brought her attention back to their surroundings. She had to get to the job at hand. Learning about the distillery, and the man himself. “Tell me more about all this—where the magic happens,” she said with a sweep of her hand.
He looked relieved to again be talking about rum. “This is normally Gemma’s domain, and she rarely lets us in here without supervision.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to try our best to be good.”
Lila noticed the way Reid’s body momentarily stiffened before he went back into tour mode, leading her over to two large boilers. “Forgive me. Gemma and her guys are a lot better at this tour than I am. I rarely get the chance to come down here anymore.”
“It’s fine.” She subtly gave Reid a once-over. “I know she’s left me in good hands.”
She wasn’t sure he’d caught her intentionally innuendo-laced comment, but when his eyes traveled down over her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, she knew he did. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and as he pushed them into the pockets of his sensible pants, she remembered just how talented those hands were.
They regarded one another for several tension-filled beats before she forced herself to look away. She cleared her throat. “So, Gemma’s the master distiller? That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, like I said, she’s been working here since she was a teenager, but since then, she’s studied all over the world, practicing with some of the greatest rum makers there are, including our grandfather. Quin and I might keep the place running, but she’s the lifeblood of the business.”
“And what is your job?”
“As my brother and sister like to keep reminding me, I’m the boring numbers guy. Quin is head of marketing and PR. He’s the fun, charismatic one, but I handle the business side of things. It’s just the three of us running it with a few small teams. We might sell internationally, but it’s still the same family-run place it always has been.”
Taming Reid Page 5
