“Well, he can make an appointment like everyone else.” Blair retrieved her purse from under her desk and looked for the packet of tissues she had stashed in there.
“Normally, I’d fully agree, but you may want to make an exception.”
“Nope. Don’t think so,” she said without looking up from her purse.
“Well, Blair, this guy is very good looking.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “And I mean H-O-T HOT. And there’s no ring on his finger.”
Blair stopped her search to look Vanessa in the eye. “Do I seem that desperate for a date to you?”
“No, but it has been a while since you and Luke broke up. I just thought maybe it was time to get out there and have some fun. You gotta see this guy’s eyes.”
Blair sighed. “Fine.”
Vanessa turned and walked out of the office.
“Give me a minute, though!” Blair called. She resumed her search and finally saw the blue plastic of the tissue packet, shoved under her lotion and collection of discount cards. She yanked the packet until it came free and looked up to see a man staring back at her.
He certainly was good looking. Vanessa had not exaggerated. And Blair was vividly aware of the mascara trails now stiffening on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, she told me to come up…” He gestured toward the door.
“No, it’s fine.” Blair spun in her chair to turn her back to the man while she wiped at her face. Balancing the small compact mirror on her knee, she licked the tissue, wiped at the trails until they were faint red lines, and dabbed fresh powder over them. The whole process had taken less than a minute, but felt like eternity as his eyes bore into her back. And Vanessa wondered why she’d hadn’t gone on a date in months.
With a deep breath, Blair turned back and stuck out her hand to the man, acting like nothing had happened. Her performance didn’t stop her from feeling like a complete idiot, however. Or from noticing the solid grasp of his handshake. “Blair Mason, owner. My assistant tells me you’ve got a new product for us to consider?”
“I do.” He handed her his card and took a seat at the small chair across from her desk. “Daxton Holt. Marketing Director for Bear Natural Honey.”
She glanced at the business card, then looked him in the eye. “We have a supplier of honey already. Why should I carry your brand?”
She laced her fingers and hoped her business-owner confidence came across, though she felt rather incompetent and fearful at the moment. She focused her attention on him to keep her mind off what she’d have to do later, when she sent some of her people home for good.
He was a big man. Broad shoulders that threatened to burst the seams of his suit jacket if he moved wrong, a chiseled jaw with a close-shaved beard. His eyes were like cold metal, a strange gold hardened into the shape of his irises. It was hard to see any muscles since he was wearing a suit, but she could tell they were there. His voice was deep and steady and his black hair fell casually into loose spikes. She gulped and had to remind herself to listen to what he was saying.
“Wait a minute.” She held up a hand to stop him. “Are you saying that your honey is bottled in your own local facility and not a larger bottling company?”
“Right. That way we can keep costs down for our distributors.”
“But I have no way of assuring the quality of your product or its safety. I don’t know what your contamination standards are or your safety processes. I just can’t afford to take a risk like that. Not when—”
She stopped herself, but he raised an eyebrow at her hesitation.
“Look,” she said. “I’m sure you know that ShopRite moved in just across town. Maybe try there. I can’t afford to have product recalls or something that sits on the shelf and doesn’t move because it’s unknown.”
Daxton gazed at her for a minute, pulled his mouth into half a smile, and said, “ShopRite won’t buy my product. But you know, that’s to your advantage.”
“Oh?”
“Why do people prefer the local grocer over the big chains?”
She flicked her stack of sales numbers. “They don’t, apparently.”
“Then maybe you’re not taking advantage of the biggest asset you have.”
Blair crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes slightly at him. “And what’s that?”
“Local. Organic. People these days will pay double if they know they’re not getting chemicals, and if they’re helping out the little guy from the next town over. You fill your store with nothing but organic products from the Ozark and watch your business increase.”
She considered this for a moment. She’d always thought people wanted their big brands, the products they were used to using. The same products they could get at ShopRite on double coupon day for much cheaper than they could in her store. But if they got hooked on products they couldn’t get at ShopRite, then he might be onto something. It would mean a huge shift in inventory, though, and some big risks. This was a decision that would need time, careful thought, and lots of number crunching.
Daxton leaned across the desk. She got a whiff of his cologne—a subtly musky, almost woodsy scent that was also sweet somehow. She took a deeper whiff without making it obvious.
“And,” he said with a smirk, “If you like that idea, I’ve got some product that will really sell well. And it won’t even require shelf space.”
Before she could ask, he pulled out another business card and handed it to her.
Same name, same title. But this company was listed as Wild Honey Whiskey and boasted the tag line, “locally distilled and bottled.” She tried to hand the card back. “Moonshine?”
“The best in the Ozarks.”
“You’re serious.”
“Would you like to try a sample?”
He reached inside his suit jacket, but she stood up and held up her palm to stop him.
“No, no, no. Please leave. I don’t want your illegal product anywhere near me or my store. Thank you.”
She marched to the office door and held it open, gesturing for him to leave. He stood feet from her, towering over her, his teeth glinting bright white in the office fluorescents.
“It’s not that illegal, really. So long as the maker pays his taxes, it’s not illegal at all, in fact.”
She laughed once. “And I’m supposed to believe that you pay all your taxes?”
“Believe whatever you want. Point is, you wouldn’t get in trouble for selling it, it’s only the maker that can get slammed with tax evasion.”
“Unbelievable. Please. Leave now. Don’t make me call security.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you have security in a store this size.” But he moved through the door before pausing and turning to her. “Think about what I said. Local. Organic. Even if you only want my honey, you should call me.”
Blair’s face flushed. She didn’t want to think about his honey or about calling him. “Right.”
She pulled the door closed and put her back to it, breathing deep until her heart slowed. Why did such an attractive man have to have such a huge flaw? Everyone knew that moonshiners were all throughout the mountains. And they got busted regularly. He was nothing more than a lying, cheating, criminal. She couldn’t trust him or his products. But those eyes…
She shook her head and sat back down at her desk. She had more important things to worry about. But even as she assessed her list of employees once again, she couldn’t help peaking at the business card sitting innocently on her desk. Daxton Holt. His name shone in black letters and it seemed to call out to her, demanding attention. She finally flipped the card over and returned to her task.
Blair paced in her office, her stomach in knots. Yesterday, she’d laid off two of her employees. She hadn’t slept all night and her insides felt as gray and dreary as the day outside. She listened to her voice mails, ignoring the second message from Daxton. He just wouldn’t give up.
Vanessa stuck her head in as she knocked on the door. “You have a call.”
&n
bsp; “Who is it?”
“One of our suppliers. Says there’s some sort of problem?”
“Okay, thanks.” With a deep breath, she picked up the phone. “Blair Mason.”
“Blair, so glad I could get ahold of you.”
The voice sounded a little too familiar, but she wasn’t sure her suspicions were correct. She had to play it safe in case the call was legitimate. “My assistant mentioned some sort of problem?”
“Yes. The problem is, I can’t seem to find your order.”
“What do you supply?” She grabbed her stack of recent orders, ready to flip through them.
“Bear Natural Honey. I know you wanted to try some, but I wasn’t sure how many to send for your first order.”
She let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Is this Daxton Holt?”
“Who else?”
“I told you I wasn’t interested.”
“Actually, I believe what you said was that you couldn’t take a chance on my product because you weren’t assured of our safety protocols. And I’m calling to invite you to tour the facility so you can order with confidence.”
She considered this for a moment.
He continued. “Look, I know we didn’t get off to the greatest start, but I’d really like the chance to sweeten up your day a little. And I truly believe that making a shift to local and organic can help your store. Won’t you give me a chance?”
Give him a chance? Didn’t he mean his product? She thought about his golden eyes, his thick arms, his magnetic smile. She did want to give him a chance. More of a chance than she should.
“I suppose I could tour the facility and make a decision then.”
“Excellent. You have my card. Give me a time and I will make myself available for you.”
In the early evening, Blair turned down a long dirt driveway that lead to a large house. There seemed to be woods surrounding the house that stretched on as far as she could see. A gorgeous view of the Ozark Mountains reached out above the tree line. Off to one side, she saw a line of white boxes. Bee hives. Another large building sat off to the left. “Bear Natural Honey” was painted on the side.
Daxton stepped off the porch and came to greet her. He did not wear his suit. Instead, it was close-fitting jeans that strained over his thighs and a t-shirt that looked two sizes too small for his arms and chest. He was even more muscular than she’d pictured, and a sudden flash of heat rushed through her body. This was business, she reminded herself. Even if looking at him was all pleasure.
She followed him to the large white building, trying not to step in mud with her new heels. She was already starting to question the cleanliness of the place based on the grounds alone. Old vehicles sat back behind the building, rusted and in pieces. Wooden pallets rested against a tree, rotting away. The whole grounds seemed to be functioning under a level of disrepair.
Daxton held open the door for her, and she stepped inside. The large warehouse contained many machines, running quickly and loudly along the edge of the building. Several people in white uniforms watched over the operation. Along the other walls sat box upon box of honey.
Daxton leaned close so she could hear him. “This is where the honey is processed, filtered, and jarred to be sold.”
He walked her through the machinery, and she looked on in fascination. He stopped at one machine and lifted a wooden frame. He broke off a small piece of a waxy-looking substance and handed it to her.
“Honeycomb.” He winked. He broke off another piece and popped it in his mouth.
She took a small bite and found it to be very sweet, despite the waxy texture. They continued walking until he led her out a back door. There they faced rows of white boxes, bees zooming around and going in and out. She had no desire to go near the bees, but at least it was quieter out here.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
“It’s much more… professional than I expected.” And the inside was thankfully much cleaner than the outside appeared to be.
He chuckled and stuck out his finger, wiping just under her lip. “Sorry. You had a little honey there.”
She blushed, but not so much from embarrassment as from his touch. “I think I could try selling some. Just a small order to start with.”
“Great. Want to step into my office to finalize the details?”
She nodded and followed him inside the house. In the living room were two men watching TV, also as big as Daxton. He pointed to them and said, “That’s Knox and Beck.”
They waved and she waved back. At the dining room table, another man sat, reading over a stack of papers with his hand in his hair. It reminded her of how she looked, pouring over sales numbers and orders at the store.
The man looked up when they entered. “Hey Dax.”
“Slade. Blair.” Daxton gestured and Blair waved. “Blair just became one of our newest honey resellers.”
Slade got to his feet and shook her hand. “Thank you. Glad to meet you.”
“You too.”
She followed Daxton to a small room in the back of the house. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with books and other small objects: a baseball, a shot glass with some logo printed on the front, a small plastic figure. Two desks sat side by side, covered in papers and office supplies. The room was so messy and cluttered, she had to take a deep breath before sitting in the chair he indicated.
Daxton wrote up an order slip and she looked at the books. Marketing, sales, business. Apparently, he was well-educated when it came to his chosen field.
He slid the order slip over to her and showed her where to sign.
“I have something for you.” He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small wrapped block. “This is a new product. I’d love for you to test it out yourself and let me know what you think. It’s a honey soap.”
“Thanks.” She sniffed the bar, and the scent of creamy honey filled her nose. She wouldn’t mind smelling like that all day, so long as it didn’t dry out her skin.
“Now, there’s one other thing I need to ask you.” He leaned forward, a playful glint in his gold eyes.
She was wary, but said, “Yes?”
“What are you doing Friday night?”
Heat flooded her face. Was he asking her out, or was this some sort of sales tactic? “I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, if you don’t have plans, I’d love to take you to dinner.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard. It had been so long since she’d been with Luke and almost as long since she’d had a date. But then her eyes fell to the messy desk, to the mud clinging to the sides of his boots, to the frayed edges of his jeans. Oh, but his tight jeans. Her toes curled inside her shoes. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She stood. “There’s still the whole illegal moonshine thing. I just don’t date criminals.”
She walked to the door and he followed her.
“Would you like to talk to my business partner who’s responsible for the moonshine side of the business?” He leaned back to look down a hallway and called out, “Amir!”
“How many of you live here?”
“There are five of us. We live together and work together.”
“And you’re all… in such good shape?” She thought of the other men she’d met and wondered if they kept a gym in their basement.
Breakwater: Custer (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance) Page 55
