by Kendall Ryan
My eyebrows shot up. “In the morning?”
“Okay, make it ten,” he said with a chuckle. “And be ready to put that marketing genius to work.”
“You got it.”
• • •
At five to ten when Luke showed up the next morning, I was up, showered, and dressed. My hair was still damp, but when I saw him standing there at the foot of the stairs, holding two paper cups of hot coffee, the last thing I wanted was to spend twenty minutes blow-drying my hair and putting on makeup when Luke probably didn’t care about things like that anyway.
Besides, that was the old Charlotte, always put together and polished. And look where it had gotten me. Nowhere.
“Ready?” he asked, looking up at me from the parlor where Opal had left him.
I winked. “Give me thirty seconds.”
In the adjoining bathroom, I pulled my still-damp hair into a high messy ponytail and dabbed on some lip balm. There. I was ready.
My cell phone chimed, and I glanced down at it with a scowl. My parents. Again. Hitting a button to silence it, I stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans. I wasn’t ready to face them or all the shit I left behind when I hightailed it out of New York.
“That was fast,” Luke said as he handed me a cup of coffee.
The surprise in his tone told me that was unexpected. I decided that I liked this new Charlotte, liked doing the opposite of what people expected.
“Cream and sugar in yours. Hope that’s all right.”
“It’s perfect.” I took a sip of the warm brew.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Luke asked as we climbed into his truck.
I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the whiskey we’d downed last night, or the way he’d left me riled up and aroused.
“I slept like a baby.” At least, that much was true. I was still slightly annoyed at him for the way he’d called things off last night, but I’d never admit that to him.
A few minutes later, we turned off the main road and onto his property, rolling hills and grassy pastures dotted with massive pecan trees.
“This is me.” He pointed to a pale brick two-story house at the top of the hill. A former farmhouse, it had a wide front porch and plantation-style shutters painted a glossy black framing the windows.
“All of that just for you?”
He shook his head. “Duke and Molly and I all live there. Dad left it to us.”
My throat suddenly felt dry, and I took another sip of coffee. I recalled what Opal had said about Luke’s past.
After parking his truck beside the quintessential red barn at the far end of his property, we climbed into something Luke called a side-by-side, which to me looked like a revved-up golf cart.
We cruised around the acreage while Luke pointed things out to me—the tree house he and his brother built when they were twelve, the pond where he got caught skinny-dipping with the pastor’s daughter. It was crazy how comfortable Luke and I were together. I’d known him a mere forty-eight hours, and yet we felt like old friends.
The fresh country air and sunshine did wonders for my mood. I was happy that I’d opted not to style my hair. Hell, I was just plain happy.
“Careful now, duchess. If you smile any harder, I might go and think you’re actually enjoying yourself.”
The playful edge to his voice was addictive. After only a short couple of days, I could already feel myself falling for his charms.
A little while later, we finally stopped in front of the distillery and climbed out, stretching our legs.
“You wanna see where the magic happens?” Luke asked.
I rolled my eyes, following him toward the building that was rustic, but cute. “Why do I feel like that’s a cheesy pickup line you’ve used a thousand times to seduce a thousand girls?”
He halted in his tracks and turned to face me. “There are two things you need to know. First, this isn’t some ploy to get you into bed. I was serious about wanting your help.”
I nodded. “And the second?”
“There haven’t been a thousand women.” And then he smiled. “Maybe only nine hundred or so.”
The tinge of something darker in his gaze told me he had a story in his past that he used humor to hide, maybe something just as deep and painful as my own. But I didn’t want to think about all that just now, so I grinned back at him and followed him inside.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. It was warm and reminded me of a bread factory—humid and with a yeasty smell hanging in the air. Big wooden vats and huge copper canisters bubbled with the fermented sugars from rye and corn.
Luke pointed things out to me as we made our way through. I didn’t know anything about whiskey or bourbon, but it was cool to hear him talk about something he was passionate about. And he was clearly passionate about whiskey, or maybe he was just emotional about his family business. When he spoke about the aging and bottling process, he became animated, using his hands to talk, and watched me with a smile to make sure I was keeping up.
“This place is great, Luke. I can see why you’re so proud of it.”
“Glad you approve, duchess.”
After passing through an aging room filled with oak barrels, Luke led me to what he called his tasting room. Chocolate-brown velvet armchairs and a rustic wooden table sat in the center of the room. A bottle of whiskey with a tray of rocks glasses was waiting for us. The room was tastefully decorated in rich, masculine colors. A black-and-white photograph of a Texas longhorn hung on one wall, and the other wall was filled with windows overlooking the pastures.
“Care for a taste?” Luke motioned for me to sit as he picked up the bottle.
I’d only just finished my coffee, and now we were going to drink whiskey? “Maybe just a sip. It’s early.”
He nodded and poured a splash into each of our glasses.
I sniffed at the liquor, watching him over the rim of my glass. I’d had Wilder whiskey last night, but that was after several cocktails. “What should I be looking for? Any tips?”
He lifted his glass, inspecting it. “Deep golden color. Intense aroma. Hints of smoky caramel with a sweet maple finish.” He downed the contents in one swallow, his full lips hovering seductively on the rim of the glass. “The charred oak barrels are used only once. Each one is a tiny bit unique, and they flavor the final product.”
I took a swallow, then licked my lips. “Smooth.”
He nodded. “It’s good for sipping.”
Setting my glass down, I turned to face Luke, my interest in this place piqued. “Do you offer tastings here?”
He shook his head. “We’re not open to the public.”
“You should really consider it, play up the local angle. You need to advertise that each bottle was handmade right here. People eat that stuff up.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue some point with me, then thought better of it.
“Thought I heard voices.” Duke strolled into the tasting room and joined us. “Breaking your own rules, I see,” he said to Luke.
“Little brother.” Luke tipped his head toward Duke. “You need something?”
Duke shook his head and then reached for my hand, lifting it to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Shame to see you get mixed up with the riffraff.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Duke tugged his ball cap lower over his eyes and shot me a soul-filled look as he turned away. “I’ve got work to do. You two be good,” he called over his shoulder.
Once he was gone, I took another sip of my whiskey, watching Luke over the rim of my glass. “What did he mean about breaking your rules?”
He was quiet for a moment, and I thought he wasn’t going to tell me. It would have served me right because of the monumental secret I was keeping from him. A secret that was starting to knaw at me.
“We made a pact a long time ago. The tasting room is ‘no girls allowed.’”
“It was started to keep Molly out, but then it just became more. Like this was our place—a spot for Duke and me to talk business, and to get away from everything else.”
I nodded. I understood that. Growing up the way I did, I cherished my down time. It wasn’t uncommon for me to sneak out of an important family function at my father’s country club to go hang out in the kitchen or the coat room with the staff. They were always way more fun. It was often the only chance I got to let my hair down and relax.
“I don’t mean to pry, but you said something earlier about your dad leaving you this place.” Reading between the lines, I was assuming he meant his dad had passed.
“There’s not much to tell. After my mom took off, he had nothing left to live for and drank himself to an early death.”
I blinked, surprised by Luke’s brutal honesty. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“So, your mom is . . .”
“She left when I was seven, but to be honest, she was gone a long time before that, emotionally. It was no secret that she hated it here. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she took off for city life. Got remarried and had a whole other family, last I heard.”
I swallowed. That would have been tough for a little kid to handle. No wonder Luke was so hardened. His steely exterior was in place for a reason—most likely a defense mechanism so he couldn’t get too close to someone who might abandon him ever again.
“Well, for what it’s worth, thanks for bringing me here today.”
“I’m glad you got to see it. Do you think you can help?”
“I know I can.”
My mind was already buzzing with ideas. Opening to the public to offer tastings and food pairings and seasonal gifts was only the beginning. I could envision events like weddings and banquets under the gazebo by the pond. The excitement of building a brand like this from scratch was intoxicating.
Luke rose to his feet. “I’ve got some e-mails to catch up on and a conference call with a distributor, but maybe we can talk about your ideas later?”
“Absolutely. I just need a quiet place to work, and a pen and a pad. I’m going to draft up an entire marketing strategy for you.”
Luke’s eyes widened slightly. “If it’s too much trouble or too much to ask, I understand—”
I raised a hand, cutting him off. “Honestly, what else am I going to do? Sit around and stare at the phone, waiting for Wayne to call?”
“Fair enough. Come on. I’ll set you up at my favorite spot to brainstorm.”
I followed him back to the side-by-side. When we reached his house, Luke led me up the front steps of his wide front porch and stretched out his arms.
“This suit you okay?”
There were wooden armchairs with fluffy cream-colored cushions, and a potted fern on the outdoor coffee table.
“This is perfect.”
“Let me get you that pen and paper.”
Luke headed inside while I lowered myself into a chair to wait for him. When he returned, he handed me a pad of paper, a couple of pens, a glass of iced tea, and a blueberry muffin.
“Molly made those this morning.”
“Thanks. I should be all set.”
“I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. If you need something or want me to take you back to the inn, just text me.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Sitting inside the little hotel room at the inn held no appeal. I didn’t want to admit it to Luke, but I loved the thought of working here instead of a stuffy office. I could see myself doing some good work here. Making a real difference in their business.
The sweet, fresh air fragranced with lilacs and the warm breeze on my skin were a welcome treat. We didn’t have quiet, relaxing places like this back home. Although I’d missed all the conveniences of the city over the past few days, in this moment, there was no place I’d rather be.
The realization was like a freight train roaring through my chest. At first, all I’d wanted was to flee this small town, and now I suddenly found myself hoping for a few more days here.
• • •
A few hours later, I shifted in my seat. My stomach reminded me that I’d worked through lunch, and my bladder piped up to remind me of the iced tea I’d downed hours ago.
Rising to my feet, I stretched and contemplated what to do. Text Luke? Ask him to take me home? Sneaking inside to find a bathroom won out.
“Luke?” I opened the front door and let myself inside.
An oak staircase off the foyer was about all I could see. I continued past it toward what I assumed was the kitchen and called his name again.
“Hey. In here.”
I turned and saw Luke standing in the doorway of his office, a room off the dining room that held a large oak desk and several tall bookcases.
“I’m sorry to barge in, but can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course. Down the hall on the right.”
I hurried past him, and once I’d done my business, I found him on the porch, flipping through the notebook I’d left on the coffee table.
“Hey, give me that. No peeking.”
I grabbed it from him, a little self-conscious about my messy chicken scratch and random notes. He handed over the notepad without a fight, but stepped closer until we were standing just inches apart.
Luke had been so open today, sharing a piece of his past with me and letting me into his life. It was unexpected. And working up a marketing plan all day meant I didn’t have time to dwell on my own issues—for which I was incredibly grateful.
As he gazed down at me, his eyes went soft. I wet my lower lip, sure he was about to kiss me, but the sound of a car driving up made me step back.
“Hey!” Molly climbed out of her car and reached for a grocery bag. “Fancy seeing you here!”
Chapter Seven
Luke
My sister’s timing sucked. Had for years. The brat had the audacity to be born during our Little League championship game, abruptly stealing my thunder when I hit my first home run.
Keeping up her perfect record, Molly had just interrupted a kiss that I’d been working for—and thinking about—all afternoon. And now she had the nerve to beam at us as she joined us on the porch.
“Stay for dinner,” Molly insisted when Charlotte said she’d better get going.
I nodded when Charlotte looked in my direction, gauging my reaction. If she stayed, I might get another chance at that kiss.
“I’m grilling fish,” Molly told her, and added with a wink, “Healthy.”
Charlotte smiled. “I really have no choice then, do I.”
“No, ma’am.” Molly pulled open the screen door, glowing in her triumph. “It will be ready in fifteen.”
“She must have been planning this,” I told Charlotte in a low voice once we were alone again. “She said earlier we were eating spaghetti tonight.”
“It’s sweet.”
“That’s Molly. Sweet.” I shook my head. “Not at all manipulative.”
Charlotte laughed. “That’s a strong word.”
It wasn’t the first time that day she’d let out that laugh, so easy and natural. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she actually liked this place, and my family. Me, even. After the way things got heated last night, I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get back to friendly, but here we were.
“She’s just trying to be welcoming,” Charlotte said.
“Mm-hmm.”
Knowing Molly’s game, I was skeptical. Get Charlotte to stay, and maybe her brother’s mood would improve. As much as my sister’s tricks usually annoyed me, I was happy that Charlotte had agreed to stay.
Charlotte glanced away. “I can go if you don’t want me to stay.”
“No, no . . . it’s not that.
I . . .” I stammered through my sentence like a teenage boy before I remembered that I was a grown-ass man, a man who knew what he wanted. Charlotte was looking me in the eye, waiting for something intelligible to come out of my mouth, and I needed to man up. “I want you to stay.”
For dinner. For the night. Maybe longer.
But I wouldn’t say that. Not out loud. She was only here for a short time, and I had to get my head wrapped around that. I hadn’t expected the way she’d dived in today, asking questions about my business and wanting to help craft a marketing strategy. It sounded awful now that I knew Charlotte, but when I first saw her, I’d assumed she was the kind of girl who was allergic to hard work. She just kept surprising me.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Good.”
• • •
By the time Charlotte and I were seated at the table on the patio, the sun was setting. It was my favorite time of day. Seeing the wide-open Texas sky painted in orange and pink always had a calming effect on me.
Duke came in from whatever it was that he did all day. I’d learned to stop asking a long time ago. As long as he showed up when and where I needed his help, I couldn’t have given a rat’s ass about what—or who—he was doing.
“Charlotte, how nice of you to grace us with your presence,” he teased as he joined us. “Not every day we get to dine with a sophisticated New Yorker.”
“I consider it charity work,” she said with a smirk as he sat down across from her. “Small-town outreach program, helping to get the delinquents back on the right path.” She tilted her head as she joked with him. The few remaining rays of sunlight caught her hair and made it glow, giving her an angelic appearance.
“You’re a real ballbuster, you know that,” Duke said with a chuckle. “I like it.”
So did I. Besides the fact that Charlotte was insanely gorgeous, she was incredibly smart and witty. I’d never met a woman like her. The girls I’d dated before were just that . . . girls. Charlotte was a woman. Polished, educated, well spoken. She knew how to stand her ground, which might just be the sexiest thing about her.
“So, smarty-pants,” Duke said to her. “You come up with a marketing plan for the distillery yet?”
