On the Rocks, page 9
“Don’t color your world by my failures, especially my shortcomings.” She took Max’s arm and followed her inside. The house was full of exquisite antiques, but it was in no way stuffy. “I like this place even more.”
“I grew up here and inherited it when my parents moved in with Gramps.” Max went ahead and flipped on lights on the way to the back of the house. Hayley ran her hands over the stone countertops when they ended up in the kitchen. “Would steak be okay?”
“Why don’t you sit and let me cook for you?” She took a chance and opened the refrigerator. There were two steaks sitting on a plate, but the fridge was stocked with provisions that would make for a better option than a quick grill job.
“They’ll take ten minutes once the grill heats up.”
“Or you can leave me in here, and I can pay you back for my great tour today.” She took the meat out and waited for Max’s decision. When Max took a seat on one of the stools that butted up to the counter at the end of the island, she let out a breath. Her apartment wasn’t tiny, but the kitchen was like a shoebox. “Using your kitchen will be a treat, I promise.”
“Thank you.” Max guided her around the cabinets. “I only get a home-cooked meal once a week when my mother cooks.”
You need to get married was on the verge of rushing out of her mouth, but she was too emotionally unstable to even contemplate that. Max with someone else was easier to accept when they had numerous states between them. She sliced steak and set the thin pieces aside in the marinade she’d made.
“Then I’m glad I’m here.” She started on the vegetables and smiled when Max started clapping.
“I didn’t think you could get any faster than college, but you’ve improved your technique. Impressive.”
“Cooking helps me de-stress from my job. Not every account is like this.”
“Like I said, no need to butter me up, Ms. Wyatt.” Max sounded so flippant that it made her squeeze her eyes closed, not wanting to embarrass herself any more than she had.
She tightened her hands into fists and turned away from Max, and if they weren’t so far out of town, she would’ve walked out, not caring how it looked. The pain of leaving eight years ago was bad, but this was worse because it was like being shredded by a wounded animal set to inflict harm. The tears didn’t come until Max put her arms around her and held her as if she couldn’t get close enough.
“Hey.” Max turned her around and ran her hands soothingly up and down her back. “It was a piss-poor joke, but it was a joke. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m…I’m sorry.” This was getting ridiculous. No matter what life had thrown at her in her pressure-cooker job, she’d handled it. Weepy mess drama queen wasn’t in her wheelhouse of mood choices.
Max let her go momentarily, turned off the oiled wok she was heating up, and took her hand and led her outside. It didn’t take long to get the fire pit going and for Max to sit next to her and put her arm around her. There was enough moonlight to see the cane waving in the slight breeze, but there was no other sound except the crackle of the burning logs.
How different would the last eight years of her life have been with this waiting at the end of every day? “You must think I’m a total nutjob.”
“Not really,” Max said softly. “You must think I’ve been a total asshole since you got here.”
They faced each other and their closeness, and not being able to touch Max the way she wanted to, made her ache. “Why do you think that?”
“Everyone that’s come in contact with me lately has pointed it out.” Max closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’ve spent a long time wondering what I did wrong, what did I do that made you leave, and eventually I handled that by getting really mad at you.”
“Totally understandable, and in no way asshole behavior.” She lifted her hand and pressed it to Max’s cheek.
“Probably, but my problem from the second I saw you is my inability to stay mad at you.” Max claimed her hand and kissed her palm. It was so innocent, but it woke up every cell in her body. “Stop feeling bad about everything and accept that we both screwed up.”
“You’re a generous grader.”
“Are you seriously arguing with me?” Max scowled at her, and the thought that she really might be forgiven made her cry again. “Stop before Roger and my mother beat me up for being mean to you.” Max wiped away her tears and didn’t say anything else when she laid her head on her shoulder and sighed.
They stayed there until Max’s stomach rumbled, prompting them to finish dinner. The best gift of the night was when Max agreed to sit back outside until the fire died away. Having Max up against her was so right, and it made her question everything she’d done from the second she left this town. Granted, she was successful, but at what cost?
“You ready to head back?” Max ran her hand up and down her back but stopped well short of her butt.
“Not really, but I’m sure Josie would appreciate my input for tomorrow.” She sat up and glanced back at Max with a smile. “Thank you for tonight. You can’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“Tonight was about me too,” Max said in a way that made her believe her. “I’d much rather be your friend than carry all those negative emotions a second more.”
“For a master distiller, you’re quite the poet, Preston Cinclair.” She said the name, but it didn’t feel right.
“My friends call me Max.”
“Am I that?” She took Max’s hand.
“I’d like it if you were.”
They went inside and when Max picked up the keys to the BMW, Hayley shook her head. “Tonight I’d rather the Jeep, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you sure you won’t be cold?” Max grabbed a canvas jacket as well as a blanket.
“No, I’ll be anything but.” She hugged Max and thrilled when it was returned.
“You know best.” Max held her hand and helped her in before wrapping the blanket around her. How hard would it be to walk away again?
Chapter Seven
“But do you?” Roger asked after the third presentation of the day concluded, with no questions or comments from Preston. “How can you know best if you haven’t paid attention to anyone at all? Don’t deny it—I know your distracted face better than anyone alive.”
“Roger, how many new customers do you think we’re going to get by advertising our product is gluten-free?” That she couldn’t tune out the last candidate irked her more than being accused of not paying attention. “I fucking love gluten. It makes stuff taste good, and advertising our product doesn’t have any will happen right after I adopt naked Fridays around the office.”
“That wasn’t the direction I was hoping for, no.”
“And the dissertation on the occasional worm in the corn adding protein is the way we should go?” It was like she’d gone on a bender last night and woken up in some alternate universe of bad marketing ideas. “What exactly did you and my mother say on your tour yesterday?”
“We covered Whiskey 101. Worms never came up in the conversation since we don’t make tequila.”
“Tequila doesn’t have worms in it either—it’s tequila’s low-class cousin mescal that has that going for it.” She couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion. “I’m not doing another round of interviews. If Hayley and Josie push some other bizarre concept these morons haven’t thought of, good luck to you and my parents finding a new advertising firm. When I said I wanted something different, I should’ve been more specific.” She leaned back in her chair already peeved with what she’d realized early this morning was sexual frustration. Obviously her body had totally misread last night as badly as the advertising firms had Cinclair Distillers.
“Take a breath and let me go get them.”
Five minutes later, the last presentation began. “Good morning, Max,” Josie said in a tone that she was sure was supposed to annoy her. It totally did.
“Good morning, Ms. Simon. Are you two ready?”
“We are, and I’d like to begin by giving you an overview before we show you the preliminary layouts.” Hayley wove a story that started at the spring and ended with Gramps pouring her and her father a drink. Throughout, the pride she had in her family and the whiskey they’d made for generations had her wanting to fork over money for a bottle she owned a lifetime supply of. “This campaign will go one step further and introduce Traditions with the same concept.”
“Once the professional pictures are taken,” Josie said, putting up boards with the photos Hayley had taken on her phone, “we can start with the overhaul of your website. The best thing about all this is the camera’s in love with the Cinclair family, especially you.”
“Shouldn’t we concentrate on the product?” The center of attention wasn’t a place she wanted to be.
“Is it true you made a fabulous new whiskey?” Josie asked in a sweet voice.
“Yes.” This had to be a setup for something.
“That means you’re really good at your job, which I believe is master distiller. You keep doing that, and allow us to do the job we’re really good at.” The thick sarcasm Josie was dishing her way was probably not the norm with potential clients. “Somewhere in the middle, those two jobs will meet, and you’ll be happy about it.”
“I guess I will.” She stood and buttoned her jacket.
“You guess you will what?” Hayley asked, appearing as surprised as Josie.
“Be happy about what you come up with. Have a contract drawn up, send it to Roger, and we’ll get started.” She had to leave the room or kiss Hayley, so she started walking. “Roger will give you whatever you need.”
It was a chickenshit move, but she kept going until she reached her car. An hour later she was standing in the water practicing her casting, but mostly getting her flies caught in the branches. Her concentration was shot—well, when it came to fishing. Thinking obsessively about Hayley leaving, now that she’d given her what she most wanted, was stomping out everything else in her head.
“You catch a lot of fish by throwing the rod at them, followed by screaming?” her grandfather asked when he sat on the bank. “I’ve never seen that particular technique.”
She walked to the bright yellow line hanging from the high branches where her fly was stuck and used it to retrieve her rod, having thrown it in frustration. “Gramps, I’m not in a talkative mood.”
“That’s okay. All you need to do is listen, and considering I’m meeting Roger in a half hour, this won’t take long. You know I don’t like being late.” He waved her over and pointed to the spot next to him. “First, stop feeling sorry for yourself and take some action.”
“Exactly what kind of action?” Her grandfather liked talking about whiskey and growing corn. Feelings were not his forte.
“You been pining over that girl long enough, so quit it and do something about it. That brings me to my next point. You’re a Cinclair, Preston, which means you make damn good whiskey and you don’t let life scare you. Nothing on that list hints that you come from a long line of dumbasses, so don’t disappoint me by being the first.”
“I’m not scared, Gramps. I’m a realist.”
“Okay, one last thing and I’ll leave you to whatever the hell you’re doing out here.” He slapped her on the back hard enough to make her cough. “Don’t make a liar out of your sainted grandmother, or I really will kick your ass.”
“What are you talking about?” The one way to get over rejection was confusing conversations, it seemed.
“She knew about this great love of yours, and she told me eventually you’d get it right if you wanted it bad enough. Question is, do you?”
“My life is here, Gramps, and hers is in New York. It has nothing to do with how much I want it.”
“And you know this after telling her how you feel and she turned you down?”
She shook her head. “Think about who she is. And I don’t need to talk to her about anything. We had a year in college, and that’s all it’s going to be. Don’t worry, I’ll find someone eventually.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You might find someone, but it’ll be settling. The other thing about us Cinclairs is we know the one when we see her, kiddo. No one else will ever do. If you don’t believe me, ask your mother.”
“It’s not that simple, but thank you.” She took her waders off and helped him up.
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
* * *
“How can you be positive?” Major Wyatt screamed so loud it made Hayley cringe. “Did you hit your head when you were in New Orleans?”
Hayley took a deep breath. She wasn’t having a hard time ignoring her father’s irrational behavior because she wasn’t changing her mind. “Daddy, I’m moving, and if you let me work remotely, I won’t have to quit outright.” Hayley had left New Orleans five hours after Max had walked out and disappeared. Roger, God bless him, had tried repeatedly to reach Max, but apparently she hadn’t wanted to be found. Watching Max walk out was the last time she’d been able to breathe normally.
“It’s a family business, or has that slipped your mind?”
“Percy’s not moving—I am.” She was glad for Percy’s company as he stood next to her. “And for the fifth time, I’m not quitting my job or my family.” It was time to get out of here. Her heart and lungs felt like they’d shrunk five sizes, and there was only one thing that would right her world. To be more accurate, there was only one person who could do that.
“Dad,” Percy interjected, “take a deep breath and namaste your way into finding acceptance. I want Hayley to be happy, and this is her chance. She’s moving to New Orleans, not the middle of the Amazon jungle or changing her name.” Percy’s humor only made their father’s face turn redder. “Hayley’s also a grownup who hasn’t sold her soul to the advertising gods.”
“I need a few days out there to work on some things, then I’ll come back, and we’ll iron out how the transition will go. I’ll even get my team started on the Cinclair account before I leave.” She walked around her father’s desk and kissed his cheek. “With any luck the bar tab at my wedding will be really cheap—I know people.” She wanted to run out of the office, not to get away from her family, but because for the first time in forever she was running to something. Something she wanted and needed for the rest of her life.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Percy asked when she walked to her office.
“I’ll be okay, but thank you.” All she’d been able to think about was sitting in Max’s arms and watching the cane blow in the breeze. Eight years was a long time to be without the one person who was the key to life making sense. She was going to get that back, and nothing or no one was going to stop her, not even Max. If it took a year of begging…well, she was packing knee pads, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
“Then I’m a phone call away if you need me to make her see the light.” Percy hugged her and kissed her forehead. “I’m happy for you, so don’t worry about anything here. Josie and I will take care of everything.”
“You’re a good friend, and I know you probably think this is all crazy.” She laughed, wanting to leave now and beg the airline to let her flight take off hours early.
“Would it matter?” Percy asked, smiling.
“No,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I love her, and I need her. She’s the one.”
“It’s good to know you can reform your asshole ways, and she’s one lucky bastard.”
Percy drove her to the airport a few hours later and promised to calm their parents down until they heard from her. “Remember,” he said kissing her forehead again, “no isn’t an option.”
“Even if I have to tie her to a chair to get her to agree.” She took her small bag and squared her shoulders. There was no way this could be a mistake. None at all.
* * *
“I’m sorry, but that has to be a mistake. Ms. Simon said—” Preston stopped at how absurd that sounded. It was like she was playing a child’s game of Simon Says. “Ms. Simon said they flew home this afternoon, so she has to be there.”
The receptionist at Hayley’s firm talked to her like she was dealing with someone dull-witted. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to say it, but Ms. Wyatt is out of town. Can someone else help you?”
Why would Josie have lied to Roger? “Is Ms. Simon available?”
“Hold, please.”
“Can I help you?” a woman she hoped was Josie asked.
“Ms. Simon?”
“Max?” Josie laughed. “It has to be you because you always say my name like you’re telling me to fuck off.”
“Where’s Hayley?” She didn’t have time for this.
“You expect to be rewarded for running out like a scared asshole today?”
She clenched her fist at being called an asshole yet again. “I’m sorry about that, but I need to find Hayley.”
There was a pause, as if Josie was digesting what she’d said. “Where are you exactly?”
“Pulling away from JFK, and I need to tell the driver where to go.” The guy Roger hired drove like he had someplace to be and knew exactly where that was with no directions from her. “Where is she?”
“You’re not kidding, are you? Can you hold on a second?”
The traffic was murder and her fingers hurt from holding the phone so tightly, as if clutching the phone would stabilize the lane changing they were doing for no apparent reason. “Josie?” she said when the on-hold music stopped.
“Tell the driver to pull over and hand him the phone.” Josie sounded totally serious. “Stop overthinking and get with it.”
“Can you pull over, or just talk to this lady since we’re not moving?” She handed the driver her phone, and he had a short conversation while he changed across four lanes of traffic with plenty of horn blowing and cursing. Once he put the car in park, he handed her the phone back. She asked Josie, “What now?”
