Bourbon Summer, page 2
I grabbed some empty glasses on my way back to the bar and took a few more orders. When I returned, Cara and Brock had their foreheads tipped together. His bourbon remained untouched since his first attempt, but her glass was empty except for ice, mint leaves, and a lime wedge.
I took her glass. “Need a refill?”
“Yes, please, Ruby.”
I tensed, waiting for some dig after that, but she actually sounded sincere.
She draped herself over Brock and kissed him. It was no quick kiss. The two were making out. I had to endure the smacking sounds while preparing another mojito. The metallic clang of the shaker didn’t faze them. I was a helpless bystander.
Cara pulled away and licked her lips. “Mm.” Her dreamy gaze slid toward me. “We’re having our wedding in town.”
Surprise flitted through me. Mental note: find out when they were getting married and make sure I wasn’t in town. Another giant party I was not invited to. “Oh?”
“We’re moving here.” She kissed Brock’s cheek and somehow had enough lipstick left to leave an imprint on his skin. “I’m opening a real estate office, and his family’s decided to do the same.”
“That’ll make your life exciting.” Petty, yes, but Brock’s fleeting, irritated expression was so satisfying. “Congratulations again.” I continued assembling the drink orders. A lemonade special, a blackberry bourbon, and another bourbon mojito. They were bestsellers during the summer. I needed to make some posts with them, but I’d refrain in front of the two lovebirds.
“I hope it all works out.” Her pout returned and she spread her hands. “It was all falling into place for a whirlwind wedding, but then the country club called earlier and told me they’re no longer offering wet bar options. The person who was supposed to work our wedding quit, and they’re too short-staffed for the Fourth the week after.”
“That stinks.” I had no clue how country clubs worked, but Cara used to fantasize about being the happy bride, and she had her . . . well, Brock wasn’t Prince Charming, but she had her groom. “I’m sorry.”
She eyed the bottle of Original in my hand. “Does Copper Summit do wet bars?”
“I . . . don’t know.” I wasn’t involved in the everyday workings and that was something my boss, Wynter, would want to keep separate. The distillery social media feeds didn’t dig that deep into Copper Summit business.
Cara leaned over the bar. “The president of the club actually said that Copper Summit has provided wet bar service before. That’s why we came tonight.”
Brock grunted and looked away. “I suppose there’s no one in charge around to talk to.”
I wished I had more information, if only to make it seem like the social media girl wasn’t a lowly position in front of Brock. “I can leave a message for—”
Cara gasped. “You could work it. Oh, I’d feel so much better if you were in charge. You’re so organized.”
Was that a compliment? Without an insult? “I’m not . . .”
“Or would that be weird?” Cara looked from me to Brock. “With your history?”
Yes. “I mean, I’m not going to create drama. I’m too boring for that.” I hadn’t been able to resist, and apparently, I was no better than Cara, getting digs in when I could. “You two are clearly in love.”
She beamed. Brock’s lips formed a line, but he grasped Cara’s hand. “I want you to have a stress-free day, baby,” he said to her. “No need to worry over any single ladies in attendance. I only have eyes for you.”
Maybe it was their affectionate display or having endured the sloppy make-out session, but Brock’s assumption that I was single and would be pining for him rubbed me in all the wrong ways. It was like having sex with him all over again. “I’m not single.”
Shit.
The lie was out, and I couldn’t take it back. I swallowed the acid crawling up my throat. At least I shouldn’t have to prove it.
“Then you should come as a guest. There are more people who can do the wet bar.”
My laughter came out thready. “Uh, if they do wet bars.”
“You have to come to the wedding,” Cara said, a note of finality in her voice. Delight grew across her face. “I’ve lost touch with so many people from the good ol’ days. It’d be great to have you.”
Good ol’ days? Other than how we dressed, that was the starkest difference between us. Graduation had been the happiest day of my life. It had meant I wouldn’t have to see people who made me feel horrible about myself on a daily basis.
“And I’d get to meet your boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “It’ll be just like when we dreamed about our weddings. We’ll be together.”
Was she for real? As if she hadn’t come in here and low-key insulted me earlier?
Pleased, she hugged Brock. “Isn’t that wonderful? We’ll have people from the past and present there to show us how far we’ve come.”
“Mm-hmm.” How did I get out of this? I had to have something going on that weekend. She’d mentioned whirlwind planning. It had to be soon. Whatever excuse I gave, it had to sound natural. I could not be humiliated by getting caught in a lie about my single status. Not by my ex.
I hadn’t cried for days just to let Brock get to me again. I hadn’t relived every other breakup with an ex who’d said similar things only to repeat the cycle when I wasn’t even dating anyone. All those typos Wynter had called me on after nights of terrible sleep could not happen again.
I hadn’t even been able to get myself off. So much for proving that I wasn’t the reason it had taken so long to orgasm. Their wedding would be the great libido robber. No, thank you.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. I have to get these out before all the ice melts.”
I loaded a tray with drinks and scurried off. I struggled to get my breathing under control while I delivered the orders. At every single table, I asked if I could get them something else, practically begged, but since we were nearing closing time, they all passed. Damn the tasting room for not being open later on weekends.
What did I do? Find a date before the wedding? I’d only been single a year, but maybe I could use an app and just ask them to pretend with me. Was there a Tinder for fake dates?
My back was to the lobby entrance as the door opened, a waft of air crashing into me. A wave of heat followed.
It was him.
I turned, my gaze drawn to Tenor Bailey like there was no one else in the room. He stopped by Jason, probably talking about ranching. Jason’s land bordered the Baileys’ ranch. Tenor might run the finance department at Copper Summit, but he worked with Bailey Beef just as much.
The breathing I had tried to get under control quickened. He was so big. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was the tallest of all his brothers. Tenor had a way of slumping, of curling in on himself when he might otherwise loom over people. Was he aware?
Tenor Bailey occupied my mind far more often than he should.
He pushed up his solid-framed black glasses. Behind the lenses, his thick lashes were a few shades darker than his brown hair. He didn’t have a beard, but scruff always graced his square jaw.
He was scratching at his cheek as he listened to Jason. Tenor did a lot of listening. He wasn’t blustery or quick to add his two cents. Those qualities attracted me. I was a fluttery moth and he was a bright flame.
The guy could run numbers faster than should be humanly possible, but he never lorded over everyone how smart he was. The brainiac wore blue jeans and a simple rust-colored polo with a black Copper Summit logo on the breast. The cowboy boots that completed the look also consumed far more of my brain than they should.
One time, I’d seen him in a cowboy hat when he’d stopped in after helping with calving and I hadn’t been able to speak around him. A nerdy cowboy was my kryptonite.
A customer scooted his chair out, bumping into me. I jumped and nearly dropped my empty tray. “Sorry,” I squeaked.
Tenor glanced up. When his gaze landed on me, my pulse jumped. His pecan-hued irises were as unique as he was. He lifted a brow with an unspoken question—Are you okay?
I was never okay around him. He was older and confident and a lot more man than I’d ever associated with. I nodded and scurried back to the bar.
Cara’s second mojito was already empty. She leaned over, her eyes taking on a fevered glaze. Was the alcohol hitting her that hard already? “You have to tell me. Who are you seeing? Do I know him? Is he from Bozeman too? Wouldn’t it be funny if I’d dated him?” She guffawed and hugged herself to Brock. “I saved the best for last.”
Brock’s mouth curled into a smug smile as he slid his gaze off me and to his fiancée. “Me too.”
Jackass.
“Aw.” Cara had damn hearts in her eyes. “So? Who is he?”
I was back in the car, stuck on the train tracks with Locomotive Cara bearing down on me. “Oh. Um . . . you wouldn’t know him.”
I ran some fresh water to clean the dirty glasses I’d picked up earlier. Tenor broke from Jason and chatted with another customer, leaning down instead of towering over the guy. Gah. He was so considerate.
Cara put her elbow on the bar top and rested her face in her hand. “Try me.”
I scrubbed at an imaginary smudge on a glass. “He’s not from Bozeman.” I tried for an apologetic smile.
Brock’s eyes narrowed on the way I was frantically washing the same clean glass. “It’s a small world. Who is he?” His tone was cajoling. He thought he had me.
Dammit, he did have me.
This wasn’t fair. He was the one who’d brought his fiancée into the place where he’d known there was a possibility of seeing me. He and his saturated kisses could fuck right off. I would not admit I was single. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. I would not give him even an inkling that my social life had gotten even less thrilling than when we’d been together.
Tenor came around the bar. “Hey, Ruby. How’s it going tonight?”
His deep voice washed over me, but it only fueled my determination. “Hi, Tenor.”
Cara’s gaze turned awestruck as she took him in. “Tenor?” She giggled. “What kind of name is that? It’s so . . . unique.”
The way her voice pitched up scraped against my patience, warning me what would come next. A hidden insult. A snide remark. My pulse pounded at my temples. I might lose my job for this, but it was either that or jump the counter, knock her to the floor, and slap my hands over her mouth.
“Isn’t it a great name?” I slid an arm around Tenor’s waist. He stiffened, a hard wall of muscle. “Also, meet my plus-one. Tenor’s my boyfriend.”
Oh god, oh god, oh god. What had I done?
Cara and Brock stared at me.
Tenor’s brows knit together.
I was flat on the train tracks, smashed to bits, and had only myself to blame.
Tenor
I hadn’t been anyone’s boyfriend for a lot of damn years. I had to have misheard.
Ruby’s arm was around me and she was close enough I could smell her limoncello scent. I inhaled deeply. In the past, I had caught a delectable whiff of her, but I’d never been this close.
I might have inappropriate thoughts about the petite marketing pro, but I always shoved my X-rated ideas out of my head as soon as they arrived. Not only was she much younger than me, she was an employee.
An employee who was smashed up next to me, inciting all those earlier ideas I’d had about her. “Ruby?”
The mouth of the woman across from us dropped open and a shrill squeal left her. “Ruby. Oh. My. God. He’s a snack. Like a whole buffet.”
I steeled myself, trying to figure out if this woman meant it as a compliment or not. Did I want to be a buffet? The guy next to her scowled.
“He’s the whole seven-course meal,” Ruby said with knowing confidence. “Um, Tenor. This is an old friend of mine, Cara, and her fiancé, Brock.”
I dipped my head, flailing to keep up with the turn of events.
“I hope you have a nice suit.” Cara’s grin was wide.
What the hell was going on?
Brock studied me with a slight frown. His date’s delighted gaze danced between me and Ruby.
I immediately knew this woman’s type. She was polished, her hair as sleek as her portfolio probably was. Something about her put me on guard. I stayed far away from women like that.
Brock was exactly like someone I’d expect to see with her. His gelled, dirty-blond hair crested in the middle like an ocean wave. His clothing was just like hers. Some brand name that cost more than it was worth. He was probably the only guy in the place not wearing jeans.
“Why do I need a suit?” Diligently, I tried to keep my mind off the lush body pressed next to me. Ruby’s hips hit below mine and her breasts—
She was my employee. I would not notice how her tits were perfect handfuls.
“For our wedding. Ruby is invited, naturally. We’re old friends.” Cara gave me a coy look and Ruby stiffened next to me.
I nearly put an arm around Ruby. She was bothered by this Cara, but I didn’t know why. Nor did I know why Ruby had claimed I was her boyfriend. I wasn’t a guy who liked to act without all the information. “I need to steal Ruby for a minute.”
Because I was a glutton for punishment, and that couple was watching, I slipped my hand over Ruby’s and tugged her to the back office. Energy zinged up and down my arm. It was like my nerve endings had just been waiting for her touch to come alive.
I gritted my teeth and led her to the storeroom behind the bar.
“Wanna tell me what—”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, dropping my hand and clapping her own over her crimson cheeks. “I can’t believe I did that.” She released her face and balled her hands into fists at her sides. Her ruby-red lips were set in a mutinous line. “I cannot stand him.”
This was not a Ruby I’d seen before. She was usually quiet, not speaking to me unless I had to ask her a question. She was more animated with my sisters, but this flush on her face was new. How far down her neck did it go? Was a blush ghosting over her—
Shut it down.
I crossed my arms over my chest. She looked up, guilt scrawled over her face, and more than a little fear simmered in her eyes. I couldn’t help towering over her, but I hunched more to keep from intimidating her. “I thought you said you were friends with her, not him.”
She scrunched her nose. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“The guy with the coif?” He didn’t deserve her. I had no clue who he was, but it didn’t matter. She’d been wasted on him.
“He dumped me last year.”
Fucking idiot.
She hugged herself. “Cara and I went to school together. We used to be close. Best friends. Then we so weren’t. Apparently, they’re getting married.” Her smile was tight. “I’m invited. Oh! She talked about having a Copper Summit wet bar. I didn’t have much info for them—”
“Ruby. Explain.”
She snapped her mouth shut. Her lower lip was just a little puffier than her top. The perfect little shelf to nibble on.
She worked for me. How many times did I have to remind myself of that?
I could fire her.
No, I couldn’t. I’d hate myself. My brothers would beat me, and my sisters would kill me and hide the body.
“I don’t know how it happened. We were talking about the distillery and wet bars, then whether I’d work it, but how it might be inappropriate because I’ve seen the groom naked. And he assumed I was single. I told them I had a boyfriend. So Cara invited me as a guest, but she wanted to know about you. I mean, not you, but my ‘boyfriend.’ ” She tossed up air quotes and huffed. She glared at a shelf of extra highball glasses. “He smirked like he just knew I was single. I couldn’t let him be smug about it.” She let out the cutest growl.
“Are you single?” I intentionally hadn’t asked the question before—to myself or anyone else.
Her flush blazed back and she nodded.
The information was beginning to sift into place. “You don’t want them to know you don’t have a boyfriend?”
She shook her head.
“So you named me as your boyfriend?”
Her eyelids drifted shut. Dark eyelashes rested stark against her skin. “Sorry.”
Okay. She was humiliated, and if I was to pick between Ruby and the happy couple out there, the choice was a no-brainer. “And we’re supposed to be going to some wedding?”
“No. No, it’s fine.” She waved her hand so quickly I was offended. “I don’t want to drag you into it. I’ll clean up my mess.”
I hadn’t thought twice about the wedding, but disappointment welled inside me. “Is the wedding in Bozeman?” Wasn’t there something about a wet bar?
She shook her head again. “In Bourbon Canyon. They’re moving here.” She screwed up her face. “They moved here? I don’t know.” She prodded at her forehead. “I’m going to tell them I can’t make it. I have something that weekend.”
“Do you know when it is?”
She blanched. “No.”
I bit back a smile. Disgruntled, flustered Ruby was working her way under my skin farther than quiet, competent Ruby ever had.
I wanted to help her. She was under the Copper Summit umbrella and we protected our own.
And I couldn’t stand assholes.
I took her hand in mine once more. “Let’s go find out when the wedding is.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ruby
Stunned, I let Tenor lead me out of the storeroom. I’d been ready to save as much face as possible by telling them I actually had a busy summer. But Tenor’s big hand had clamped around mine. Strength radiated through him and into me.
“Sorry, guys,” he said to Brock and Cara and draped a heavy arm around me. Who needed a weighted blanket around this guy? “I had to make sure Ruby actually wanted to go to a wedding.”
Cara blinked rapidly. Brock inhaled and straightened as tall as he could. He would never get close to Tenor’s height, and sitting down, he looked like a toddler in a booster seat compared to Tenor. I probably looked like a posable doll, one with bright-red cheeks.
