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?”
She nodded. “Working on it. I’m thinking we sell the lifestyle as opposed to just the whiskey.”
“And in terms a delinquent like me could understand?” Duke asked.
“Small-town, simple, laid back,” she said. “I think people would eat it up. Especially city people. You don’t know how many times I’ve heard someone from New York say they wished they could just leave it all behind.”
It occurred to me to ask if that’s what she was doing, but I tamped down the notion. Getting any more invested in her situation—her running away from New York—was the last thing I needed to do. This was a business arrangement. The possibility of getting a little more from her was a bonus. Anything that happened physically between us needed to be just that. Lines needed to be drawn in the sand, both for my sake and hers. Keep it simple, stupid.
“I love it,” Molly chimed in as she brought the food to the table. “We love this place. Everyone else should too.”
“I agree,” Charlotte said.
“You think people are really interested in a place like Shady Grove?” I asked. “I mean, I think it’s great, but it’s not like they’re clamoring to come visit.”
“They will be,” Charlotte said with confidence. “I think the first thing we need to do, besides get all of your social media accounts up to par, is set up an event. Sort of an official launch of the brand.”
Duke grinned. “I love parties.”
I kicked him under the table, keeping my focus on Charlotte. “And where exactly were you thinking?”
“Here,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know about that—”
“It’s perfect,” she said. “People need to see this place, need to see the distillery. They need to meet the family behind the whiskey.”
The mere thought of it made me itch, and I scowled at her. “I don’t want a bunch of strangers traipsing around the property. We live here, you know. It’s not a goddamn roadside attraction.”
“Luke.” Molly glared at me. “You want to sell all those barrels, right?”
“Yeah, man,” Duke said, adding to the current pileup on me. “You wanted a marketing guru. Now you need to listen to her.”
“I don’t know . . .” It didn’t sit well with me, but they were right. I had asked Charlotte to come up with ideas to help us make money. If this was her plan, I needed to hear it out. “I guess we could give it a try.”
My brother and sister grinned at each other as Charlotte leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. The pleased look on her face was enough to knock down my resolve a little, and the unexpected feel of her lips on my skin blasted the rest of the way through.
I was fucked with a capital F.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte
“Mornin’, this is Maggie. Can I help you?” the voice drawled through the phone.
“Hi, this is Charlotte Freemont. I’m calling about—”
“The Audi. Yup. Let me put Wayne on.”