Page 17 of Whiskey Proposal

I am that stubborn, yes.

He waits, ignoring his food until I roll my eyes and lift a leg. Fine. His hands are stronger anyway. He rests my foot on his knee, motioning for my other leg. I try to hold out, I really do, but the heat seeping into me from him is already diminishing the ache. I do as he wants. His fingers find the exact points of pain, kneading and rolling through the knots in my calves.

The pain-pleasure is exactly what I was after. Groaning, I slip down in my chair. My eyelids flutter shut and I’m in a state of bliss. The release spreads higher. Seductive warmth advances up my legs, whispering promises of ecstasy. What if he rubbed higher? What if he put a fingertip right there, at the little bud that throbs to my heartbeat? What if he put his mouth⁠—

I sit up with a gasp. He freezes, alarm in his eyes. Breakfast is sitting at my elbow and I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life.

I can’t be around him. I can’t be anywhere near him. I’m going to get my heart broken by my husband.

Standing up, I nearly tip my chair back. My legs feel better though. “I, um, forgot I have a meeting.” What day even is it?

“You don’t have time to eat?”

“No, you can put it in the fridge. Sorry.” I rush back to the guest room, like a chicken running for cover when a hawk is soaring overhead.

Lane

The other four owners of the distillery, excluding Myles, sit across from me in the boardroom on the second floor of the distillery. There are the three Hennessy brothers, then there’s Cruz. Here it goes.

“I got married yesterday.”

The Hennessys exchange befuddled glances. Cruz’s brows crash together. They all know this isn’t how I joke around. So I must be serious.

“You’re going to need to elaborate there, Lane,” Cruz says tightly, and the sense I’ve betrayed him won’t leave me. Is that hurt in his eyes? I don’t want to know.

My stomach cramps around my breakfast, but I explain how it all happened. I’ve already recited the story once. I called Myles on my way over and laid it all out to him.

He asked about prenups and postnups, and a smarter man would’ve insisted on all that. A smarter man would be talking to Zack about it, or at least planning to. A smarter man would’ve spent the time needed to make Emerson feel more comfortable or figure out how to get out of the trust. But she was driven to get it over with to help her brother, and who am I to make her wait?

The type that almost laid her out on the table this morning for a feast.

“It’s done?” Shock echoes in Cruz’s voice. “You’re married married?”

In an ideal world, my wedding would have had all my loved ones. We had our witness, but he was Emerson’s person. The pressure on my chest doesn’t ease. “It’s not like that. It’s just a legal box to tick off to get the house sold to her brother, but he needs to sell his first so he has the funds.”

“Fuck me. Married just like that?” Iverson, the oldest Hennessy, asks. When I nod, he blows out a breath. “She must feel all sorts of ways.”

I nod, appreciating that he’s concerned about someone he’s never met.

Haven, the youngest Hennessy brother, shakes his head. “This was what Hutch was planning last year that bothered you?”

“Yep.” I drum my fingers on the tabletop. It bothered me how much it didn’t bother me. I was more worried about Emerson, and I still am. “I couldn’t talk him out of it. He said I’d take care of his girl since his boy has Hillary to care for. Apparently, he thought that I was the best choice since he liked to talk to me about her.”

And the first time I pulled up her headshot at the marketing agency she worked for, I might’ve considered encouraging Hutch. Her shrewd gaze challenged the camera. But her bio underneath the picture was short, glossing over everything before college. Her past was summed up as “raised in Montana.” I admired the privacy she’d constructed for herself.

Durban grunts and rubs the dark scruff around his jaw, smoothing a finger over his mustache. “He was an old-fashioned guy at heart. Too bad for her.”

“Yep,” I say again.

“Guess you can’t work my tasting room shift tonight.”

Aw hell. I forgot. To be fair, after seeing her walk out of my guest room with those long legs on display, my mind was wiped of coherent thought. She looked approachable. Friendly. Then I got my hands on her for a few blissful moments before she vanished.

That made my decision easy. “No. She probably wants some space. This is all . . . frustrating . . . for her.”

“I’ll be around,” Haven offers, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. “Prescott’s covering Bootleg tonight. Call me if you need me.”

“Dueling bartenders?” Bootleg’s the local dive bar. Haven’s engaged to the owner’s daughter. Their wedding is in August. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” I open my laptop. “Have you all had the chance to review the second quarter’s numbers?”