Page 23 of Whiskey Proposal

“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry for how I brought it up. It wasn’t right.”

I deserved it. “He wasn’t just your neighbor. He was a friend.”

His smile is small. “I hate to say that it felt inevitable, but I’d been afraid something like that would happen.”

My lungs burn, and tears prod the backs of my eyes. I’m not going to cry. Lane said exactly what I felt. Inevitable. I just never thought about who’d be on the other side. “I’m glad no one else was hurt.”

“I was more worried about you and Brooks. Feelings can get conflicted and magnified when it comes to parents who . . . didn’t parent.”

“They’re complicated but simple at the same time.”

“I get that.” He grabs the empty glass in front of me. “Want another one?”

“Do you have a kink for waiting on me?” I need lighter conversation.

His hands go still. All of him does. Slowly, he raises his gaze to mine. “I don’t know. Want to find out?”

A choking sound escapes. This topic isn’t better. “You can’t do that.”

“Flirt with my wife?”

My exhale gusts out of me. “You might be used to fucking around, but I’m not.”

His jaw clenches once. “I don’t fuck around. At least I haven’t for a long time.”

I desperately need more information. “How long?”

He cleans off the counter. “Probably not since my early twenties. To be fair, I dated women who were as likely to key my car as empty my wallet. One memorized my credit card number and tried to buy herself a thousand dollars’ worth of lingerie.”

“Did you get to enjoy the lingerie?”

“No, it all got rejected. My limit back then wasn’t that high.”

My unexpected laughter fills the tasting room, and his smile softens. “Well, I prefer to get to know a guy, have him lie to me for several months, and then fail to meet my expectations regardless. Oh, and it’s a bonus if he’s an old coworker, and he launches his own solo career by stealing my clients.”

Fury fills his eyes. “Who the fuck did that?”

“He’s not worth your time. Or mine.”

“A lot of guys aren’t worth your time.”

“And a lot of girls aren’t worth your time.” To cover my surprise at what came out of my mouth, I take another drink. Why’d I say that? I don’t know him.

Only, he helped my dad and there couldn’t have been a lot in it for him. Hutch had nothing worth stealing but land, and he left it to me and Brooks. Even with the whole marriage mess, Lane’s getting nothing but a stranger in his house and more work. So either the guy is a masochist, or he’s a decent person. A nice guy with a big heart.

Those types of guys are so far out of my league.

“There’s only one girl whose time I’m interested in.” He grabs a clean highball glass. “What do you want to try next?”

My head spins at the turn. Does he mean me? How interested? I want to try him next. Take a nice big gulp of Lane Foster. I clear my throat before I can surf over the bar, grab his collar, and stick my tongue down his throat. He’s said some of the nicest shit, and I’m in no place to hear it. No, I refuse to hear it. I’m in Huckleberry Springs, in a marriage I didn’t plan or want, and this guy is telling me things that blur the line between fake and real.

“I have to pass or I won’t be able to drive.” I slide off the stool. A remaining twinge of pain fires in each calf.

His eyes narrow at my wince. “I might have a heating pad in one of the closets.”

“You want me to rummage through your stuff while you’re not there?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.”