Page 79 of Whiskey Proposal

“How convenient that Foster House is in Denver.”

“Yeah. It is.” That wouldn’t be enough for her. She’d see herself as unimportant. Yet if I tell her how I really feel, she’ll run. Too many people have dropped the ball when it comes to her, and I don’t plan to let that damn ball get one bounce in.

Myles glances outside the shop again and grins. “Hey, Mae. Come to look at the tractor?”

“Most definitely.” She comes into view, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a rust-colored Copper Summit shirt. Her gray-lined dark hair is pulled back into a bun, and the corners of her eyes crinkle when she sees the tractor. “Look at that. Heard you got it running.”

“Lane claims it’s a straightforward engine, but we still needed him to tell us what to do.”

She beams at me, and I get that hit in the center of my chest that I never got with my parents. She’s proud of me. I’m tempted to stick the toe of my boot in the ground and go, “Aw, shucks.”

Myles gives her a one-armed hug. “I’ll go see if Wynter needs help with anything.”

He’s giving me time alone with Mae. I stay where I am, and she wanders farther in after Myles leaves.

“I’m glad you could make it out.” She runs a hand over the frame of the tractor. “Those kids brag about what they can repair, you know.”

“I haven’t taught them that much.”

She shoots me a you and I know better look. “Emerson’s a nice girl.”

“She is.”

“Guarded.”

Leave it to Mae to nail Emerson with one word. “Yes.”

“You like her a lot.”

“She’s my wife.”

Mae smiles, but there’s concern simmering in the depths. “You want it to stay that way.”

How does she know to pick up the conversation where Myles was willing to leave it? “Feels like divorcing would set us back.”

She clasps her hands in front of her and wanders through the shop. “She’s told me about the chickens. About the pickup.” She smiles at me. “That was very sweet.” More roaming. “She adored the kids and had fun with the firepit last night.”

My chest warms, crowded with more affection than I’ve ever felt. Emerson enjoyed being with my family.

“You’re married and doing very married things.”

Forty isn’t that far away, but my cheeks warm like I was busted kissing Emerson in the pantry. “Yeah. That’s where we’re at.”

“Have you dated her?” When I lift a brow, she smirks in a very Mae-like way. She has more insight into people than anyone I’ve ever known.

“I mean we . . .” I took her to the picnic table. She’s come to the tasting room a couple of times. I haven’t even given her a tour. “No.”

Mae nods. “It’s a lot for her.” She gives me another knowing look. “And for you.”

My ribs constrict. I haven’t thought about that. “She wants me to work in the shop all day Saturday until my tasting room shift.”

“Smart girl.” She does a full lap around the tractor, clucking approvingly. “What kind of places in Huckleberry Springs would be a good spot for a date?”

Emerson

I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the dive in front of me. It’s a sizable building, all wood, but not in a stylish or log cabin way like Lane’s house. The old sign reads Bootleg Tavern, and I haven’t decided if the rustic and worn look is intentional or not. It’s looked the same for as long as I can remember.

If I was in Denver, I would drive in the other direction. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to Wok and Rolls?”