Page 89 of Whiskey Proposal

“That bad?” Lane asks.

“Nah, just nuisance costs.” Brooks isn’t going to offer more than that.

“You have any luck with jobs?” I ask, knowing damn well my brother would never approach the guys about opportunities.

Brooks doesn’t glare at me, just shrugs my question off. “Not with the flexibility I need. Maybe when school starts, I’ll find something.”

“Do you like driving?” Lane asks. “We’ve been thinking of adding another delivery truck to our rotation, and we’d need another body.”

A spark of hope in my brother’s eyes flares and dies. “I can’t be gone for that long.”

I almost offer to help, but I won’t be here when school starts. Could I return that regularly? My job is mobile; I can make it that way, but how much time can I feasibly take off?

“We’ll work with you,” Lane says easily. “As long as you obey traffic laws, don’t flip off anyone who cuts in front of a truck with Foster House Gold emblazoned on the side, or drink on the clock, we could use you.”

“Seriously.” Cruz nods. “I’m going to take it further—if you drink off the clock, it needs to be cleared out of your bloodstream by the time you’re behind the wheel.”

“Get a lot of that?” I ask, curious about the workings of the distillery.

“Finding a reliable driver is the hardest part about providing our own local distribution.” Lane switches his attention to Brooks. “We’d like to add smaller towns. Mop up a lot of the local places that only carry the more recognizable names distributed by the bigger suppliers.”

“Can I let you know?” Brooks asks, but he’s going to take it. Our dad left us a lot, but no extra funds to run it.

“We’re a family company,” Lane says carefully and my heart crawls up into my throat. “Regardless of what happens after you take ownership of the house, you’re part of our family.”

Lane

I take my time wandering from my brother’s property to mine. I don’t want to presume Emerson will fall into bed with me, and I don’t want the night to end. The shuffle of our steps mingles with the crickets and frogs. An occasional moo fills the air, and one of the horses hollers across the pasture to another horse that neighs back.

“You don’t get these sounds in the city,” Emerson murmurs. “I never realized how much they were a part of my life until now.”

“These pastures used to be full of Langley cattle?”

“Yeah, and the horses that Brooks and I could jump on bareback. I just hope he can get his pastures filled with cattle again.”

“He will.” Lady runs to meet us. She’s pretty good about staying on my property. Sometimes, she’ll run up and down the line with Rufus, but I haven’t had to chase her down yet. “It seems like it’s all coming back to him.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For offering him a job.”

“It helps us.” I mean it too. Trustworthy employees are worth their weight in gold, and Huckleberry Springs is too small to recruit the pool of drivers we’d like.

“Just being neighborly?”

“Every chance I get.” I give her a smile and take her hand. She lets me and clings to my fingers as she leans out and walks on the edge of the gravel and the grass. I anchor her and let her weave around for a moment before tugging her into me. She twirls and falls into my arms, giggling.

I set her back on her feet and spin her again.

Her eyes shine bright. “Do you dance?”

“The Baileys made sure of it.” I put her hand behind my back and grip her other one. With only nature’s music, I lead her through a lazy two-step.

“I love a guy who can move.”

It takes everything to keep going and not stop and ask her to repeat herself. Tell me you love me. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.” I twirl her again.

She laughs, a light, happy sound. I dance her all the way back and she lets me. I spin her in circles, both of us laughing louder each time. I want this forever. I want her forever. I want her to want the same.

I steer us toward the house, but she stops and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ve gotta close up the ladies.”