Page 7 of Yours To Take
“Enjoy your stay.”
“Hey Gemma!” a voice carries from the other side of the bar. Behind me, the lobby opens up into the main restaurant and bar where guests can get anything they need at any time.
“What is it, Peter?”
“I thought you said you needed more potato vodka?”
Dropping the “be back soon” sign on the front desk, I follow my brother’s voice behind the bar.
“We do. We’re down to one bottle.”
“Then why does the order say fifteen bottles?”
“I don’t know. I don’t run the show, so I didn’t place the order.” I grab the clipboard from him. “Did you really bring that many?”
“I figured you might have had an event or something.”
“You would know if we had something planned at the ranch.”
I shake my head at my older brother.
“Do you want me to leave the extras?”
“No. We don’t go through them that quickly. You’ll burn through them at the bar.”
Peter owns and runs one of the top potato vodka distilleries in Idaho. Having started it when he was twenty, it’s one of Dixon’s most well-known attractions. People love sampling his vodka at his bar, The Tipsy Cocktail.
“I’ll take some over to Gramps’s house for family dinner this week. You planning on coming?” he asks as he hefts a box of clattering bottles back onto the bar.
“If I can get my shift covered for me.”
“You’re her boss. Tell her to cover for you.”
I quirk a brow in his direction. “Still not the boss, Peter.”
“Why haven’t you talked to Gramps about that?” He crosses his arms, leaning back against the bar. It’s always quiet at the ranch this time of year. That weird in-between time of winter and spring where the weather can’t make up it’s mind. A little snow today, then tomorrow a spring storm that will bring with it the hot weather I love.
“You know why.”
“Logan is doing okay right now. His next surgery isn’t for another couple of weeks.”
“I know, but I don’t want anything to distract from his recovery.”
“Seriously, I thought the baby of the family was supposed to need more attention.”
I laugh at that. “You’ve always been the drama queen of the family.”
“Hey!” He shoves at my shoulder. “I am not. That’s always been Logan.”
“Whatever you say, Peter.”
“Listen, I need to get back to the bar. We have a new band coming in tonight, and they’re all the rage.”
“Oh, you mean the Flying Toaster Time Machine?”
“Jesus. Is that really their name?”
I laugh. “Dwight said they were being creative when they named themselves.”
