“I just need a minute.” Another breath in. “I’m going to head to the bathroom, check my makeup.”
He patted her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Daniel’s a good guy, he’ll see your talent.”
She nodded wordlessly. She knew it was going to be fine. It always was. By tomorrow she’d be over this. The goodbyes would be forgotten and she could spend the weekend baking and seeing her family.
But first, she needed to get through tonight.
It felt like nothing had changed in the six years he’d been gone. The distillery looked exactly the same – the sprawling double high wooden clad exterior fronted by a glass reception, the familiar logo of G. Scott Carter emblazoned in large green lettering.
The evening sky had darkened, but the building was illuminated by downlights, a contrast to the gloom of the mountains rising in the distance.
Daniel Carter touched his credit card to the reader before climbing out of the cab, being sure to add a hefty tip for the driver. Tomorrow he’d pick up the car he’d ordered weeks ago.
But tonight, it was time to reintroduce himself to his distillery.
There was nobody at reception, even though the door was unlocked. He raised an eyebrow, making a note to himself to check the security protocols. Leaving his suitcases behind the desk, he pushed open the door that led to the oversized vaulted room that housed the distillery itself, inhaling sharply to take in the low undertones of mashed barley and yeast that dominated the air.
The equipment was off – the mash tuns that mixed the corn grists and water lay silent. He still stopped by them, checking for any rust or smells that didn’t seem quite right. Then he made his way into the next oversized room that housed the wash and spirit stills, their huge copper forms topped by a thick pipe that distillers called the swan neck.
In here he could hear the faintest rumble of conversation and a low thump of music. He’d thought he wouldn’t make it to his brother’s farewell party, but his flight had landed thirty minutes early, and the baggage handlers had been mercifully fast. So here he was, standing in the distillery he’d left without looking back six years ago, his body exhausted from eight hours travel and more
than twenty-four hours without sleep.
Pushing the door open to the office area, the thumping of the bass and the sound of voices got louder. But there was something else there, too. Something lower and softer that made him frown.
Stuttered breaths. Broken gasps.
Somebody was crying.
If he’d have thought it through, he would have walked away from the sound. He didn’t do emotions – not if he could help it – and he was certainly the last person who knew what to do when somebody was crying. Nathan was so much better at that. The empathetic brother to his strong, silent type.
But still, his curiosity got the better of him. He walked into the executive corridor that housed the directors’ suite. His mother’s office door was closed, no light spilling through the frosted window. So was the boardroom, and the office that used to be his own.
Nathan’s door was ajar. Daniel’s brows pinched together as he reached it, blinking at the sudden rush of light to his eyes.
His gaze clashed with a pair of almond shaped green eyes that seemed to see right through him. They were rimmed red, shiny with tears, thick lashes sweeping down as they blinked at their sudden connection.
It felt as though all the air had left his body. He inhaled sharply to replace it, his gaze dipping to take in the woman’s red, swollen lips. Her cheek was pressed against his brother’s chest, as Nathan softly stroked her hair.
For a moment none of them moved. Daniel pulled his eyes from hers, dropping his gaze to her cream diaphanous blouse, the neck low enough to give him a glimpse of the swell of her breasts as they pressed against his brother’s shirt. She was wearing jeans, the denim clinging to the curve of her behind like a damn limpet. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, shining beneath the strip light in Nathan’s office.
And he wanted to laugh, because his brother had somehow landed himself a scorching girlfriend.
The woman pulled away from Nathan’s arms, and he looked across the room to the door, Nathan’s lips lifting into a grin when he saw Daniel standing there.
“You’re early,” Nathan said, striding across the room, holding his hand out for Daniel to shake. Daniel slid his palm against his brothers, and then pulled him in for a hug, because even if his brother was a damn dirty dog, he was still so happy to see him.
Even if he was leaving tomorrow.
“My flight landed early,” Daniel told him. “I thought I’d come straight here and join the party.” He looked over Nathan’s shoulder at the pretty woman. She’d turned so her denim-clad behind was resting against Nathan’s desk, her hands clasped together as she stared at them both. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll catch up with you later.”
He went to back out of the doorway, holding his hands up in a mea culpa sign.
“What do you mean, company?” Nathan asked. The woman hadn’t moved an inch. She had a smear of mascara across her cheek, which somehow added to her attractiveness.
She’s your brother’s girl. Some of us don’t go there.
“I interrupted something private. I should leave.” Daniel’s voice was terse.