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“You’re looking pretty sharp for a country boy,” Owen chuckles. “You know it’s mandatory to wear plaid once you cross over into stick county, right?”
I look down at my dark gray slacks and black polo shirt with polished shoes.
“Hey, it’s an adjustment,” I laugh. I’ve been wearing suits and ties for decades. Some habits are hard to break. “At least I’m not in a three-piece suit like I usually am.”
“We’ll acclimatize you back into country life.” Daniel smirks. “Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Hey, you guys can laugh, but I was already down at Coyote Run this morning, trudging through the dirt,” I inform them. “I can get my hands dirty.”
“No prizes for guessing why you were down there,” Hudson throws in, taking a swig of his beer.
Brooklyn chuckles. “Old habits die hard, brother.”
“You know me.” I shrug as I walk over and take a seat next to him and I fill them in on the latest happenings, and how good it feels being back.
Here in Stoney Creek, the air is different, and I feel more like myself than I have in years. I’m starting to believe there’s something in upheaving your entire life.
My cell chimes in my pocket with a text while Brooklyn tells us the tales of woe from deep down in the distillery basement, where he conducts most of his business. Hardly anybody goes down there unless they’re looking for him. I pull out my cell to take a quick look at who’s texting me.
Hartley.
I see her name and the message flash on the screen and my heart soars. I get a quick gander without opening my cell.
Hartley:
Why do I wake up every morning thinking about you?
I grin as I read it, while still listening to the guys’ banter back and forth.
I fucking love that she’s thinking about me. Picturing her lying in bed on a morning with me on her mind…
“Hey, no work talk while we’re drinking beer.” A voice from behind has us all turning around before I can respond to her message.
My jaw almost drops to see Gabe standing there. The asswipe actually showed up.
Huh?
“Brother.” He nods in my direction.
“Gabe.” I nod back. It’s like our almost fistfight never happened.
“Anyone going to buy me a drink?” He loosens his tie and notions to the bartender. Gabe is hardly ever without his suit and tie, no matter what the weather. He’s worse than me.
“We were waiting for you to shout the next round.” I snicker, taking a pull of my beer and resting the bottle back on the bar.
“Good luck with that,” Beau mutters, chuckling to himself.
“You calling me a tight-ass?” Gabe nudges him playfully and grabs him around his neck in a make-shift headlock.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beau holds his hands up in surrender. Beau’s always been more of a gamer than a fighter. A smile tugs at my lips as I watch them.
Gabe must be in a good mood, as he’s hardly ever playful.
Given our fight, I’m surprised he showed his face, but Gabe is faultlessly loyal, if nothing else. I have to remind myself, once again, it’s only because he feels threatened and thinks I’m going to try to take over everything and start telling him what to do. My other brothers clearly don’t feel that way, nor my sister, but Gabe and I have always had the love/hate thing since we were kids.
And while I do want a say-so in major decisions with our brand, I’m not looking to take his job. I never have been.
He gives me a chin lift. “Times must be tough if you’re drinking the brew.”
