Rhys
June was hanging out at the Copper Summit bar with Autumn. She had said I could wait at the cabin for her, or if I really wanted to get people talking, I could stop by the bar. According to Autumn and Wynter, Wednesday nights were quiet after nine. The bar closed at eleven.
She’d be at the cabin in an hour, but here I was, walking into the distillery.
The only open door at this time of night went into the bar. The main entry to the merch shop and the viewing windows for the tanks were to my left. The glass door was closed and only the security lights were on beyond the entry.
Neon signs glinted off the wood accents on the walls and the beams going across the ceiling. The large picture window bordering one side of the bar let in the ambient glow from the lights in theparking lot.
A couple of men I didn’t recognize were tucked into a round corner table opposite the bar. June was behind the counter, her back to me, stocking bottles on the shelves.
She spotted me in the mirror that ran along the shelf. Once the bottles of bourbon she was arranging were in place, she turned, a wide smile on her face. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“It’s as close as we’re getting to a date night while you’re still in town.” I slid onto a stool. “Are you working alone?”
“I told Autumn to get going. She’s still run down from the school year.” June propped her elbows on the bar counter. “I think she’s pregnant and not telling anyone.”
“Yeah? Congrats to them—if you’re right.”
“I’m right. I’ve been gone a long time, but Autumn isn’t usually that worn down, and I’m sure she and Gideon would get an A for effort.”
A knot cinched in my gut. Instead of picturing June’s redheaded sister tenderly rubbing her hands over her swelling stomach, it was June in my head, her curtain of hair framing the loving expression on her face.
I coughed to get the tightness in my chest to loosen.
“Do you need something to drink?” She spun, giving me a full view of her not-pregnant stomach. While I never tired of looking at her ass, I had to avert my gaze. The ache left behind was too disconcerting.
Where the hell had that thought come from? I was a father. I had two amazing kids. Why was I imagining June with my kid? I wasn’t a young man like before, picturing a theoretically older June with my baby in her belly. She’d been in my head. As she was now.
A square white napkin with the Copper Summit mountain logo was placed in front of me, and a glass of straight bourbon was set on top.
“I can get you a glass of water too.” She pivoted away.
Once her back was to me, I took a long pull of the bourbon. The burn wicked up my sinuses and I started coughing. “Jesus.”
Her chuckle was soft as she shoved the glass of water toward me. “Here. Been a while?”
“Yes,” I wheezed. I had the vodka on hand for when the rare company came over, usually a contact from the ranch or an old school buddy. “I usually have a cold beer.”
“You came to the wrong bar, Hot Mountain Daddy.”
I smiled and downed the water. After that, I took another sip, remembering to shut off my sniffer like June had once taught me to. The golden liquid caressed my esophagus, leaving the flavors of vanilla and butterscotch on my tongue.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much.”
Her gaze lifted over my shoulder. “Y’all have a good night.”
Now we were alone.
I sipped my bourbon while she went to clean up their table. When she returned, she washed their glasses.
“Tourists?” I asked.
“Yes. On their honeymoon. If they weren’t so googly-eyed, Autumn wouldn’t have left me.” She rounded the bar and slid onto the stool next to me. I spun on my seat enough that our legs tangled. “She still wasn’t going to leave, but I said that you’d be here.”
I arched a brow, uncaring that I’d been that predictable. “Do you tell the future now?”
