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I had no idea what he meant, but my ribs constricted, squeezing a few throbbing beats from my heart. I managed to keep my voice level. “See? Absurd.”
“Fair enough. You win again.”
A supremely satisfied smile earned its due reward.
He watched me a moment, almost…indulgent. “Do you like it here, Honeycutt?”
What a loaded question. I liked the paycheck. I liked Ivy and Bennett and the camaraderie I’d built with them. I liked him even though he was the most exasperating man I’d ever met. But I didn’t enjoy being an outsider. I didn’t enjoy being seen as a liability or a threat by my team.
So I decided on, “It’s different, but I’m getting used to it.” He nodded like he understood all the unsaid parts of that sentence, and I grasped for a change of subject. “You’re pretty young to be an executive at a company, you know. If we’re still in competition, I’d say you won that race.”
He smiled into his whiskey. “Nepotism is expected in a family-owned business.”
“Is this what you always wanted to do?”
He leaned his elbows on the bar. “I don’t know. Doing something else was never really an option, so I haven’t thought about it much.”
“Alright.” I faced him, crossing my legs. “So imagine any job is available to you. What would you choose?”
He took a leisurely sip of his drink, his lips curving around the glass. “I think…I’d probably choose this.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “I really love this company. It’s my legacy.”
“Because you’re a Shepherd?”
He shook his head. “Because I’m a Henley.”
Wait, what?
“My mother. Vanessa Shepherd, née Henley. She’s the last one, and all this”—he motioned around us—“was destined for her.”
“And your dad took it from her?” My feminist hackles rose. Did Shep not think a woman could manage it?
With a quick grin, Cam said, “It was given to them.” His eyebrows rose meaningfully. “As a wedding present. My mother had no interest in running it, but she was attached to the place and asked my dad to do it.”
I laughed at the idea of Shep kowtowing to his wife. “And he obeyed?”
Cam’s stare drifted to the bottles on the other side of the bar, but his gaze was distant, his voice soft. “My father has his faults, but he’s devoted to my mother. They were—and still are—very much in love.”
“Oh. That’s…beautiful.”
“Or a little gross if you happen to be their offspring. But yes. I suppose to the outside world it’s quite beautiful.” His eyes flicked toward me. “So when she asked, he not only obeyed. He brought the place back to life. For her.”
I looked around the room. “It’s a sort of love story, then?”
His chin dipped.
“So where do you fit in?” I nudged his arm. “The prodigal son.”
He chuckled. “Somewhere in the middle, I guess. Attached to the place and everything it represents, but too young to claim it.”
“What do you mean?”
Cam turned to me, blue eyes seizing mine. We’d strayed closer somehow, and though the lounge continued to swell with bodies and conversation, the space between us was quiet. Private. Ours. “He knows this is all mine, but he doesn’t think I’m ready for it. He also needs to retire. He’s got some health issues. This deal with Gray-Freeman will let him do that without compromising my position. They help with distribution and organization, but we still manage the distillery ourselves. I was supposed to oil this process, bring in Gray-Freeman so I could take over with their support, and Dad could retire like Mom wants. Focus on his health.”
It all made sense, and my heart softened a smidge toward Shep as I wondered what illness kept him from guiding his son into the family business.
