Page 95
Her eyes twinkled. “You’re a gem.”
Conversation turned easily to other things—the charities she was a part of, the details of my master’s thesis, the early days of the distillery. I learned Henley Bourbon Co. was merely a side hustle for the Shepherds, whose true wealth had swelled over the course of the last century. Given my luxurious surroundings and the hints at other properties owned across the world, I assumed they’d made some lucrative decisions over the years.
Besides his work at Henley, Shep spent his time overseeing the Shepherd’s large and ever-growing portfolio, serving on a smattering of boards, helping Nessa with her philanthropic pursuits, et cetera, et cetera.
He was a busy man.
“All the stress has gotten to him,” Nessa confided. “He had some trouble with his heart earlier this year.”
Curiosity piqued, I sipped my coffee and tried to moderate my voice. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve been begging him to take a step back, but he’s a typical man. Doesn’t like to give up control.”
“Cam told me his father thought he might not be ready to take over.”
Nessa’s eyebrows flew up, but her surprise disappeared behind a pleasant mask. “Camden is quite young.”
“How old was your husband when he took it over?”
Nessa chuckled. “Young. Though back then the distillery was small. Still local. If twenty-seven-year-old Shep took over what Henley is today, I’m not sure he would have succeeded.”
“Camden is very capable.”
An impish glint appeared in her eyes. Could she hear my crush in my words? “That he is, but like I said, my husband has trouble relinquishing control.”
A wave of heat rose to my face. “Well, things are looking up with Gray-Freeman.”
“Indeed.”
The morning turned into the afternoon, and I was about to make my excuses when somewhere on the floor below, a door opened and closed, and masculine laughter floated up toward us.
“Ah.” Nessa looked toward the staircase near the entrance of the home. “That’ll be the boys.”
“The…boys?” I rose to my feet.
Nessa drifted toward the staircase. “Shep? That you?”
“Yes, love.” The voice—more pleasant and laid back than I’d ever heard—drew closer. “Your son has finally learned how to best me at tennis.”
“Finally?” came Cam’s incredulous tone. “I’ve been better than you since I was twelve.”
“Oh, give an old man a break.”
At the banister, Nessa smiled down to a place I couldn’t see. “Was it tennis today? I thought you were going for a run?”
Steps began a slow plod up the wooden stairs. “Rained last night. Trail was muddy.”
Shep’s sandy-haired head came into view, and my insides clenched. Behind him, Cam followed. My thoughts went at once to his fingers woven through mine at the restaurant, his touch on my face last weekend, and I was certain the trail was tattooed there in red for all to see.
My body couldn’t decide whether it should run from Shep or jump on Cam. This resulted in my odd positioning halfway between the piano and the stairs. No Man’s Land.
The men—not boys—rounded the stairs, and Shep’s gaze landed on me. His sunny smile dimmed to a polite upturn of his lips. “Ah. Miss Honeycutt.”
At my name, Cam’s head jerked toward me. His hair was damp as if he’d recently showered. He wore jeans and a casual burgundy hoodie with the sleeves drawn up, showing off his forearms. Such an innocuous part of his body, the forearms, and yet… My body went hot and needy. The drawstrings on his chest were like handles. I wanted to grab and pull, pull, pull.
His blue eyes latched onto me. “Honeycutt.”
“Hey, Shepherd,” I said with a small wave.
