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He gives me a smug look. “Like I said, grumpy. Anyway…” I can see my brother winding down his monologue when there’s a loud commotion from the tasting room.

Looks of confusion ripple around the group.

I shift my gaze from Wells to the archway that leads to the hallway and into the tasting room. “Fuck.”

I rip off my gloves and stomp into the tasting room to find Kimmy, our bartender, hurling a massive ice cube at the chest of my older brother, Warren.

The guests at the bar blink.

“Fuck you, Warren.” Kimmy grabs her purse from beneath the bar and storms for the exit.

“What just happened?” I demand.

“Kimmy quit.” Warren scrubs a big hand down his sharp, stubbled jaw. His dark brown hair’s in disarray and his crisp white shirt is rolled to the elbows.

“No shit. Why?” At his silence, I rub my temple. “Did you sleep with her?”

He clears his throat. “Not recently.”

“Goddamnit, War.” This is just what we need. No bartender. At the beginning of summer when tourist season’s started.

“I’ll take over until tonight.” He steps back behind the bar and reaches for a bottle of rye. He nods a brief hello to the tour group that’s followed Wells. “Sorry for the ruckus, folks. Take a seat. I’ll get the tastings going.”

Guilt stains his face. Older than me by one year, Warren prides himself on being responsible and coolheaded, but beautiful women are his one distraction. He uses them to keep the darkness at bay, to keep things light. I chalk it up to him making up for the time he lost in his youth. Instead of chasing his hockey dream, he matured overnight and came back home to chase and take care of our three younger brothers.

River—at thirty-four—is the dark horse, wild child rebel of the family. The kid has demons even I don’t know about. It’s always been a push-pull between us. But he takes after our mother with his love for animals and helping people.

Ezra, two years younger than River, knows whiskey better than any of us. He’ll run the entire distillery one day, and no one will dare take that away from him.

And last is Wells, the youngest of all of us. The baby. The one we’d kill to protect.

We’re all close. Brothers. Best friends. We’ve spent our entire lives fighting and playing and making whiskey.

This ranch is our legacy to protect and damn if we won’t make our parents proud.

“Don’t worry, man, we got it handled.” Wells appears and slaps me on the back. “Got you to say more than five words today. I consider that a win.”

I shake my head. Wells always knows how to push my buttons. He’s lucky he’s my little brother.

Wells’s smile fades as Warren pours out flights. “Ezra’s going to kill you, War.”

Puffing out a frustrated breath, Warren inclines his head at me. “A little help?”

“Nope. You’re on your own.”

My brother flashes a tense look in my direction. “See you tonight?”

I nod. “Tonight.” It’s a big night, a big deal, big plans, and suddenly those dark shadows close in around us. Wells stares out the window at the expanse of green earth and jagged mountains like we can all feel it looming.

The past.

Without another word, I head down the hallway to the Coop to find the blond waiting for me. “I’m in town for a few more days.” She flashes a bright white smile. “Call me, cowboy.” Into my hand, she slips a piece of paper.

“Not interested.” My tone’s hard, and as I pass her to duck into the cooperage, I crumple the piece of paper and toss it into a nearby trash can.

I’m an asshole, but it’s the truth.

There’s no time to get close to anyone. My focus is my family. Getting close to anyone means caring. Caring means loss. A damn agony I never want to experience again. The second I let my guard down, let someone in, they get taken away.