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Ten minutes later he’d looked his best friend in the eye and agreed that Riley would remain forever off-limits.
Sam just wished he’d known then that it would be the hardest damn promise of his life.
Chapter Six
Even a lifelong New Yorker could discover new things about the city. Today’s little surprise?
There were actual subway lines that didn’t serve Manhattan.
Ordinarily, that right there would have stopped Riley in her tracks. It was blasphemy. But for this particular errand, she was determined.
It took three transfers, two don’t-talk-to-me glares at weirdos, and the dodging of a rat, but here Riley was on the G train, to the middle of Nowhere, Brooklyn.
Greenpoint wasn’t exactly the city’s hot spot. Not that there was anything wrong with the neighborhood, but since it was on the northern edge of Brooklyn, one didn’t end up in Greenpoint without a reason to be in Greenpoint.
And Riley definitely had a reason.
More of a mission, actually.
Riley had been out to Sam’s only once before, and she hadn’t been invited then either. Liam had thrown a surprise party for Sam shortly after he’d purchased the warehouse, and naturally the entire McKenna family had been on the invite list. Riley’s mother had even provided the food (spaghetti, meatballs, and a side of potatoes).
While Sam had grinned and shmoozed his way through the party, Riley was pretty sure he’d been uncomfortable with the entire thing. And he sure as hell hadn’t initiated a repeat in the years since then.
For whatever reason, he didn’t like to talk about what he did up here in the middle of nowhere with his grains and all the other crap that went into whisky making.
Liam said it was because Sam was modest.
Riley thought it was something else entirely.
She just didn’t know what.
One thing she did know was that he wasn’t going to be happy to see her, but the surprise factor was a rather crucial element of her plan. If he got even a whiff of what she had planned, he’d probably bash his own face with a hammer in order to necessitate an emergency trip to the dentist.
Since it had been quite a while since she’d last been here, she relied on the map app on her phone to get her from the train platform to the warehouse where ROON Distillery was based.
Stiletto-heel boots had not been the way to go, especially given that morning’s rainstorm. She did her best to avoid the worst of the puddles as she turned right at a run-down gas station and made her way across the gravel pit that led up to the brick building into which Sam had dumped his entire livelihood.
She paused for a second, taking it all in. It was in good condition for the area, but it was hardly the slick New York City so frequently portrayed in movies. The area was rough around the edges and just a little bit lonely.
A lot like the man inside.
Taking a deep breath, she scanned the building for the best in. When she came last time, the enormous sliding garage doors had been open. They were closed now, and there wasn’t exactly a prominent front door with a welcome mat.
Every instinct was telling her to turn back. Not only did she not belong here in her designer red dress and overpriced stiletto-heel boots, but she wasn’t wanted here. She didn’t need a closed door to tell her that.
But she’d been taking the easy way out for years. It was time to take charge of her life.
It was time to take what she wanted and hope a little desperately that she didn’t get hurt in the process.
Circling the building, she found a door with chipped navy paint and gave a hearty knock.
Nothing.
She pounded harder, but there was no response.
Damn it. She’d been counting on him being here doing … well, whatever one did at a distillery.
What if he’d managed to convince Angela that he didn’t have genital warts, and what if they were together?
