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I looked away. “The distillery.”
The man’s smile wavered, his face twisting in disgust, before his smile returned, all teeth. He gazed over his shoulder and saw Stuart.
“I see the boss is here tonight,” he groaned. “Can’t even go to the pub without them McAlisters breathing down your neck.”
“You know Stuart?”
“Oh yeah, I know him alright,” he snickered. “And the whole family.”
He rubbed his knee against my leg and I froze. He gave me what I think he hoped was a charming smile. His contact had none of the effect that Stuart’s had.
Stuart hadn’t pressed himself against me like this when we first met. Yes, he’d kissed my hand—a bold move, and it had been fucking hot, too. But he respected my space, no matter his intentions that night.
But this guy didn’t get it.
“He’s a beast,” he sneered. “Just like his nickname.”
And you’re just another Gaston.
“I’ve found the McAlister family to be lovely and welcoming.”
“Guess the mother is alright. Never had time for her sons, or their old man.” He shrugged. “Old Mac thought he knew how to run the business, but he was losing it, even before his accident.”
A cold lump settled in my stomach. This conversation felt wrong. “Do you work for them, too?”
“Used to,” he said, looking around the bar. “Going to be a stillman myself soon, actually.” He leaned forward. “But enough about the McAlisters. Let’s talk about ye and me.”
He placed his hand on my hip and squeezed.
“Please take your hand off me.” My heart thundered against my ribs.
“It’s cool, lass.” He talked to my breasts and didn’t remove his hand. “It’s all good.”
“Ye heard the lady, Stephen.” Stuart rumbled behind me. I hadn’t seen or heard him approach. “Or are ye deaf now these days?”
Wait, did Stuart say Stephen? Could this guy be Caroline’s ex-Stephen?
No. She said Stephen had moved away to drive trucks, after they broke up.
Several patrons watched us, eyeing off the exchange.
Stephen stood tall but he was no match for Stuart’s height and bulk. Stuart stood close to my back, heat radiating off him.
“Well, well. Stuart.” Stephen looked between me and Stuart and laughed. “He thinks you’re his girlfriend or something, love?” He slid his hand up my arm and I shuddered in disgust.
“I don’t think that at all,” Stuart interjected, his voice rumbling like thunder. “When a woman tells ye she doesn’t want to be touched, then ye don’t. It’s simple as that.”
I narrowed my eyes at Stephen. “Remove your hand.”
Stephen’s leer wavered and he backed off.
“Like that, is it?” He took his beer and, as he walked away, he muttered, “bitch.”
Stuart growled and made to move past me, but I reached out for him.
“Please, he’s not worth it.”
“But you are,” he ground out, staring after Stephen. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his declaration. He turned back to me. “I knew you had the situation under control. I just wanted him to know ye weren’t alone and who ye friends are.”
