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“I don’t read a lot, but I used to like Agatha Christie.”
“Reading was my escape,” Tatum admitted. “Until my mom left. I was sixteen. My little sister was eleven. My dad was a drunk.”
“You raised her.” Everleigh looked back at Tatum.
“I tried,” Tatum mumbled. Yet another reason she didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t want to get married. To have children. She’d tried to guide Sutton through her tween and teen years, but she wouldn’t claim she’d raised her little sister. Even with that, she’d been an epic failure. She wasn’t a people person—how could she be with parents like hers as role models?
“The Murphys…” Everleigh started and stopped. “They’re a good family.”
Tatum wasn’t sure where Everleigh was going with her comment. Yes, Tatum believed Adele and Liam Murphy had a nice family. But she wasn’t part of it. And she never would be. She’d learned through the years that the people she loved left, so she had no desire to love anyone again in any capacity.
“Did you ever seen yourself falling in love with a boy from a big Irish family?”
Everleigh snorted. “Not in love.” She shook her head. “Just having fantastic sex. Every day.”
Tatum rolled her eyes and tossed a throw pillow at her friend.
“See you tomorrow.” Everleigh climbed to her feet and dropped the pillow to the couch. When Tatum didn’t answer, Everleigh turned back to her as she pulled her door open. “You’ll be in?”
“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Tatum reminded her, but her words sounded so cold, she added, “See you tomorrow.”
10
Charlie held the door open for his brother as Pete carried the box with the small vials of whiskey inside the coffee house. Eventually, they would do the tastings at the restaurant Pete owned with their parents. Right now, there wasn’t a lot of room, and things were crowded and messy with construction on the add-on, so it was just easier to use Murphy’s Brews.
He let the door close but then stepped closer when he saw Mal crossing the lot out back. Rather than get the door for him, Charlie propped his foot against it so Mal couldn’t budge it open.
“Open up, asshole,” Mal called.
“Jesus, Charles,” Pete hollered from the front of the building. Charlie moved aside with a wicked laugh aimed at Mal as he walked in. “You guys ever gonna grow up?”
“Not if I can help it!” Charlie answered. “Need me to grab anything else?”
“Nope.” Pete disappeared into the stock room, his voice fading as he did. Charlie glanced that way and offered Everleigh a wave when their eyes met.
“Quit flirtin’ with my woman,” Mal growled.
“Put a ring on it,” Charlie told him. He crossed the room to the table where Pete had set down the box. As usual, everything was organized and ready to go. Charlie would like to give his brother shit about that, that Vianne was the one who kept him on the straight and narrow. But he knew better. Maybe Vianne had whipped Pete into shape, but Charlie’s older brother was anal about organization and cleanliness. He supposed that was a good thing in the restaurant business, but it left Charlie feeling a little frazzled.
He'd gone home after his workday for a shower. Made a quick stir-fry and ate it while standing at his little kitchen counter, watching a bit of the ball game. But walking in here in pressed khaki shorts and a clean black t-shirt didn’t work like magic. He still felt like a slacker compared to Pete. Maybe a little sleep would help cure that strung-out feeling.
A noise from the east wall stirred him into action. Hands resting on the sides of the big, open box, he lifted his chin and looked for the source of the noise.
Tatum.
He’d never seen her here this late; she must have gotten caught up in something. She was packing up to leave now. Expecting her to bust his ass for approaching her and doing it anyway, Charlie crossed the room and dropped his hands to rest on the back of a chair at her table.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied without looking at him. Charlie watched her long, ringless fingers snap her laptop closed and pick it up to slide it back in her bag. She moved smoothly, not necessarily in a hurry, but it was obvious she was ready to get away from him.
“You don’t have to leave.”
She slowed her movement and finally tipped her head up to meet his eyes.
“I don’t want to do a whiskey tasting.”
He shrugged. “You can stay here and work. Might get a little loud at times—”
