“Probably,” she said, with a shrug. “But you’re the numbers guy, I’m just the cook.” She wasn’t just the cook; she was their master distiller. She’d trained for years—since before she was even legally allowed to drink rum—to be as good as she was, and Reid was more than proud of her. It might have been his business savvy that had elevated Rexford Rum Distillery, and Quin’s marketing expertise and networking that had had made the exclusive luxury brand popular and well-known, but it was Gemma’s rum that had put them on the map, making them a premium spirit to be found in the collection of every rich and powerful man and woman in the country. “But, if it helps,” she continued, “it’s specialized enough, given the fact we only had six cognac barrels, that it’s a very small batch. We can raise the price even more. Put it in a funky bottle, make it a luxury item. Drive up demand. You know our customers; they’ll want it if they think the next guy can’t get it. Quin will put the perfect spin on it in marketing, and we’ll make oodles of money.”
“Solid plan,” Quin said, draining his own glass in celebration with a smile on his face.
Reid knew they were both correct. “All right, email me the ingredients and quantities you used, and I’ll start crunching some numbers tomorrow.”
“I’m taking tomorrow off, so I’ll get it to you first thing on Monday morning.” When he looked at her, she raised her hands. “Dude, I work enough hours during the week that I can take a Friday off every once in a while. You should do the same.”
“Fine.” He turned to Quin, always in business mode, even when they were supposed to be having a quiet, leisurely dinner together. “We’ll get started on a marketing plan, and we can launch in the summer.”
“On Monday,” Quin clarified.
“So, you’re all taking Friday off, then?”
“Yup. Thursday night is the new Friday night.”
“Fine. On Monday,” Reid agreed, knowing he wouldn’t win the battle.
He turned back to Gemma, already formulating a game plan. “How will the batch have aged by summer?”
“It’ll be perfect.” She plucked her phone from her small purse and smiled when she looked at the screen. “I’ll send you that list first thing in the morning, but for now, I’m out of here.”
“You have plans?” Reid asked.
“Yeah, I have a date. Unlike you, I do have a life outside of rum, you know. I haven’t given up on all of my wild ways,” she said with a wink.
The allusion to their past lives made Reid cringe. In their younger years, the three of them had spent a lot of time at nightclubs, at parties, while their parents worked at making Rexford Rum, the business that had been in their family for generations, a well-known brand. But overnight, their lives had changed with the death of their mother, and their father had stepped back from business. It was then that Reid and his siblings had realized it was up to them to keep the business going if they wanted Rexford Rum to stay alive. He’d had the most complete turnaround, abandoning his raucous lifestyle, settling down, getting married—as well as that had worked out for him—while his brother and sister, as devoted to the business as they were, still managed to find lots of time to have some fun.
“And you know what, I’m wondering why you guys don’t have anything lined up for yourselves tonight.”
“Who says I don’t?” Quin shrugged a shoulder. “The night is still pretty young for me, lots of time to round up some female company.”
“You’re such a romantic,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes.
Reid felt his sister’s gaze settle on him. “How about you, big brother? Any hot plans tonight?”
“Gemma—” He’d planned on crashing on the couch with a drink and watching the game, but the unlabeled bottle of rum on the table had changed that. The thought of heading down to the office and planning the new release and cost calculations had his fingers tapping on the table. When it came to passion, the distillery had replaced everything else in his life.
“I know, you’re busy,” she countered, using the words he’d said many times against her. She pursed her lips as she studied him and tilted her head to the side. “When was the last time you were on a date?”
When the urge struck him, which, honestly, wasn’t often, Reid had no problem finding women, those who, like him, weren’t interested in a drawn-out affair, but an actual date? Where he sat across from a woman, and they talked and got to know each other? He poured another finger of rum into the short glass and brought it to his lips. “You know when,” he said, grimacing behind his glass, before he took a large swallow.
He could feel his sister’s exasperation at him. “That was over two years ago,” Gemma told him—like he didn’t know—shaking her head. “Carolina did a number on you. But you can’t be alone your entire life because of one mistake.”
He looked at her. “That one mistake almost cost us everything. I’m not going to let it happen again. So could you just get off my back already?”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see any women ever again,” she told him. When he said nothing, she kept going. “Two years, Reid. What happened wasn’t your fault. Since that whole thing with Carolina, we’re all a lot more careful with our information. She’s the one who got into our databases. She’s the one who turned the information over to our competitors. You made a mistake in trusting the wrong person. We all did. It’s time to move on.”
“I’m not interested,” he insisted. “I’ve got enough going on with the business. I’ve completely ruled out any type of relationship. Where would I find the time to devote to another person?”
Gemma’s sigh was one of impatience. He knew because he often heard it in his direction
