“Not really. Everyone else is tapped out, too. I think it’s the double-edged sword of working in a smaller company, especially a family-owned one. It’s a tightly controlled structure, but it struggles when someone is absent.”
“Ours is still a family business, but it’s a multi-hundred-million-dollar business, so we have a bigger structure. More people who think they need to be involved in every decision.” Thoughts of his uncle flitted into his mind, and he quickly dismissed them.
Emerson grimaced. “Right now, I feel like I’d benefit from a few more people. My dad—”
“Here are your drinks, folks.” The bartender placed their drinks on coasters in front of them. Connor squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.
“Thank you,” Emerson said, reaching for her drink. “Anyway. Cheers. And thank you for asking me to dinner. I’m so glad you did.”
Connor tapped his glass to hers. “Cheers. And I’m happy you’re here.”
They sipped their drinks for a moment, and Emerson moaned. The sound reverberated through his chest. “Oh my. That’s so good.” Emerson offered the glass to him. “Try it.”
His eyes were locked on her as her tongue ran its way slowly across her lower lip. Lucky fucking tongue.
He took the glass she offered and took a sip. “Better than I expected,” he answered honestly. “I tend to stick to whiskey for a spirit. You were about to say something about your dad before the drinks arrived.”
“If you remember, I mentioned in my speech how my dad passed away recently.”
Connor nodded. That flutter of guilt that he already knew so much about her family returned.
“Well, because it’s a family business, the share is split equally between the three of us, but my father requested in his will that I take it over. I’m the oldest. Jake and Olivia both have their thing. It’s what I always wanted, but…”
“It’s hard?” Connor filled in.
“No, it’s not even that. I don’t mind the hard work. It’s just…lonely. And decisions that my dad made every day seem huge to me. Like I might break something precious if I don’t make the right call.”
Connor was struck by the way she viewed her family business. Precious. Finch Liquor Distribution was just a company to him. A hugely profitable one, but still just a company.
“And you had some of those issues to grapple with today?” Connor asked because he was concerned for her and because he couldn’t help being curious about what possible difficulties the distillery could be facing.
“Yes, but nothing I can’t handle…get through…manage. Whatever. You know what I mean. But I thought I’d have so much more time with my father to learn; I’m not sure I’m ready.”
If he pressed her now, he could get the kind of information that would help him make a better offer should the time ever arise. Vulnerability was always a weakness when it came to a negotiation. But the truth was he didn’t want to manipulate her. He’d done shady things to get the deal he wanted before. And yes, he wasn’t proud to admit that at least one deal he could remember had taken advantage of a grieving family who couldn’t decide what was best for their business.
Yet as Emerson looked at him with growing trust in her eyes, he couldn’t do it.
“I’m sure you are doing an admirable job.” He reached for her hand again and squeezed it tightly.
“I hope so,” she said, straightening on her bar stool. “Nobody wants to go down in family lore as the person who destroyed the family business.”
The server arrived and ushered them to their table, where they finished their drinks while checking out the menu. After they’d ordered, the burger for him and the seared tuna for her, Emerson placed her forearms on the table and leaned toward him. “Tell me more about yourself, Connor.”
He couldn’t help but notice the way the move pushed her breasts high beneath the cut of the sundress. Round and full. Wait, she’d asked about himself. “What would you like to know?”
“What’s the first movie you remember watching as a child?” Emerson took a sip of her drink.
“Easy. Star Wars. My stepdad, Derek, couldn’t wait to watch it with me. I’m sure there were others before it, but I loved Star Wars.”
Emerson grinned. “Me too. Which character did you want to be?”
Connor thought for a moment. “Luke, obviously. What about you?”
“You’re going to laugh.”
“Princess Leia?” he asked. “Got one of those cosplay bikinis in your closet?”
She shook her head. “Nothing so predictable. Chewie.”
“You wanted to be Chewbacca?” Connor began to laugh.
“All the way. My mom got this brown fur material and made the costume. I had a mask. I even had the gun belt thing. I learned everything about the Wookiee warrior…I learned about his planet Kashyyyk…and sometime, which isn’t now, I’ll show you my amazing impersonation.”
Connor grinned. “You speak Wookiee?”
“I speak Shyriiwook. There are many Wookiee dialects.”
Connor tried to reconcile the beautiful and slightly bohemian woman sitting opposite him letting out the guttural groan of a nearly seven-foot-tall, aggressive ball of fur. “Are you still into the whole”—he waved his hand as he grasped for the word, but it didn’t come—“thing?”
Emerson shook her head. “Cooper Clark from two doors down made fun of me one day while I was riding my bike in my costume, and seeing I had an epic crush on him, it was the last day I wore it.”
His heart squeezed for the little freewheeling girl and her love of Wookiees. “That’s so sad.”
Emerson shrugged. “In fairness, it had started to smell a little, and it was getting kind of hot in there in July.”
When their meals were placed in front of them, they tucked in. Connor offered another round of drinks but Emerson decided to wait, considering she would need to drive home later, which led to a longer conversation about their homes—hers in Morrison, his in The Coloradan next to Union
