“You know, as younger brothers go, you do not suck,” she said softly.
“Well, as older sisters go, you’re not always a jerk. You will talk to me if it gets too much, right?”
Emerson nodded. “I will.”
Jake patted the desk and stood. “You going to be okay locking the place down?”
“I got it. You go home.”
About twenty minutes after Jake left, her phone buzzed.
I’m in the neighborhood. You still at work?
Connor.
Just a text from him had the power to brighten her day. It was ridiculous that a guy she hadn’t known two weeks ago could mean so much to her already.
I’m hoping to leave soon. Did you want to meet up? We don’t have to wait for our official date.
I’m glad you said that, he replied. I’m in Dyer’s visitor parking lot.
I’ll come down and let you in. Give me a minute.
A minute. What the hell. She needed at least five. She ran to the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth, wishing she’d not had onions in her salad at lunch. After a long day at the distillery, she looked like she’d fought a battle with a hedge and lost. Running a brush through her hair took thirty seconds. A quick swipe of lip gloss took five.
She jogged to the visitor’s entrance and unlocked it. Connor, dressed impeccably in a dark gray suit with his white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, leaned against the brickwork of the entrance archway. He had his foot up against the wall and his head down in his phone. By his feet was a beautiful arrangement of bright gerbera daisies.
“Hi,” she said as he looked up. His eyes ran a trail up her body from her feet to her face, and she could feel the heat of his gaze.
“Is it cheesy if I said I really wanted to see you?” he asked, picking up the flowers and handing them to her.
She pressed her nose to them and inhaled deeply. “Thank you. And not cheesy at all. In fact, that’s very good verbalization of your emotions. I’m impressed.”
Connor placed his hand on her neck, his thumb on her cheek, and pulled her to him. His lips were tender when they met hers, his tongue playful as he kissed her deeply and all too briefly. Butterflies fluttered from her stomach to her toes and back again. “I’m so glad I caught you,” he said gruffly.
“Me too. Would you like a tour?” she asked, tipping her head in the direction of the production facility.
“I’d love one.” Connor stepped inside.
Emerson locked the door. “Precaution from intruders rather than an attempt to hold you hostage in here.”
Connor’s laugh echoed off the brick walls and concrete floor. “Funnily enough, that hadn’t crossed my mind until you put the thought there.”
She flicked the lights on to the main production floor and left the flowers on the stairs. “Thank you so much for the flowers. I can’t decide whether to take them home or leave them here on my desk, seeing as I spend most of my time there.”
“You’re welcome. I left work and was on my way back to my condo when I decided to take a detour. Don’t let me distract you, though, if you have things you need to be doing. I get that sometimes the work just has to get done.”
Emerson shook her head. While it was thoughtful of him to come by and bring flowers, it was even more considerate to realize she might not have time to see him.
“I’m pleased to see you,” she said, taking the hand he offered. “And I wouldn’t have offered to meet up if I couldn’t make it. I tend to be quite plain with what I’m thinking.”
Connor kissed her chastely, then grinned. “I’ve noticed that about you. Didn’t you call me Mr. Grumpy?”
Emerson laughed. “I only call it as I see it,” she said. “You want to see who’s being grumpy in here?” She led him toward the stills. “This is Constance. I would say this is where the magic happens, but Constance doesn’t have much magic in her at the moment.” Emerson ran her hand along the surface of the copper still affectionately.
“Is this the equipment you make Dyer’s Medallion on?” Connor asked, and she noticed he ran his hand across the still, too.
“We tend to, just because Constance is the most reliable and biggest. But we can swap and change between stills really easily.”
She walked him through the preparation area where lemons were hand peeled. The scent of lemon and juniper berries still lingered in the air, zesty and fresh. When they entered the bottling area, it became clear Connor knew his way through a liquor production plant. He asked about bottling rates and automated labelling equipment.
“As a distributor, you must have been through plenty of facilities like this,” she said, before leading him in the direction of the tasting rooms. “I’d love to pick your brain on what you’ve seen.”
“Any time. I’ve been through a fair few. With Medallion doing so well, do you intend to expand?”
Emerson laughed. “To answer that would take the rest of the night. Yes, I have plans. Right now, I don’t have the capital to back those plans up.”
“What are your estimates for the costs versus the yield improvement?”
Tired after hours of thinking about it, she needed a break from talking numbers. “It’s been a long day working out the very thing you are asking. I’d love to talk it through with you, and I’m really grateful you’re actually interested in all of this,” she said, waving her arm around her, “but if it’s alright with you, a really cute guy just showed up with flowers, and I want to fix him a drink and make him
