Dean Troyer sat down in his kitchen and propped his laptop on the scarred wood table in front of him. As soon as he opened the Skype window and saw his own reflection—and the cluttered counters behind him—he cringed. Not gonna work.
Grabbing the computer, he stood and went around to the other side of the table. From that angle, a harsh light hit his face from the living room window. Groaning, he glanced at the clock. Three minutes. Computer in hand once again, he sat on the couch. He turned and quickly fluffed the pillows, arranged the blanket his sister had knitted him years ago behind him—she’d like that—and then blew out a deep breath. He glanced at his watch. One minute until his impromptu call with his little sister.
The computer alerted him of the incoming Skype call and a giant grin instantly broke out on Dean’s face. She’d promised in her email last night that she was completely fine and not to worry, but he couldn’t help wondering what she needed to tell him that could not have been said in the original note. When it came to his little sister, worrying had always been a full-time job.
He’d been fifteen when Alexis was born. Full of pubescent male rage and attitude, all made worse by the fact that his mother had divorced his father and married a man nearly twenty years his junior and eight years hers. Dean had hated his stepfather, if he could even have been called that, so when his mother got pregnant he’d been prepared to hate their offspring, too. That had proved to be impossible, because the minute he’d held tiny baby Alexis, he’d loved her.
She was now an adult and serving her second tour in the Middle East, and he couldn’t wait for her to come home. Three more months and she’d be back safe for good, finally done with her commitment to the army. He was proud as hell of her, always had been, but it was crazy nerve racking for her to be doing something so dangerous.
They hadn’t done a video call in several weeks. Not since she’d told him about her engagement to Nathan, her boyfriend of two years. He clicked to accept her call now, and the minute she came through he breathed a sigh of relief at seeing her whole and healthy. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Bean!” She’d called him Bean since she could speak. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Buzz. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful.”
They chatted briefly about unimportant things. The weather, how the Stag was doing, and she asked about Dean’s father.
“I’m counting down the days till July. Ready to have you both home,” Dean said.
“Nowhere near as ready as I am. However…” She smiled but it quickly went solemn. “Dean, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He sucked in a breath before responding. “Alex, don’t even tell me…”
Her face was pained. “I’m so sorry. I know you’ll be disappointed, but Nathan and I both decided that while we’re young we might as well let the government pay for us to travel.”
Dean’s head nodded repeatedly—a nervous reaction. He sure as hell wasn’t yet in agreement, just … processing. He’d been afraid this might happen. “Where?”
“Italy. The air force offered Nate a job there and … well, I asked if I could be assigned there also. They said yes.”
“Well, of course they did. If you’re willing to give the army more years of your life, they aren’t going to talk you out of it.”
“Dean,” she whispered. “Please don’t be mad.”
The sadness in her voice forced him to get it together. “I’m sorry, Buzz. I’m not mad. I just … worry about you. And I miss you.”
She smiled. “I miss you. But Italy…”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s somewhat of a relief. Why does the US military need to be in Italy anyway?”
She laughed. “The US military thinks it needs to be everywhere, and with attacks on the rise—”
“Uh-uh-uh. That’s enough. I’d rather imagine my little sister eating pizza and going to the Love, or whatever.”
Alex grinned and shook her head. “It’s the Louvre, and it’s in Paris, France, genius.”
“Ah, well, I was just testing you.” Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “How long?”
“A year. And then we’re out for good. Both of us. We’ll be ready for kids by then. It will be perfect timing.”
“I’m not sure if perfect is how I would describe it but I will choose to trust your judgment. You tell Nathan he’d better keep you safe.”
“He always does, although you do know I outrank him?” She smiled and then reached off camera. “He’s here with me.”
Dean sat up straighter as Nate’s face leaned into the camera’s view. The guy looked a little like a young Jamie Foxx and had the charm of a southern gentleman seeing as he’d grown up in Georgia.
“Hello, Dean,” Nate said with a small wave. Then he drawled, “I promise to take care of Alex as I always do.”
“Oh please.” Alexis teasingly shoved Nate out of the screen, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Dean chuckled as he watched them grin at each other, feeling old and very alone. He remembered being that happy and in love. Blissful ignorance he now realized. He could only hope that his sister and Nate would be luckier than he and his ex-wife had.
Alex was now twenty-five. Seemed like just yesterday Dean was twenty-five himself, watching her in a dance recital. Teaching her how to fish. Eventually taking her in during her teen years after their mother and her father had died. He’d raised her after that, and in many ways Dean felt less like a fun and cool sibling and more a combination of bossy big brother and Dad.
“So, there’s only one problem with this change in plans, Dean.”
“What’s that?”
“Our wedding.”
Dean shrugged. “So you postpone things, right? It will be fine, Alex. We’ll do whatever we need to do.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. And while we could wait, we don’t want to. When we move to Italy we want to live on the base as a married couple. Use married housing.”
“Well, okay … then you get married before you go.”
“Right, but that means we have to get married while we’re home in July.” Her expression implied that she thought Dean was a little slow on the uptake. “We will only have two weeks’ leave. And currently I’m on the other side of the planet, Dean, and we start a month-long mission in a week. Soo … remember how much you love me…” Alexis made a worried face.
“Alex, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”
“Bean, I need you to plan my wedding.”
* * *
“So you’re playing bride for her?” TJ asked Dean. They headed for the old freight elevator that led to the second floor of the Stag. Normally they would have taken the back staircase, but a rolling cart of Forkhorn White Whiskey and Ten Point Vodka bottles needed to go up to the bar for this evening’s event. Usually their bartender Jen did the stocking, but she was late. Not a surprise.
“I prefer the term doing her a favor.”
“Okay, a favor where you play bride for her.”
Dean sighed. “It appears so.”
“You know three months to plan a wedding is sort of unreasonable, right?”
Dean shrugged as he slid the metal door open and held it while TJ rolled the cart in, the wood and metal clanking beneath it. Pulling the heavy door closed, Dean pushed the UP button. “I have to do the best I can. I figured with Tara’s help—”
TJ winced as the lift jerked to life. “Shit, I forgot to tell you. Tara found out yesterday she has pre … something or other. Some serious pregnancy issue. She has to take some time off to go on partial bedrest until she can deliver in July.”
“What?” Pregnancy complications always pulled at Dean’s heart, reminding him of all the struggles he and Amy experienced trying—and failing repeatedly—to conceive. He didn’t wish it on anyone. “How did this happen? I thought she was doing great.”
Tara had been the first bride at the Stag. She’d been responsible for spreading the word early on, which had snowballed out of control. It had made sense to hire her as their resident wedding coordinator and front desk helper. When she’d announced the news that she and her husband, Ben, were expecting, Dean, Jake, and TJ had been thrilled for them. The thought that something could go wrong left a pit in Dean’s stomach.
“Her doctor says it’s not completely uncommon but it has to be taken very seriously. She must be off her feet to ensure everything is okay. Obviously, whatever is best for her and the baby takes priority, so the three of us are basically going to have to step in where she left off and pick up the slack until this fall when she comes back. And considering Jake will be on the festival tour for a good chunk of July and August, that pretty much leaves the two of us.”
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, his anxiety going on red alert at that thought. Although he attended his share of their wedding events, he’d never had a hand in working with the couples or any of the planning. His main job had always been the spirits. Part of the reason he’d so easily agreed to grant Alexis’s request was because he’d just assumed he’d have Tara’s help.
After TJ opened the lift, Dean pushed the cart off the elevator and followed him to the bar. “Do we need to hire someone temporary to do Tara’s job?” Dean asked.
“I thought about that. But who wants a temporary job that has such a learning curve? She offered to do the work from home but Ben called and informed me that the doctor had emphasized how important it was that she relax and not stress to keep her blood pressure in check.”
“Yeah, no, I’m completely in agreement with Ben. Tara has to focus on herself. If anything happened to that baby…” Dean turned away, rubbing at his chin. His co-owners knew he’d been married, and knew Amy, but they had no clue how painful their life together had been. Something he had no intention of sharing.
“It will be fine,” TJ said as he began to move the bottles of vodka to the back of the bar. Dean hated that they all saw him as the worrier of the group, but it was just his nature. “I think I can handle the wedding side of things, but that will take me away from helping you, so I will say again, you need to hire a distilling assistant. Especially now that you’re playing bride. Putting it off is really no longer an option.”
His co-owners had been bugging him to do that for a while, and Dean wasn’t sure why he kept resisting. The three of them had set up their roles in the business early on, and while they all had learned to help one another when needed, they mostly stayed in their own lanes. Didn’t micromanage one another, and that had worked.
TJ was the business and money mind. He kept the books, dealt with banks, and made sure all the bills were paid. Jake oversaw their marketing, and for the first time, this year they were sending him on a music festival road trip in a vintage RV they’d decked out and affectionately named The Stag Wagon. They hoped it would help get the word out about their product in other regions.
Dean’s job was to make the product. Sure, they all loved the spirits and brainstormed together, but he was the one overseeing production day in and day out. The one who knew how to tell when the mash had cooked long enough, properly use the distiller, and sniff out the heads from the tails. TJ was a great helper, but Dean knew that someone else needed to be trained to do what he did. For some reason, he just wasn’t making that happen, although his body was urging him to cut it some slack.
“I do want to hire someone. I know it’s necessary. I just keep thinking I’ll know when I find the right person. Plus, I’m not sure this chaotic time is the right time to introduce someone into the fold.”
“We’ve been in controlled chaos since we started, so that’s not an excuse. You’re stalling. And you’re never going to find that right person if you don’t put some feelers out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Dean inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh flowers filling his nose. He looked around the room and took in the scene. Gleaming wood floors ran the length of the entire second floor, and at least twenty circular tables dotted the perimeter. Hanging above the beautiful room was a massive and intricate chandelier made of deer antlers. They’d paid nearly three thousand dollars for the handmade piece from a guy in Tennessee they’d found online. There was a tiny replica downstairs that had cost a third of that, and they’d both been worth every penny.
The left side of the space housed a large stone fireplace that was bracketed by rows of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the town square. This room—the second floor of their turn-of-the-twentieth-century building—was rustically beautiful and elegant. As soon as they’d purchased the space and seen the expansive upstairs, they’d known it could be used for something. When someone suggested renting it out as an event venue, they’d figured it would be a good way to bring in additional revenue for the business, especially since their premier product would take five years to age in oak barrels before it could turn a profit. None of them had anticipated it being so popular that brides booked them two years in advance. They’d continued to make vodka and white whiskey, neither of which required the aging process, and with those products in addition to the wedding events, they’d done quite well for themselves.
Dean had been hesitant at first about promoting themselves as a true wedding venue, but for all his concerns, it was no doubt a large reason they were still in business. For one, the weddings brought in revenue that made it possible for the company to be highly profitable while ensuring their core product was the best it could be. Plenty of start-up distilleries had gone under before their highest-quality offerings completed the aging process. Plus, they served their unaged liquor at the wedding receptions, meaning every weekend they earned new fans. It really was a perfectly symbiotic marketing scheme.
On top of that, even Dean could admit that the Stag offered a beautiful location for a wedding reception. He was grateful to be able to give that gift—a lovely wedding—to his little sister. If only the planning of it didn’t terrify him. Of course his little sister had offered her own suggestion, one that made him very uncomfortable.
“Alexis thought I should ask Amy to help me plan her wedding.”
TJ froze and met Dean’s eyes. He set a bottle down on the bar with a little too much force. “Tell me you’re not considering that.”
“Well, I hadn’t been, but now without Tara, maybe I should.”
“Ah, man. I think that’s bad news, because she would do it, you know,” TJ said, shaking his head. “Anything to be with you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You give that woman an inch and she’d climb you like a tree.”
“I’m not so sure.” Although they both knew his words were false. “She left me, remember?”
“Oh no. Don’t give me that nonsense. You’ve said yourself she’s been trying to get you back for years. Woman found out the grass on the other side is only greener because it’s full of dogshit.”
Dean couldn’t help laughing at that as he and TJ walked around to the front of the bar.
“Alex and Amy are still close.”
“I get that, I do. So why didn’t she just ask Amy to plan the wedding?”
Good question. “Probably because Amy’s a little controlling. I’m sure she also didn’t want me to be upset.”
While Alexis didn’t know all the details of Dean’s divorce, she knew it hadn’t ended well. There’d been a lot of fighting and bitterness at the end.
“I suppose you’re paying for this wedding?” TJ asked.
Dean sighed, moving a tray of pint glasses. “Alex and Nate have about seven thousand, and his parents are contributing here and there. I’ll cover whatever else needs to be done.”
“You’re a good brother,” TJ said, and he meant it—Dean could see that in his expression.
“Thanks, but you would have done the same.”
“Maybe. But I’m the youngest, remember, so I would have been the one hoping that one of my siblings would have stepped up. They’re both selfish as hell so thank God I never had to put their love for me to the test.”
“They love you,” Dean said, but only because it seemed like the right thing to say. TJ came from an odd family. Not that Dean had much room to talk, but TJ’s family was wealthy, cold, and always seemed to compete with one another. Something Dean could not relate to at all.
TJ grunted and moved some stacks of shot glasses around beneath the bar. It was still funny to Dean that he ran this business with two other guys so unlike himself. They’d met at the brewery he used to work at. The two younger guys—who had been buddies in high school—had come for a tour, which Dean had guided.
Afterward they’d sat around the bar tasting blond ales and unfiltered wheats, while discussing their shared true love of bourbon and whiskey. When Dean informed them that he knew how to make spirits, had actually built a distiller once with his grandfather, Jake had joked that he should quit the brewery and they should all open their own business. An odd silence had followed; then they’d begun to throw out ideas. One thing led to another, information was exchanged, and nearly seven years later, here they were, that crazy idea now a successful business.
“Your budget will go fast when you’re planning a wedding,” TJ said, pulling Dean’s attention back.
“I know. I thought of that.”
“Obviously she gets the Stag for free, lucky for her because we aren’t cheap. Also bar drinks at cost, but everything else is going to be expensive. Matter of fact, these caterers here right now?” TJ nodded to the uniform-clad servers shuffling from table to table setting up water glasses. “Forty dollars a head.”
“Are you kidding me?” Dean muttered. “Well, I’m just going to have to do some research. Go through Tara’s desk and hope she has resources.”
“She does. And I’ll do what I can for you, but with the other weddings, and the uncasking party to think about … it’s gonna be tough. Helping a bride plan a wedding is one thing. She makes the decisions based on what she likes. She keeps track of a lot of things on her own. What you’re doing changes the game. You’re going to have to think like a bride.”
Dean glared at his friend, who was trying not to laugh.
“One suggestion I can make without question is that you should ask Charlotte Linley to be the photographer. She’s good and she likes us. Might be willing to work something out for you on such short notice if she has the date you need open.”
“Good idea.” Dean’s insides warmed at the thought of Charlotte. He liked her, that was for sure, and although he wasn’t the most confident guy, he knew she liked him. The thing he couldn’t figure out was why. He was much older than she was, part of the reason he’d never taken things further in the past three years. God, he’d wanted to. How many times had she found him at the end of the evening just to say good-bye? It was always so tempting to ask her to stay or invite her to come back when the building was empty. He never had because Dean was a realist, and reality told him Charlotte was not for him.
In addition, hooking up with a vendor could be bad for business. Actually, sleeping with women you worked with in any capacity was never a good idea. Even if you went into it with an understanding, things were always awkward afterward.
“Sorry I’m late, bossholes,” a snarky female voice said behind Dean and TJ.
Speaking of awkward.
Jen was a cool girl, but once upon a time they had taken things a little too far and had both regretted it. Once and once only. Dean had been lonely, and she’d been … available. All it had taken was a few shots after work. It was something neither of them ever spoke about, and Dean hoped it would always stay that way. Especially considering he was pretty damn sure TJ was infatuated with her. His friend would never admit it, but Dean knew him well enough to know the guy had a hard-on for her. But he was sure Jen was completely oblivious to that fact. Or maybe she just didn’t feel the same way.
“Your mom this time?” TJ asked, concern showing on his face. Jen’s mother, Diane, had cancer and was currently going through chemo and having a rough time of it. “She doing okay?”
“Oh, my mom’s great today.” Jen shoved her purse under the bar and gave them a naughty grin. Today her nearly black hair was in a high ponytail and her top was a little on the tight side. “I’m just late because I was lucky enough to score some afternoon delight.”
Dean’s eyes immediately cut to TJ, who looked stricken. Damn. Poor guy. Jen was a little on the wild side. He figured it was partly her way of dealing with her mother’s health problems. Regardless, Dean knew it drove his buddy crazy. Jen laughed at the look on TJ’s face.
“News to TJ: Women can like casual sex, too, you know,” Jen prodded.
“Thank you for assuming I know nothing about women. I’m outta here,” TJ said, his eyes darkening. “You guys have fun tonight.”
They watched him walk through the giant room, hands shoved into his pockets as he dodged tables and scurrying catering staff on his way toward the back stairs.
“You should tone it down with the sexcapade talk,” Dean said.
“Oh please. Not my fault if TJ’s a prude.” Jen waved a hand in the air and then began to stack glasses, prepping for the night to come. What was left of the job anyway. “Sorry if I find it amusing to make him uncomfortable.”
Her nonchalance pissed Dean off. He also didn’t really buy it. “He’s not a prude. And it’s not funny. Or appropriate at work, so cut it out.”
Jen looked up, surprised at Dean’s tone. And that look on her face … that was why you never slept with your co-workers. Especially ones who worked for you. When you had to truly act on the role of authority, things got weird. Then he recalled her statement from the other night in front of Charlotte.
“And speaking of inappropriate, what did you mean the other night when you called me the most inappropriate person here? That was such bullshit.”
Jen just stared at him for a moment, a look of full-on female angst and annoyance. Men usually did everything in their power to avoid that look from a woman. He held his ground, knowing that he was in the right. “What is your problem these days?” she said at last. “I find it funny that you have no idea how inappropriate you are, Mister Undresses the Photographer with His Eyes.”
“Seriously, Jen?” Okay, so much for holding his ground. And was he really that obvious around Charlotte?
“Whatever.” She put up a hand, her fingernails painted black. “I’ll tone it down. I was just trying to lighten things up around here. TJ’s so uptight all the time. Did you know freshman year of high school he wore a belt every day? Who does that?”
Okay, he had to admit the belt thing was a little out there, but Dean was tempted to point out that she’d obviously noticed TJ every single day. He didn’t, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it. Dean wanted to just yell out the fact that the guy was half in love with her, but that wasn’t his place, and talk about inappropriate. “He is not uptight. He just takes this business very seriously and he works his ass off. And I’ll be honest, coming in thirty minutes late and blaming it on a nooner is not cool, Jen. Not cool at all.”
“Fine! I get it, okay? Consider me reprimanded. But I’ll remember this moment the next time you pretend to give a shit about what’s going on behind this bar just so you can stalk poor Charlotte from the shadows like the Phantom.” Jen raised her eyebrows, daring him to argue with her.
Dean glared at her. “The Phantom?”
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Of the Opera? Good gracious, you need some culture in your life.”
He should have known. Jen was always singing show tunes, and he recalled TJ mentioning she’d been really into theater in high school. Made Dean wonder how long his friend had been harboring his crush. Right now, he could only focus on the fact that his lusting after Charlotte was way more obvious than he ever imagined. He’d have to be more aware of that.
“Who are tonight’s vendors?” Jen asked, then quietly started humming to herself.
Dean welcomed the subject change and glanced down at the clipboard on the bar. “Delicious 2 Go is doing dinner.”
“Meh,” Jen said, wiping down the stainless sink. “Last time they did a pasta bar and I wasn’t a fan.”
“Divine Desserts made the cake,” Dean said.
“Hm, haven’t heard of them, but I doubt they top Jill’s. Did you taste last week’s? It was chocolate with a chocolate ganache filling.”
“Didn’t try it, but it looked good.”
“Did you know she built a special kitchen on the backside of her house just for cakes? Has been making them for forty years.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that.” Dean flipped to another page on his clipboard and made a star next to Jill’s name on his list. That was two recommendations for her.
He let his eyes wander back down the list of vendors tonight’s bride had chosen, and Christ, there were probably twenty companies named. Was that really how many people it took to make a wedding day happen? Were they really all necessary?
“DJ or band?” Jen asked.
“Uhhh, looks like a friend of the groom is doing it.”
“Oh gosh. That should be interesting. The voice of the evening’s entertainment is not where you want to cut corners. Don’t people realize a good band or DJ can make or break the mood?”
Dean raised an eyebrow and made a quick note. Get a good DJ. He needed to start a master list of notes obviously. Suddenly the task seemed so daunting. How could he have agreed to such a thing? And yet … how could he not have? This was for Alexis.
“Who’s the photographer?” Jen asked. He didn’t miss the chiding in her tone.
“Charlotte,” Dean said, feigning indifference. He wasn’t in the mood to give in to Jen’s teasing.
“Lucky you,” she crooned. “I should have known that’s why you’re here two weeks in a row. Try to keep your creeping to a minimum. I hope she has some new sexy man photos for me.”
And just like that Dean’s mood plummeted. He knew his jealousy in regard to Charlotte was ridiculous and ill founded. He couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous, with big trusting eyes and shiny blond hair. Guys constantly flirted with her while she worked. He watched it every time she shot here. Last week it had been the best man and it had taken everything in Dean not to confront the punk. Eventually he’d had to leave the room because he couldn’t stand it any longer.
The half-naked-man photo shoots had been the ultimate kicker. Several times over the past week the photo of that buff young asshole had come to Dean’s mind and pissed him off. How often did she photograph men like that? Sounded like it happened with frequency. Did she ever hook up with them? She didn’t seem like the type, but damn, if he was forced to stare at a nearly naked woman giving him bedroom eyes for any extended period of time it would affect him.
And jealousy hadn’t been the only thing that had been bothering him. Her reaction to the idea of shooting him had been quite a blow to his already fragile ego. Sorry, Dean. I know this isn’t really your style. What the hell had she meant by that? It wasn’t his style because he was old? Or because he couldn’t pull off hot even if he tried? He took good care of himself, hit the gym with regularity, and tried to eat healthy. Not that he wanted to try. But spending alone time with Charlotte … that didn’t sound bad at all.
“Did you know Charlotte told me she shoots about thirty weddings a year?” Jen interrupted his thoughts. “I can’t even imagine all of the insane stuff she witnesses. She’s like the master of great wedding stories.”
“Huh, I bet.” Charlotte would be a good reference for wedding info. He remembered last week, how much she’d known about every vendor. Maybe he could talk with her. It would be no hardship to spend a little time with Charlotte in order to seek her advice. He would just have to keep things professional.
Dean glanced at Jen as she continued to ready the bar for the cocktail hour, which would begin in about … twenty minutes, he realized with a quick gaze at his watch. The creak of the metal elevator caught his attention and he turned to see Lauren, Charlotte’s second shooter, step out of the lift holding a tripod and a giant black bag. That meant guests would arrive anytime. Lauren waved hello, and he waved back, but she was not the photographer he was anticipating. Just knowing Charlotte would be here soon had him thinking thoughts he’d be better off avoiding.
She was a colleague and a friend. No more. She was also too young for him. Yep, he’d just keep pushing his thoughts of anything happening between them way to the back of his mind.