Dean knew he should be ashamed of himself. There was no reason for him to be at work tonight. He’d set himself up yesterday to leave his most recent mash to ferment until Sunday and had even tried to plan a relaxing evening at home. That had included spending Saturday afternoon working out, picking up a movie from the nightly rental machine, and buying some groceries. But once late afternoon had rolled around, he’d gotten restless. Unable to stand it any longer, he’d showered again, gotten dressed, and headed over to work.
So here he was, the sounds of the wedding reception above him as he stood checking the temperature on his still. Not long ago he’d added the mash into the still and was waiting for the heat to rise. The sound of chairs scraping over his head informed him everyone was sitting down to dinner. Or were they getting up from dinner?
He hadn’t even gone upstairs to see how things were going, or even to see Charlotte, but for some reason just being in the building made him feel better. After everything that had passed between them in the previous couple of weeks, it killed him to know she’d be spending the evening with Jake, especially since he figured the guy would be bringing up the photo shoot. And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust his friend, because he did. But he really wished it was him working with her.
The past few days he’d replayed their conversation on the square over and over in his head. For months, he’d convinced himself that what seemed obvious was his own wishful thinking, but there was no more denying things after she’d made it clear with her statement.
What if I want you to have the right?
She wanted something more. With him. And he wanted it, too, but there was so much fear wrapped up in that idea that all the what-ifs nearly choked him. The fact that she’d flat-out asked him his fear was sobering. Damn, she was intuitive. And his answers abounded.
What if she eventually resented the age difference?
What if it didn’t last and she quit working at the Stag?
And worst of all, because Charlotte was young, beautiful, and full of life: What if they did fall in love … and she wanted children? What the fuck would he do then?
He was torn with wanting to just see what happened between them and deal with the consequences, or keep trying to put walls up. Sadly, the latter hadn’t been working for him. All that resulted was her walking away angry and hurt. It was starting to feel like there was no good answer.
Looking at the thermometer once again, Dean was finally satisfied with the rising temperature. He adjusted the nozzle so the first drips of liquid would make their way into the plastic tub where he would collect the foreshot, which was the unusable bit that came out of the still first. It had to be tossed.
A while later, he looked up and through the glass wall saw two men watching him work. One in a tux and the other in slacks and a tie. It wasn’t that unusual for wedding guests to make their way down to check out the distilling equipment, but it was odd for them to find work being done on a weekend. Dean hadn’t been working in here on a Saturday night in over a year.
The two guys gave him a small wave and he returned it and went about his business. Five minutes later, he could still feel them watching him so he walked out the back door, then down the short hallway to the main room, and asked if they wanted to come in and see the process up close. He wasn’t sure why—he didn’t usually do that unless he was leading a guided tour, which they did occasionally—but the tux guy seemed ecstatic at his offer.
Back in the distilling room Dean gave them a very brief rundown of all the bigger equipment: the fermenters, the mash cooker, the still.
“So is this whiskey you’ve got going right now?” Tux Guy asked.
“This is actually our Stag Signature Bourbon.”
The guy’s eyes lit up. “The one nobody’s tasted yet.”
Dean laughed. “Just us owners and a few of our close friends and family. We will uncask our first few barrels next month.”
“Wow. How long have those been aging?”
“Five years. We actually made them in my father’s basement before this building was ready for us.”
“That’s amazing. I love this stuff.” Tux glanced around the room. The second guy, obviously wanting to get back to the party upstairs, said thanks for the tour and headed out. “Mind if I stay and watch?”
Dean shrugged. “Sure. Not too interesting at this point.”
“Ah, I disagree. I find this fascinating. Why did you guys choose copper over stainless?”
It surprised Dean how much he enjoyed sharing his knowledge about how the copper still turned the sulfur into copper sulfates, thereby improving the taste of the product. He proceeded to explain what he was doing, how he had to watch the pressure, temperature, and steam, and how he determined when it was time to make the cut from the head to the hearts.
“Notice how the smell changed?” Dean held up the hydrometer to the man’s nose.
He took a sniff and his eyes widened. “Yeah. It’s a lot sweeter.”
“The foreshots and heads contain things you don’t want to drink. A lot of methanol. Now we start to fill this large bin with the hearts. The good stuff, ethanol. Want to taste it?”
The guy laughed. “Seriously? Will I have to sign a nondisclosure?”
Dean grinned. “Nah, the final product will taste completely different after spending five years in oak. This will taste clean but a little harsh. You can taste the corn a bit.” He put a small glass under the spout and retained just a tiny bit before handing it over.
“Is this considered hooch?” Tux asked.
Dean laughed. “If you want to call it that.” He watched as the guy tipped his head back and swallowed it down before letting out a loud breath.
“Wow. What proof is that?”
“About a hundred thirty-six.”
His new friend laughed. “Jesus. Good thing it was just a taste. Thanks. This has been great. Really.” He handed Dean the glass. “You’ve got a great job. I sit at a desk all day. Well, actually I don’t sit anywhere but my parents’ couch. I just got laid off and moved back home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Where’d you move from?”
“Chicago. I’m a finance consultant.”
Dean nodded. “I’m sure you’ll find something around here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Money will always be a problem for someone, right?” The guy laughed, but there was worry behind his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m kind of thinking of treating this as a fresh start. Sucked to be laid off, but I actually hated what I did.”
In that moment, Dean had a sudden urge to do something he’d never had the desire to do until now. Maybe this was a sign, and it could solve both of their problems. He hesitated, knowing that he could regret what he was about to say, but this guy was cool, and clearly interested. He was young but not much younger than Jake and TJ. Besides, his youth was an asset, wasn’t it? He knew nothing about distilling but he seemed passionate about the process, which meant Dean could mold him to be exactly what he wanted. Teach him how to do things his way.
“Listen, this is sort of strange, but … I’ve been meaning to hire an apprentice for a while now.” The guy’s eyes widened. He was clearly listening with interest. “I’m sure we couldn’t pay a financial consultant’s salary, but … it would be a job. Seems like something you might enjoy. We’re rolling out two new products by next month and if our projections are accurate … we’ll be doing pretty damn well for ourselves.”
A slow smile spread over the man’s face. “Are you serious? You’re offering me a job making whiskey?”
The words struck Dean as a little odd, and for a moment he felt ridiculous. “Well…”
“That would be absolutely amazing.”
Dean froze, and then finally laughed. “It is pretty amazing if I do say so myself. Don’t feel pressured to answer right now. Think about it.”
“I’ll do that.” He shook his head, a grin on his face. “Wow. Thank you.”
Dean stuck out his hand. “You’re very welcome, and my name’s Dean by the way.”
The other man gave Dean a firm shake in return. “Great to meet you, Dean. John Reynolds.”
John shook his head again, clearly shocked. “Here I was nervous as hell about coming to this wedding tonight. My ex is here and I’m jobless and living with my parents. Doesn’t make you feel great about yourself. But this … this is great. Thank you.”
Dean could relate. He’d been in a similar situation just after his divorce. “I’m sure things aren’t going as great for her as they appear,” he said, just to be supportive.
John gave him a long glance. “Thanks, but I think they are. She looks so amazing, and she’s obviously very successful. I’m not surprised, really. She was always ambitious.” He nodded above them. “She’s the photographer tonight. Was willing to do this job last-minute as a favor for my brother and sister-in-law even though she and I didn’t part on the best of terms.”
Dean swallowed hard, knots forming in his stomach. “Charlotte’s your ex?”
“You know her?”
“Uh, yeah. She shoots a lot of weddings here.” He pretended to fiddle with the temperature gauge, because all of a sudden he felt sick to his stomach.
“I’ve been trying to talk to her all night. It’s good to see her again.” He huffed out a laugh. “Can’t help but make a guy wonder what might have been. Especially when you’re feeling like a failure.”
The same sentiments Dean could relate to a minute ago now sounded like a whiny cry for help. He needed to stop and pull himself together. This John was a good guy, the same good guy he’d just offered an apprenticeship to not five minutes ago. He couldn’t renege on his offer, that wouldn’t be right. He didn’t really want to, either. Meeting John and offering him a job had instantly given Dean a feeling of relief at the thought he might finally have found the help he needed. John was clearly intelligent, good-natured, and curious. All of those things made him a good fit from first impressions.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You should get back up there. Always lots of single women at weddings.”
John chuckled. “Yeah. Except I can’t stop looking at the one I let get away. Anyway, I’m sorry for going on and on. I’ve obviously had one too many cocktails from upstairs. But thanks, man. Can I come by Tuesday so we can talk some more about this apprenticeship?”
Dean began to say yes and then recalled he had appointments with Charlotte to eat cake. “How about Wednesday? That works better for me.”
John nodded. “Wednesday it is, then.”
After he’d left Dean let out a muffled curse. He’d just offered Charlotte’s ex a job. An ex who currently had his eye on her. An ex who was clearly questioning if he could get her back, or maybe just into bed to relive old times. John was a good-looking guy. Young and charismatic. Everything Charlotte should want in a man. Had he broken her heart or had she broken his?
Dean had no idea of the details, she hadn’t wanted to discuss them, but he did know that they’d planned a wedding together. He definitely hadn’t forgotten her mentioning that, and something told him this had to be that guy.
He’d have to tell her.
As he headed up the back staircase, Dean knew his real motivation in seeking Charlotte out right now, and it was not to give her a heads-up about the fact that he may have just hired her ex. Well, maybe partly. The bigger reason, however, was that he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to claim what was his.