by Carrie Elks
“Hi! It’s Becca. We met on Friday.” She’d twisted her lips into what she hoped was an awkward-yet-endearing grimace. “Have you managed to get over the jet lag yet?”
And he’d given her a nod. A nod! Then he’d stalked across the still room to the far door that led to the offices, leaving her standing there, her nose wrinkled up, her lips all mashed together, and a hopeful puppy-dog look in her eyes.
Yup. He hated her. Okay, so maybe hate was a strong word. He obviously disliked her, despite Nathan’s attempts to smooth things over. Even worse, she’d watched one by one as each distiller, then each head of department was called in to see him in his office.
But her name hadn’t been called at all.
“He’s going to fire me,” she whispered to Mia as they stood in the staff kitchen that afternoon, sipping their coffee and eating the cake she’d made. All the women working at GSC were part of a coffee club, and Becca had negotiated a discount from a local café that delivered twice a day.
“You’re not going to get fired,” Mia said, shaking her head at Becca’s dramatics. “He’ll call you in at some point. If not today then tomorrow. He’s busy, that’s all. And as you said, he’s jet lagged. That explains him not noticing you this morning. He seemed all right when I met with him. Less overtly enthusiastic than Nathan, but he knows his stuff. He asked some really pertinent questions. So stop panicking that he hates you.”
“I practically jumped in front of him and waved my arms. And all I got was a nod. That wasn’t jet lag, it was scorn.”
“Maybe he takes a while to warm up to people. We’re so used to Nathan, and Daniel’s bound to be different. Give him a few days.”
Becca picked up another piece of cake, then put it back down again. She was jittery enough, she didn’t need any more sugar. “Was he cold with you?”
Mia wrinkled her nose, as though she was trying to think. “I don’t know. He’s professional. And there was no real small talk. But he smiled and shook my hand when I introduced myself.”
“He actually smiled?” Becca asked. “Because I was starting to wonder if it was a physical impossibility.”
Mia laughed. “You’re being paranoid. He’s fine. A change from Nathan, but fine. Now go back to work and stop eating cake before you get a sugar high.”
“Too late.” Becca picked up the chunk she’d abandoned and stuffed it into her mouth, crumbs sticking to her lipstick. “The only way to deal with my paranoia is to eat my feelings.”
When they’d finished their break, Mia walked back to her office in the administration corridor, and Becca turned right to head back to the distillery rooms.
“Becca?” a low voice called out. She looked up, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw who it was.
“Hi, Joe.”
He was one of GSC’s three engineers. If something went wrong with a still or a mash tun, he was always the guy she called.
“I just had a piece of your cake. It was delicious.” He grinned at her. “I was wondering, would you take a commission? It’s my wife’s sixtieth birthday next month, and I’d love to surprise her with a cake. I’d pay, of course.”
“You don’t have to pay me. I’d love to make her a cake. Did you say she was sixty?” She smiled at him. “What are you, her boy toy?”
Joe gave a low chuckle. “This is why I like you. Even though you came to my sixtieth birthday party last year and know full well I’m older than her.”
“I thought it was your fortieth,” she said, her eyes twinkling at him. “Did I even get you the right card?”
Someone cleared their throat. One glance at Joe, whose cheeks had pinked up at her compliment, told Becca it wasn’t him. Joe looked over her shoulder and smiled, and a shiver wracked down Becca’s spine.
“Mr. Carter,” Joe said. “It’s good to have you back. Was it me you wanted to talk to?”
Becca froze. She couldn’t have turned to look if she wanted. Her spine would have cracked or something.
“Thanks, Joe. No, it’s Miss Hartson I was looking for. That’s if she can spare me a couple of minutes.”
Joe didn’t notice the undertone in Daniel’s voice at all. Instead, he smiled again. “Of course.” He patted Becca’s arm. “She’s the best. As gorgeous on the inside as she is on the out. Take care of her.” He winked at Becca. “I’ll email you the details for the cake later.”
Becca nodded. “Fine,” she managed to squeak. “Thanks.”
Inhaling a ragged breath, she forced her feet to move because her spine still wasn’t playing ball, and turned to look at Daniel.
He was only inches behind her. Close enough that she had to lift her head to look him in the eye. He was staring down at her with dark eyes, his brows pulling together. Becca breathed in and immediately regretted it because he smelled way too good. Warm and spicy, like a pine forest on a hot day. She smiled at him, and was completely unsurprised when he didn’t smile back, because, ha, she’d anticipated that.
He could play the moody Heathcliff-esque card if he wanted to. Sure, he was good looking if you liked guys who filled out their expensive blue cotton shirts perfectly, unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a strong neck.
But his defined Adam’s apple and sprinkling of dark hair at the top of his chest didn’t affect her. Not one little bit. She judged people on personality, not looks, and so far Daniel Carter hadn’t indicated he even had one.
“You’re very friendly with the staff,” he said as they walked toward the executive corridor.
Why was it that everything he said felt like a criticism? Becca kept her voice steady. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” She glanced up at him from the corner of her eyes. He was facing straight ahead, his broad shoulders pushed back.
“I find it’s better to keep a distance,” he told her. “The higher you climb, the more important it is to define the difference between you and the people who work for you. You can’t be everybody’s best friend and their manager, too.” He opened the door to his office, stepping aside to let her walk in first.
“Maybe there’s a middle ground,” Becca said. Because there was no way she wanted to be like Daniel.
His expression was unreadable. “Take a seat,” he said, pointing at the chair in front of his desk. His office was completely different to Nathan’s. No mass of papers strewn across the desk, no photos of his family and friends on every surface. Just a laptop and a phone on his desk, along with a glass of water.
Becca sat in the chair he’d indicated and reached up to check that her hair was perfectly pulled into her bun. She found it so much easier if she kept her thick locks tied back while she was at work. Spending half your day with your head bent over a still or a mash tun meant you got hot and bothered. And it was so much easier to tuck into a plastic cap.
Daniel walked over to a cabinet on the wall and pulled out a bottle of the International Blend Becca had been working on for the past year and a half, along with two small tasting glasses. Without saying a word, he poured a glug of whiskey into each, passing one to her.
“Taste it.”
Becca blinked. “I’ve just had a cup of coffee,” she told him. “I’m not sure my tongue’s ready for it.”
“I know. I saw the coffee being delivered. How many cups do you drink a day?”
“That’s a personal question.”
He shook his head. “It’s a professional question. You’re one of my distillers. The quality of your taste is my business.”
“I drink two, maybe three a day.”
“And you eat a lot of cake, too. Do you have a sweet tooth?” His voice was low.
Becca pressed her teeth together. The way he looked at her was unnerving. It felt like being pulled into the principal’s office when she hadn’t done anything wrong. “I don’t eat a lot of cake, I make cakes,” she said, refusing to pull her gaze from his. He couldn’t know she’d just stuffed a huge slice down her throat. “There’s a difference.”
He pushed the glass toward her. “
Taste it.”
She lifted the tumbler to her lips and let the whiskey cover her tongue. Daniel did the same, his gaze set on hers as the dark amber fluid passed over his full lips. She felt like she was in some kind of battle, but she had no idea for what.
“Tell me how it tastes.” His voice was low.
“It’s sweet. A little hint of vanilla. I can taste the warmth of the scotch and the honeyed notes from the Japanese whisky.” She looked up, her brows raised. She and Nathan had worked on the International Blend for over a year. It had taken all of his diplomacy to get their sister distillery in Tokyo to agree to the blend. And of course, Daniel’s distillery in Scotland had provided the Scotch. Both of those, along with the whiskey produced here at GSC formed the body of the new product.
“Do you like it?”
She nodded. “Of course I do. I worked on the blend with Nathan.”
“And you think it’s the best blend it could possibly be?”
Her chest tightened. “I… I think so.” She hated the way she felt uncertain. They’d all been so proud of the International Blend. Becca’s eldest brother, Gray, led the marketing campaign, and she’d even featured in the long form adverts they’d run in the movie theaters.
“It’s not.”
“Okay.” The air wooshed out of her. Asshole.
“It’s too smokey. You needed to have less of the Scotch in there. It overpowers the softer notes in the blend. There’s no nuance to it, and it’s too sweet. That’s why I asked you about your sweet tooth.”
“Nathan approved it,” Becca pointed out. “And your mother did, too.”
“They both have good taste. But as the lead on the blend, it was your job to make sure it was perfect. Not theirs.”
Becca pressed her teeth into the soft skin inside her cheek. She’d been so proud of the blend, and so excited that she was the lead distiller. “Yes.” She nodded. “It was my job. I thought I’d done my best.”
“Your best isn’t good enough if it isn’t perfect. There’s no half assing this, Miss Hartson.”
She felt her hackles rise. “I’m not half-assing anything. I love my job. I’m good at it. You can check my last review if you want to see all the commendations I’ve received for my work.”
“From my brother,” he murmured. Her chest tightened even more.
What the hell was he insinuating? “Yes. He was my boss.”
“And now I am.” He raised a brow. “And I’m not Nathan.”
Yeah, well that was perfectly clear. Nathan was a warm, funny guy who made working here enjoyable. His older brother? He was…
Ugh. He wasn’t Nathan. That was for sure.
“How old are you?” he asked, leaning back on his chair as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Twenty-six.” Her neck was aching from keeping her head so upright.
“You’re very young to be the lead on any product. It takes years to train your taste. To understand how a tiny change in the type of water or grain can make a massive change in how the whiskey matures.”
“Nathan thought I was capable enough.”
Daniel gave a half-nod. “Yes. He did.” Pulling her glass back toward him, he stood and took them over to the wet bar on the far side of his office. “Okay, you can go.”
Becca bit her lip. “Don’t you want to hear what I’m working on at the moment?”
“I know what you’re working on.” His back was still to her. Beneath the blue cotton of his shirt, she could see the ripple of his shoulder blades as he ran the glasses beneath the faucet.
She stood, waiting for him to turn around so she could say goodbye, but he picked up a towel to dry his hands, then placed the bottle of GSC International Blend back into the cupboard, never once turning to look at her.
“I’ll head back to the stills then,” she said. Finally, he turned, and he gave her the slightest of nods. She flashed him a smile that she wasn’t sure even registered, as his own lips remained pressed together.
“Bye.” She left his office, and immediately screwed her face up, letting out a silent scream as she walked back toward the administration offices. When she closed the door to the executive corridor behind her, she banged her head against the glass center.
He definitely hated her. But on the plus side, the feeling was fast becoming mutual.
Daniel Carter was the most annoying, aggravating, rude man she’d ever met.
It was just her luck to have him as her new boss.
Chapter Four
“Our finances are a mess.”
Daniel’s mother looked up from her desk, her lips curling into a smile when she saw him standing in the doorway to her office. At sixty years old, Eliana Scott Carter was still a striking woman. She’d let her hair grow naturally white, and always wore it in a low chignon, the color striking against her uniform of black dresses and jackets.
Since the death of her husband – Daniel’s father – seven years earlier, she’d been the head of GSC Distilleries, though over the years both Nathan and Daniel had taken on more of the operations.
“They’re not a mess,” she said, the smile still playing at her lips. “They’re just not up to your standards.”
“Or yours.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “There are things that could be improved, certainly, but we’re not in dire straits.”
“Cashflow is down.”
“That’s because we’ve spent a lot of money in creating and marketing the International Blend. Things will improve now that it’s on the market.” She nodded at the dark leather chair opposite her desk. “Sit down, darling. Tell me about your day. Are you jet lagged?”
“I’ve been back since Friday. I’m fine.” He sat down anyway. Truth was he felt exhausted. Not just from the time difference –it was sometime around midnight in Scotland – but from spending the whole day talking to employees, going through the finances, and trying to work out exactly what the situation was with the distillery. And with each new piece of information he found, the situation only looked worse. They’d overextended themselves on a new blend that was far below the standards GSC was known for.
He blamed himself. He was the one who’d left Nathan to run things, when his brother was too young.
“You look tired,” his mom said softly. “It must be strange to be back.”
He gave her a half-nod. “It’s strange but weirdly familiar. Like nothing’s really changed.”
A smile flashed across her lips. “But you have.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Have I?”
“You’re less…” She sighed. “I don’t know. Less agitated, I guess. It was understandable, after everything that happened. But I’m glad to see you happier.”
Daniel nodded, his jaw tight. “We need to talk about the future of this place.”
“Isn’t that something we should save for our next board meeting?” She closed her laptop, her red-painted lips curling into a smile. “Any decisions need to be agreed to by Lawrence and Nina, after all.”
Daniel’s throat dried at the thought of his half-siblings. When their father died, he left each of the siblings a quarter of his shares in the business. His mother owned the other half – inherited from her own father. Technically, if Nathan and Daniel teamed up with their mother, they could outvote their half siblings. But Eliana preferred consensus to division.
“Do they really?” The thought of talking to his half siblings made him want to head right back to Scotland. Not that Nina ever did anything to hurt him. She was just a reminder of Lawrence.
His mom sighed. “I know you and Lawrence don’t see eye-to-eye. I blame myself for that. And your father. But he’s still your brother, and he has a big interest in this business.”
“He’s too busy playing golf to care what’s going on here.”
Eliana clicked her tongue. “If you want to make changes, you’re going to need to persuade him. And Nina. Not to mention Nathan. I know you don’t agree with everything he’s done here, but
he’s kept the business going. If you go in head first you’re going to hurt him.”
“I know.” Daniel leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was make his younger brother feel bad. Of all his siblings, Nathan was the one he cared for the most. The one he’d grown up protecting from their father’s incessant demands. “But something needs to be done. We need to think about the future. I understand the International Blend was part of that.” And the least he said about that, the better. “But we also need to look at our super premium brands. Anything we do now won’t mature for at least seven years. This is a long term business, it needs constant planning.”
“And that’s why I’m glad you’re back. We need you, darling.” She stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. “Now, how about we stop talking about business and you take your mother out for dinner? We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Tell me you’re making another carrot cake right now,” Van said with a plea in her voice, squinting her eyes on the tablet screen, and leaning in until her nose was almost touching the camera. Becca was FaceTiming with her sister-in-law from her tiny kitchen. On days like these, even though she’d moved into her condo months ago, she still hadn’t gotten used to being alone.
Sure, most of the time having her family constantly checking up on her drove her crazy, but right now she needed some company. Anything to stop her from thinking about her meeting with Daniel Carter.
“It’s not carrot cake. I’m making cheese scones,” she told Van, giving her an apologetic look.
“Cheese what?”
“Scones. They’re like a cross between a muffin and a biscuit. I found the recipe online.” Sure, she’d happened to Google sugar-free baking and Scottish recipes. But it had nothing to do with her moody-as-hell boss with a hatred of sugar.
Pure coincidence.
“There’s no chocolate in them?” Van asked.
“Nope. No sugar, either.”
“What the hell? Are you ill? Have you undergone a personality transplant?” Van laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever made something without sugar before.”