by Kaylee Ryan
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think.”
“You’re a lot like him, Rhett. You’ve always known what you wanted and never stopped until you achieved it. It’s in our blood as Baxter men.”
“I should have been here more, I get that,” I admit.
“Maybe. You also can’t live your life for anyone but yourself. I’m just as guilty, but you two, you always had a special bond. He’ll come out of it. It’s only been two weeks.”
“How’s Mom doing?”
“You know your mother. She’s loving it. Misses you, but she and Carrie are two peas in a pod. Taking the brewery by storm.”
I can hear the affection in his voice. Mom has always been his biggest weakness. “And I’m sure you’re letting them.” I know he is.
He chuckles. “That I am, son. She’s my light, and she gave me you. She can do and have any damn thing she wants.”
I shake my head, a smile on my face. “Sappy old man,” I tease him.
“You just wait, son. One day you’ll understand. In the meantime, just try to be patient. He’ll come around.”
“Tell Mom I love her,” I say, knowing I need to get inside and see Gramps.
“Will do. Take care, son.”
With that the line goes dead. Climbing out of the car, I head inside. There’s a note from Rosa on the counter.
Without the note, I would have found dinner. The entire house smells so fucking good it makes my stomach growl. Rosa is a fantastic cook, and I’m suddenly starving. Serving up two bowls of roast, potatoes, and carrots, I grab two bottles of water and head upstairs. “Knock, knock,” I say, entering the room. “Rosa made her famous pot roast.”
Gramps looks at me, no expression at all, then turns his attention back to the television.
“I hear you’ve had a good day.”
“Hmpf.” That’s the standard reply I’ve been getting the last two weeks.
I busy myself setting his bowl and water on the table and move it over the bed so he can reach it. Grabbing mine from the dresser, I take a seat and begin to eat. “So, we got the line back up and running today. Finally. I approved overtime, so hopefully production numbers will go back up. It will take us a week or so to get back to where we were.”
Nothing. No reply. He does however pick up his fork and begin to eat. I’ll consider that progress.
The landline on the nightstand rings. “You want me to get that?” I ask. He grunts, so I take that as a yes. “Hello,” I say.
“Who’s this?” a gruff voice asks.
“This is Rhett. Who’s this?”
“Rhett number three, is that you?” the gruff voice asks.
Immediately I smile. “Mason, how have you been?”
“Good. Good. You know, living the dream. Number one around?”
“He is. Hold on.” I hold the phone out to Gramps. “It’s Mason.”
He reaches for the phone and puts it to his ear. At least I know he hears me when I talk. Or maybe he tunes me out and was just interested in who was calling to talk to him. I eat my food, and it’s just as good as it smells. Eventually he hands the phone to me. I have no idea if Mason hung up, so I put it back to my ear. “You there?”
“Yeah. He’s got a thorn in his ass, I can see.” Mason laughs.
“Yep.” No use in defending him. These two have been friends for years.
“Well, I’ll tell you. We’re coming there for Thanksgiving this year. We alternate his place and mine every year. This year it’s his turn, which is convenient since he’s not well. He doesn’t need to be out and about. We keep it small; it’ll be nice to have you here with us this year.”
“Yeah,” I say wistfully. “Should have done this sooner.”
“You’re here now, that’s all that matters. I talked to Rosa earlier when he was sleeping. She’s going to do all the shopping, and we’ll do the cooking like always. We’ll eat at one. I’ll be there the night before to start the bird. Number one usually does it, but he’s in no shape. I’ll see you then.”
The line goes dead. Mason has always been like a fucking hurricane, full of energy. I would have thought he would have slowed down in his old age. Apparently, retirement is good. Gramps places his empty bowl on the table in front of him. “You want more?”
“No.” He coughs, turns off the TV, and rolls over.
Dismissed again. I gather our empty bowls and close the door lightly behind me. Needing to wash off this day, I head to my room for a hot shower. I stand there until the water runs cold, and it’s not lost of me that this is definitely my routine. When I step out of the shower, my phone is ringing. Quickly, I grab a towel and rush into my bedroom to answer.
“About fucking time,” Jake, my childhood friend, says as soon as I pick up.
“I was in the shower, dick,” I fire back.
He laughs. “So what’s the deal? You’ve been here for a few weeks now, and I’ve yet to see you in my bar.”
“Two weeks, not even a full two weeks if you want to get technical, and I’ve been there, but you were not.”
“When?”
“The day I got here. It was a hell of a day with Gramps being pissed and it being my first day at the distillery. I needed a drink.”
“You shitting me?” he asks.
“Nope. I met that hot little bartender, dark hair, blue eyes, chip on her shoulder.”
“Ah, you were here. That’s Saylor, she’s new. She’s been through a lot. Great girl.”
“Hot as fuck, but that attitude,” I say, running the towel over my hair.
“I haven’t noticed.”
“I call bullshit. I know Molly is your end game, but come on man, you had to notice.”
“She’s easy on the eyes,” he concedes.
“Hot as fuck,” I say again, making him laugh. “So what’s her deal?”
“Not my story to tell, my man.”
That’s Jake, noble to a fault. “So, how are things with the beautiful Molly?”
“She’s beautifully perfect. What about you? What are you getting into tonight?”
“Holding down the damn couch. You?”
“I’m at the Corner Pocket, why don’t you come out?”
“Is the hot bartender working?” Sure, she has an attitude, but I could get on board with seeing her again. She’s perfect as long as she doesn’t talk. She’s a tiny thing, with curves in all the right places. That black as night hair and those blue eyes are what fantasies are made of. I still can’t believe she was running with her eyes closed. She’s lucky it was me. It could have turned out worse for her.
“No. My girl and Say are having a girls’ night. Movies and whatnot. They’re at home.”
Damn. “Oh well, I guess I get to look at your ugly ass. Let me get dressed and check in with the night nurse. Then I’ll be there.”
“Catch you later,” he says, and the line goes dead.
Quickly getting dressed, I go in search of the night nurse. She has her own room just down from Gramps. I find her in the kitchen. “Hi, how is he?” I ask her.
“I just checked in on him. He’s sleeping.”
“Good. I’m going out for a while. You’re going to be here, right?” I know she is, but I just want to confirm to make sure.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be here all night.”
“Good. You have my cell if something comes up?”
“I do.”
With that, I head to the garage. Drinks with an old friend is exactly what I need right now.
I got up early this morning to make a couple of pies. It’s something that Elaine and I did every holiday. I have her recipes memorized. I figured I could at least contribute to the meal today. I hate to go to anything like this empty-handed. Pete used to get irritated with me, saying it was tacky. I never agreed with him, which is why I did it regardless. Just another thing I overlooked, but now looking back, I see we really weren’t compatible.
I’m just sliding into my knee-high boots when my phone rings. “H-hello,” I sa
y, hopping on one foot.
“Say?” Molly asks.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Sorry, I was trying to put my boots on.”
“Try sitting.” I can hear the humor in her voice.
“What’s the fun in that?”
“Um, maybe because you won’t fall on your ass?” she says.
“Good point.” I sit down on the couch and finish sliding into my boots. “What’s up?”
“Just seeing how close you are to being ready.”
“I’m good. But can I bother you to come and help me for a minute?”
“Sure. Jake is going to get the truck started. I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks.” Hitting end on the phone, I grab my wristlet and make sure my debit card, cash, and license are there, and place my phone inside. Downfall to leggings, no pockets. Grabbing my scarf that’s more of a fashion statement than to keep me warm, I wrap it around my neck and call it good. Running back to my room, I grab my peacoat and slip it on just as Molly knocks on the door.
“Come in!” I yell for her.
“Damn, smells good in here. What is that?”
“I baked.” I smile at her.
“You bake?” she asks surprised.
“What? I don’t look like a baker?” I ask, feigning hurt.
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t know, and you didn’t have to,” she says apologetically.
“I know that, but I wanted to. I appreciate being included. I’m not going to know anyone there, and I just thought… ” I shrug, embarrassed.
“It’s going to be small. Just us, Jake’s uncle, his friend, and his friend’s grandson. We are kind of tight-knit.”
“That’s actually a relief. I was worried there would be a ton of people and I would feel awkward and out of place. Thank you again for including me.”
“So what kind of pies?” she asks, changing the subject. How she knows me so well already, I’m not sure. What I am is grateful.
“Pumpkin and apple.”
“Seriously? Apple is my favorite, and pumpkin is Jake’s. I might have to have dessert first,” she says, lifting the pie closer to her face and smelling it before placing it back on the counter.
“Get your nose away from my pie, woman,” I mock scold her.
“I can’t help it. They smell so damn good. I’m starving, and let me tell you, Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. A holiday to eat, yes please.” She laughs.
“I have to agree with you. All right, I think I have everything.” With that, we each grab a pie and carry it down to the truck.
“What you got there?” Jake asks. He sniffs the air in the truck. “Wait a minute, is that pumpkin pie?” He turns to look at me in the back seat.
“Yeah, I thought I should bring something. You know, as a thank you for the invite.”
“Not necessary, but damn I’m glad you did. That smells so fucking good.”
Molly is laughing. “Did you seriously sniff out that she had the pumpkin?” she asks him.
“Babe, a man’s nose leads him to the goods.”
“Try this one.” She holds up the apple so he can smell it.
He closes his eyes. “I don’t know. I have pumpkin on the brain, but it smells amazing.”
“It’s apple,” she says proudly.
“How did you do that?” he asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Do what?”
“Choose both of our favorites?”
“They’re both my favorites too. Besides, you can’t have Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie and apple pie. It was Elaine’s favorite too. We used to make them every year.”
“Say, I—” Jake starts to speak, but I cut him off.
“It’s fine,” I rush to say. “It’s hard. This is the first holiday without her, so I’m thankful for the two of you. If you hadn’t included me, I would be sitting at home alone. Missing her. I’m still missing her,” I go on. “But the not being alone part helps.” I take a deep breath to get my emotions in check. “So thank you,” I finally say.
“You’re exactly where you should be.” Molly turns to look at me. “I’m really glad you’re here. Not just here in the truck on the way to dinner, but here with us. I’m glad you chose the Corner Pocket that night.”
“Me too, Molly, me too.” The remainder of the drive is short. Jake entertains us with his singing skills as we jam along to the radio. “You missed your calling,” I say with laughter as we pull into the driveway of a huge house. “Holy shit, is this your uncle’s place?” I ask. The house is two stories and looks like it’s big enough for a family of about fifty.
“No.” Jake chuckles. “Jerry lives in a small brick ranch just outside of town, the opposite of us. This is Baxter’s.”
“Wow, it’s beautiful.”
“Right?” Molly agrees.
Climbing out of the truck, I follow behind Jake and Molly. I’m nervous never having met any of these people. Hell, I met Jake and Molly just a mere few weeks ago. Maybe I shouldn’t have come? Admittedly, sitting at home sounded about as fun as a colonoscopy. Still I can’t help but wonder if this was the right choice? Sure, Jake and Molly are good with it, but the others? Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhale and take the final step to the front door, right behind Molly and Jake.
“About time you got here,” a deep masculine voice says, and I freeze. I know that voice.
Shit. I keep my head down as my mind races with how to handle this. He’s not going to want me here. My anxiety peeks. Maybe I can tell them I’m not feeling well and Jake will let me take his truck home? I can offer to come back and pick them up later. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Saylor,” Molly says, pulling me from my mental freak-out.
Looking up, I see three sets of eyes trained on me. I don’t have to look at them to know; I can feel Jake and Molly watching me. But him with the deep, masculine voice, Whiskey, his cognac eyes are boring into mine.
“You,” he says.
I can’t get a read on him. His face is not showing how he feels about me showing up on his doorstep. His eyes never leave mine, and I know I should look away. I want to look away; I just… can’t. “Hey, Whiskey,” I say, finally finding my voice. Okay, so it might have helped just a tad that Molly tapped her elbow into my arm, pulling me from my daze.
“Short Stack,” he says with that deep timbre.
“You all know each other?” Molly asks.
“He, uh, he came into the bar. He came looking for Jake,” I manage to say.
“Short Stack here likes to run with her eyes closed,” he says, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. The muscles in his arms bulge from the movement. I’m too busy looking at the arm porn on display to hear what they’re saying.
“Say!” Molly says, laughing. “Rhett is the guy you were talking about on the trails the other day?”
I look at her, then back to Whiskey. “Yeah, if that’s his name. I call him Whiskey.”
“Why is that?” he asks, face still void of any emotion.
Holy fuck, this guy is intimidating. “Y-you ordered whiskey that night. I just—”
“So you really didn’t know who I was?” he asks, interrupting me.
“How would I?” I counter. He seems shocked.
“Let’s take this inside. It’s cold as hell out here.” Jake puts a hand on Rhett’s shoulder and pushes him back. He steps out of the doorway and allows us to enter.
“What you got there, Mol?” Rhett asks, his voice much friendlier.
She holds up the apple pie in her hands. “Say made pies for dessert.”
“Do you cook with your eyes closed, Short Stack?” he asks.
“It’s Saylor,” I correct him.
“Right, let’s try this again. Saylor Keller, this is Rhett Baxter. Rhett, this is Saylor,” Molly officially introduces us.
All thoughts of leaving and not being wanted leave my mind. I’m not going to give this asshole the satisfaction of knowing he drove me away. Instead, I hold out my
hand. “Nice to meet you, officially.”
He stares at my hand, and just as I’m about to pull mine away, he slides his over mine. His hands are huge and warm, and the contact causes awareness to course through my veins. He’s gorgeous, as long as he keeps his mouth shut. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips thinking about how I called him pretty in my head that first night.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, still holding my hand.
“Just thinking.” I try to pull my hand away, but he holds strong.
“Enlighten me.”
“You really don’t want me to,” I warn him with a smile I can’t contain.
He studies me. “Didn’t I just say I did?” He stares me down.
Not letting him intimidate me, I decide to tell him. “Just thinking about my first impression of you. Well, other than the one where I thought you were a complete ass.”
He scoffs. “Do tell.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Jake says, looking way too interested in our conversation.
I pause. I’m in his home, I should be respectful. I shake my head. I can’t tell him. Sure, it’s not bad, but I can guarantee it’s going to piss him off.
“Scared, Short Stack?” he taunts.
“You’re pretty. That’s what I thought the first time I met you.”
“Pretty?” he asks.
I can tell I’ve knocked him down a few pegs and possibly offended him. His poor ego can’t handle it. “Yep.” I turn to look at Molly. “Where should we put these?”
I can see the laughter in her eyes. “This way.” I don’t wait for further instruction, following her down the hall.
We enter a kitchen that would have had Elaine smiling from ear to ear. She loved to cook; baking was her specialty. She would have loved to have this kitchen at her disposal.
“What was all that about?” Molly asks.
I shrug. “He’s arrogant.”
“He’s not, I mean, not usually. I’ve only met him a handful of times over the years, but I’ve never seen him act like that.”
“I just bring the asshole out in men then. Look at Pete.”