On the Rocks

by Kandi Steiner

  Her eyes narrowed into slits as she let me take her hand, and I lowered my lips to the back of it, pressing an appropriate kiss to the soft skin before turning back to Anthony.

  “I thought I might show you to your barrel, let you taste it, since you weren’t there for the original purchase?”

  Anthony eyed me, his gaze flicking to his blushing bride-to-be — who pretended not to be affected by our embrace — before it pinned me again. “Of course.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Right this way.”

  I gestured to the rows of barrels lining the far side of the tent, falling into step beside Ruby Grace as we made our way. Her jaw was clenched tight, skin pale as she watched me from the corner of her eyes. She seemed to be warning me, begging me for something, but I kept my attention on the man who demanded it so much.

  “Ruby Grace surprised us all with her very generous wedding gift to you, Mr. Caldwell,” I said, stopping when we reached their barrel. “She surprised me even further with her impeccable knowledge of our whiskey. It’s such a rare sight to behold, a woman who knows how to detect the special flavors and notes, to pick out a fine whiskey. Your fiancé has great taste,” I said, watching his expression the entire time.

  Anthony sized Ruby Grace up, like he was seeing her for the first time, and his brows lowered as he found me again. “I wasn’t aware there was a tasting involved.”

  “Oh, only a small one. No more than an ounce or two,” I assured him. I leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Of course, that’s between us three. Wouldn’t want anyone getting wind of an underage tasting. But, hey, when the mayor’s daughter is getting married to such a prestigious, up-and-coming politician?” I shrugged. “The rules can be bent.”

  I saw the war in his eyes, the struggle between wanting to feel threatened battling with the base level of my words that were flattering him. He cleared his throat, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket before he gestured to the barrel. “Well, let’s have a taste, then, shall we?”

  I poured each of us a one-ounce pour, handing them their glasses first before I lifted mine in a toast. “To a beautiful and happy marriage,” I said, smiling at Anthony. My gaze fell to Ruby Grace, then, eyes pinning hers. “And to the team you two will become. May you always love and respect the other.”

  Anthony mumbled some sort of acknowledgement before throwing his whiskey back like a shot.

  Ruby Grace, on the other hand, watched me with murder in her eyes.

  I just smiled, tilting my glass toward her before I took a sip, tasting it in the same way I’d shown Ruby Grace. She followed suit, and she couldn’t hide the smile on her face when she tasted it the right way, indulging on all the notes of the fine alcohol while her husband-to-be grimaced against the shot he’d taken.

  “Wow,” he said, face still twisted up. His eyes watered a bit as he handed his empty glass back to me. “She really does have great taste.” He sniffed, putting his arm around her and tugging her close. “Such a thoughtful wedding gift. I’m glad I got to be here to taste it at the unveiling. Thank you, sweetheart.”

  She smiled, but before she could answer with a you’re welcome, Anthony dipped her back, kissing her possessively.

  Ruby Grace was stiff as a board in his arms, and when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she pressed against his chest, breaking the kiss with a glare of disapproval masked by a forced smile.

  “My parents are right over there,” she whispered, not bothering to look at exactly where her parents were to make her point clear. She cleared her throat, instead, turning to me with the same tight smile. “Thank you for the tasting, Noah. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get back to the party.” She rested her hand on Anthony’s chest — the hand that shone with the diamond he’d given her. “So many people to introduce Anthony to. You understand.”

  I swallowed past the thick knot in my throat, forcing a smile that was just as tight as hers. “Of course,” I said, waving my hand toward the rest of the crowd. “Enjoy your evening, and let me know if I can be of service to either of you.”

  Ruby Grace rolled her eyes, though Anthony didn’t see, and I smirked a little at that.

  “Will do,” Anthony said, shaking my hand. He held it in his vise grip a little too long, letting Ruby Grace walk a few steps away before he lowered his voice. “You enjoy your evening, too. Somewhere far away from my fiancé, preferably.”

  I tilted my head to the side, smile not wavering. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re implying, Mr. Caldwell.”

  “And I’m sure I don’t need to repeat myself to make my point clear.”

  He dropped my hand, wiping his palm on his jacket like I’d given him some sort of disease before he turned, offering his arm to Ruby Grace and toting her off to the next victim.

  I tucked my hands back in my pockets, watching them go with a sense of jealousy settling over my chest like a hot, wet, suffocating blanket.

  And I knew I wouldn’t find relief until I kicked my way out from under it.

  Ruby Grace

  The Scooter Whiskey Single Barrel Soirée had always been a grand event in Stratford. I remembered attending as a child with my parents, hanging out in the kiddie area where there were endless games and blow-up slides to crawl all over. As I got older, I’d come with my friends in high school to dance and sneak illegal sips of whiskey — of course, I never drank the whiskey, because I had always been told by Mama that it was a man’s drink.

  I hadn’t tasted it at all until the day Noah Becker showed me the barrel I’d purchased for my fiancé.

  He was still on my mind as Patrick Scooter gave his welcoming speech, relaying a short history of the distillery and his family’s legacy before he launched into the details that made all the barrels in our presence tonight so special. While those of us who purchased barrels were the only ones who could taste those specific ones, there were three barrels of single-barrel whiskey that were cracked open for the town to indulge in. Considering how poor most of Stratford’s residents were, this was a special occasion. Everyone was dressed up, smiling, and celebrating.

  And somehow, on our town’s most joyous night, with my fiancé’s hand on the small of my back, I felt more numb than I had in my entire life.

  “You okay over there, sweetheart?” Daddy asked in between one of his conversations.

  I smiled, assuring him with a squeeze on his upper arm. I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone else would pull him aside and need his ear, whether to pitch an idea for the town or to lobby for his support on an issue. “I’m fine, Daddy. Just a little tired.”

  His eyes softened. “I know this can be a lot. I’ve got my truck keys, if you want to escape for a while.”

  Even though my father and I didn’t talk much, he understood me in a way Mama didn’t. She was an extrovert, outgoing and social in every way. Daddy was more like me — he preferred to be with his close circle of friends. We both struggled in big settings like this, and I had a feeling it was him who was thinking about escaping in that truck.

  “Thank you, but I think we’re both stuck here for a few hours. Might as well make the most of it.” I held up my glass, which held a tonic and lime, and cheersed it with his whiskey tumbler just as the Parkers approached him.

  It was always like that for Dad — just a constant revolving door of people.

  I leaned in closer. “And, hey, if you really need to escape, give me the signal and I’ll fake an extreme illness.”

  Dad chuckled at that, squeezing my shoulder with eyes that said, Okay, here we go, before turning to the Parkers and greeting them.

  The night passed in a sort of daze after that, a blur of names and how do ya do’s and dances with strangers. I ate the little hors d’oeuvres as they passed by on the silver trays, sipped on the tonic and lime I’d ordered to not be the only one without a drink in my hand, laughed at the jokes Anthony told — the same ones over and over to new people — and when asked, I danced with whoever wanted to dance.
That was what was expected, after all. Whether it was my father’s business partners or someone Anthony had just introduced me to, my job was to entertain, to charm and dazzle and impress.

  And while I sparkled on the outside, I felt dead on the inside.

  “Ruby Grace, could I trouble you for a spin on the dance floor?”

  I blinked out of the daydream I’d been in, plastering on my best smile to turn and accept the invitation from whoever had asked. But when I spun on my heel and found Noah Becker’s cobalt steel eyes, I frowned.

  “No, thanks,” I spat.

  Noah tilted his head. “Come on, now. That’s no way to speak to a gentleman.”

  “I see no gentleman here.”

  He chuckled, stepping into my space with his hands sliding easily into the pockets of his dark blue jeans. They were so tight they might as well have been painted on, and I hated that I noticed. I hated that every girl ogled him as he walked around, eyeing his ass through the fabric — me included. He was every country girl’s dream tonight — crisp, white button-up, dark, lethal jeans, smooth, tan skin, boots and a hat that matched and topped off the look.

  My grandmother would say he looked “sharp,” if she were here. And I agreed.

  He was a blade, and I knew I needed to stay away or I’d end up shredded.

  “Hey,” he said when he was closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I’d really like the chance to properly apologize to you. And I know you’d love a break from all of… this.” He looked around us for a moment before he found my gaze again. “So, please, Ruby Grace — dance with me.”

  Noah pulled one hand from his pocket, extending it to me with a gentle smile. Something in my chest loosened at the sight, at someone seeing me without me saying a word. To everyone else, I was the charming, entertaining Ruby Grace tonight. But Noah saw what no one else did.

  It seemed he had since that first day at the distillery.

  A long sigh left my chest as I nodded, slipping my hand into his and letting him lead the way. Anthony had disappeared to go to the restroom about twenty minutes prior — the cameras from his media crew disappearing with him — and I imagined he’d been wrangled into conversation with someone else on his way back. And besides, I had danced with countless men that night. Noah was just one more, and it wasn’t frowned upon for the barrel buyers to dance with the raisers.

  Logic and explanation aside, I wanted to dance with Noah.

  And maybe that was all that mattered to me in that moment.

  I stared at my hand in his as he guided me to the dance floor in front of the band. His hand was so large, hard and calloused, his wrist thick and forearms lined with muscles and veins. My hand disappeared inside his grasp, my dainty wrist sparkling with the tennis bracelet I wore. He was all down-home country, and I was refined country royalty.

  Still, I marveled at how well my hand fit in his.

  When we made it to the dance floor, he stopped, pulling me into him until his hand was on my waist, the other still holding my hand. For a long, stretched moment in time, he just watched me, his eyes dancing between mine. A small smile found his lips, and he nodded once before taking the first step, leading the way and guiding me along with his movements.

  And then, we were dancing.

  The song was a familiar one in Tennessee, “I Cross My Heart” by George Strait. The lead singer of the band crooned out the lyrics as everyone on the floor gently swayed or two-stepped.

  But Noah?

  Noah guided me in a beautiful waltz.

  “How do you know this?” I asked, smile breaking on my face despite my urge to be angry with him after Sunday night.

  “What? Waltz?”

  I nodded.

  Noah smiled, stepping with me into a soft turn before pulling me back into his arms. “My mom. She and Dad used to dance after dinner every single night — in the living room, the kitchen, wherever. And after Dad passed, the tradition didn’t stop. My brothers and I take turns dancing with her. And bless her, she taught us all with patience.”

  My heart squeezed. “I bet that means so much to her.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and I waited for him to continue, but he just swallowed, forcing a bit of a smile before he changed the subject. “I’m sorry about what I said Sunday night, Ruby Grace. I was out of line.”

  He twirled me again, and I was thankful for the break in eye contact before we spun back together. Of course, that break in eye contact was long enough for me to realize how many other pairs of eyes were locked on us at the moment.

  “Thank you,” I said, glaring right back at one of Mama’s friends until she tore her gaze away before I looked back at Noah. “Seems like half our conversations are apologies.”

  “Well, I’m an asshole,” he offered honestly. “And you’re stubborn.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Am not.”

  Noah just smirked, falling back into step as the song’s chorus flowed around us. His smile leveled out the longer he watched me. “So, why didn’t you tell me Anthony was coming into town?”

  “I didn’t know he was,” I shot, and I couldn’t stop the defensiveness from breaking through. “And even if I did, I don’t see why I would owe it to you to tell you.”

  Noah lifted his brows. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Why are you so defensive?”

  “I’m not,” I said quickly. “I just know how you feel about him, and I don’t want to play into it anymore.”

  “I don’t even know him,” he responded. “I don’t feel anything toward him.”

  “Sure,” I said, twirling out twice before I slipped into his arms again. “I totally got that vibe with the barrel tasting earlier. And with everything you said to me on Sunday.”

  “I told you I was sorry for that.”

  “Yeah, but did you mean it?”

  His jaw clenched at that, and he watched me for a long moment before his eyes cast up to the top of the tent and back down. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not the one marrying me, isn’t it?”

  Noah slowed, his hand on my waist squeezing a little tighter. He opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes skirted behind me, and he cleared his throat, forcing a smile as Anthony slid up beside us.

  “Mind if I cut in?” Anthony asked. His threatening tone wasn’t lost on me.

  Noah swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat before he released me, offering my hand to Anthony like I was some sort of prize. “Of course not. She is your bride-to-be, after all.” He looked at me with those words, and I felt those eyes like the hot blade of a knife. “Thank you for the dance, Ruby Grace.”

  Without another word, he dropped my hand, tipped his hat at Anthony, and walked calmly off the dance floor.

  A flurry of girls chased after him — ones who’d been watching us dance from the sidelines — and when he granted one of them her wish of completing the dance with him, my stomach twisted.

  Daphne McCormick.

  No one could keep a secret in this town — and it was far from a secret that Daphne and Noah had hooked up a few times, that she had had him in her bed more consecutive nights than any other woman in town could say. And the way her long fingers curled around his bicep possessively as she dragged him back to the dance floor, she knew it.

  His smile was tight as he took her in his arms, but then she said something to make him laugh — really laugh — and seconds later, he was spinning her around the same way he had me.

  I tore my eyes away, ignoring the sinking in my stomach and smiling at Anthony as he wrapped me in his arms. I started to waltz, but Anthony’s face screwed up in confusion before he slowed us into a gentle sway like the rest of the patrons.

  Except for Noah and Daphne.

  “What’s up with that Noah guy, anyway?” Anthony asked, noticing that my gaze had shifted again.

  I snapped my attention to him, frowning in confus
ion. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you two used to date or something?” He was eyeing Noah menacingly, like he could somehow squash him like a bug with that look.

  “Of course not,” I assured him, shaking my head. “We’re just friends.”

  “Friends,” Anthony murmured, watching Noah a long moment before he turned his gaze to me. “Before, he was just the guy who showed you the barrel. Now you’re best buds.”

  “Don’t be like that,” I said, voice low. “I’m yours, okay?” I held up my hand with the Harry Winston diamond on it to prove my point. “Yours. No one else’s.”

  Anthony let out a long breath, nodding as a smile bloomed on his face. “I’m sorry. I guess you just bring out the possessive side in me.”

  I smiled at that. “Guess that means you like me, huh?”

  Anthony kissed me long and slow, stopping our dance altogether so he could frame my face.

  And somewhere across the room, I felt another pair of eyes on me.

  Later that night, when we were back at my parents’ house, Anthony strengthened a kiss between us, turning that sweet and romantic one from the dance floor into one heated with passion. He peppered my neck with hot, sucking kisses, his hands roaming, breath picking up speed in the hallway outside my bedroom.

  “Anthony…” I sighed, pressing my hands into his chest to stop his advances. “I think we should wait.”

  “Wait?” he asked, one brow cocking. “I took your virginity a month after we met, Ruby Grace. I think we’re past waiting.”

  He moved in again, and though I chuckled, I felt a shade of embarrassment leak into my gut at his words. “I mean that we’re sleeping in my parents’ house, and we get married in five weeks.” I shrugged, running my finger over his chest. “I don’t know, it might be kind of fun to pretend. Go the traditional route. Wait until our wedding night.”

  Anthony’s face screwed up like he thought that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but as his eyes searched mine, he blew out a long sigh, dropping his forehead to my shoulder with a groan. “Fine.”