Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3)

by Christy Pastore

  I loved every thrilling minute of our time together. It meant something to me. But I have no idea what to do with any of these feelings.

  Yes, you do. Turn them off.

  Jackie sets my drink in front of me, and I take a sip. Swallowing, I relish the burn. It feels good. Really good.

  Almost as good as it feels to see Wes.

  But you can’t let it feel good. You have a job to do.

  Later, I lie in bed, listening to the sounds of downtown Mayfield. It’s not bustling like Los Angeles or Santa Monica even. It’s much quieter. There’s a peacefulness that I can’t explain.

  Tossing and turning, I struggle to process the day and the initial shock of seeing Wes. It all took me by surprise.

  It’s the same feeling I had when he kissed me for the first time at the bar. My fingers tap against my lips.

  For a moment I allow myself this tiny fantasy—the way that Wes made me feel so alive.

  How he’d drawn something so carnal, so raw out of me. It’s a part of me I knew was there but didn’t know how to pull out that want, that need of fierce passion.

  Would I ever find it with anyone else?

  Did I want to?

  You’ll never know unless you push Wes out of your mind. Understand?

  I remind myself the two of us never had a chance. A flicker of possibility. There’s no universe or world where the two of as a couple makes sense.

  Maui. We made sense there.

  Did you really, though?

  No, we both agreed it was just a onetime thing. And one night turned into a week. A wonderful week of passion, excitement, and heart-stopping moments that made me feel so alive.

  Sighing, I roll over and blow out a deep breath. I’m raising a kid. I can’t handle raising another man child.

  Weston isn’t Noah.

  No, but he is a nomad. A wanderer. Like another man I once knew.

  So it’s all settled. Weston Cardwell was a fling.

  And now we’re working together. As soon as I create a bourbon recipe, I’ll get back to my life.

  A life that can’t include him.

  Wes

  “She’s baking cupcakes.” I hiss as I barrel into Brant’s office Friday morning.

  My brother looks up from his desk. “Who?”

  “Minka.”

  “Okay,” he drawls. “And?”

  “She’s supposed to be working on a new bourbon. I’m sure that you didn’t hire her to bake fucking cupcakes.”

  He tosses the pen onto the desk and leans back in his chair. “What kind of cupcakes?” A smirk paints his bearded face, and I want to punch him.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “I’m very serious. Chocolate? Vanilla? Something else?”

  I take a deep breath. He’s messing with me. “You need to fire her.”

  He stands. “Why?”

  “Because she’s not doing her damn job, and we don’t need to pay for services we don’t need.”

  He arches a brow. “Services—like cupcakes?”

  “Yes, exactly.” I snap my fingers in his direction. “We’ve got a baker in the family—a chef, Tyler. Call him. I bet he’d be more than willing to help us out with a new recipe.”

  Brant comes around to the front of his desk and sits on the edge. “I’m not asking Tyler for help. He’s got his hands full with his new restaurant. Besides, Minka’s more than capable. And I already knew she was making cupcakes.”

  How the hell can he be so calm. Minka’s an insta-famous baker. She doesn’t need the job. From what I read, she’s got a pretty cozy lifestyle. No wonder she looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. I had her pegged right in Maui, mostly.

  All she did was make a birthday cake for a famous person and that shot her into the spotlight. Who knows if she’s talented?

  Shut up. You know that she’s got the talent. My eyes close and I remember the banana pancakes. Annoyance seeps into my chest. Something about Minka bothers me. Well, not her exactly. It’s her presence and how my body reacts.

  Her body. A flash of her in that bikini pops into my mind. A second later, I swear I hear her voice. When we were in bed and she screamed and clawed at me like a feral animal.

  No. Push it out of your mind.

  “And you’re okay with Little Miss Cupcake prancing around the executive floor making treats?”

  Brant sighs. “She’s very nice, Weston. And she’s smart too.”

  Smart. Beautiful. Funny. Kind. I know all these things about her.

  “I think Minka will surprise you.”

  Surprise? I chuckle to myself. If he only knew how surprised I was when I saw her yesterday. And even more so in Maui. How she could let her hair down and relax. Biggest surprise—Minka wasn’t the spoiled princess I originally thought.

  “We don’t need surprises, we need sales. Last time I checked, we’re in the booze business, not baked goods.”

  Brant stares at me for a few seconds, then shakes his head. “Minka’s staying—end of discussion.”

  “She’s not doing her job,” I press.

  “Well, maybe that’s because the person I asked to show her the ropes didn’t bother to help her get settled in. She came to me and asked if it would be okay to use the kitchen. Minka wanted to bake to get her creative flow going. So, she baked cupcakes. Apparently, you were too busy to give her the time of day.”

  She told on me. How mature. And she says that I’m too young?

  “If you want her to succeed, then you’ll show her how things run around here.” He taps his finger against the desk. “I suggest you start by taking her on a tour of the facility. Then maybe take her to lunch and introduce her to some of our vendors. End. Of. Discussion.”

  “Fine.”

  I finish up my morning meeting with the sales team and then pull up the farmers market inventory sheet. Once that’s printed off, I walk down to the warehouse and start pulling cases.

  Theo walks into the warehouse a few minutes after I do and we load up the trailer. After we finish, I hand him the checklist and inventory sheet.

  “Here are the keys to the trailer. This one opens the warehouse. Set up begins at seven a.m. You sure that your truck can pull this?”

  “Oh yeah, no sweat. I’ll see you there,” he says.

  Forty minutes later, I’m back in my office powering through emails.

  “Wes,” my brother’s voice booms through the speaker on my desk phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “At noon, the webpage for scheduling private tastings is going live. Are you ready for this?”

  I snort a laugh. “Are you?”

  The sound of papers rustling washes over the line. “Yeah, I think.”

  “It’s going to be great, don’t worry. People will book with us.”

  “I hope so. Gotta run, doctor’s appointment with Caroline.”

  Blowing out a deep breath, I glance at the time on my computer screen.

  Time to find Minka.

  I look in the private dining room first. And, of course, she’s here. Hard at work from the looks of it, sitting in a corner booth reading.

  Looking beautiful in a white blouse that exposes her shoulders and shows off her tan skin. My gaze flicks under the table to her slim legs encased in denim. I find myself dumbfounded and lingering a little long with my stare.

  Pretend that those legs were never around your body. Don’t think about your lips on her wet skin.

  Minka’s hair falls forward, shielding her face.

  Don’t think about your hands in her hair—pulling hard.

  Shaking the memories, I walk up to the table and clear my throat. “Hey, can I join you?”

  Minka doesn’t look at me. “Can’t imagine what you’re doing here, Wes. I’m pretty sure you don’t need anything from me.” She continues reading and adding notes.

  “Look, I thought we’d go to lunch. My brother-in-law owns a great farm-to-table restaurant over in Smyrna Hills. Then, I’ll introduce you to
some of our vendors.”

  “Can’t. I’m really busy. Lots of research to do. Once I give your brother what he’s paying me for, I can leave.” Minka finally looks at me. “And it won’t be fucking cupcakes.”

  Oh shit. She heard my conversation with Brant.

  “Okay, look. I . . .” I can’t seem to find my words.

  “For what it’s worth, Wes. I am sorry.” Her eyes go a bit hazy behind the lenses of her big rimmed glasses. “I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but my life is—”

  “Complicated.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Now that we’ve established that for the tenth time.” I rake a hand through my hair and take a seat across from her. “What’s the complication? The fact that you have a kid. You should’ve told me.”

  She gives me a tight smile and tosses her pen onto the notepad. “I didn’t think it mattered at the time. Because I was never going to see you again.”

  “Yet here we are.” I gesture between the two of us.

  “Well, I, for one, never saw this coming. The company website doesn’t have your picture, only a bio. And you have zero social media footprint.”

  I smirk. “So, you’ve been stalking me?”

  Her eyes narrow. “I was stalking Weston Cardwell, not a guy I met in Maui named Wes.”

  I lean closer to her. “Maybe it’s fate that brought you here. Did you ever think of that?”

  Minka folds her hands on top of the table. “It isn’t personal. We had fun in Maui, but this is the real world. And in this world, for both our sakes, Maui never happened.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to forget about Maui. And I don’t think you really do either.”

  “I’m consulting for your family’s company. We need to keep it professional.”

  Fighting my urge to snap at her, I blow out a deep breath. “Fine, if that’s what you want. We’ll keep it professional.”

  She arches a brow. “Really?”

  The surprise in her voice confuses me. Did she want me to keep pressing?

  “Yeah, really. I’m a total professional. You’ll see.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll have to show me how much of a pro you claim to be, Manta Ray Whisperer.”

  There’s a teasing tone in her words. Forget about Maui? I don’t think she wants to forget Maui at all. In fact, I think Minka needs a reminder.

  All day. Every day.

  “How close are you to figuring out a recipe?”

  She picks up her pen. “Hard to say, but I think I’ll have something in about a month. At least four to six recipes. Based on some research and trends, it seems that spicier, high-rye mash bills are in demand.”

  Wheat bourbons? With the recent diet trends like keto and gluten-free, I find this hard to believe. Not to mention, we just launched Royston’s Rye. Sales figures are underwhelming.

  “But then again,” she continues, “some brands are running from age statements. Blends on the—”

  I hold up my hand, interrupting her. “I’m going to stop you right there. We’ve never had a blend. And we’ll never have one.”

  She laughs. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s a known fact that ‘blend’ is a dirty word in our world.”

  Minka’s eyes pop wide. “You know, blends are just a different way to satisfy a demand in consumer needs. From what I’ve read, blends are in high demand.”

  I rise out of my seat. “You’ve been here two minutes and you think you’ve got a handle on the bourbon business.”

  She rolls her eyes. “And from what I understand, you haven’t been working here very long either.”

  No, I haven’t. But I know the business like the back of my hand.

  I tamp down my annoyance. “Bourbon’s in my blood. Go on and waste your time creating a blend, but I’m telling you, Brant will shoot you down.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised,” she counters.

  Sweetheart, you’re the one in for a surprise. When Brant shoots her down, it’ll be back to the drawing board.t

  “Good luck with your blends.”

  “You did it,” Brant calls out.

  “Did what exactly?”

  He tosses a folder onto my desk. “Ten private tastings booked already.”

  “I told you this was a good idea.”

  “You did.” He takes a seat across from my desk. “How’d lunch go with Minka?”

  “It didn’t.” I tap at the keyboard and bring up all the information for the tastings.

  “I told you to show her around.”

  My eyes shift from the screen to meet his. “I invited her, but she said she had too much work to do.”

  “She’s really hitting the ground running.”

  “Seems that way. Told me that she might have four or six recipes for you in a few weeks.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  You might not be impressed when she presents you with her idea for blends.

  “How’d Caroline’s appointment go?”

  “Good. The baby’s breech at the moment, but the doctor is hopeful that he or she will turn. We have to go back in next week.” Brant glances at his watch. “You ready for the farmers market tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Theo’s going with me and we’re in for good—”

  There’s a knock at my door, and she appears. My pulse kicks up. I bite back the smile that tempts my lips.

  “Hey,” Minka says, offering a small smile. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  Brant motions for her to come inside. “No, we’re just talking about the farmers market.”

  A sparkle flashes in her eyes. “I love farmers markets. I didn’t realize you had them here.”

  “This is farming country. In case you missed all the fields and livestock.”

  Brant looks back and forth between the two of us. “Why don’t you take Minka to the market tomorrow. Let her help out.”

  Now my brother’s the one with an excellent idea. Working with her at the market will give me a chance to keep reminding her of how good the two of us are together.

  “You in? I’d love the help.”

  She steps further into my office. “It’s okay, really. I don’t want to be in Wes’ way.”

  Minka’s nervous appearance isn’t lost on me. The muscles in her thighs pulse, and her jeans hug her so tight, I can see the slight dip of her hips and the roundness of her tight ass. My cock takes notice.

  All this reminds me of is how good she fucks. I want to pin her against my desk, fold her over the top and fuck her from behind.

  Brant stands and walks toward the door. “Nah. You won’t be. It’s a great way to meet the people in the community.”

  “He’s right. And with three of us working, we’ll be able to talk to more customers.”

  “Great.” Brant rubs his hands together. “You guys have fun.”

  “Oh, we’ll definitely have fun.” Once he leaves, I level my gaze to Minka.

  Her eyes narrow. “I heard the teasing tone in your voice. What about being a total pro?”

  I rise from my chair. “I am a total pro. And you should have fun while you’re at work. All this seriousness can’t be good for you . . . probably affecting your creativity.”

  “My creativity is just fine.” She straightens her shoulders, standing taller.

  “That’s good to hear. And about tomorrow, meet me at the coffee shop downtown.” My fingers fly over my phone and I bring up Beans and Cream’s location. “What’s your number?” I extend my cell to her.

  She takes it and types in her number.

  When she hands it back to me, I airdrop the location to the text.

  “Thank you.”

  We stare at each other for a few beats.

  “Hey, Weston,” Maybelle says as she peeks into my office. “I’m meeting Sawyer for drinks at Kenton’s. Wanna go?”

  Maybelle and Sawyer are newlyweds. I used to hate Sawyer. He bullied Haven for years when we were younger. Come to find out, it was
all a huge misunderstanding. Turns out he’s a really standup guy.

  “Sounds good.” I power down my computer.

  Maybelle looks at Minka. “You like a place that has a great jukebox, bar food, and beer?”

  I huff a laugh. Remembering all the Instagram pictures of her at high-class places in Los Angeles. Minka let herself loose in Maui, and I wonder if she’d let her hair down here.

  “Does the jukebox play Fleetwood Mac?”

  Maybelle laughs. “I think so. You want to follow me?”

  “Actually, I need to finish up a few things.” Minka shifts on her heel. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sounds good. It’s right down from your apartment. Can’t miss it.” Maybelle walks out, leaving me alone with Minka.

  The smile on her lips is small but grows wider.

  “Didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac.” I step around to the front of my desk.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Yeah, but I want to . . . and you already know that.”

  Her arms wrap around her waist. “I wish things could be different.”

  I take a step closer and say, “I’ll see you at Kenton’s.”

  Wes

  “Who’s the chick in the white shirt?” Luke, the bartender, asks me.

  I hold my bourbon underneath my nose and inhale sharply, getting my fill of the burn. “That’s Minka MacDonald. She’s consulting for us this summer.”

  He shakes his head. “She’s hot as hell.”

  Minka isn’t hot. She’s fucking drop-dead gorgeous.

  Perfect in more ways than I can count.

  And I wish that she were mine. Standing here with me instead of on the other side of the bar with Maybelle and her friend, Olivia Kreuk.

  Along with every other man in here, I noticed Minka the moment she walked into the bar. Minka tosses me a glance and licks her lips. I know how delicious those plump lips taste. I want to taste them again.

  Fuck this.

  Without hesitation, I move toward her. My cock is half hard by the time I reach her. While she faces Maybelle, I slip between her and the jukebox. “Minka.”

  Her head snaps in my direction.