Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"H ey, Del, we're almost out of gin."

Del glanced over to Kelley Raheja, the distillery's part-time worker, as she stood mixing drinks at the bar. "I'll grab some from the back as soon as I finish this order."

Normally the siblings ran the distillery and tasting room themselves, but on busy weekend nights—like tonight—they brought in help. They weren't technically considered a bar, but thanks to some unique Colorado laws, the distillery could operate as a tasting room that served full cocktails.

"What's up with Cassie?" Kelley nodded to the corner where Cassie occupied a small round top. Across from her sat a guy who had Tool written all over him, from the stupid wireless headset in his ear to the bottoms of his so-shiny-he-kept-staring-at-his-dumbass-face shoes. "Is she on another date? That's like her third one this week."

And judging by the shoot-me-now expression on her face, this one looked to be going about as well as all the others.

What are you up to, Sassy? He'd been asking himself that same question since she came into the distillery the other afternoon declaring her need for a husband. At the time, he thought it was a joke, but her manic dating schedule lately proved she might have been serious.

Why the hell did Cassie need a husband? Something about this situation stank like the mash after day three of fermentation.

He'd ask her what was going on, but he knew the answer he'd get. Go away, Del. Cassie's favorite phrase to hurl at him. Okay, so maybe he deserved a bit of her ire. He couldn't deny he loved to irritate the hell out of the woman. As a younger brother, it was his duty to annoy his older siblings and their friends by extension. Didn't hurt that Cassandra Brown looked sexy as hell when riled up. Her skin flushed with just the slightest hint of pink. Once or twice, he'd wondered if that pretty blush covered her smooth skin when she reached climax.

He'd had one or two—or twenty—fantasies about his big sister's BFF. Sue him. He was a guy and Cassie was one sexy ball of fire. She'd tempt any straight man. Which begged the question, why was she speed dating? He'd bet she could have her pick of men with the wag of a finger. Whatever her deal was, he'd figure it out. He always did.

The bartender knows all.

"I'm taking these out, then I'll get that gin." He grabbed the drinks, giving Kelley a nod.

Normally they only served people at the bar. The tasting room was small; barstools lined the aged oak bar top, allowing seating for ten. A few tables were scattered in the main room, but with no servers, people ordered and brought their drinks back to their tables. Tonight, Del made an exception because Cassie looked about ten seconds away from punching her date in the face.

"Your drinks." He placed the glasses on the table, sliding the dirty martini in front of Cassie who graced him with a grateful smile. Well look at that. Warmth filled his chest. Cassie was happy to see him. That didn't happen very often.

"We didn't order these," Tool commented, gazing into his highball glass.

"They're on the house." Del tilted his head in question and raised a brow to silently ask if Cassie needed help getting out of what he could only assume was a nightmare date, but she gave him the barest shake of her head.

"Thanks, Del." Cassie's lips curled into a genuine smile before grabbing her drink and taking a healthy sip.

From his glances over the night, those were the first words she'd spoken since she and Tool sat down. The jerk had been yapping his jaw all night.

The Tool waved at Del, dismissively. "You know this guy? He an ex or something?"

Del held back a derisive snort. Class all the way.

Cassie choked on her drink, holding a finger under her nose as liquid dripped out. Ouch! Getting a snort full of alcohol hurt, he knew. He handed her a cocktail napkin.

She daintily dabbed at her nose and watery eyes. "No, he's not an ex."

"Yeah, me and Cassie here are just good friends. Real good friends. We go way back, right, Sassy?" If looks could kill he'd be dead, but he couldn't resist teasing her.

Her eyes closed as she let out a harsh breath. "Swear to God, Del."

"Oh, come on. I'm just reassuring your date that we aren't an item. Now or otherwise."

Her eyes snapped open—dark green eyes the color of emeralds—spitting daggers directly at him. He returned her death glare with a wink, pissing her off further if the tightening of her lips was anything to go by.

"Good," Tool said, grabbing his drink and taking a tentative sniff. "'Cause that's pretty fucked up, meeting at a place where your last screw works."

Wow, change Tool to Total Douchebag. Where the hell did Cassie find this guy? Not one to tolerate assholes, Del curled his lips. "Yeah, almost as fucked up as being a self-indulgent prick who can't focus on his date for five minutes."

Tool rose from his chair. "Excuse me?"

Not very intimidating considering he stood a good four inches below Del's six-foot frame. He also looked pretty scrawny behind his dark business suit. Del figured it'd take one good right hook to knock this asshole out. Growing up with two brothers who joined the military at eighteen, he had perfected his right hook.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, bartender ?" Tool stuck a finger in Del's face. "I make more money in a month than you could make in your whole life."

He very much doubted that, since Del owned a quarter of the distillery. They weren't swimming in cash, but they did all right. Besides, as bartender, he was used to dealing with assholes like Captain Douchebag here.

He rolled his shoulders back, staring the guy dead in the eyes. "You're gonna want to get that finger out of my face in the next three seconds, buddy."

"Bryce, sit down, please," Cassie said. "And Del, go away."

There it was. He knew she'd utter those three magic words, but he wasn't going away. Not until he made sure Bryce—of course, that's his name—learned some manners.

"You're going to want to listen to the lady and sit down."

"Or what?" Bryce sneered.

Del simply raised one brow. "Or I'll go behind my bar and take out my granddaddy's shotgun and make sure you can't sit for a month."

Bryce's eyes widened, bravado slipping. The guy dropped his hand, faltering in his stance.

Cassie rubbed her temples. "Delta Jackson, I swear I am going to kick your ass."

Cassie could swear all she wanted. Her date was a jerk.

"What?" he said. "I was just—"

"Not another word," she cut him off, pointing a finger at the bar. "Go back to work and leave us alone."

Fine. Excuse the hell out of him for trying to defend her honor. With another wink to her and a warning scowl to Bryce the Tool, he turned and headed to the bar.

"That looked interesting," Kelley chuckled.

"Never a dull moment," he replied. "I'm gonna take five, and then I'll grab that gin."

"Sounds good. We have a lull anyway."

Perfect. He needed a minute to calm down. If Cassie wanted to deal with that ass on her own, he'd let her. He wasn't her protector or her lover. They didn't have any obligations to each other. She'd made that pretty damn clear on more than one occasion. Didn't matter what she thought of him one bit.

Nope.

Not at all.

Heading to the back where they kept the equipment needed for distilling their various alcohols, Del wondered why he was in such a pissy mood all of a sudden. But he knew. Bryce the Tool's comment hit a little too close to home. Everyone saw him as the party guy, the goof-off. Maybe he deserved a bit of that reputation. He'd quit college after one year and bummed around the country for a bit, but that was ages ago. He'd been nineteen, a young man in his prime wanting to see what life had to offer. The traditional college experience just hadn't been for him, so he'd traveled, worked odd jobs, met people, experienced new things.

It had been amazing. Then he'd come home.

He'd always planned on coming back. The siblings had dreams of going into business together, opening up a distillery like their father had always wanted. Lawrence Jackson hadn't lived to see his dream come true. An IED had taken his life over in some foreign country Del couldn't even pronounce the name of. The decorated Marine had been taken from his wife and four children too soon, but his legacy lived on in Jack's, the dream he always had for his family.

Yeah, Del knew how important this business was to everyone. He wanted to do his part, help out, but since his year of "finding himself" as his sister called it, no one trusted him with anything other than bartending. He'd been branded the face of the business, the friendly good-time guy with no substance. Sure he had a share of the business, like all his siblings, but Bryce hadn't been too far off the mark with his condescending assessment of Del's responsibilities at Jackson Family Distillery.

But that was about to change. Del had ideas, plans, and if his brothers would just give him a shot, this place could be so much more.

Speaking of brothers, Del glanced up to see Ace standing at the large still in the back of the room, supervising the mash going through its stripping run. "Hey man," he said above the whooshing sounds of the distilling tanks. "Have you thought about my proposal?"

Ace didn't turn, checking the clipboard in his hand and making notes. "Yeah, BJ and I talked it over."

"And?" They all might have a stake in the place, but being the oldest, the twins had veto power over all distillery decisions.

"No."

Del's heart slammed into the pit of his stomach. One damning word. Zero discussion, zero explanation, just a no.

Disappointment and anger tightened his gut. "Why not? It's a good idea, you know it."

Now his brother did turn, glancing up from his clipboard, a taciturn expression on his face. "We're a distillery, Del. We deal in alcohol, not food."

"I know, but adding on a restaurant would increase our profits. We could open earlier, get a new crowd. People like to have food with their booze, Ace. It's common knowledge."

"It's also common knowledge that the restaurant business is a bad investment. Nine out of ten restaurants fail in their first year."

"But we already have a steady clientele."

"For drinks."

"You don't think people who drink eat too?"

Ace pinched the bridge of his nose. A move he constantly did in Del's presence. At one point in his life, Del took pleasure in annoying his older brother, but not today. Today he wanted the tight-ass to listen to his logic and see what a good idea this was, how he could contribute to the family.

"Come on, Ace. It's a good idea."

"Where the hell would we even put a restaurant? We don't have room for a kitchen back here, plus there's separate licensing and food safety requirements. We'd have to hire a whole new staff." Ace shook his head. "This is a serious business move."

"I know, and I am serious about it." So serious he'd secretly been taking online classes in business management for the past two years. This past fall he'd graduated with his BA from Metro.

"Starting up a whole new business isn't like tending the bar, Del. This is hard work. I'm sorry, the answer is no."

With that, his brother turned back to the still, dismissing him. Del wanted to rage, scream, throw his brother in the proofing tank and leave him there for a week, but he didn't do any of those things. He grabbed a bottle of gin from the shelf and stormed back to the tasting room.

Kelley gave him a cautious glance when he slammed the gin on the bar. "Hey, man, you okay?"

Unclenching his jaw, Del tried for a friendly smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Sure you are." The woman gave a soft chuckle. "And I'm crushing on Matt Damon."

Since Kelley loved the ladies, he knew he wasn't fooling anyone with his false cheer. His night had gone from bad to shit-storm. First Cassie basically told him to take a hike when all he'd been doing was protecting her honor, and next, his brother shot down his perfect business plan just because it seemed a little risky. Life was full of risks. If you didn't take a few now and then, what the hell was the point of living?

He could bitch and moan all he wanted about the unfairness of it all, but truth be told when he dug down deep it wasn't about all that. Honestly, what pissed him off was that no one in his life saw him as a man of substance. He was just Del, the goof-off who tended bar.

Not anymore. He'd show his brothers. He'd show everyone. This time, he wasn't going to give up. His days of slacking off were far behind him. A strong sense of purpose pounded deep in his chest. Yeah, he'd make this restaurant happen, because the new Del was a man who got things done.

Time for a new plan. Time to show everyone he was serious and he deserved some respect for once.