Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

D el checked his proposal one more time. He wanted everything to be perfect, not a single number or detail out of place.

I can do this.

Last Sunday, at the distillery, something Cassie said hit a deep truth within. She accused him of not holding value in anything. Total bull. He held a shit-ton of value in this business. The distillery had been his dad's dream, one Lawrence Jackson shared with his children from a young age. Some might question the parenting skills of a father who told grand tales of their moonshining great-granddaddy as bedtime stories. Those people could suck it. Del loved the adventures of Pappy Mel.

His great-grandfather had been a rum-running, bathtub-gin-making badass. Through the humor and excitement of Pappy's adventures, their dad always reminded the Jackson siblings that breaking the law wasn't right. But fighting against an unjust system was about as American as one could get. His dad had been a fair man with a unique sense of humor and completely devoted to his wife and kids.

Del's mother, Dorothy Jackson, was the sweetest, kindest, fairest woman anyone would ever meet. High school sweethearts, the two married a month after graduation. The twins came within the first year, followed by Charlie three years later—because their mother claimed she needed a break after Ace and BJ—and Del another two. They stayed in Colorado while their father went back and forth on overseas assignments. Every moment he was gone they missed him, and every time he returned, life was a little bit grander. Until the fateful day when he returned in a coffin. Killed in action, serving a country he loved and believed in.

Del had been eleven and it shattered his world.

The family broke that day, but over the years they managed to pull together and heal their wounds. The twins had joined the military right out of school, following in the old man's footsteps and saving for his dream. Charlie had gone off to college to get an accounting degree, also thinking of their father's dream and how she could contribute. Del…he got lost for a while.

But he wasn't lost anymore.

Satisfied with his work, he pressed print and waited for the machine to spit out the documentation he hoped would prove his worth. Everyone thought he was a screw-off and, based on his past, he couldn't really blame them. But he'd turned a corner, flipped a new leaf and all that other affirmation shit. He wanted to be more than a glorified bartender. He had ideas, big ones he knew would take this place from doing fine to making it.

If only he could get his brothers to listen.

Ace didn't think Del had thought this plan through. Cassie didn't think he cared about anything. They were both wrong. He'd done nothing but think of the distillery for the past year. They were succeeding financially. The books were in the black according to Charlie. They all made enough to have comfortable lives and decent savings.

But they could do so much more.

The potential for their father's dream could go beyond bedtime stories of Pappy Mel and his hooch. A distillery was great, but if they expanded into a restaurant they could incorporate their liquor into food. People went ape-shit over gin-infused steak with vodka-glazed carrots. This was Colorado. The hipster vibe ran strong. Plus, people here tended to enjoy food a lot more after a certain plant became legal for recreational use.

Lots of people with the mile-high munchies.

If his siblings would agree to his proposal they could secure their futures, provide for their mother for the rest of her life, hell, even make a sweet nest egg for any future little Jacksons. This was a solid business move.

Now he just had to convince his brothers.

Grabbing the printout, he carefully placed it into a file folder—he wanted to look as professional as possible for this—and headed out. His shift at the distillery didn't start for another two hours, but he knew Ace and BJ were there checking the proofing tanks and he wanted to get this to them ASAP.

Since he lived in a small studio above the distillery, it took him less than a minute. As he guessed, the twins were at the proofing tank, checking the readouts. They were a small distillery, so they did batch, not continuous. This led to a slight difference of taste in each, but if they monitored the process closely they could keep the product as consistent as possible.

He stepped into Jack's, heading through the swinging wooden door to the back where he knew his brothers would be. "Ace, BJ."

They glanced up. Identical twins, it would be hard to tell them apart, but their hair was a dead giveaway. Ace kept his hair short, unable to give up the military habit of a buzz cut. BJ, however, had started growing his locks the day they got out. The long, wavy strands now reached his shoulders, but today, like most days, he had it up in something his sister called a man bun.

"Del," Ace nodded.

"You're here early." BJ glanced at the clock on the wall. "Doesn't your shift start in two hours?"

"It does, but I wanted to talk to you both about something." He threw back his shoulders, straightening to his full height. Almost two inches shorter than the twins.

BJ sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Oh Del, not the restaurant thing again?"

He scowled. "Yes, BJ. The restaurant thing."

"I thought we already agreed on that," Ace said.

His gaze shifted to Ace. "No. We didn't agree on anything. I asked and you said no." Before his brother could shut him down again he continued. "And I understand why you did."

That got the twins to shut up. Admitting he'd been wrong was not standard Delta Jackson behavior. Hell, not usual for a Jackson at all.

"I came at you with an idea, a good one, but not fully formed. You have questions. As you should. This is a big move, and I don't want you two thinking I don't know that. I do."

He gripped the folder tight. It held so much more than a proposal. It contained months of work, hours of research. What his brothers didn't know was the whole restaurant idea came to him last year when he'd been deciding what to do for his senior project. In order to graduate, he'd had to come up with a proposal for a new business. He needed to chart out the risk/cost analysis, yearly growth projection, and loss and prevention data. The whole thing had been time-consuming, difficult, and a freaking blast.

When he realized he could tweak his project to fit in the parameters of his own life, his excitement boiled over. With eager rashness—his standard MO—he'd suggested the idea of opening a restaurant to his brothers. No plans, no research, just "Hey guys, we should open a restaurant." No wonder they turned him down.

Not this time.

"I realize opening a restaurant is risky, but if you'll just look over my proposal, I think you'll see the benefits outweigh the risks."

"Proposal?" BJ glanced at him as if he'd never seen him before.

Ace simply reached for the file. Del handed it over, nerves racing like a damn rollercoaster. Truth be told, he'd always envisioned his project as an expansion of their business, so he didn't have to change much.

"This is…thorough," Ace said, glancing through the paperwork. "Who wrote this up?"

Biting back his frustration and hurt at his brother's lack of faith, he answered, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice. "I did."

Two sets of matching blue eyes glanced at him in surprise.

"You did?" BJ asked.

"Yes, BJ, me. I wrote up the plans, researched the data, even printed the thing off all by myself." At his brother's scowl he mentally scolded himself. He needed to tone down the defensiveness. He was coming across as a jackass and that would not help his mission to get his brothers approval .

"Where do you propose we put this restaurant?" Ace glanced down, flipping through the contents of the file folder. "We don't have any room here."

Del knew that would come up, and he had the solution. "The bakery next door is closing down."

"Jan's leaving?" BJ clutched his chest, devastation filling his eyes. "Where will we get our cream-filled bismarcks?"

Ignoring his brother, Del reached over to the file and flipped the papers until he came to the sheet he needed. "The shop has enough room for ample seating in addition to what we have in the tasting room, plus it has a full kitchen in the back. We wouldn't have to renovate much. Mostly décor. You can see here that it meets all the requirements for licensing in the state."

As Ace inspected the paper, BJ lifted his hands, not ready to give up his question. "I'm serious. I love Jan's doughnuts and her cheesecake and her pie."

"Me too," Del replied, "but she's moving to Florida in three months to be closer to her daughter." A nice little tip she shared with him after a few margaritas a month back. "It's the perfect opportunity. I've already discussed the possibility of taking over her lease from the landlord and he said he'd give us the same rate."

They currently owned the building the distillery was housed in. With any luck, they could buy out the landlord within a few years of opening the restaurant.

"It's still a lot of money upfront, Del." Ace shook his head. "We don't have that kind of cash lying around."

"I can get it," he answered without a thought. He had no idea how, his saving would never cover the cost needed, but dammit he knew this was a good idea, a solid business investment. If they'd just give him a chance to prove himself, he knew he could make this work.

"You can?" BJ stared in disbelief.

"Yes."

The twins shared a look of disbelief.

His gut pinched, but he knew, knew , this was a good idea. If they'd only give him a chance they'd all see. "If I get the money for the startup will you agree to the expansion?"

He held his breath as the twins silently communicated. He hated it when they did that, but they held his fate in their answer, so he bit his tongue and waited. Finally, they turned back to him.

Ace handed back the folder. "A month. You have one month to come up with the funds or the answer is no."

Weight lifted from his tense shoulders, loosening every knot, uncramping the tightness in his neck. A month? No problem. He could do that.

The high of success running through his body, he grinned at his brothers. "Seriously?"

"Hey, man," BJ motioned to the folder with a nod of his head. "You did your homework on this."

He laughed internally thinking of all those late nights, studying for his finals. They had no idea.

"One month, Del." Ace reiterated. "If you can't come up with the money by then, we're out."

"A month." He grinned. "I got it. Don't worry, in a month's time we're going to be picking out china patterns."

The twins looked less than convinced, but he didn't care. They said yes! A provisional yes, but still. His brothers actually listened to his idea and agreed. He was finally doing more for his family than pouring shots.

Now he just had to find the start-up funds and prove once and for all that he wasn't the screw-off everyone believed him to be.

Easy as vodka on the rocks.