Page 25 of Wright Together

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Page 25 of Wright Together

“Well, I don’t wanna keep ya, but I had to come say howdy.” Then, he continued on as if I hadn’t said we needed to leave. Typical. “Saw your pa round church last week. He misses ya, ya know? Good man, your pa.”

I jerked slightly backward at that phrase. A good man. Agoodman. “I’m so glad, Rusty, but really, we have to go.”

“Course, course. I’m gonna tell him that I saw ya. Ya been down to see him yet?”

“No,” I bit out. “No, I haven’t.”

Whitton didn’t miss my inflection that time. He took the step between me and Rusty, who was still running his mouth off, and cleared his throat. “We’re going to be going. Have a nice day.”

Rusty finally shut up. He looked up, up, up at Whitton’s intimidating frame before nodding. “Oh, sure. Good seeing you, Evie Jo.”

I waved good-bye and let Whitt hustle me out of there. By the time I was back out in the fresh air, I’d let the anger pass, and I was tired all over again. I should have thought about who I’d see at Lee’s, but I’d been so excited to take Whitt out of his comfort zone that I hadn’t considered what stepping into mine would mean.

To Whitt’s credit, he didn’t ask me any questions. He must have seen that I didn’t want to talk about it. Bless him.

“So…” he finally said once we were back on the road. I braced for the worst. “You know the closest liquor store?”

I whipped my head to him. “What?”

“Is there a liquor store nearby?”

“We’re in Texas. There are liquor stores on every block.”

“Good.”

“You want a drink?” I asked in surprise.

I’d heard West joke that drunk Whitt was the best Whitt, but I’d never seen it before. He’d always been buttoned-up Whitt in my presence.

“You said we were off the clock, right?”

“Yes…”

“We should celebrate our success today.”

Just like that, he’d walked away from the complication that I didn’t have any interest in addressing and pulled us right back into the game we’d been playing since he’d gotten back from Seattle.

I grinned devilishly. I could use a drink. “Turn left.”

9

Whitton

“Still can’t believe they had Wright wine in the liquor store,” Eve said as we carried our purchases upstairs. She hefted the bottle of red for me to see. “It has yournameon it.”

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

Wright Vineyard had been started by Jordan, Julian, and Hollin as a joint venture. Between Jordan’s business acumen, Julian’s charisma, and Hollin’s vineyard work, it had taken off beyond their wildest dreams. They’d won state wine awards, and they were now distributing into most of Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Colorado.

“Is it weird, working at a company of your namesake?”

“I’ve gotten used to it.” I swiped the key card against the door and gestured for her to go in before me.

To be honest, working at Wright was both as weird as she’d made it out to be and more incredible than I’d imagined.

Eve stepped inside, glanced at the bed, and then quickly away.

My eyes landed on it, too.




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