When she walked back out of the bathroom, Naomi was waiting for her. She let out a low whistle as she looked Becca up and down. “You look hot. Shawn won’t know what hit him.”
She’d forgotten about Shawn. Which was weird because all this effort was for him, right? “By the time I get there I’ll probably look a mess. I’m not sure I’ll even have any hair left.”
Naomi grinned. “Daniel’s not so bad. And at least you get to look at that face while he’s putting you through the labors of Hercules. He asked me a question in our team meeting yesterday and it took me a whole minute to realize he was talking to me. Have you seen those eyelashes?”
“Shame the inside isn’t so pretty.” Becca shrugged.
“He seems okay. He asked Ryan about his father – even I didn’t know he was in the hospital. And then he asked me about Alex and how he’s handling life out of the Army.”
Becca’s mind wandered back to the day she lost her shirt button, when he was sitting on Sandy’s reception desk and the two of them were laughing.
So it really was only Becca he hated. No, maybe hate was too strong a word. They clashed. Like a personality mismatch or something. Except for when she sparred with him.
Then he seemed to like it.
“You okay?” Naomi asked.
Becca gave her a genuine smile. If Daniel wanted to rile her up, she’d give it right back to him. “I’m real good. I’ll see you some time after eight.”
“Don’t be late. Three’s a crowd.”
The GSC Barrel Room – also known as the rickhouse – was more of a warehouse than a room. The four story wooden building loomed large at the rear of the estate. It was a traditional whiskey rickhouse – the barrels stored on their sides in racks, allowing air to flow around them as the whiskey inside matured. There was no climate control inside. The natural highs and lows of the West Virginian climate were used to drive the whiskey into the wood, creating an aged, oak flavor.
The rickhouse was labor intensive, thanks to the way the barrels were stored. It took two men to take a barrel from the racks and roll it to the floor. In the past they’d experimented with different storage – having the barrels upright on pallets that could be moved by forklift trucks – but in the end the flavor suffered.
The staff in the rickhouse were gone by the time Becca arrived. The door was unlocked, and she pushed it open, her heels clacking against the concrete floor as she walked inside.
The air surrounding her was temperate. In a few months it would be almost unbearably hot, especially in the upper levels. In winter, the temperatures plummeted, requiring the staff to wear thick goose down coats and hats to keep themselves warm.
But it was all worth it for the end result.
She called out, unnerved by the silence surrounding her. “Hello?” From the corner of her eye she saw some movement, and turned her head to see him standing there.
Dark tailored pants. A crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His sleeves were rolled up to right beneath his elbows, exposing strong forearms, warm skin peppered with hair, and a watch that looked like it cost her annual wage.
He was in the shadows so it was impossible to see his eyes. For a moment she felt exposed in her tight jeans and shell top. As though he was staring at her delicate throat and dark hair flowing over her shoulders in a cascade of waves.
She heard him inhale sharply.
“Did you dress up for me?” His tone sounded almost bored.
Becca bit down a smile. So they were playing again. “Nope. I have a hot date after this. You just get to enjoy me first.”
She felt different wearing these clothes. Confident. As though she could rule the world.
He stepped out of the shadows. His thick hair was messy, as though he’d been raking it with his fingers. A single lock fell over his brow, and damn if the dishevelment didn’t make him even more attractive. “I’ll try not to delay you for too long.”
Oh please delay me. She was really careful not to say it out loud.
Cool and calm. That’s what she needed to be.
He took two glasses from the tasting table, passing one to her. “If you’re going out later, we should get on with this. Pick a barrel that will impress me.”
“I don’t imagine anything will impress you.”
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Try me.”
She looked at him f