Page 22 of Connor

“Okay, gotta go. Talk later,” Trisha says, seemingly happy that I’m now back in control and half-packed. She’s heading out for a date with Tom, and I give her a wave as she slips out the door.

“Write everything down,” Mom says, and I almost forgot she was still on the phone.

“What?” I ask her, confused.

“I can tell your head is swimming with things. I’m going to start making some calls for you. You need to start planning what treatments you might want to incorporate, research the location and staffing. Write a list and start pulling things together so when you get there, you’re already five steps ahead,” Mom says, and I sit on my bed, releasing a heavy breath.

Nodding, I smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’ve got this, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and I hang up the phone.

With Trisha now gone on a date with Tom, and my phone call with Mom finished, I leave my suitcase half packed and sit at the small desk in my room. I do a brain dump of all my ideas, and when I’m done, I click through to the Whiteman’s Whiskey website again to take a look.

It’s impressive, and I read through their About Us section for what feels like the hundredth time. It talks all about how the distillery started, and I look through both Connor and his dad Tanner’s bios. I can see where Connor’s looks come from; he’s a younger version of his dad.

Then I click on Connor’s profile picture and read his bio again. He went to one of the top colleges in the country and is now the CFO of the distillery, so he’s obviously good with numbers and has lived in Whispers his entire life. I look at his features, and strong, dependable, honorable are all feelings I get when I look at him. Like I conjured him, my cell chimes, and I grab it, seeing a text from him in response to me sending the signed contract back earlier.

Good decision-making, Daisy. I look forward to seeing you later in the week. Victoria from our team will pick you up when you land.

I shouldn’t get butterflies at seeing his message. I clear my throat, wishing this new schoolgirl infatuation that’s starting to build would go away.

Thank you, Connor. See you then.

After replying professionally, I put my phone down and lean back in my chair. Trisha’s right. I’m going to girl boss the shit out of this opportunity and set myself up for success.

There’s no other option. I just need to ignore my attraction to Connor Whiteman. I close my eyes and rub them, the images I see reminding me just how impossible that’s going to be.

10

CONNOR

Iwalk over to my window and look out at the sky. It’s empty of clouds, stunningly blue, almost the same color as her eyes.

“She here yet?” Dad asks, walking into my office. Daisy’s here. I sent her the jet, had confirmation that she’s on it, and I’ve been location tracking it on my cell for the last few hours, so I know it landed ten minutes ago.

“Should be here any minute,” I tell him, running my hand down my beard, walking back to my desk and picking up my cell, not looking at anything really because my mind is on high alert.

“Why are you nervous?” Dad asks, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

“I’m not nervous,” I say with a huff, then throw my cell back on my desk and walk over to the mini whiskey bar in my office. It’s before noon; otherwise, I would take a shot.

“You’re rubbing your beard. It’s your tell.”

I look at him like he has gone mad.

“Pfft. It’s not my tell. Is your old age making you think crazy thoughts, old man?” I ask him, before I walk back over to the window and look out again. He’s right, though. I feel fidgety, nerves cycling through my body, and I have no idea why. Actually, I do, and it has everything to do with the curvaceous redhead who’s about to walk into my distillery.

“I might be old, but I know my son, and at the moment, you’re almost jumping out of your skin.”

“I’m just vibrating at a high frequency, that's all.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal. It’s something I’ve learned over the past few days of my research. I downloaded some books on wellness and chakras and things I still don’t understand entirely, but I wanted to have some knowledge for when Daisy arrives, so she doesn’t think I’m totally inept.

“What the hell does that mean?” he grumbles, frowning at me.

“Nothing.” I wave off his question. “I just have a lot on my plate.” Even though that’s true, I thrive on the demands the distillery brings. I’ve been working here my entire life. It’s the baby my father started, and now the child I’ll develop and grow. Dad’s starting to step back, preferring to spend more time with Victoria and her goats, and that works well for me, because I always wanted to be at the helm.

“Maybe you need another massage. She’ll be here soon. Victoria is dying to try it out,” he says, and my jaw tics.

Another massage? I imagine Daisy’s hands on my body and swallow roughly. Or should I say, near my body? I huff a laugh, just thinking about it all. She was almost too scared to come near me during my treatment. Not to mention, last time we saw each other, we were nearly at each other's throats. My dad looks at me like I have grown a second head. My inner thoughts are probably playing out in my features. Maybe I’ve gone completely mad.

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