Billionaire With a Twist 3(12)
Hunter looked perplexed. “This is what?”
I wanted to leap up and swing him around and around, I was so happy. “This is the new product!”
Hunter had been staring down at where my hand was touching his—and yes, that expression on his face was interesting, I was definitely going to have to come back to that later and what it really meant and if it really meant what I hoped it really meant—but at my words, his gaze jolted back up at me. His eyes widened. “You really think so?”
“Hunter,” I said, my words spilling from my mouth before I had a chance to organize them, “this thing I am drinking right now. It tastes like a beer and bourbon got married and had a beautiful baby, who married an apple and flew a caramel chariot all the way to heaven. It is amazing. It is so amazing that you could sell it with the crappiest ad campaign in the world, but with me doing it, you’re solid gold.”
That last bit made him grin, and I watched, an answering grin on my face, as I saw the excitement slowly win out over the trepidation on his. Then he squeezed my hand back. “All right. Let’s do this!”
SIX
“Aaaaand he’s back!” Martha gave a whoop of approval, and clutched at a string of imaginary pearls, pretending to swoon.
I just couldn’t stop staring.
We were back at the estate library, and Hunter had just emerged from the shower looking like his old hot self, which was to say, a Greek god that had been hitting the gym lately. His wet hair was tousled and tumbled over his ears, practically begging me to run my fingers through it. His smooth, freshly shaved cheeks demanded the same. His golden eyes glinted with fire.
His skin was still slightly wet, and his clothing clung in all the right places.
He smirked, leaning back against the bookcase. “Ladies. Contain yourselves.”
I blushed, started shuffling papers on the desk. “Stop parading around like a cologne ad model and join us, then. Martha and I have practically already figured your business plan out for you, so this is your last chance to make a real contribution.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Besides brewing it?” he snarked, still smirking.
I smirked right back at him. “Details, details.”
“So, if you two are done flirting—” Martha started.
We both jerked back from each other, only just realizing that our hands had been nearly touching.
Funny how that kept happening.
Martha went on, barely pausing to roll her eyes at us: “Here’s the deal. There’s that big liquor expo in two weeks, you know, the one in Martinville? All the brands introduce their new products, give out samples, do deals, all that chummy shit.”
“Yes, I know about the big liquor expo in Martinville,” Hunter said mildly. “I have actually spent a little bit of time in the liquor industry.”
Martha gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “Yeah, but the real question is, were you paying any attention all the time you were in it? ‘Cause if you were then we wouldn’t have to tell you that this is the perfect place to debut your new drink.”
Alarm flashed over Hunter’s face. “Wait a minute,” he protested, holding up his hands. “I’m still in prototype. There’s no way I’ll have a product ready. I don’t even have a factory set up! The investment we’d need for just a small batch run, it’s huge, and we don’t even know if—”
I patted his hand reassuringly. “Hunter, no one’s saying that you need to found an entire new liquor empire in a week. We don’t even need a factory. We just need a sample: some liquor for tasting and a mock-up of the packaging to show the industry you’re back in the game. We don’t even have to start from scratch—since Chuck passed on the original deal I had with Knox Liquors, I can rework all the visuals from the first campaign I developed.”
“And you know those visuals will knock them right over the head,” Martha put in. “They’re gonna be so wowed they won’t be able to see straight.”
Hunter smiled, but his brow was still furrowed. “Well, if you’re sure that will work…?”
“I am sure,” I said firmly. “Obviously, we’ll need to hammer out all the details before we go signing up for a booth or anything. The first thing I’d like to do is take a look at the place you’ve been brewing. That’ll help me see what I need to tweak in the visuals or the copy.”
Hunter grinned, energized again now that there was a prospect of showing off his hobby with no outside judgment. “No time like the present!”
He offered me his hand, and I took it.
As I left, I saw Martha roll her eyes and pull another paperback full of scantily-clad men out from under the cushion of the armchair.
#
Hunter had been brewing the beer not in any of the main distilleries, but in an old shed just off the path leading into the woods. Red paint peeled off the wooden walls, and the copper pipes hissed and gurgled as they delivered ingredients into the bourbon casks, each specially chosen for the particularly fine qualities of their years.
It was all so old-timey and Prohibition I half-expected a jug band to start playing while revenuers kicked in the door and a flapper peeled away in a tin Lizzie, all the hooch safely hidden in the getaway car.
“There are a few different kinds,” Hunter said modestly as he led me through the space. “We separate them by the types of grain, obviously, and then by the different recipes.”