A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (15)

“Christ,” Duff muttered. “Stop before you embarrass yourself.” Duff then lifted his chin at Gretchen in the universal bartender language for What’ll you have?

“Got any CAW 1869?”

Duff’s eyebrows met his hairline. “That’s a hard whiskey for a woman.”

Gretchen shrugged. “What can I say? It’s in my blood.”

Colton and Duff looked at each other with equally stunned expressions of Is she for real? Colton finally cleared his throat and dropped the wet rag on the puddle of beer on the counter. “Duff here doesn’t believe in anything of quality. He prefers to send you to the hospital by poisoning you the old-fashioned way.”

Duff smirked. “Wait here.”

Wait here? Colton watched Duff disappear through a door to what Colton always assumed was the entrance to Hell. Where the fuck was he going?

“So, how’ve you been?”

Blinking, Colton looked down at Gretchen. “Fine. You?” Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? Where was his swagger, his stage presence? He leaned a hand on the bar. “You’re looking good.”

Her face remained expressionless. “Thank you.”

The door to Hell reopened, and Duff came out with a bottle of the exact whiskey Gretchen had asked for.

Colton made a whiny noise. “What the fuck, man? You’ve been torturing me with weasel piss while hiding shit like that back there?”

Duff plunked the bottle down. “This is only for people I like.”

“Single shot, please,” Gretchen said, not even bothering to hide her smile, which was so dazzling that Colton forgot for a moment that he’d just been insulted.

Duff whistled appreciatively. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Who the hell was this man? Not that Colton could blame Duff. Gretchen had the same effect on him. He forgot who he was around her. As Duff poured the whiskey, Colton attempted to regain some semblance of his dignity. “What, uh, what brings you by?”

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Yeah? Well, here I am, honey.” Colton spread his arms wide.

Duff snorted and set the whiskey in front of Gretchen. “You’re too good for him.”

“Can we sit?” Gretchen picked up the glass and nodded toward a booth.

“Yes. I mean, yeah, sure.” He tried to wink, but he was pretty sure it looked more like he had something in his eye.

Duff muttered something unkind and turned away with a shake of his head. Colton picked up what was left of his beer and followed Gretchen to an empty booth. If Duff hadn’t been watching, Colton would’ve pounded his own fist into his face. What the hell was wrong with him? But more importantly, why was Gretchen suddenly here and wanting to talk to him?

He waited until she was seated before taking the opposite bench facing the stage. After setting her bag on the seat and slipping the coat from her shoulders, she lifted her whiskey in the air. “To cheating, stealing, fighting, and drinking.” Then she shot back the whiskey with the ease of a distiller.

Colton stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He glanced at the bar and found Duff with the same expression.

“What?” Gretchen said, setting her glass down. “It’s an old Irish toast that my grandfather used to say.”

“If you’re here to propose to me, I accept.”

There, finally, the slip of a smile. It lifted the corners of her mouth just enough for him to know it was genuine. But it disappeared quickly, and she straightened in her seat. “I am here with a proposal of sorts, to be honest.”

Colton slung his arm over the back of the seat. “I’m all ears, darlin’.”

“How would you like to be the new face of Carraig Aonair Whiskey?”

His brain screeched to a halt. “Huh?”

“I know this is probably not the way you’re accustomed to being approached about things like this, but my family asked if I would make the initial proposal to you and—”

“Your family?” But even as he said it, his brain whirred into action again and started connecting all the floating dots. The CAW 1869. The way she took her shot. The Irish toast. The unexpected visit. The It’s in my blood.

Holy shit. Colton’s spine slumped against the back of the booth. “You’re one of those Winthrops?”

“It’s not something I advertise.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m embarrassed by them.”

He let out an incredulous laugh that sounded unhinged. It died as quickly as her smile. “So, let me get this straight.” He swiped a hand across his jaw. “I don’t hear from you for a year despite my best efforts to get you to talk to me—”

“This has nothing to do with that night.”

That night. Jesus. That’s all it was to her? “—and suddenly you walk into a bar that almost no one knows I come to and, just like that, ask if I want to, what, endorse your family’s company?”

“That’s a decent summary, yes.”

“Wow.”

“I can’t give you any details, because you’d have to negotiate that with whatever people normally handle that sort of stuff for you, but—”

“Stop.”

Her mouth closed.

“I—” Colton shook his head and dragged both hands over his hair. “What the hell, Gretchen?”