Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(30)

Logan watched me with the left side of his lips quirked, that dimple making a brief appearance before it was gone again. “You killed it. Although, I was impressed as soon as you introduced yourself. I knew it was going to be a good tour.”

“Really? How?”

“Because you actually wore a shirt, and you didn’t have any gum.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, which earned me a chuckle.

“What is it with you and that gum, anyway?” Logan asked, cringing. “I swear, I was two seconds away from holding my hand out like a mom and demanding you spit it into my palm the first day you came into this office.”

I laughed. “Well, let’s just say I traded in one bad habit for another.” I held up both hands like a scale. “Quit smoking, start chewing gum like a sixteen-year-old asshole.”

“At least you admit the asshole part.”

“Say what you want, Becker. Nothing can bring me down.” I fished inside the pocket of my jacket hanging on the chair, pulling out a wad of cash. “Especially not after getting this much in tips.”

“Just wait until you get assigned to a tour of rich businessmen from some tech company in California or some brokerage in New York. The other female tour guides get five-hundred bucks easy on those ones.”

I blanched. “Maybe I should forget my shirt for that one.”

We broke out in a fit of laughter, but the noise died quickly when Logan’s office door flew open, the handle hitting the wall so hard it rattled the room and surely left a dent. I jumped — out of my chair, nearly out of my skin — as Mac steamrolled his way into the office, face red and blotchy, breathing like a dragon again.

Uh-oh…

“Please, tell me what is so goddamn funny, because I could use a laugh after the shit storm you two just dropped on my desk.”

Logan and I were both shocked silent, and we exchanged a glance before Logan cleared his throat. “Sir?”

“Sir?” Mac mocked him, slamming his phone down on the desk in front of Logan. “Thirty years. Thirty years we’ve been giving tours, and not once has a video been leaked. Not once has our most precious process been exploited to the public. Until today.”

Logan’s face was sheet white as he watched whatever was on that phone screen, and he swallowed a lump, not even looking at me before he slid the phone across the desk so I could see.

It was a video — one taken in the warehouse where the boys were raising barrels. What was worse, you could hear me in the background, explaining the entire process as whoever it was that snapped the video got a close up of the machinery we used, of the way Noah was arranging the staves, of everything.

“Mac, I—”

“It’s my fault,” Logan said before I could get another word out. He stood, meeting Mac’s eyes. “I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t realize the phone was out.”

“Nor did you explain to anyone in that tour that there was no photography allowed in that part of the tour — as this little shit has repeatedly told me since he tagged us in the video and I’ve been private messaging him trying to get it taken down.” Mac turned his glare on me next. “I knew it was a bad idea when your father told me you were going to work here. If you don’t want any part of this company, fine — but don’t try to take it down in a fire while you’re here.”

I narrowed my eyes, standing so I could look my uncle in the eyes, too. “I didn’t do this on purpose,” I defended. “And, besides — it’s on our fucking website that we make our own barrels. And anyone who takes the tour can easily write up what we tell them about the process. It’s not like it’s a secret, or like we gave away any information that they couldn’t find on Google.”

“The reason we don’t allow photos or videos is because they may know that we make our own barrels, but they don’t know how. They don’t know the products we use, the methods, the charring. This barrel process and our natural spring are the only things setting our whiskey apart from the competition — and you just gave one piece of that secret recipe away.”

I had to clench my jaw to keep my mouth shut — mostly because Logan was giving me a warning look from behind Mac.

“It won’t happen again, sir,” Logan said, drawing Mac’s attention back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Your damn straight it won’t happen again, because until further notice, you’re both suspended from giving tours.”

“What?!” we both exclaimed, Logan taking a step toward Mac with the word.

Mac put his hand up, both as a note to Logan to stop where he stood and to signal that he was done with the conversation.

“I don’t want to hear another word,” he said, still fuming as he eyed us both down. “Now, I’m going to go do as much damage control as I can do and try to get this little fucker’s video down before someone who actually matters sees it. In the meantime, you two are excused.” He turned toward the office door, pausing at the frame. “And tomorrow, I’ll have a new assignment for you.”

“Assignment?” I asked.

“We’re cleaning out the big storage closet, archiving what we need to keep and trashing the rest so we can make room for this year’s files once the New Year passes.” He gave us both a condescending grin. “I’m sure a little time in that dusty closet will be punishment enough for the two of you while I clean up your mess.”