Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(70)

“When Mallory told us she was coming back home to Stratford after she wrapped up her masters degree, we were thrilled. Not only because — as many of you know — she was opening her very own art studio, but because it meant we’d have our family together again, too.” He paused, beaming at me like we were best friends. “And we are so proud of her, of all she’s accomplished.” He turned to the crowd then. “What do you guys think? Do we love the new addition of Dalí and Mal’s to Stratford?”

The applause roared then, and Logan let out a whistle between his teeth that had me actually smiling and blushing. I covered the smile with one hand, and Logan grinned up at me, tossing me a wink that I held for my own.

“What you might not have known was that while she was building that studio up during her evenings and weekends, she was here, working as a tour guide during the week days. And from what her uncle has told me, she has excelled at that — after a few minor setbacks, of course.”

Those who knew of those setbacks chuckled throughout the room, and I found myself forcing a smile again, wondering when all this hoopla would be over.

“We’ve had more compliments for Mallory’s tours just in the past month than we’ve had for any other tour in the past year,” Dad said, and that had my eyebrows shooting into my hairline — one, because it was news to me, and two, because I found it hard to believe — especially given how many compliments came in for Logan each and every day.

And that’s when my stomach sank to the stage floor.

Because I knew, right then, that my father was up to something.

And I knew it was something I wouldn’t like.

“She’s put personal touches on her tours, telling our visitors about fond memories she had with her grandfather, about growing up around the distillery, about the history only our family knows. She’s even volunteered to help out with tasks outside of her normal duties — like cleaning out an entire storage closet to make way for new equipment that will help our brand excel.”

I frowned, opening my mouth to mention that I did not do that alone — or by choice — but my father kept talking.

“That’s why, it is my absolute pleasure to announce to all of you tonight that my brother, Mac, is retiring after the new year. And it is my distinct pleasure to also announce that we are filling his position with another deserving member of our family — a member we weren’t sure would ever come home, one we are so happy to have back in Stratford, and one who has already made us proud in her short time working at Scooter. We know she will have a long and successful career ahead, and we can’t wait to see where she takes this instrumental part of our company. Please help me congratulate Mallory Scooter — our new Manager of Tour Guide Operations.”

Dad started the applause, Mom teared up, Mac looked bored — and I tried my best but failed epically to hide my expression of horror.

No.

No, no, no!

Mom wrapped me in a hug, and Dad made some comment about me being stunned, a laugh rolling off his lips. All the while, I searched for Logan — and it wasn’t hard to find him, because the entire distillery was watching him, too.

They were watching the entire Becker family.

Logan stood like a statue, just as stunned as me, his eyes on my father while Jordan held a firm hand on his shoulder. Their mother, though small beside them, was standing tall, head held high, a determined-level expression on her face. Their youngest brother, Michael, stood just as tall and silent on the other side of her, shaking his head, his brows furrowed over angry eyes.

I willed Logan to look at me as my father reached to pull me into a hug next. The room was a mixture of awkward applause and animated chatter. Suspicious eyes glared up at me, and I didn’t have to read lips to know the things they were saying about me weren’t flattering. I didn’t blame them. I hated myself in that moment, too.

This job shouldn’t be mine. It was never meant to be mine.

It belonged to Logan, and I wasn’t the only one who knew that.

The man I’d had in my bed all weekend looked like a stranger under that pale blue light. And when his eyes found mine, he looked at me like I was a stranger, too — like everything between us was a lie.

I pleaded with him as much as I silently could to wait, to not draw conclusions, to let me think, to let me fix this. But he pursed his lips, shook his head, and then he was shaking his brother off him and tearing through the crowd.

I pulled out of my father’s grasp, running down the steps and chasing after him. I didn’t give a fuck what anyone said about me, about us, because at this point — they were talking, anyway.

The only thing I cared about was getting to Logan and making him see that I had nothing to do with this.

It was snowing lightly when I shoved through the doors that led to the parking lot, and my breaths racked through my chest painfully as I searched for Logan. I found him storming across the wet concrete toward his truck, and I ran, feet screaming in my heels the entire time.

“Logan!” I called, but he didn’t so much as stutter or pause. “Logan, wait!”

He spun then, and I nearly crashed into him, skidding to a stop with just a foot between us.

I held up my hands, trying to catch my breath. “Logan, I am so sorry. I had—”

“You had what, Mallory?” he fired back, standing tall. “You had no idea that was coming? You had nothing to do with it? You had no intention of hurting me?”