The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(106)

But if he thinks there’s any chance I’m running from this, from today, then he hasn’t been paying attention the last few months. Sure, I’ve got nerves—any man on his business’s opening day would feel the same way. But that’s not why I’m nervous.

I scan the patio area until I find Winnie. The pressure in my chest loosens. Knowing she’s here, knowing she’s mine.

Correction—almost mine.

I give Tank the side-eye. “I’m good. Don’t you have other things to worry about? Perhaps other people?” I watch as he squirms.

“Naw, I’m all right,” he says, a little too casually, even as he searches the crowd the same way I just did.

If that’s how he wants to play it. Fine. Keep telling yourself that, Pops. And we’ll all keep pretending we believe you.

“I’m proud of you, son. Opening day already looks like a success,” Tank says.

It does. And though I care—a LOT, actually—there’s something even bigger on my mind.

“It’s in no small part to the people standing alongside me. So, thank you.”

It hasn’t been what I’d call easy relinquishing control and letting other people step up and do more with Dark Horse. Winnie has been integral in helping me, running interference as needed, and putting me in time out when I got overwhelmed with all the peopleing. The time-out closet got a lot of use in the past few months. And not just for me to calm down alone. The make-out closet would be just as apt a name.

My eyes find Winnie again. She’s talking to Kyoko and gesturing to something at the bar. I watch her lips as they curve into a smile, the tiny flash of her tattoos peeking out from one sleeve, tattoos I’m now very familiar and maybe slightly obsessed with. Winnie tugs on her ponytail, something she does when nervous or excited.

When she sees me looking this time, she throws her arms wide and mouths, WHAT?

I smile, a full one, loving the way even from afar it seems to melt her. I point toward the building and mouth back, Closet.

Her brows shoot up, and I can see the hesitation that quickly gives way to something else as she bites her lip. I can read her next word clearly since I’m already staring at her mouth.

Now?

I nod, my expression turning serious, giving her no room for argument. She smiles, a secret one just for me, and begins to cut her way through the crowd, slowing only a little to say brief hellos.

“Well, looks like you’ve got somewhere to be,” Tank says with a sly grin.

He grabs me in one of his famous hugs. Ever since I’ve gotten as tall as he is, our hugs have been more of a friendly competition.

He squeezes. I squeeze back harder. He chuckles, which gives me room to tighten my hold. He grunts and his arms become pythons around my middle until my feet are off the ground. This is new.

“Have you been … working out?” I grunt, struggling to breathe.

He gives me a last squeeze and drops me, grinning. “Maybe.”

There’s a sheepish look about him, and I don’t need to ask why he suddenly feels the need to hit the gym again. Why does any man start doing wild things? A woman.

And maybe it’s because I’ve found my own that the idea of my dad with someone doesn’t sting the way it might have before.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? Two of my favorite Grahams having a hug-off.” Chevy sidles up to the both of us.

Over the past six months, he and I have formed a mostly easy friendship. I say mostly because keeping his sister happy—and paying her enough she could move out of his house—has made Chevy happy. He’s also given me two speeding tickets, I think as a way of keeping me on my toes.

Also, I was speeding. So that’s on me.

Tank gives Chevy a hearty back slap and then some kind of complicated handshake the two of them developed. I’m still rolling my eyes when Dad steps back from Chevy, then leans close to my ear.

“Don't be nervous,” Dad whispers. “She’ll say yes.”

When he pulls back, I stare at him, stunned. No one knows. No one.

“How did you …?”

Tank winks. “It’s a dad thing.”

Chevy glances at me and then at Tank’s retreating back. “Hm. A dad thing?”

“Yeah … just brewery stuff,” I say.

Months ago, I took Chevy out to Backwoods Bar, asking for permission to marry Winnie. I just never said when. He made me wait two days, saying he needed to mull it over. And I unorganized his pantry the next time I was at his house with Winnie. We’re in no way even, but I’m trying not to escalate things. Pat and Chevy can have that as their thing. And if I don’t tell exactly when I’m going to propose to his sister, well, that’s just too bad.

“Today’s the day, huh?” he asks.

Chevy can’t know too. There’s no way I’m that obvious. “What?”

His smile shifts into a smirk. “The brewery opening?”

“Right. Yes. Hey—I’ve got to ask Winnie about … the servers.”

“Sure. The servers. I’m sure she’ll say yes to whatever you ask about the servers.”

Chevy winks, and okay, so fine. Two people have guessed I’m about to propose. Better get on with it before someone posts about it on Neighborly.

“James,” Chevy calls as I’m starting to walk away. “You still have my blessing. So long as you keep looking at my sister like she’s the only woman in the world.”