Shattered Dreams (Dream #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Autumn

I make the mistake of looking out the window and seeing him walk away. His head is down, probably in shame that he spent another night with me. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch him walk away and make sure when I turn my head on the pillow. Opening my eyes after a second, I see the dent from his head on the pillow beside me. I turn on my side, grabbing the cover and pulling it up to my neck, which is a mistake because I smell him all around me.

Tossing the cover off me, I get up and strip the bed again for the second time in three days. I toss the bedding inside the washer while I walk to the kitchen, making myself a coffee before heading back to the bathroom and starting the shower. The mark on my neck has faded a bit, but not enough that I don’t need to cover it up.

I leave my house an hour later when the sheets are back in the dryer. I have another pair of blue jeans on with a baby-blue-and-white striped linen button-down shirt that is rolled up to my elbows. My hair is half dry since my shower, and all I did was run a comb through it. I get to the distillery and see I’m the only one here, so I hit up the bakery.

Walking in and spotting a couple of people, I avoid eye contact, as usual, focusing on the line in front of me, getting my coffee, and getting to my desk to tackle the past due invoices. I hold my hands in front of me, trying not to let everyone see they are shaking with nerves as I step to the counter. “Morning, Autumn.”

“Morning, Ms. Maddie.”

I smile. “Can I have one sugar donut and a cup of coffee, black, please?”

I reach in my purse to grab my wallet as she rings me up, and I hand her the five dollars. The rest of the change is put in the glass tip jar by the register.

“Sure thing.”

She turns and walks to the paper coffee cups, filling the blue cup and then putting on the white lid, walking to me and setting it down in front of me before she grabs the donut and hands me the blue bag. “See you tomorrow.”

I nod at her, grabbing the bag and the coffee in one hand before walking out.

I keep my head forward as I walk, not making the mistake I did yesterday. I take the keys out to the bar and open the door, locking it after me before making my way to the distillery office. Switching on the lights, I see the whole floor light up as I walk to the office. Putting my purse in the chair in front of the desk, I pull out the desk chair and sit down.

I flip open the laptop and turn it on as I pull off a piece of donut and pop it in my mouth. The sugar hitting my tongue makes me smile before I flip open the little tab to take a sip of the coffee. “Good morning,”

I tell myself before turning to the side, taking the ledger book off the cabinet, and opening it.

The white envelopes are all stacked one on top of each other, all of them stamped with the red past due mark. I close my eyes and take a deep inhale before pulling out the white paper and unfolding it. Seeing the amount past due, I grab a pen and write down the amount. I do the same thing when I go through the whole stack, then look at the total. “Fuck.”

That’s the only thing I can say, leaning back in the chair.

I pull up my bank balance and see I have just enough to cover it all, but then I won’t have anything left to help do all the things I want to do to bring new people in. As I go through the stack of bills again, I hear footsteps coming from the back and look out the window to see Brady coming in.

“Hey,”

he says, picking up my purse and putting it on the corner of the desk before sitting down in the chair. “What are you up to?”

“I’m up to these.”

I pick up the stack of white papers. “It’s a lot worse than I thought it would be.”

He just nods. “I’ve been thinking.”

He puts his head back and groans, “That is never a good thing.”

I fold my arms in front of me.

“Well, you don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

I tap the desk. “But here is what we are going to do. I called the Morgans.”

I mention the distribution company we used to use some ten years ago.

“They dropped us,”

he reminds me.

“Yes, but that was then, this is now. Time has passed, and I found out the old man has retired, and his son is in charge.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Then I think we should offer a tasting menu for businesses.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “We have that room off the bar. We can get some tables in there. Have companies come in and do their parties here. Get bachelor parties and bachelorette parties. Couples’ night with the chef. There are a bunch of things we could do.”

“I never thought about that,”

he admits.

“Then there is bringing a cook in from five to ten every night.”

He shakes his head. “Too bad, it’s happening and I have interviews next week. Small menu, I’m thinking burgers, fish and chips, a good cut of steak with a side, and a sample of whiskey. We can work on the menu with the cook we hire.”

He leans forward. “We also do a five-to-seven two-for-one. After work people drop in before going home.”

“They have to come in.”

His voice goes high.

“If you offer them two-for-one, trust me, people will come in. Maybe not in droves, but as time goes on, word of mouth.”

He puts his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Listen, we have to try. If we don’t try, then they win. Also, Brady, I was thinking since my samples were such a hit, I think we should add whiskey flights to the drink menu. It’s relatively inexpensive to order a few flight sets for now. If business picks up, we can invest in more.”

“What are you going to tell Dad?”

“I’m not going to tell Dad anything,”

I admit. “He has other things to worry about than worrying about this.”

He nods. “I also am going to be working nights. You need some time off to sleep. You look like shit.”

He laughs. “Wow.”

“When was the last time you slept eight hours?”

I ask him, and he smirks.

“When was the last time you slept eight hours?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You look like shit.”

He gets up from the chair, and we both burst out laughing. “I’m going to test the last batch we made, see if it’s ready.”

“Good, Bryan should be here any second anyway.”

He turns to walk out, and I look down at the bills, going through them and making a spreadsheet to see which ones are the oldest to the newest.

I’m finishing my coffee when I hear a knock on the door and look up to see Bryan. “Hey.”

I get up, smiling at him. He’s wearing a button-down dress shirt with blue pants, his blond hair pushed to the side, and his brown eyes looking at me. The smile on his face goes big when I get up and walk over to him. “Bryan.”

I hold out my hand to shake his. “I’m Autumn.”

“Autumn,”

he replies, his voice deeper than I thought it would be, “nice to meet you.”

“Thank you for coming in today,”

I tell him.

“Of course,”

he says, looking around. “I’ve never been here.”

He puts his hands on his hips as he looks around. “Heard about it but—”

“I can give you a tour, if you like.”

I move out of the office with him, going over the story of how we started. He listens to the story as we circle back to the office. “I know that you closed the account with us.”

He avoids looking at me as he looks down to the side. “I’m not sure what was said as to why the account was closed.”

He turns back to look at me.

“I can imagine what was said,”

I tell him, and his eyes go big. “It’s no surprise that the Cartwrights might be behind it.”

I don’t give him a chance to admit it or deny it. “But it’s been close to eight years, and, well, business is business. It’s also time to move on, don’t you think?”

I don’t know why I put in that last part. I just know that I’m over all of this. The hatred that seeps into your soul until you don’t even know who you are anymore.

“I agree. I know your product,”

he admits. “I have to agree it’s some of the best whiskey out there. What are you looking for exactly?”

“I’m looking to get my product on the shelves of liquor stores, as well as in restaurants. Sort of exactly what we had before.”

I explain to him exactly what I want. “I have a product I know is far more superior than what is out on the market. It’s a family-run business, and I guarantee once they try our whiskey, they won’t go back.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“No, I won’t.”

I fold my arms over my chest.

“Good, then neither am I,”

he states, shocking me. “I’ll take the contract. We will start with twenty cases. Usually, the deal was twenty percent, but since I’m going to have to do this personally, I will have to do it for twenty-five.”

I can’t believe my ears. Twenty cases is a lot more than zero.

“Are you serious?”

I ask him, and he smirks.

“Yeah,”

he replies, pulling out his hand for me to shake, “we have a deal.”

“Only if we can revisit the terms in six months.”

I put out my hand, and he chuckles.

“We have a deal.”

He shakes my hand, and I feel his warm one take mine. The smile is so big on my face it hurts my cheeks.

“Thank you.”

I take my hand out of his. “You won’t regret this.”

“I don’t think I will either. We’ll be by tomorrow to pick up the cases.”

He turns and walks out of the door.

I put my hands on my head and silently scream before the door opens again, and he comes back in, shocking me. The dread now creeps up my body. “Hey,”

I say as he gets closer. “Did you forget something?”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

He grins. “It’s just, that was business.”

He points at the door. “And now I’m not here for business.”

I watch him. “Now I’m here for personal business.”

I roll my lips. “I want to know if I can take you out.”

“What?”

The shock rips through my words.

“I want to take you out,”

he announces. “I’m very persistent also.”

I can’t help but smile. “Is that so?”

“That is so.”

He takes a step forward, his voice going soft. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“I don’t know,”

I counter him, “the town and all that.”

“How about I pick you up or you meet me at my house, and I’ll cook for you?”

I think about all the reasons I should say no, but then I think, why the fuck shouldn’t I do this?

“Okay,”

I say softly, “you have a date.”

“Good, how about tomorrow? That way, you can’t change your mind.”

I laugh now. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Sounds like a plan,”

I reply, and this time he winks at me before walking out the door.

“So how did it go?”

Brady walks back into the distillery from the bar.

“He took twenty cases.”

His eyes about pop out of his head. “Twenty-five percent instead of twenty commission, but it’s not zero.”

“Fuck.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe you did it.”

“And he asked me out,”

I say, and he rolls his eyes, “so high five.”

I hold up my hand.

“I am not high-fiving my sister for having a date.”

He slaps my hand away, making me laugh as he turns and goes back to the bar. “Proud of you,”

he tosses out right before he walks out of the door.

Six hours later, I’m behind the bar looking at the eight people who are in tonight. All of them from out of town, not one face I know, which is fine by me. I have just kicked Brady out of the bar and told him to go home. I’m walking around the bar to make sure everyone is okay when Darren walks in the door again. He takes a look around before heading to the bar and sitting on a stool.

I make sure everyone is taken care of before going back behind the bar. “What can I get you?”

I ask him, tossing a napkin down in front of him.

“I’ll take the special blend,”

he orders. I turn to pour in two fingers in the glass before walking over and putting it on the napkin in front of him.

“Fifty bucks,”

I tell him and he tries not to laugh.

“It was twelve bucks the other day.”

“Inflation,”

I inform him. I expect him to get up and walk out the door, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes out his cash and puts three twenties on the counter. “You can keep the change.”

I start to walk away from him. “I would like to ask you some questions.”

I raise my eyebrows as he takes out his notepad.

“Thought I made it pretty clear to you I wasn’t interested the last time,”

I remind him and look up when I see someone coming in the door, and everything in my body stops dead. It can’t be, but as he gets closer and closer to the bar, there is no mistaking that my eyes are not playing tricks on me. He comes straight to the bar, standing between two stools, looking at me, and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is his name, “Charlie.”