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She wondered if he would ask her if she wanted to have lunch. She would like that. Sitting in a restaurant having lunch with Daughtry. She didn’t want the afternoon to end.

“Thank you.”

“We better head back,” he said. “If we’re quick the food will still be out on the tables. We can eat, and then you can start getting your space set up.”

Disappointment made her stomach bottom out. Which was stupid. There was no point being disappointed that Daughtry didn’t want to have lunch. That he couldn’t read her mind. It was a workday, and this had been a work trip.

It wasn’t personal. That was the thing. She had to remember that. But it was getting harder and harder to do.

Chapter Twelve

Bix took to her new job as head of their brewing arm with relish. While she worked on getting the practicalities set up, he applied for a liquor license for the ranch. They were projected to have their barn done as an event space in the next two months. They wanted to be ready also to serve alcohol and food, and it would be even better if they could serve their own alcohol.

And of course, since Daughtry was involved everything was going to be aboveboard. He didn’t know what it was about Bix that made him confide in her. Because that was what he’d done last week. When they had spoken about the way he helped his dad collect on debts, he had pretty well told her more about it than he ever had another person. He saw himself in her.

She was younger, angrier. But he had been both of those things at one time.

He was in a different place now. Settled.

She would have that eventually too.

She was getting it. And he was proud that he was playing a part, even if a small one, in that.

The way she had looked at her debit card at the bank...

It made his chest sore to think about it. He couldn’t explain his connection with her. The only way he couldexplain it was by identifying the ways in which they were alike. The ways in which he saw himself.

A kid without a chance.

That’s what Bix was.

She’s not a kid.

Yeah. Well. He walked across the gravel in front of the outbuilding where Bix had set up her brewing station. He could hear voices, talking and laughing. She had a whole crew assembled to work with her. Four men, and a woman, and they all seemed to get along great.

One of the guys was young, close to her age. He had been doing basic labor work, but he knew a lot about beer, and Bix had been keen to have him on the team.

When Daughtry opened the door, he saw Bix standing close to the young guy, and the two of them were laughing.

He looked up at Bix, a glint of humor in his eye. Flirtation.

Daughtry’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t like that. That guy was a player. He had it written all over him. And Bix was not to be played with.

Mine.

He pushed that thought to the side. That was caveman shit. She wasn’t his.

Yes, he felt an attraction to her, but that wasn’t anything he was going to act on. It was... nothing. It was just a side effect of them being a man and a woman in proximity to each other and...

And he wanted to punch that guy in his fucking teeth.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” the guy—his name was Michael; Daughtry did know that—said to Bix.

“Yeah,” Bix said, her cheeks turning a shade of pink Daughtry had never seen before.

“I’ll swing by and pick you up at seven.”