Page 47 of On the Rocks
“My parents are right over there,” she whispered, not bothering to look at exactlywhereher parents were to make her point clear. She cleared her throat, instead, turning to me with the same tight smile. “Thank you for the tasting, Noah. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get back to the party.” She rested her hand on Anthony’s chest — the hand that shone with the diamond he’d given her. “So many people to introduce Anthony to. You understand.”
I swallowed past the thick knot in my throat, forcing a smile that was just as tight as hers. “Of course,” I said, waving my hand toward the rest of the crowd. “Enjoy your evening, and let me know if I can be of service to either of you.”
Ruby Grace rolled her eyes, though Anthony didn’t see, and I smirked a little at that.
“Will do,” Anthony said, shaking my hand. He held it in his vise grip a little too long, letting Ruby Grace walk a few steps away before he lowered his voice. “You enjoy your evening, too. Somewhere far away from my fiancé, preferably.”
I tilted my head to the side, smile not wavering. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re implying, Mr. Caldwell.”
“And I’m sure I don’t need to repeat myself to make my point clear.”
He dropped my hand, wiping his palm on his jacket like I’d given him some sort of disease before he turned, offering his arm to Ruby Grace and toting her off to the next victim.
I tucked my hands back in my pockets, watching them go with a sense of jealousy settling over my chest like a hot, wet, suffocating blanket.
And I knew I wouldn’t find relief until I kicked my way out from under it.
Ruby Grace
The Scooter Whiskey Single Barrel Soirée had always been a grand event in Stratford. I remembered attending as a child with my parents, hanging out in the kiddie area where there were endless games and blow-up slides to crawl all over. As I got older, I’d come with my friends in high school to dance and sneak illegal sips of whiskey — of course,Inever drank the whiskey, because I had always been told by Mama that it was a man’s drink.
I hadn’t tasted it at all until the day Noah Becker showed me the barrel I’d purchased for my fiancé.
He was still on my mind as Patrick Scooter gave his welcoming speech, relaying a short history of the distillery and his family’s legacy before he launched into the details that made all the barrels in our presence tonight so special. While those of us who purchased barrels were the only ones who could taste those specific ones, there were three barrels of single-barrel whiskey that were cracked open for the town to indulge in. Considering how poor most of Stratford’s residents were, this was a special occasion. Everyone was dressed up, smiling, and celebrating.
And somehow, on our town’s most joyous night, with my fiancé’s hand on the small of my back, I felt more numb than I had in my entire life.
“You okay over there, sweetheart?” Daddy asked in between one of his conversations.
I smiled, assuring him with a squeeze on his upper arm. I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone else would pull him aside and need his ear, whether to pitch an idea for the town or to lobby for his support on an issue. “I’m fine, Daddy. Just a little tired.”
His eyes softened. “I know this can be a lot. I’ve got my truck keys, if you want to escape for a while.”
Even though my father and I didn’t talk much, he understood me in a way Mama didn’t. She was an extrovert, outgoing and social in every way. Daddy was more like me — he preferred to be with his close circle of friends. We both struggled in big settings like this, and I had a feeling it washimwho was thinking about escaping in that truck.
“Thank you, but I think we’re both stuck here for a few hours. Might as well make the most of it.” I held up my glass, which held a tonic and lime, and cheersed it with his whiskey tumbler just as the Parkers approached him.
It was always like that for Dad — just a constant revolving door of people.
I leaned in closer. “And, hey, if you really need to escape, give me the signal and I’ll fake an extreme illness.”
Dad chuckled at that, squeezing my shoulder with eyes that said,Okay, here we go, before turning to the Parkers and greeting them.
The night passed in a sort of daze after that, a blur of names andhow do ya do’sand dances with strangers. I ate the little hors d’oeuvres as they passed by on the silver trays, sipped on the tonic and lime I’d ordered to not be the only one without a drink in my hand, laughed at the jokes Anthony told — the same ones over and over to new people — and when asked, I danced with whoever wanted to dance. That was what was expected, after all. Whether it was my father’s business partners or someone Anthony had just introduced me to, my job was to entertain, to charm and dazzle and impress.
And while I sparkled on the outside, I felt dead on the inside.
“Ruby Grace, could I trouble you for a spin on the dance floor?”
I blinked out of the daydream I’d been in, plastering on my best smile to turn and accept the invitation from whoever had asked. But when I spun on my heel and found Noah Becker’s cobalt steel eyes, I frowned.
“No, thanks,” I spat.
Noah tilted his head. “Come on, now. That’s no way to speak to a gentleman.”
“I see no gentleman here.”
He chuckled, stepping into my space with his hands sliding easily into the pockets of his dark blue jeans. They were so tight they might as well have been painted on, and I hated that I noticed. I hated that every girl ogled him as he walked around, eyeing his ass through the fabric — me included. He was every country girl’s dream tonight — crisp, white button-up, dark, lethal jeans, smooth, tan skin, boots and a hat that matched and topped off the look.