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 was him who 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 and how do ya do’s and 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.
My grandmother would say he looked “sharp,” if she were here. And I agreed.
He was a blade, and I knew I needed to stay away or I’d end up shredded.
“Hey,” he said when he was closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I’d really like the chance to properly apologize to you. And I know you’d love a break from all of… this.” He looked around us for a moment before he found my gaze again. “So, please, Ruby Grace — dance with me.”
Noah pulled one hand from his pocket, extending it to me with a gentle smile. Something in my chest loosened at the sight, at someone seeing me without me saying a word. To everyone else, I was the charming, entertaining Ruby Grace tonight. But Noah saw what no one else did.
It seemed he had since that first day at the distillery.
A long sigh left my chest as I nodded, slipping my hand into his and letting him lead the way. Anthony had disappeared to go to the restroom about twenty minutes prior — the cameras from his media crew disappearing with him — and I imagined he’d been wrangled into conversation with someone else on his way back. And besides, I had danced with countless men that night. Noah was just one more, and it wasn’t frowned upon for the barrel buyers to dance with the raisers.
Logic and explanation aside, I wanted to dance with Noah.
And maybe that was all that mattered to me in that moment.
I stared at my hand in his as he guided me to the dance floor in front of the band. His hand was so large, hard and calloused, his wrist thick and forearms lined with muscles and