I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 07

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 07

Ethan raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. Over the low growl of the engine, the corner of his mouth curved into a slight smile. “What a coincidence,” he said. “I’m an independent distiller, too.”

In the passenger seat, the old man turned around, his voice booming as if he were shouting across a noisy distillery floor. “Now that’s a coincidence! Ava, you hear that? If you have any questions about distillin’, you just ask him. If he holds anything back, you tell me. I’ll deal with him.”

Ethan laughed. “Grandpa, there you go again.”

The old man cupped a hand to his ear. “What?” Then, as if he understood, he straightened his chest. “I’m not braggin’! Ethan’s skill is the best of his generation in Nashville!”

Ethan met Ava’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He turned his head slightly, pointed to his ear, and silently mouthed two words. Ava understood.

Distillery. Machines.

So that was it. The old man’s booming voice and mismatched answers weren’t rudeness, but a medal of labor, a testament to a lifetime of work. A pang of understanding for this stranger, this fellow craftsman, went through Ava’s heart.

The truck stopped outside a clean, tidy-looking hotel.

“I’ve got it.” Before Ava could react, Ethan had gotten out and lifted her suitcase from the truck bed.

The old man rolled down the window and waved enthusiastically. “Ava, come by my woodworking shop when you have time! I’ll use some old barrel wood and make you a stopper myself!”

“All right. Thank you,” Ava said sincerely. She stood by the road and watched the Ford pickup merge into the Nashville traffic, its red taillights soon vanishing among the neon signs.

Tennessee. She had finally arrived.

She was about to turn when a vehicle stopped beside her. The window lowered. It was Ethan.

“Forgot to ask,” he said. “Need help with your luggage?”

Just then, a man stepped out of the red-brick building next to the hotel, a building with a “Craft Distilling” sign hanging over its door.

“Well, now! Ashton? Am I seeing things?” A man in a baseball cap strode over. He saw Ethan in the truck, then looked at Ava, his face a mask of disbelief.

Ethan glanced at him coolly. “Something you need?”

Ignoring his coldness, the man circled around to Ava’s side. “New face, huh? Ashton, you don’t give anyone the time of day, and now you’re playing chauffeur.” He clicked his tongue and lowered his voice. “Come on. Which Kentucky dynasty did you poach this secret weapon from?”