Page 43 of Talk About… Rivalry

He was objectively attractive and that only pissed me off more.

He looked put together, smug, and confident in his gold rimmed, round glasses. Cocky with his blond hair combed back. The intricate tattoos I could see peeking out from under his suit were just the final nail in the coffin.

Fuck this guy.

“Welcome in,” I managed to choke out. My voice was icy and biting and from the low chuckle Bennett let out, he knew why.

“The name’s Bennett Sinclair,” he clarified. “It was nice to see how well this bar was thriving last night. I’m glad I came in.”

Was I just imagining the innuendo under his words? I didn’t miss him leaving with my girl if that’s what he thought.

I saw everything that happened with Sidney. I was always hyperaware of her.

Honestly, it felt like he was in on some kind of inside joke that I wasn’t privy to and I fucking hated it.

I really needed to get my angry bias in check before this business deal crashed and burned.

“Sinclair,” I said, putting the pieces together and focusing on the important things. Icouldkeep this professional. My business depended on it.

We may be thriving thanks to Avery’s hard work, but this would only bring in more people and give us a wider selection.

If we played our cards right, we could announce the new inventory and use it to our advantage. I bet Nash and Avery would jump at the chance to create another event like last night, just one tailored to wine.

“You caught that, huh,” he joked. The alpha sat down at the barstool across from me. His ink lined fingers flipped open the portfolio, the papers underneath all showcasing the foiled Sinclair logo at the top.

“Do they usually send one of their own to do meetings like this?” I questioned. This was a first for me and I’ve had meetings with several suppliers. “I don’t think I’ve ever met with an owner before.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “I’m hardly the owner, Maverick. Just a black sheep son that they send away more than keep home.”

Maybe he was not as well put together as I thought.

“Well, what are you proposing?” I questioned, choosing not to dwell on what he said. It wasn’t like we were here to trauma bond, we were here to make business connections.

Though, it did soften my anger a bit.

“Sinclair Vineyards has been wanting to expand our market. My proposal was that coming to places like this...” He paused, gesturing around at the bar. “Places that are the heart of these small towns, would be the best way. The small town word of mouth is unmatched.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Definitely around here.

He smiled, looking pleased to have confirmation. “We generally would like to have a selection for you guys to serve, but also a small display and extra inventory to sell by the bottle.”

I ran a hand over my stubble as I thought over his words. We sold entire bottles a time or two, but it was usually a bottle of whiskey to a bachelorette party or something of that sort.

“Do you have a list of the selections you’d want us to feature?” I asked.

He flipped a few pages before handing one over. My eyes scanned down the list. He’d handpicked a mix of red, white, and sparkling wines. There was also a local, sweet raspberry wine. That would go over well in a town like Rockwood Valley.

“Our list is more extensive than this,” he clarified. “We could adjust, add, or swap out at any time. I just thought these would be the ones to have the most impact here and I don’t want tooverwhelm your customers with too many choices. This is meant to be concise, affordable, and small town friendly.”

He worded it carefully like he was afraid he’d offend, but the truth was we weren’t a high-end restaurant. The last thing we were going to do was serve bottles of wine that cost more than most people made in a week. Not at Whitaker Brews at least, maybe that new fucking bar would… hell, that might be to my advantage.

“We can also do a trial period. I offer that to everyone to see where it takes us. We want a mutually beneficial experience. We would start with a small supply of each, then go bigger or smaller depending on the interest.”

Bennett had a way of speaking that was both smooth and knowledgeable, but personable.

The urge to punch him was starting to be drowned out by the urge to give this deal a chance.

It didn’t matter what the guy himself or his connection to Sidney was like. This could be something to take our bar to the next level.

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