Page 28 of Lucky Strike

"Sounds like a solid investment to me,” my brother finally says. “It’s a great brand, established, and the numbers look good."

I can't help but feel a twinge of hesitation. As much as I want to honor my parents' desire to buy this particular winery, I suspect their decision is more about nostalgia than practicality. This would be their third winery, so it’s not like they need it.

Tristan must notice my uncertainty because he cocks his head, his gemlike eyes drilling into mine. "What? You having doubts?"

"Maybe."

“We can’t waffle forever,” he chides. “Besides, Mom knows what she’s doing.”

“I just don’t know that this is necessary. Especially with Dad’s health.”

“They wanted you to look over the numbers, not get philosophical about it. This place probably got the stamp of approvalbecauseof Dad’s health,” he argues. “By the way, I think we should consider their brewery, too.”

“I don’t know—if they branch out from wine at all, it’ll probably be to whiskey.” I sit on the edge of my desk, arms folded. “Dad seems serious about Doyle’s distillery down in Savannah.”

“Hear me out, though.” He points to the contract. “The winery and brewery are under the same umbrella. It’s not like we’d have to startfrom scratch and do the groundwork with a different company. Make the Laurents an offer; I bet they’d be more than happy for us to take both off their hands.”

I lean forward, collecting the contract and returning it to my desk. What Tristan’s saying makes sense, but ... “It’s Mom and Dad’s call.”

“Think about it—I can run the brewery while you deal with the wineries.”

“I thought you were going to run the whiskey distillery if it pans out.”

“We haven’t even started that negotiation yet.” He folds his hands behind his head. “Anyway, let Mom know how successful Laurent’s new Coastal Current IPA is. It’s beenthebeer of summer on Nantucket and the Cape for years, and I’m starting to see it all over Boston now, too.”

“I guess you’d know,” I tease, knowing of Tristan’s penchant for the bar scene. “With your expansive field research.”

“We all have our talents.”

I chuckle at his sly smile. “You mean getting drunk at every bar in town?"

His grass-green eyes glow with amusement. "Hey, someone's got to do it. And I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"Just make sure you don't kill too many more brain cells, brother. I need you in top shape if we're going to make all of this work."

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who taught me how to do bong rips in the eighth grade,” he says with a cheeky grin. “And how to shotgun beer."

I stick a piece of gum into my mouth. “I was a fantastic influence, clearly.”

“Actually, you were.” He leans forward, suddenly earnest. No one knows me like Tristan does. “And you still are. Dad wouldn’t have entrusted the business to you if he didn’t think you could handle it, Lucky.”

I grip the edge of the desk as the specter of dad’s heart problems looms between us, unsaid but present all the same. I’ve always known we’d take over our family’s company one day … I just didn’t think it would happen like this. “He entrusted it to both of us.”

“Right.” Tristan gets up, coming to stand beside me. “So, you don’t have to do this alone. None of it. I’m right here with you, every step.”

The tightness in my chest eases at his words. Tristan may be a bit of a wild card, but he’s loyal to a fault. Capable. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I squeeze the back of his neck affectionately, my equilibrium restored for now. “I know. Now that that’s sorted, we need to discuss the other thing.” Striding to the door, I open it and peek into the hallway. It’s empty, as it should be. Bria and Liam are out on the patio, painting, and Nola’s gone grocery shopping.

“Can I smoke in here?” Tristan asks, pointing to the window.

“Have I ever let anyone smoke in here?” I return to my perch at the edge of my desk, arms crossed. “I’m surprised you still do that shit, seeing what Dad’s dealing with.”

“I’ve cut down, fucker.” He rolls his eyes. “And you stopped what, two months ago? Spare me with your self-righteous bullshit.”

“Don’t call me if you keel over in the ring ‘cause your lungs gave out.”

“You done? If not, I’m gonna step out and have a smoke.”

“All right, all right. Listen. I got a call last night from PK. Two of our shipments were short.”

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