Page 44 of Filthy Twisted Devil

“Hey, guys,” he says. He waves his hand awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Come on in,” Leonard says. “We were just finishing up. I have to put this batch into larger production before Luke convinces himself it’s a fluke.”

“He’s right.” I gesture for Beau to come in. “Save me from my second-guessing. What’s going on?”

As Leonard heads back to the storeroom, Beau takes his place on the opposite stool. Of course, because Beau’s a giant, his eyes are almost a foot above where Leonard’s were.

“I was in the neighborhood and just thought I'd stop by,” he says.

I almost do a double take. Just stopping by to surprise each other was something Beau and I did B.B.: before Brinley. Before he came clean about their secret relationship and dropped the bomb on our friendship. We've been slowly working back toward normal, but this casual visit is…weird. It feels weird.

Beau’s not acting quite right, either. Even though we keep it warm in the distillery, he’s still in his winter coat and scarf. “You don't want to take those off?” I ask.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” He shrugs off his wool coat and puts it back over the chair. “So…how are you?”

“I’m good. Do you want a drink?”

“Yes.” Beau nods. “Can we do a shot?”

“If you want, but you know it’s eleven in the morning, right?”

“I know. It’s just—fuck, can you just pour me something and then I’ll explain?”

The more I look at Beau, the worse he looks. His eyes dart nervously around the room, and his normally-warm complexion looks almost gray. Sighing, I pull out a bottle of well whiskey and pour us each a shot. We clink glasses and both throw them back. Beau puts his firmly on the bar and looks at me.

“Fuck, I'm just going to say it. I want your blessing to ask Brinley to marry me.”

My jaw drops. What the fuck? They just moved in together. They've only been together for a few months. Well, officially, anyway. Before that, they kept their relationship under wraps for years. It just seems like too much, too soon.

“I don’t know, Beau,” I mutter. “I’m surprised. This—this is a lot.”

He drags his fingers through his hair. “I know you don't owe me anything, and you don't have to say yes if you really don't want to. It's just—she's the one. I'm fucking in love with her, and I don't even know how to imagine life without her in it. I want her to be my wife. But you’re so important to us, and it wouldn't feel right without your blessing. So I’m asking, fully aware that I might walk out of here with a broken nose.” He takes a deep breath. “Frankly, though, I'm really fucking hoping you say yes. Because there's no one on earth I'd rather have as a brother-in-law.”

For years, I thought of Beau as a brother. Our relationship might be shaken, but I’m not going to be the one to spoil him and Brinley taking the next step.

“Fine.” I reach over and clap him on the shoulder. “You have my blessing.”

“Seriously?” Beau slumps on his barstool. “Fuck, that’s such a relief. I’ve been steeling myself for a ‘fuck you, traitor’ for days.”

“Nah. If we’re going to be family, we’ve got to get past it. Besides, if I messed this up for Brinley, I think she’d dissect me and sell my organs on the black market.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Beau agrees gravely. “Lucky for you, I heard kidneys don’t go for as much as they used to.”

“Well, we’ve got to have a real drink to celebrate,” I declare. “Not that shit we just pounded.”

I duck down to the locked cabinet next to the register. After pulling out my keys, I select a Pappy Van Winkle 23 year I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Beau whistles when I pull it out.

“Dude,” he says, putting his hand over his chest. “I’m honored.”

I pour us both generous glasses, adding a little water to pull out the flavors. We both take a moment to inhale before we sip.

“That’s a beautiful whiskey,” Beau says reverently, making me grin.

“Do you have a ring yet?”

“I haven't bought one. Frankly, I wanted to ask you first because if you punched me in the face again, it would kind of put a damper on buying a diamond.”

“Well, that shows a serious lack of planning,” I say, crossing my arms. “How do you expect to earn my sister without a fucking ring? I might have to take my blessing back.”