Chapter 20

"I found the spider.That should make me the winner," Lark says as she shoves another spoonful of her mint chip ice cream in her mouth.

"Yeah, but I'm the one who got him to go on the stick and brought it back to my pile. So that makes me the winner," Lily argues as she licks around the cone, gathering up every last rainbow sprinkle.

"Alright, girls," Lincoln chimes in as he tosses his empty cup into the trash behind them. "It's late, and I can tell we're about ten minutes away from a fight that I don't have the energy to break up. So"—he claps his hands—"let's thank Laney for the company. And Uncle Grant for the ice cream dinner."

I get a squeeze from both of them just before they start bickering about who gets to pick their "before-bed show" on Netflix.

Linc gives me an exasperated look that makes me chuckle. "I was off by a few minutes, I guess." After we hiked our way from my house to the river, we circled back and hopped in his Jeep for ice cream at The Fiasco Creamery.

Lincoln's attention goes to Laney on my right, giving her one of his charming smiles. "Laney, thanks for hanging out with us today. The girls think you're way cooler than the rest of the adults they know."

"They're probably right," she jokes back. She glances at me, and with a nod in my direction, adds, "Although, their Uncle Grant might have me beat."

"You sure you're good to walk? I can drop you guys back."

Before she can answer, I jump in. "You're in the other direction. We're good."

The look in Lincoln's eyes tells me he knows I just want to be alone with her.

We stand just a few feet apart from each other, watching as they leave, the girls waving until they're buckled in. "I can't remember the last time I just went with the flow and had so much fun doing it." Turning to me, she smiles softly. "Thanks for letting me tag along with your family time. It felt..." She takes a big inhale, and on the exhale, says, "Good."

I spent most of the day trying to steal glances of my new neighbor without obviously glaring at the way my brother talked and flirted with her. He was always good at that. Making people feel like they belonged. Feel wanted. That's never been me.

I rub the back of my neck because the two of us just standing here with the fireflies blinking at us in the distance makes me want to stand closer. Or hold her hand as we start walking.

Dark roads take on a whole new meaning here. There's not a single star out on a clear night like tonight that you can't see. "There's no light pollution out here. It's so dark," she says as her arm brushes against mine.

I pull out my phone to turn on the flashlight.

She laughs, then sighs. "Good idea. I don't think I've ever walked along a dirt road at night before. And I'll be honest, it was never on a bucket list. But now that I've done it. This might be one of my favorite walks."

"It's probably the company."

She barks out another laugh. A few seconds tick by before she says, "That's part of it."

I don't say anything in response because I meant what I said last night. Friendship would never be enough, and I'm riding a fine line between walking away or just saying fuck it. But I'm knocked out of my thoughts by the quick shuffling of dirt on asphalt, followed by a roster of swear words that come pouring from her mouth. "Goddamnit, motherfucking fucker…"

Shining the light on her scuffle, she reaches for her foot. I can't see her clearly, but it's hard not to start laughing. "Are you okay?" I ask with a smile.

"My cheap-ass flip-flop broke." With a small laugh, she holds on to my forearm and lifts her foot. They're dirty, but there's also a small slice along her big toe down to the ball of her foot that's bleeding.

"Alright, here," I say, handing her my phone with the flashlight still lit. "You be my light." I crouch down in front of her. "I'll be your ride."

She takes my phone and laughs. "You want me to get on your back?"

"You can't walk the rest of the way with one shoe and a sliced foot. So yeah, hop on."

She just stands there.

So I turn, still crouched on the ground. "Let"s go, honey. My knees are getting pissed that I've been down here this long."

"Grant, I'm not dainty. I'm heavy. You're not going to carry me back." She starts moving forward with a hobbled step.

I grab her hand as it swings past me. "Laney," I growl out.

The tone of my voice has her stopping and turning immediately.

"There is nothing about you that I can't handle. You remember how I tossed you into my horse trough, right?" I don't let her answer that. "Now get your fine ass over here and hop on."

With eyes searching mine, she steps behind me. Her hands draw up and over the back of my shoulders and drape around my neck. Reaching behind me, I splay my hands along her hips and then move to stand. I drag my hands down along the outer side of each thigh, her bare skin warmer than my touch, as she gives a little jump to hoist herself onto my back. Before I start walking, I grab her tighter underneath each thigh and lift her with a bounce so she's wrapped higher, making her yelp.

"Alright, don't choke me out and point the flashlight ahead so we both don't go down this time."

She nods, and I'm painfully aware of how close her face is to mine. I can hear her breathing almost as heavily as I am, even though she's the one being carried. She smells like the wildflowers that she and the girls were weaving through their hair, mixed with the vanilla from the ice cream cone she licked so damn well, it gave me a fucking hard-on.

"Am I hurting you?" she asks quietly next to my ear.

"You couldn't hurt me even if you tried, honey." I wince a little at the lie.

In a mocking low tone, she says, "Okay, tough guy." Keeping the phone light as steady as she can, she points to the uneven gravel of the long road to the distillery. "It's not a crazy question. I'm a grown-ass woman, and I'm thinking you don't give many of us piggyback rides." She laughs, then adds, "Unless I had you pegged all wrong, cowboy. You give lots of girls rides?"

"Do you always say whatever is on your mind, or am I just special?"

A hum sounds from her chest. "Lately, I say whatever is on my mind. No filter." Then, like she's so innocent, she says, "It was just a little question."

"Bullshit. And you know it."

She rests her chin on my shoulder. "Hmm, maybe not." With her arms holding me tight, I don't miss the way her mouth has inched closer to me. But it's her next few words that almost have me losing my footing. "Maybe you are just special."

Her arms squeeze me a little tighter. I relish the way her legs wrap around me. How her chest rubs against my back, and her palm and fingers grip onto my shirt just below my neck. An arm"s length would be smarter. Less complicated. I don't want to be friends, and something more would be reckless. I made a decision a long time ago to close that part of my life off, but right now, it feels really fucking good to touch her.

My hands grip a little tighter on the backs of her thighs. She squeezes them around my sides in response.

"Who's watching Julep today? I'm surprised she didn't come with us," she asks, breaking the thoughts.

I give her a boost for a better grip as I keep pace toward the distillery. "Griz will stop in and see her a few times throughout the day if I'm at work or busy. She ends up going to him rather than the other way around, more often than not."

"So she keeps an eye on him, then?"

I smile at that, because that's exactly what she does. "She's smart and keeps tabs on her people."

"She's been keeping me company too. Do all K9 units retire together?"

"Usually, that's the case. If a dog has gone through training with their handler, living with them, it's hard to reassign them. She's stubborn and doesn't warm up to people she doesn't know." I turn my head slightly to glance back at her. "Except you, apparently."

We approach the rickhouse, our oldest building with some of our most aged batches resting, and the lights are on. Considering it's well past tour time, I doubt anyone is tapping any barrels this late. "You mind a small detour?" She looks up at where I'm focused. "One of the rick riders left the lights on the north end of the rickhouse."

"Rick rider?"

"I doubt they call themselves that, but yeah, rick rider. We have a crew that clocks the barrels. They move barrels around, rotate them in and out of our houses." When I walk up the ramp and through the double doors, the air is more stagnant and humid.

"Are all the rickhouses on this property?" While it's weathered and worn, she sees it for exactly what it is. "It's incredible. There's so much I had no idea about."

"We make a lot of bourbon. So there's another few dozen in the next county that house barrels that we're only aging four to five years." I look around the weathered space. "This might seem like the most boring part of the process, but it's where the most action happens."

She laughs. "You're almost too easy, Grant. How am I not supposed to make a comment after that? Wherethe most action happens…"

I can't help but smile. Hell, I've done a lot of that with her. I know there's more to her, somewhere underneath the part she's trying to keep to herself, but this is the light and playful version. I'm just as drawn to it.

I holler, "Anyone still working? Dave?" Pausing, I wait for a mumbled response. "Tim? Carter? You guys still here?"

I let Laney slide down my back, her feet hitting the cement floor.

She lifts her shoeless foot and looks at the slice that's bleeding a bit more than I originally thought. "Any chance you have band-aids in here?"

"Left them at home." Chuckling, I grab her around the waist and hoist her onto a bourbon barrel.

"That right there," she says, nodding to my chest. "You just walked at least a mile or two with me koala'ed on your back, and then picked me up like it was no big deal."

I smirk. She's giving me far too much appreciation for manhandling her. But I'll take it. "Wasn't a big deal, honey."

Her eyes track down the front of my chest and back up at a pace that feels really fucking good. She zeroes in on my lips as she says, "It was a sexy flex, Grant." That comment knocks me right in the gut and swoops around my body, landing right in my dick. "I can't figure out if this is just how you are or if you're showing off for me."

Jesus Christ, I want this woman. I grab the collar of my t-shirt from behind my neck and take it off, ripping one of the short sleeves.

She barks out a laugh. "Yeah. Okay, show-off."

I can't fight back the grin that pulls from me as I lift her ankle. "Here, let me see."

She sits there with a coy smile on her face, biting at her thumbnail as she leans forward.

With her foot perched on my thigh, I tie the torn strip of navy-blue cotton around the ball of her foot, bandaging up the cut and her toes.

"You didn't tell me why."

"Why what?" I ask as I focus on knotting the material around her foot once more to make sure it's tight.

She hesitates for a second. "Why ‘friends' wouldn't be enough for you."

I keep my gaze on the tops of her thighs and think about every single reason as my hands move up her smooth skin and around her ankle. It feels like touching her right now isn't a decision I've made or a thoughtless choice, but a necessity. I stare at the way her skin feels under the pads of my fingers as they brush up the side of her leg.

"I don't think it would be enough for me either," she admits breathily. Without conviction. In fact, the way she says it seems like it's more for herself to hear than for me.

My fingers keep traveling up the side of her leg as I stand. The proximity reminds me of the kind of man I used to be—one who took chances, flirted with who I wanted, and then acted on it.

"This isn't how friends feel," she says. Her eyes watch my hands move as I watch her lips.

"Isn't that what you said you wanted?"

Her fingers brush over my hands, following the movement as they inch higher.

"Yes . . . I've said a lot of things since I've been here."

I'm so close to her that I can study the details of her lips, where the bow dips and how they"re slicked pink and ready. All she would need to do is widen the space between her knees so I could slide closer. Press my lips against hers and taste what I've been wanting all day.

"I don't want complicated. I don't chase women. I don't like people who show up and crash into my life. I don't fall for strangers that are a pain in my ass."

As my hands continue up to her waist, my fingers pulse as I grip onto her. Slipping under the hem of her shirt, I feel the warmth of her skin again.

"Sounds like you might have a problem then, cowboy."

"Yeah, honey." I smirk. "Want to make a liar out of me?"

And that's what she does as her thighs shift just enough for me to get closer. A small invitation to take what I want. Her tongue runs along her bottom lip as she curls it into her mouth, dragging her teeth along it once it's wet.

There's still an irrational part of me that believes in this fucking curse that follows my family. That I couldn"t survive it again if it were true. That if I let myself get lost in her, even just for a little while, I won't be the same.

But I'm bored of being cautious, tired of it. And, dammit, do I want to kiss the woman I can't seem to stop thinking about.

It's like being released from the gates. A shotgun call the second I decide I want nothing but this moment with her, and everything happens at once. My hand flies from her waist and my fingers clasp around the side of her neck as my thumb settles right where her pulse jumps. She reaches the nape of my neck at the same time and her fingers weave into my hair just as our lips meet in a kiss that has me hungry.

It feels like a reward.

The small noise that comes from the back of her throat as my lips rove over her mouth is what causes the last bit of my reserves to crumble. I brush my tongue along hers and it's like we've done this a million times before. Perfection. She tilts her head just enough that our lips can play deeper, and I pull back just enough to make sure she's feeling the same. That there is nothing else in this world but the two of us lost in a kiss that feels like a fresh start and an endgame all at once. When her eyes meet mine, she smiles, and I can't help but smile back and dip for another.

Shuffling of the dirt along the cement floor steals my attention instantly. Like cold water dousing us both. As soon as I turn, I see Griz waltz up the main aisle with a burlap sack in one hand and a copper whiskey thief in the other. "Well, well, well. Looks like you two are awful cozy." Leave it up to my grandfather to call it like it is.

Laney doesn't miss a beat as I back away. "Your grandson was just demonstrating something I've been thinking about since I showed up here." She gives me a wink, lightening the mood instantly. Wiping her mouth with her thumb as I regrettably put more distance between us, she asks him, "What are you holding?"

Griz walks closer as I cross my arms over my bare chest, now completely out of her atmosphere and hating it. I toss on my ripped shirt as he holds up the copper pipe with the pointed end.

"They call this a whiskey thief. We use it when we want to taste test what's in the barrels."

She smiles, moving her hands under her thighs as she sits perched on the bourbon barrel. "Taste anything good?" Her eyes dart to mine for a beat. Yeah, honey, you taste more than good.

"Darlin', there's always good bourbon in these barrels, even when it's early. But no, I wasn't tasting. Didn't get that far."

The tightened-up burlap sack in his other hand moves.

"Griz, you catch something?"

He brushes it off, walking past us. "Western cottonmouth is my best guess since I didn't hear the rattler, but you never know. Could be a young one. I didn't want to waste time and find out."

Laney looks to me with a cute furrow to her brow. "Rattler?"

With a nod, I tell her, "Snake."

"Real nasty one too," Griz says, moving toward the far aisle of the rickhouse. "She was pissed. It's the second one I pulled out of here this season so far. Usually, it's not until it gets cooler, but these damp, dark spots just call to all sorts of critters."

He holds the bag like it's filled with groceries and not a snake. "What are you going to do with it?"

Griz smiles at me, and then with a smirk, says to her, "They're mighty tasty."

"You're not serious?"

I can't keep the smile from cracking on my face. "He's probably going to let it go somewhere far from here. Don't worry."

Griz looks down at her foot. "What'd you get yourself into?"

"Small cut from walking back."

His gaze whips to me. "You let a lady walk with an injury. I didn't teach you better than that?"

She giggles at his tone. "He actually gave me a piggyback ride all the way here."

With a nod, he turns back to Laney. "I've got the golf cart. C'mon, I'll give you a ride back to your place."

I help her down from the barrel.

"My back is shit now, so loop that arm around me. It's only out the side door."

Griz hands me the burlap bag. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

With her arm looped around Griz and a big smile on his face about something she said quietly to him, he says, "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Don't forget to shut the lights before you lock up."

I watch as he walks down the small path to his golf cart, helping her inside, just as the burlap sack hisses. She doesn't look back, already laughing at something he's telling her. It's the second time today I'm jealous of another man taking her attention away. Only this time, my lips are still buzzing from hers.

It's the most reckless I've been in a long time, which isn't good for anyone. Mostly, me.