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Chapter 22

"I think we do a tasting,and then we bottle everything on site, right there, as people are touring," Lincoln says. He wants to make the 100-year anniversary party as memorable as possible.

So, I back him up. "I'd remember that."

"Not if you've been drinking and celebrating all day. It's going to be time-consuming and take up way too much manpower to make happen. And for what? Some social media shit we can do ourselves?" Ace says with his feet kicked up on his desk.

"Laney said it would be a great way to involve people in the process. The exclusivity of that makes them feel like they're a part of this," Lincoln claps back.

The mention of her name has me thinking about those pretty lips and how much I royally fucked myself by kissing her. It won't be enough.

"Are you that hard up already?" Ace says to Lincoln. He shifts his eyes to me, maybe thinking I'd find that amusing, but he's only met with a glare. The wordless exchange is all my big brother needs to know that he just started splashing in dangerous territory.

"Remember that time you said, when you start sounding more like a businessman and less like a bourbon boy to tell you?" Lincoln asks with his chin resting on his fist.

Ace leans back farther in his chair and raises his hands behind his head. "Yeah, is this where you're telling me that's happening now?"

It's my turn to chime in. "No, you've been more business than bourbon for a long time now. Almost as long as I've been on the team."

Ace narrows his eyes at me, and that's when I know it's coming. He's pissed at that remark. I always know when I've struck a chord with him. He's going to get nasty. "Is that what you're calling it now, Grant? A team? Because from where I sit, you clock in, do your shit, and then clock out. You haven't been in a board meeting, distribution meeting...Hell, I don't even think you've tapped a barrel in damn near a decade."

Not any of your barrels.But he doesn't know that. And neither does Linc.

"The fact that those are the things you think I need to do in order to be considered a part of the team is the fucking case in point, big brother."

Lincoln, the ever peacekeeper, stands a second after I do. Ace just smirks at me like an asshole, so I aim low. "No suit today?"

"Fuck off, Grant."

"Happily," I say as I move out of the office and into the main hall.

I hear Lincoln ask, "Was that really necessary?"

But it's Ace's response that has me turning on my heel and charging back into the room. "Those rumors are what's pissing him off. He thinks I slept with his new little friend." He watches me stalk toward him. "Go ahead, what are you going to say now that I know I've struck a nerve? Stings, doesn't it?"

That's what has me stopping from clocking him in his face. My big brother is only saying it because he didn't like that I was honest. He's baiting me. I can always tell because, while Ace can be a real motherfucker to other people, he's never said shit that's crossed a line. And right now, he's damn close.

Nostrils flaring, I point my finger at him. "You're not thinking like someone who loves this anymore. You're thinking like someone who wants a higher profit and a better bottom line."

"So what? This is a business." He raises his arms. "Look around, you asshats. How do you think we're able to live? How do you think the taxes for land get paid or that neither of you have to worry about budgeting? You're overpaid. You know that, right?" He drags his fingers in his hair. "Linc at least went to school and has his masters. If he went to another distillery, he could pull in something close to what he's making now. But you"—he points at me—"your salary is severely inflated, Grant."

I flip him off. "Should have done a better job negotiating, shithead."

He cracks a smile and looks down. Got him.

I look over at Linc, who's also smiling now. "He has a point."

"Fine. Then help me make this big ass 100-year celebration as big of a deal as I've been planning, and I'll ease up on the business side of things. It's going to boost us this year, and if we can keep the hype up, we may be able to utilize some bottles as barter for partnerships with other brands."

I send a look to Lincoln, eyebrow quirked. "You understood that? I'm just a retired cop who makes oak barrels in my spare time."

"Okay, fucker. I'm sorry. I know you're working your ass off."

Maybe now's a good time to tell them. But just as I open my mouth to share what I've been doing and where I've been aging those barrels, Julep comes charging in. Barking and nudging my leg.

"Hey, Jules, what's going on?" I ask, like she's going to articulate exactly what's up. I know my girl, though. Something has her riled up enough to come find me. She barks again and moves back out the door, waiting for me to follow her.

I look up at my brothers, waving as I'm already almost out the door. "Let me see what's going on."

Lincoln shouts, "Go. I gotta go get the girls anyway."

I pick up the pace, walking after Julep. She was back at the house after I finished up at the distillery today, but she has dog door access to our house and Ace's place. It's nearly eight at night, but it looks more like golden hour with the sun moving down to the horizon line.

Julep stops to wait for me, barking again. She's a smart dog. Even beyond her K9 training for the department, she has a way of reading people that I always felt gave me a leg up when she was around. It's more than just being hungry or wanting an extra greenie before bed tonight. Something's up. I jog to catch up to her and move down the paved pathway that connects the main house with mine. And the cottage. I don't see any doors or windows open at Laney's place, but I stop there first.

As soon as my foot hits the front porch stairs, Julep starts barking behind me, and I hear the music. Fleetwood Mac playing low and Laney singing loudly about someone going their own way. It's impossible not to smile at her when I turn. But it's when I see her that the smile falls away. I take in the full scene as Julep now lies next to the horse trough, where Laney sits in the water-filled galvanized tub, her strawberry blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and her arms draped over either side. One hand holds a long rope of red licorice and the other a slice of pizza, her head tilted up as she pulverizes the actual words to the song. But that's not even the most distracting part. No, that would be her bare shoulders and back that sit tall and lean against the back of the tub. Is she drunk? She's skinny dipping in my backyard.

I step closer and she must hear me coming because her head turns to the side. A smirk lifts her profile. "Care to join me, cowboy?"

I can't hide the smile this sight is pulling from me, as I tick down the volume on her portable speaker.

"Looks a little cramped in there, honey."

Her head turns slightly more, a smile painted on those pretty lips of hers. The curve of her breast peeks out under her arm as she moves. "Not your honey, remember?"

I don't want to remember anything. I like the way she reacts when I call her that. I stop my steps because as much as I'd love to, I don't want to take advantage of this situation and see something I know I shouldn't. Fuck, do I want to, though.

"Fleetwood Mac fan?"

I can see the way her mouth ticks up from the side. "Everyone is a Fleetwood Mac fan." She takes a bite of her pizza slice. "My dad loved them too. And The Doobie Brothers. He used to get so worked up about them breaking up—it was long before I was around. But he said it was the saddest issue of Rolling Stone he'd ever read."

What is it about the little details she shares that have me so eager to know more? That shouldn't be so captivating. But the naked, tone-deaf woman sitting in a too-tiny tub and shouting lyrics like she's Stevie Nicks's backup singer steals way more of my attention than I've been letting on.

"Grant, come and have some snacks with me."

Shaking my head, I smile to myself. "I'm trying to be a gentleman here, Laney. I think if I come any closer, I'm going to see a whole lot more of you than I should."

She laughs and makes a mocking shocked noise. "Grant, are you a prude?" She takes a bite of her red licorice. "I'll be honest, I'm very comfortable being this woman."

I smile at the admission and a laugh slips out. "And what kind of woman is that?"

The hum she makes sounds wistful. "The kind that doesn't feel bad about her body. The kind that feels confident in her own skin. The kind that stands up for herself even if she cries about it later." She tilts her head back, and her eyes find me. "And definitely the kind of woman who doesn't care what other people think of her anymore."

I cross my arms over my chest. I'm just slightly behind her and to the left, enough that I can't see anything but the back of her and the side of her face when she turns her head to see me. "So how'd a woman like that end up topless and in the horse trough?"

She releases a long, exaggerated sigh. "I wanted to take a bath and have a drink. But I opted for what was accessible." Looking down, she waves around the licorice. Plus, the cottage doesn't have a bath. You weren't home. And I didn't think Julep was going to tell on me." She points at the dog sitting next to her. "Tattletale."

Julep lets out a bark, and then puts both her front paws on the tub, leaning in to lick Laney's face.

Laney squeals and laughs in response.

Seeing that makes me feel...something. Something deeper than attraction. Maybe it was appreciation. Witnessing my dog genuinely respond to another person like that. "I'm going to get you a towel. And then you can tell me what happened. How's that?"

Her smile this time is softer than the flirtatious grin from a few minutes ago. I rush inside, grab a towel, and I'm back out walking toward her. I'd be lying if I said I didn't see anything. The tops of her tits lift just above the water, but I don't dare allow myself to look for much longer. I wouldn't be able to stop. I know my limits, and I'm awfully close to them. Holding the towel up in front of the tub, I wait for her to get out. She manages to find her footing and steps into me with her arms raised above her head, bag of candy in one hand and the crust from her pizza slice in the other.

I don't care that she drips water all over my boots or the fact that I have to lean into her as I wrap the towel behind her body and tuck it in, holding it in place. She looks up at me with wet lashes that make me notice the little flecks of brown near the irises of her bright blue eyes. Beautiful.

"How chivalrous were you just now, cowboy?"

"You've been calling me a cowboy, not a knight." I wink at her. "Quick peek." My voice dips lower, quieter, "Was impossible not to."

"Should we pick up where we left off last night?"

I almost grunt with the way those words hit me right in the dick. And then her blue eyes gaze into mine as she licks at her bottom lip...Fuck, do I want to. But I need more from her. I hate knowing something's off—and not just whatever happened today, but what had her showing up with a U.S. Marshall in the middle of the night. Until I know more, I can't have a repeat of last night.

I rub my hand along the seam of my jeans because if I don't touch something, I'll take that towel right back and get my fill of her.

She bites at her thumbnail, trying to hold in a smile, then moves toward the chairs around the fire pit. "Am I making something hard?"

Jesus Christ, if she had any idea.I drag my hand along the back of my neck and take a few steps away from where she's sitting now. Grabbing two pieces of firewood, I toss them into the fire pit, then crouch to fill the space underneath with the kindling starters. I look up at her and the bottle she plucks from her bag. "Mind sharing some of that?"

She holds out the bottle of Foxx 1945.

"This one is Griz's year." My fingers drag across hers too slowly for both of us to ignore. I think about looping my hands with hers, propping her on my lap, and licking up the taste of this bourbon from her lips. But I resist, just barely.

"What does that mean, that it's his year?"

"We bottle up the oldest barrel that's been resting. A small run of only about a hundred or so the year that something important happens. Coming into the world is one of those important things, and Griz's year is 1945."

Her eyes go wide, sparkling with interest. Soaking wet, this woman is so fucking tempting. Space. A little bit of space from this moment would be good. "Let me grab glasses and a lighter." I walk backward toward my door, still watching her, remembering where she was going today. Maybe that has something to do with her being out here. "Griz said you went to book club with him?"

Her posture changes, and she looks up at the sky quickly, her eyes watery. I've never wanted to yell at Griz the way I want to right now for throwing her to the wolves. Because I can guarantee that's what it felt like when I heard about just a few of the women who were there.

I abandon the idea of getting matches and glasses. Instead, I'm in front of her chair in just a few strides, kneeling so she can see me when I say, "Whatever or whoever made you upset, I'm going to put money on the fact that they're not worth the tears."

Two tears fall from each eye as she looks down. There's no part of me that thinks about what I'm doing or why I feel the need to do it, but I rub each of them away with the pads of my thumbs. "Or was the book just trash?" I ask jokingly.

She barks out a small laugh. "I shouldn't be crying about this."

I wipe a few more that track down the non-crier's face. "Just some leaking emotions. Happens to the best of us."

She laughs again, and those big glassy eyes find mine.

"Why are you crying, honey?"

I take the bottle from her hand and down a quick swig. Honestly, I need a second. There's something I'll always love about the way that first sip of bourbon hits your tongue and throat. But I just need it to help remind me that this isn't smart, getting so close to here, comforting her. "You upset I crashed your topless horse trough party?"

She barks out a laugh. "Naked. Not just topless."

I scrub my hand over my face and whisper out, "Fuck."

When I look back up, her eyes fall to my mouth before trailing back up to mine. Yeah, I could get in lost in this woman. The kind of lost that I won't find my way back from. That kiss was so damn good, but I could leave it there. I could ease back and try damn hard not to want more.

Changing the subject would be good. "Where else besides The Pez Factory?"

She smiles at me and leans back, a questioning look on her face.

"Thinking about my favorite things always makes me feel better."

Wrapping the towel around her shoulders tighter, she tilts her chin up to the sky. "Zoltar."

"The fortune teller machine?"

She points at me with a correction. "Not fortunes. Futures. Like when Tom Hanks wished to be big and he turned into a thirty-something the next day."

Well, now I'm curious. "What did your future say?"

She stares at my mouth again like she's zoned in on either making me wildly uncomfortable or imagining what I can't seem to forget. "Doesn't matter. I don't have it anymore." Her smile laces with sadness. "And it doesn't happen if you don't have the card anymore either."

I shrug. "Still curious."

"Can I ask you something?" she whispers.

I nod and take another drink before I look back at her.

"Do you think doing a good thing can erase when you've done a bad thing?"

My knees scream to get out of this crouched position, but I can't. Not when she's asking me things like this. I give her a tight-lipped smile and then sit back on the ground in front of her.

She holds out a piece of the red licorice in front of my mouth. I open for her, biting down on the chewy cherry rope.

"I think the world doesn't really work like that. Some things are black and white. If something is right or wrong. But reasons for doing them—the why—is what can be gray." I lean my forearms on my bent knees and watch as she nods at what I'm saying. "What kind of bad thing could you have possibly done?" For some reason, a few weeks ago, I could have imagined just about anything, but a little bit of time with her has me feeling like I want to do bad things to anyone who may have hurt her.

"The kind of thing that people tend to hate." She holds out her hand for the bottle. I pass it back to her, very aware of the way her fingers brush mine again in the process. Her tongue peeks out, brushing the rim just as she tips it back.

I can't help but swallow in response. That small movement alone hits me right in the gut and then travels down to my groin. Instead of filling the silence, I let her get comfortable with it and give her the space to tell me whatever she needs in order to feel better. I'm starved to hear anything that sounds like a truth from her.

"I was in love with Phillip when I was sixteen. He was my first...everything. I was blissfully naive to think I'd just end up with him. Even when his family moved away, I still wrote to him. It's what kept me single in college, and then I lost my dad." She looks up again, her eyes watering. She bats away a tear and glances down at her hand, the one I've just covered with mine.

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

Her brow furrows like she's remembering in real time, just playing it back for me. "We lost touch. I moved on with my life. Mostly. I moved into the city and started working for an event company that had clients who were very different from the kind of people I grew up around. I ended up being really great at it. People wanted me to plan their events and weddings. I was making a name for myself." She clears her throat. "In Colorado."

Liar. She was never in Colorado. But the rest of what she's saying feels too raw to not be true.

"I was given the lead on a wedding for a high-society client. The bride"s mother hired me, which was pretty common. But when I met with the couple getting married, it was Phillip. And his new fiancée. And in hindsight, I should have bowed out right then. I knew nothing good was going to come out of me planning that wedding."

"But you didn't?"

She takes another swig. "No, I didn't." With a sigh, she continues, looking at me warily. "You might go back to not liking me very much after you hear this."

I tilt my head. "I never didn't like you."

When her eyebrows raise, I explain myself.

"I don't trust many people. Least of all people who are hiding something."

She looks up from where my finger is running across her knuckles. The way this woman wears vulnerability is like a fucking drug. I want to experience it, consume it, and tell her anything she needs to hear to keep herself open like this.

"It started as text messages about the wedding. And then small inside jokes that turned into flirting. I didn't even realize that months had gone by, and I wasn't really dating anyone or even seeking out going on dates because I had started falling for him again." Pausing, she swallows roughly. "I looked forward to his texts. And yet I was still planning his wedding to someone else. The only time I was alone with him was the night that I told him I never wanted to see him again."

It's clear she's ashamed of whatever happened that night, because she pulls her hand away from mine, maybe needing the space. "He called, telling me his fiancée didn't understand him the way that I did, and that he should be marrying me and not her. That he needed to see me and talk through his feelings."

I really fucking hate this guy.

"He said wherever I was, he'd meet me. He just needed to talk to me. And I stupidly said yes." Wiping away another tear, she lets out a clipped, fake laugh. "I had hoped it was what I was waiting to hear. That he broke it off. That it was me he wanted." She looks down, picking at her thumb. "I was at a storage facility looking through some of the old things I had kept of my dad's." Her voice gets softer. "I hate that I was there, of all places."

If this guy put his hands on her unwantedly...

"He kissed me. And I wanted him to. It was the only time we had been physical. Everything leading up to that was conversations and texts." Her eyes meet mine, shaking her head in disbelief. "Maybe that's worse. I assumed if he needed to see me that urgently that he had ended things because the Philip I knew was a good guy. The one I had known as a teenager was." She stops there and waits a moment, and I hold myself back from holding her hand again. "Things got heated, and he said he needed this with me. Just this once...to get me out of his system."

The anger I felt when she started telling me about wanting this man is nothing even remotely close to how pissed off I am at hearing that someone could fucking say this to her. Someone who was already planning a life with another woman.

"I've never felt more ashamed of myself." Another tear drops from her cheek. "It didn't even register what he had said until his hand was down my pants, and he was...I didn't even have a chance to register what was happening, much less enjoy it. And he was already done." She tries to laugh, but it's more like a wince. "He jerked himself off with two pumps and came on my leg. I'd never been more disgusted than I was in that moment. I told him that I thought he cared about me, but when he looked at me with sympathy, like he felt sorry for me for misunderstanding what this was, I snapped. I yelled at him to leave and that I never wanted to see him again. And he told me that he would always care about me, but he had to take the opportunity he was given."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I stand up, swatting at the mosquitos getting on my nerves, and remember I had left a lighter in the tackle box next to the stack of kindling.

She smiles at me when I look up from starting the fire. "We were from a different class of people than the clients I was working for. His fiancée is the daughter of a pretty big name who runs a huge financial institution. What comes of his career and the lifestyle he wants was solely based on him marrying her. I was a coincidence or an inconvenience." She rubs her hands along the tops of her thighs, working out what else she might want to share. "I thought he cared about me, and I've never felt so stupid in my entire life for getting that wrong."

My head hurts from gritting my teeth so fucking hard. My fists have balled up at my sides, eager to punch the next Phillip I meet right in the fucking ear. I swallow it all down, though, because she's telling me something true, and it might be part of something I've been itching to understand. "How does that bring you here?"

She clears her throat and waits a few seconds before responding, "I needed to leave."

I can't tell if she's lying by omission or if the bourbon she's been sipping on is what's making her flushed.

The sun is barely left peeking as the sky above us deepens to a darker shade of blue, shades of pink from the sunset disappearing. And I can't for the life of me remember why I've been so hell-bent on figuring out what she's been hiding. That I assumed it was something dangerous and not a woman just looking to start over and forget some shitty choices.

"He never planned to leave her. I don't know if I ever really thought he would either. And I let it all happen anyway. And that's the part of it that—" She inhales a deep breath, and on the exhale, she says, "I knew better. I'm better than that. So today, at the book club, I overheard a few women talking about me, and it felt like..." I watch her shake her head, trying to get through what's triggered all of this. "It felt like I was that person again. The one who didn't fit in but tried too fucking hard, and the person who chose to carry on something with a man I knew was wrong."

Nervously picking away at the skin on her thumb, she blows out another breath, almost relieved to have said it out loud. I know what that feels like, having to hold something in because there's nowhere else for it to go. When the right person hasn't shown up to hear it yet. It feels good to be that for her. And what she doesn't realize is that a truly bad person wouldn't feel the way she does about her actions.

She stares at my chest, suddenly not wanting to look into my eyes, which is not okay with me.

"That's your bad thing?"

It takes a moment, but she nods, lifting her chin a bit.

"In the grand scheme of bad things I've witnessed, that one doesn't seem all that bad, Laney."

The flames from the fire behind me dance in the reflection of her gaze as it finally meets mine. "Cheating with someone is pretty bad, Grant."

"It is. But I don't think that was your intention. You were still in love with him. You wanted him to pick you. And he wanted to cheat."

She moves to take another sip of the bourbon, but pauses before it reaches her lips. "I haven't told anybody this."

I like that she wanted to tell me. "I'm good with secrets."

She stares at me like she wants to say more. I can feel that energy from her, almost pulsing between us.

"Is there more?"

With the way her eyes look between mine and the change in her body language from relaxed shoulders to a tensed hunch, I regret asking. The truth is, I care about her. So much so, I don't need to push. When she's ready, I hope she'll tell me. I'll be here to listen.

"Licorice. Is there more?" I back-pedal and look in the bag stuffed with candy, and a lightened smile pulls at her lips.

"There's more."

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