Caroline
Leaves crunch under my boots as I walk across the parking lot to the gym.
This year, I feel like I’m back in high school. Rumors are swirling about me and Brant dating, which has ignited the Cardwell/Stratton bourbon war once more.
The Buzzy Bourbon Blog fans the flames referring to Brant and me as star-crossed lovers. Apparently, it’s been good for business over at Rosemary Hill. Tourists flock to gawk at the famous bourbons that started it all.
I haven’t seen Brant in a few days. He had to go to Louisville on business.
“Let’s go Mayfield. Let’s go Chargers.”
I stop for a moment to watch the cheerleaders practice.
“Hey, Miss Stratton,” Charlotte Garrick, the senior captain calls out.
“Hey, Charlotte. Ready for tonight?”
She smiles and whips out four cartwheels in a row. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
It’s Homecoming Week. Last year the seniors turned the main hallway into a giant slip ‘n’ slide. On Tuesday, the pool had to be drained because the seniors filled it up with green Jell-O and Principal Maddox finally put his foot down. No more funny business.
But I’m not the least bit surprised when I pull open the doors and see Doug Phillips, the janitor, chasing a pig down the hallway and through the cafeteria.
Keely Hawkins, the student services coordinator leans against the wall laughing her ass off. Keely graduated a year ahead of me. When I started working here the two of us became fast friends.
“Just the one pig?” I ask.
“So far we’ve counted three.”
“I knew something like this would happen.”
She nods in agreement. “Coffee is on in the lounge and Sherry brought donuts.”
“Thanks. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.”
I was up half the night with Julep. She kept flopping around and wouldn’t sleep. Lately she’s just been pacing around the kitchen. It’s been weird.
We enter the front office and I shuffle to my cubicle. I drop my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk.
“You going to the game tonight?” Keely asks.
“Normally I wouldn’t, but Sawyer’s doing the coin toss. And as a special treat for the schools fortieth anniversary, I’ve been chosen as one of the former homecoming court representatives to crown this year’s royals.”
She snickers. “Lucky you.”
“Yep, that’s me.” On a yawn, I make my way to the lounge with my coffee mug in hand.
Actually, I am feeling quite lucky these days. Until I turn the corner into the lounge and I nearly bust my ass.
Pig shit. Stepped right in it.
Fuck. My new boots.
So maybe not that lucky. Unless stepping in shit is along the same lines as a bird taking a shit on you as being good luck.
A grating squeal pierces my eardrums.
My gaze swings toward the pig wearing a number three jersey. “Pig, really? You couldn’t have waited until you were outside.”
The smell is terrible and I’m frozen to my spot. I can’t decide what to do. If I move, I’ll track shit over to the sink. If I try and take my boot off, I could topple over.
“Help, clean up in the lounge,” I call out. “Keely?”
The pig trots toward me.
“Nice piggy . . . I shall call you Dracarys.”
Oh shit. Do pigs bite?
Then I suddenly remember that mafia boss who was alive when he was fed to pigs. My stomach lurches.
“Anyone out there? We got a situation of the livestock variety in the lounge. Help!”
Are pigs considered livestock? Maybe that’s reserved for cattle? Why the hell am I debating this?
Dracarys picks up the pace and squeals. I pivot and my legs wobble beneath me. The poop is slick. Duh.
“Hallway, go into the hallway, Dracarys piggy.” I use my hands to shoo it out the door. Dracarys doesn’t move. Instead the beast swings its head in my direction forcing me to move out of the way. And then I’m falling.
“Whoa there.” Two strong hands grip my upper arms.
I turn to face my savior—Brant. I blink in disbelief.
Piggy Dracarys lets out a squeal and lunges at the two of us. Brant pushes me out of the way and I shriek. My coffee mug lands on the floor and breaks into pieces.
I watch as Brant and Dracarys piggy battle one another. Finally, Brant manages to lead Dracarys into the hallway and then he slams the door shut.
I’m laughing so hard it hurts. “Good job. But what . . . why?”
Brant catches his breath and looks down at me. “Why am I here?” he says through a laugh.
“Yeah. And also, thanks.”
He glances at my shoe. “I had a meeting with Nick Sharp. You’re welcome. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“He’s doing a guest lecture series this semester for his business management class and he asked me if I’d like to participate. And I walked down here because I wanted to see you.”
I feel my smile grow wide. I can’t stop the familiar hum that zings through me.
“And when I heard you cryin’ for help . . .”
I toss him a glare. “I wasn’t cryin’. There was a dang pig tryin’ to take me out.”
Brant grabs some paper towels from the counter. He grasps my ankle and removes a solid amount. This man is kneeling in front of me in a designer suit cleaning up pig shit.
“I know there are some wet wipes under the sink,” I tell him. “I can get the rest of this mess.”
Brant tosses the dirty paper towels into the garbage. He pulls out the wipes and then pops the lid. “Why are there pigs in the school?”
I laugh. “Didn’t you have homecoming at your fancy prep school?”
“Yeah, but we didn’t have pigs,” he tells me and wipes the crap off my heel. “I remember a pep rally. A carnival that the boosters sponsored, a parade even. And a game of pigskin . . . definitely no live swine.”
“Swine,” I repeat and snap my fingers.
His blue eyes flash with confusion and he takes another swipe at the bottom of my boot. He hands me a wet paper towel. “Here, dab at the leather with this and then repeat with the dry one.” He sets the dry one by my leg, then stands to wash his hands.
Once I restore my shoe to its original glory, Brant hauls me to my feet. “That’s much better.”
The door to the lounge flies open as it’s my turn to wash my hands.
“You guys okay?” Doug asks.
I nod and gesture to the pile of crap. “But I’m afraid the floor isn’t.”
He chuckles. “Okay, I’m on it. All the pigs have been rounded up and are on their way to Christenson’s farm.”
“Oh man, as in Nate Christenson?”
“Yep. I’m going to get the stuff I need to clean up this mess.”
My eyes swing to the floor. Pieces of my coffee mug decorate the vinyl tile. I blow out a heavy breath and bend to pick up the jagged shards of ceramic.
“My coffee mug,” I tell him. “It was my favorite too. Got it when I went to Nashville with Olivia and Jillian. It was Jillian’s bachelorette weekend.”
Brant kneels to help me. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
My heart pings in my chest. “No, it was Dracarys’s fault.”
His dark brows furrow. “Who is Dracarys?”
I gather up the final piece and stand. “The pig.”
He laughs. “You named the pig?”
“Yeah, I was trying to make a personal connection,” I explain and toss my mug, at least what’s left of it into the trash.
“I’d like to make a personal connection with you,” he whispers and pulls me into his big frame. My arms rope around his shoulders. His lips land on mine and I kiss him hard. Totally inappropriate kiss for school grounds.
The bell rings, and Brant laughs against my lips. The low hum of Queen’s “We Will Rock You” pipes over the intercom system. Seniors get
to pick the playlist for the entire week.
“I better go,” he says. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He gives me one last smile before walking out the door.
“Whoa, it stinks in here,” Keely says moments later. I didn’t even realize she’d walked in, I was still dazed by Brant’s smile.
Chuckling, I shake my head at her words and motion to the proverbial pile of shit. “You’re observant.”
She strides toward the coffee machine. “Brantley Cardwell just strode out of here. That man is fine. Like gorgeous.” She fills up her mug. “Actually, I don’t think there is a word to describe the level of his hotness.”
I reach for a paper cup and I feel the burn in my cheeks and neck. “Uhm, yeah, I guess he’s cute.”
“Liar!” she hoots. “So, the rumors are true. You are dating him?”
My shoulders roll forward. “Fine. Yes, we are dating. The rumors are true—for once. We’re taking it slow.”
She rests her hip against the counter. “Slow is good. So, other than slow, how is it?”
A long sigh escapes me. “Really great.”
“That look on your face says a lot more than great. No, that look says so much more. Looks a lot like l-o-v-e.”
My feelings for Brant are intense—dizzying and breathtaking all that once. Love? How can I be in love with him already? No, I push it out of my mind.
“Like I said, we’re taking things slow. Like a snail’s pace.”
“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” She thumps me on the shoulder before walking out of the lounge. “See you at lunch,” Keely calls over her shoulder.
“See ya.”
I don’t know if I’m in love with Brant.
Love?
Nah.
Brant
I breathe in the morning air and look up at the blue, blue sky and then I’m smiling. It’s a good bet that Caroline is the reason for my mood.
I missed her—her scent, her touch, her eyes. She affects me in such a profound way.
Even seeing her for the briefest moment this morning has me on cloud nine. I thought about calling her last night when I got back from Louisville, but it was nearly one in the morning.
Needless to say, it’s been a long week, but I’ll meet up with her at the game tonight.
I walk into the building and Laura greets me. “Brant, where are we on the holiday recipe?”
I slap my palm to my forehead. “Fuck. When do you need it?”
She cocks a brow. “Like yesterday.”
Damn it.
“Okay, I’ll narrow down my choices today.”
“No, I need you to pick one today—the one.”
“I’m still working with the percentages.” My voice takes on a harsher tone than I intend.
“We’ll never make it to production on time if we don’t have it today.”
I walk into my office and she stops in the doorway. Her fingernails drum against the frame.
“Okay, I will go to the library and then down to R&D. I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you,” she says and walks out.
Blowing out a deep breath, I trek down to the lounge for a cup of coffee before heading to the library. I don’t even bother to check my voicemail.
I set the coffee on the table and flick on the light. The binder and book I had on the desk aren’t where I left them.
That’s odd.
Maybe the cleaning crew put them back on the shelf? My eyes scan the bookcases around the room. I smile at the archived history sitting on the shelves.
Leather bound cover after leather bound cover. Years of notes, photos, and memorable moments. I start pulling them off the shelves to find the one I had been using as a reference.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I groan, scrolling through another set of laminated pages.
An hour later, standing in the library I stare at the books. My temple pounds.
Two hours later, I’m camped on the floor of the back corner with a calculator and a notepad. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
“Well, this is a sad sight,” Weston calls from the doorway.
“Holy shit. What the hell are you doing here?”
Wes takes a step forward and I push up from the floor. “Did you think I’d miss the fall harvest?”
I laugh and give him a hug. “I don’t know. When was the last time you went to it?” I ask because I haven’t been to the festival in nearly four years. When my career took off with BGN, I had very little time for anything but work.
“Can’t recall specifically.” He shrugs and runs a hand through his very blond hair. I’m assuming that all the time in the sun has turned it this shade of blond. It’s shaggy and he’s due for a haircut. His scruffy beard is longer than he normally keeps it.
He’s got a dark tan and he looks completely relaxed. I’m a little envious because, at the moment, I am anything but Zen.
Wes glances around the tiny room, which looks like a tornado hit it. “Thought I’d come back this year, since you’re running the ship. But it seems as if the ship is sinking, bro.”
I smirk. “No, this is what hours of research and hard work looks like, bro.”
My brother looks up at me and smiles. “Sure, whatever you say, Brantley.”
I gather up all the notebooks, binders, and books and pile them onto the oak table. “Okay, so what’s been going on?”
“Well,” he drawls out. “I’m thinking about going out to Maui again. The work is good and so are the ladies.”
“Of course. That’s important.”
He laughs. “What about you? How do you like being back here in Small Town, USA?”
“It’s better than I expected actually.”
Wes quirks a brow. “Really? You don’t miss New York?”
“Really.” I tug at my ear. “Honestly, this place is growing on me.”
He rises to stand and walks toward the glass case in the back. The first bottle of bourbon ever made sits inside along with the recipe signed by Samuel Cardwell.
Turning to face me he blows out a deep breath. “So, can you cut out early? Grab a drink?”
“No, I wish that I could. Believe me, I’d like to, but I’ve gotta get a recipe for a new holiday bourbon to R&D by the end of the day.”
He whistles. “Oh, sounds riveting.”
I spear a hand through my hair. “It’s not that bad, honestly. I just wish I could find my damn notes. I left them here on the table before I went to Louisville, along with the two books I had out for research. And someone moved them.”
Wes walks around the table and raps his knuckles against the wood. “I used to play down here when we were kids. Pop would bring me with him while he was cooking up recipes.” He inhales deeply. “It still smells the same. I used to sit here and watch him work.” His fingertips glide over the rolltop desk that used to be our great-grandfather’s.
I smile. “Are you staying at Mom and Pop’s?”
He nods. “Yep. Looking forward to catching up. Probably help Pop with the fall crops and help him set up the corrals and fences for the winter.”
“Yeah, you know Pop’s got people for that, but I’m sure there’s plenty to do.”
Wes turns to the side and I get a good look at him. He’s a little thinner than he was the last time I saw him. “Have you eaten?”
He laughs. “Not yet,” he says and rubs at his stomach. “Can’t wait for some of Mom’s home cooking.”
“You should drop in on Maybelle over at the restaurant,” I suggest. “I’m sure that she’d love to see you and she’ll hook you up with some lunch.”
Wes stands tall. “I’ll do that. I can always eat.”
“It’s good to see you, little bro, I’m glad you’re here. Haven will be sad she missed you.”
“I just saw her a few months ago,” he tells me. “Met up with her and Tyler for dinner. She’s like super happy, dude.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Are you?”
I shake my head. “Am
I what?”
“Happy.”
I smirk and narrow my eyes. “In general, or like right now?”
Wes laughs a booming laugh and his whole body vibrates. “I meant in general. You got a woman?”
“Do you?”
“Nah, man, that life ain’t for me.”
“What life is that?”
“Being tied down. Marriage, kids, all that stuff.”
That was true enough. Wes is content to live his days out on a beach—no shoes, no shirt, and no problems. He is not the corporate type. The only suit Wes needs is for surfing. And he’s certainly not the marrying and kids type.
“I am seeing someone,” I tell him. “It’s new.”
He points a finger at me. “I thought there was something . . . someone. You like this chick?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be hanging out with her if I didn’t. You’ll meet her at the festival, I’m sure.”
The phone in the library rings. I hit the speaker phone. “Yeah, what’s up, Eileen?”
“Brant, there is a Mason Houser here to see you.”
Fuck. I forgot about my meeting with Mason. We’re finalizing things for the festival.
“Okay, thanks. Get him whatever he wants to drink. I’ll be there soon.”
Wes exhales and runs a hand over his jaw. “Hey, man. I’m gonna go eat and then go over to Mom and Pop’s. I’ll probably crash hard tonight.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I hug Wes. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
After my meeting with Mason, I’m back at it in the library.
I can’t seem to focus. My eyes flick to the rolltop desk.
“Okay, Great-Granddad, give me some of your inspiration.” I stand and rub my hands together. I lower myself into the chair and my palms smooth over the wood.
My eyes close and I try to zone everything out but the bourbon spirts. Literally. The rolltop eases up and the smell of leather, oak, and charcoal hits me in waves.
Nostalgia.
“Come on, come on.”
My palms smooth over the wood. I breathe deeply and press my forehead to the desk.
“Oh my,” a female voice says. “I’m sorry to . . . what are you doing?”
I groan and the heels of my palms rub my eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
When my eyes focus, a woman with rich, light brown hair and a slender figure smiles at me.
Sweet Agony Page 16