by Aurora Rey
“I’m not sure why you’re nominating me to rescue her.” Cam scowled, unsure whether her annoyance stemmed from being asked or from liking the idea of helping Lauren out of a jam.
“Because you can, because you’re nice, and because it’ll get you good gesture points.”
Cam scowled even deeper. “I don’t need good gesture points.”
Charlotte sighed. Cam could feel her eye roll through the phone. “I do, or at least I want them. Do it for me?”
It was Cam’s turn to sigh. “Fine. Where is she?”
“Just past the wool works. I think she was going to check it out.”
At least it wasn’t far out of town. She’d be able to get there, save the day, and be back at work in under an hour. “All right, then.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know.” Cam ended the call and shook her head. How did she let Charlotte talk her into stuff like this? Because Charlotte would do the same for her, anytime, no questions asked. They were pretty much family when it came to stuff like that. And even though Cam had a big family, Charlotte didn’t.
She shook her head. It wasn’t doing the favor for Charlotte that got her steamed up. It was the prospect of coming to Lauren’s rescue, of spending even a few minutes alone with her. Because as much as Cam remained leery of Lauren, she was drawn to her, too. And being drawn to Lauren made her think about doing things she had no business thinking about.
Of course, she’d already agreed to working together, so she’d better get used to it. Maybe having Lauren feel like she owed her one would come in handy. Cam grabbed her keys and left her office. She passed through the still room, shouting to George that she’d be back. Fortunately, she left during the day often enough that he didn’t even look up, merely lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
The drive took all of ten minutes. She saw Albert’s car, slightly off the road, but no sign of Lauren. Maybe she was sitting inside. Cam passed the car and pulled in front of it. Not there. If Lauren had gotten up and wandered off, she was going to be bloody pissed off.
Cam put the truck into park and was just stringing together some choice words when she saw her. She must have climbed the low stone wall because she was in the pasture, on her rear end, surrounded by sheep. And from what Cam could tell, she appeared to be conversing with them.
Cam got out of her truck slowly, not wanting to startle the animals. Lauren either didn’t hear her or was ignoring her because she didn’t even look Cam’s way. She was most definitely carrying on a conversation. The sheep seemed enthralled. Cam scratched her temple and waited a beat. Nothing. Eventually, she called out, “You all right, there?”
Lauren turned then, along with five black sheep faces. All of them looked surprised to see her. Lauren scrambled to her feet. “Cam.”
“Were you not expecting me?”
“I…” She patted one of the sheep on the head and started toward the road. “I called Charlotte. She said she had a friend with a truck.”
Of course she did. Cam closed her eyes for a second and sighed. “That would be me.”
“Oh.”
Could this day get any weirder? “Should I ask what you were doing sitting in with the sheep?”
Lauren glanced back at them and smiled. “I was waiting and I started talking to them and they came right over to the wall.”
“Okay.” Odd, maybe, but not completely crazy. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up on the other side of the wall on your arse.”
“I took out my phone to take a picture, but then dropped it. I climbed over to get it and that one there,” she pointed at one of the animals, who continued to watch them with mild curiosity, “bumped into me and I lost my balance.”
In spite of herself Cam laughed. She would have expected Lauren to be dainty about that sort of thing, if not indignant. “And so you decided to stay and make friends?”
Lauren shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I was afraid for a second they might trample me, but they didn’t.”
Cam nodded. No, they wouldn’t. “Sheep are pretty docile, especially if they don’t feel threatened.”
“So, that means they like me?” She had this hopeful look on her face that Cam found endearing.
“I think it does.” She wondered vaguely if Charlotte intended this—not that she would rescue Lauren so much as she’d have a moment with her, break down some of the boundaries between them that Cam stubbornly clung to. Probably not, as she couldn’t have predicted it would go this way, but still. The outcome remained the same. “You know, if I’m interfering with how you’d like to spend your day, I could just go.”
Lauren’s eyes got huge, like she’d forgotten herself for a moment. “No, no. Please get me unstuck. I’d be forever grateful.”
“Forever, huh?” Once it was out of her mouth, Cam realized how casual, how familiar, the question came out. But it was too late to take it back.
Lauren offered her a slow smile that, just like during their meeting at the pub, seemed to hold more than a hint of flirtation. “Well, for a long time at least.”
The smile, the comment, damn, the whole package, affected Cam more than she wanted it to. There was something about Lauren. Something that felt like more than garden variety attraction. She cleared her throat. “All right, then. Let’s see what we can do.”
Lauren sat on the wall, swung her legs around to the other side. Her expensive-looking shoes were caked with mud. She extended a hand and Cam took it instinctively, holding her steady as she crossed the narrow fosse. “It shouldn’t be too bad. I didn’t get myself all the way into the ditch.”
Cam went to her truck and grabbed a length of rope. She looped it through the front bumper of the old car. “Get in and put it in neutral. Be ready to brake if you start rolling forward too quickly.”
Lauren nodded. “Got it.”
She sort of liked Lauren following her directions. She tied the other end of the rope to the hitch and climbed into her truck. Two minutes later, Lauren and her car were squarely back on the road. Cam undid the rope while Lauren beamed at her.
“I really can’t thank you enough,” Lauren said.
“Happy to help.” Which wasn’t untrue. She didn’t have a hero complex or anything, but lending a hand to a friend or neighbor in need was what she did, what anyone in town would do. And whether she liked it or not, Lauren now qualified—as a neighbor, at least.
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
Cam chuckled. “Just my sales figures.”
“Oh, I’ll need to look at those as part of your marketing plan.”
Cam had a mental image of sitting in her office with Lauren, shoulder to shoulder. It had a certain appeal. She should probably stop pretending it felt otherwise, at least with herself. “Sure.”
Lauren pointed at her, but it read as friendly rather than accusatory. “Since you’re here, we should go ahead and schedule a meeting.”
They might as well get on with it. “Sounds good.”
Lauren pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’m pretty open, as you might imagine. What about you?”
“I’m flexible. How’s tomorrow afternoon?”
“Perfect. Do I get to come to the distillery?”
In spite of herself, Cam felt a surge of pride. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“I can’t wait.” Lauren clapped her hands together and seemed genuinely delighted by the prospect. It made Cam like her just a sliver more. She sighed. The slivers were starting to add up.
“Three o’clock work for you?”
“Yep.” Lauren punched something into her phone.
“Come to the guest entrance and we’ll start in the tasting room.”
“Do I get to taste things?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Lauren’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’d never want to disappoint.”
The semi-flirtation left Cam feeling awkward and tongue-
tied. The need to escape moved to the forefront of her brain. “You’re okay from here?”
Lauren smiled. “Well, I still need to turn around. Maybe you could stick around to make sure I don’t land in the ditch.”
Cam pointed up the road. “There’s a driveway up the road just a bit.”
“Seriously?”
Cam shrugged. “Follow me.”
Lauren offered her a casual salute and got into her car. Cam drove up the road, turned around, then waited for Lauren to do the same. Lauren offered her a wave, then drove ahead. Something resembling reluctance settled into Cam’s chest. She shook it off and headed back to work. Each encounter with Lauren left her less sure what to make of her, or the situation.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. She was sure about a couple of things. One, she was looking forward to tomorrow very much. Two, looking forward to it and letting her guard down were likely going to get her into trouble.
Chapter Nine
Cam watched Lauren, telling herself for the tenth time she didn’t care about Lauren’s opinion. But of course that wasn’t true, and arguing with herself about it offended her sensibilities even more than caring in the first place. The whole thing was pathetic.
She cleared her throat. “The three main stills are here. This is where we produce all of the Barrister’s for market.”
Lauren angled her head and narrowed her eyes. “How old are they?”
“Victoria is the oldest. Not an original, but she’s been working since 1920.” Cam pointed to the oldest still. She wasn’t the largest, but she remained Cam’s favorite.
“Wow.”
“Elizabeth came online in 1957, after the war. And my father put in Mary, the big one here, the year I was born.”
“Are all your stills named after queens?” Lauren folded her arms. That stance, combined with her jeans, hiking boots, and flannel shirt, made her look casual and approachable. It almost allowed Cam to forget her first impressions. Almost.
“I’ll point out I had nothing to do with that. If you’ll follow me.” Cam led the way to her blending room, home to the two small stills and all her books and bottles and jars.
When Lauren entered the room, her eyes got big and she turned a slow circle. “Is this your laboratory?”
Cam smiled, allowing herself to be pleased by Lauren’s reaction. “It is.”
Lauren’s arms crossed again, but this time her eyes held a playful glint. She pointed at one still, then the other. “And what are their names?”
Cam tucked her tongue in her cheek, feeling silly for a moment about naming stills in the first place. “Edith and Henry, after my great-great-grandparents who founded the company.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the sentimental type.” Lauren’s posture didn’t change, but her eyes softened. It was disarming and had the potential to do some serious damage.
Cam lifted a shoulder. “Only about gin.”
Lauren laughed, the sound far sexier than it had any right to be. “I can tell you mean it.”
“To tell the truth, I’m not sentimental about gin at all. Gin is science and logic with occasional flashes of brilliance. I’m sentimental about family.”
“That’s really sweet.” Despite the enthusiasm of her words, Lauren looked away. It was subtle, but the shift was there. A cooling in her demeanor.
“Family is everything in this company. We’ve stuck together and kept it going for five generations and through two World Wars.”
Lauren nodded. “That’s remarkable, truly. Now, tell me what you do in here. I want to know everything.”
Maybe the abrupt change of subject didn’t mean anything, maybe it did. Either way, it was none of her business. Even if the shadow that passed through Lauren’s eyes made Cam want to sweep her up and kiss away whatever had put it there. “I used these smaller stills to make individual distillates that I can blend and play with. It’s far more efficient than making a whole batch of every combination I want to try.”
“That’s brilliant. Will you walk me through your process? I’ve learned about wine and beer, but I know nothing about distilling.”
It was Cam’s turn to narrow her eyes. “How much detail do you want?”
Lauren laughed again, driving any lingering sadness or coolness from the room. “Everything. I can seriously nerd out on this stuff all day.”
“Okay, but I have a feeling I can max out even the nerdiest person when it comes to making gin. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I accept full responsibility for the ensuing lecture. Lay it on me.”
If befriending sheep had softened her distrust of Lauren, the enthusiasm for gin might be enough to make Cam like her in earnest. “Barrister’s is a London dry gin, which means it can only contain natural ingredients and has to include juniper. It also means the gin we sell has to be distilled all together. No mixing or steeping things after the fact.”
Lauren nodded, giving every impression of genuine interest. “Does it have to be made within so many miles of London? Like Bordeaux or champagne?”
“No. Anyone anywhere can slap that label on if they follow the rules.”
“That’s too bad.” Lauren tipped her head to the side. “You said Barrister’s is London dry, but not Carriage House. Is it different?”
“Technically, Carriage House is a distilled gin because it has other botanicals blended in after distilling.” She gestured to the shelves. “Things like this.”
“How do you know what things will go together?”
“A little bit is instinct. A lot is experience, trial and error.”
Lauren nodded. “There have to be a billion combinations.”
“There probably are. But there are categories of things. That narrows it down a bit.”
“What do you mean?”
Genuine interest notwithstanding, Cam tried to give the short version of the answer. “Botanicals, spices, citrus. You pull one or two from each category to get good balance. If you go too crazy on one, it tends to go sideways.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“We can sample them, if you want, then blend up a batch for you.”
“Really?” Lauren’s eyes got big and she seemed utterly delighted. It made Cam want to show off. And maybe, just a little, spend more time with her.
“Absolutely.” She gestured to a stool at her worktable. “Have a seat.”
Lauren perched herself, propped her elbows on the table, and leaned forward. “Should I be taking notes?”
Cam chuckled. There was a chance Lauren was humoring her, but she pushed the notion aside. “There won’t be a test, I promise.”
She poured a few mils of her base gin into a pair of small stemmed glasses and slid one in front of Lauren. Lauren raised a brow. “Are you going to tell me what I’m sampling?”
“Of course.” Although the idea of blindfolding her and being able to watch as the flavors and aromas played across her palate had a certain appeal. “This is technically gin. It’s distilled with juniper and coriander, along with a couple of things to enhance and fix the flavor compounds. It’s the base I add all the other flavors to.”
Lauren took a sip, made a face.
“It tastes like cheap gin, right?” Cam asked.
She smirked. “That’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to insult you.”
Cam laughed. She couldn’t decide if she admired the honesty more, or the restraint. “I appreciate the concern, but if I were putting this on the market I’d be in trouble. This has zero personality.”
“So, we’re going to give it personality?”
“We are. First up, the botanicals.” She walked Lauren through the teas and roots she’d distilled individually. They smelled and sampled. Lauren’s enthusiasm exceeded Cam’s expectations. Her eyes lit up, she exclaimed over how distinct everything was, and she cringed and flailed her arms over the taste of wormwood.
“Sorry,” Lauren said.
“Don’t be. I should have warned you
it’s a bit funky.” Cam got them each a glass of water. “How about we do citrus next? Much more predictable.”
“Yeah, lemon and lime are more my speed.”
Cam led with those, then bitter orange, grapefruit, and lemongrass. She made a mental note that Lauren seemed especially fond of the pink grapefruit. Spices came next—cassia, nutmeg, and pink and black peppercorns. “And now for the bonus round.”
Lauren quirked a brow. “Bonus round?”
“Things less typically associated with gin, but that I think add a little something extra.”
Her eyes lit up. “Like what?”
“Let’s see if you can guess.” She poured a taste of rosebud.
Lauren sipped, smacked her lips together a few times. “It’s floral. Roses? Rosewater?”
Cam nodded. “Well done.”
Lauren successfully guessed fennel seed and chamomile, but was stumped by the final one. “It’s familiar. That’s what’s driving me crazy. I know I know that flavor.”
Cam expected her to get petulant, or perhaps grow bored of the whole thing. But she insisted on another taste. “Try closing your eyes.”
Lauren obeyed without a second of hesitation. It was sweet and trusting and, God help her, a total turn-on. She took the glass Cam handed her and took a sip. “It’s grassy, but not grass.” She sighed. “I give up.”
Cam smiled, unable, really, not to. “It’s asparagus.”
Lauren slapped her palm against the table. “That’s it. I knew I knew it. But to have it like that. So weird.”
“It’s a bit out there, even in my quirky world.”
“It’s good. Funky, but good.”
The fact that Lauren appreciated distilled asparagus did something to Cam. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what, but it managed to be both reassuring and disquieting. “When you blend it, you don’t really pick up that it’s asparagus, but it brings a certain smoothness. It’s hard to describe.”
“Do you use it in Carriage House?”
Cam folded her arms. “That’s proprietary information, Ms. Montgomery.”