A Shot With You (Bourbon Brothers)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  It was early spring, and while the sun fought to leave streaks of color in the western sky, it still went to bed fairly early.

  “Brr!” Lesa shivered, pulling the sleeves of her new Kentucky Horse Park sweatshirt over her hands and crossing her arms.

  “Here.” He started to pull off the zippered hoodie he’d dug out of his backseat, but she shook her head.

  “This is better,” she said and slid her arms around his waist, tucking her head against his shoulder.

  Yes, yes it was, although a small part of his brain reminded him that he wasn’t going to get involved. He hesitated, then pulled her close and led her down the sidewalk.

  “Oh, look!” She pulled away from him and slid a box from her pocket. “I still have a bourbon ball from yesterday.” She shoved the candy into her mouth.

  He wished he could see her face clearly, but she was backlit, and he could only hear her groan. Followed by soft whimpers and moans.

  He waited, trying not to notice that everything she did turned him on. If this was what she sounded like after a good meal, a few beers, and some chocolate, what would sex sound like? He wished for the ninetieth time that day that she wasn’t there on business, that she was his, even just for the week.

  “Omigodomigod,” she murmured, finally. “That was amazing. As amazing as today and almost as wonderful as you.”

  She stepped back toward him and put those slender arms around his waist, looking up at him. They’d turned slightly, and he could see her better now. The invitation in her eyes was clear, and the way she pressed those curves against him was unmistakable.

  “Lesa…” He should fight the need she brought out in him every time she was near.

  “Brank,” she giggled. “Yesterday, you said you wanted to fling with me. That your hither wasn’t withered or something.”

  Shit. Had he actually said that? He thought that might have been a Benadryl-induced hallucination. “We’ve had a few beers, and I don’t want to take advantage—”

  She drew back and looked at him. “I like you. This is the best vacation I’ve been on in forever, and…I like you.”

  She looked at his mouth, then away, then back again, biting her lower lip.

  “I like you, too.”

  Her eyes were clear and sharp when they met his, and he knew that she meant what she was saying. So did he. The thought that he’d been here before, believed a woman who said she really liked him, flitted through his mind, but then the scent of limes and oranges and sunshine washed over him in the evening breeze, and he had to get to the source. Had to. He was done. Waving the white flag of surrender to his better judgment, he put one arm around her waist and threaded the other hand in that long, silky hair. He cupped the back of her head, leaned down, and kissed her soft, inviting lips.

  And she kissed him back, mouth slightly open, welcoming him. Sweet chocolate, bitter beer, and tangy barbecue sauce met his senses as he nipped at her lips and licked into her mouth. She let out a tiny whimper, so he hesitated—and she protested his retreat. One of her arms curled around his neck and pulled him down for more, fingers stroking his neck, the other arm around his waist, holding on to him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

  The evening could have turned cold and windy or wet and hailing for all he was aware of anything but her. He shouldn’t be touching her, there was some reason he was supposed to stay away from her—something to do with his life and responsibilities here at Blue Mountain, but he’d be damned if he knew what the problem was. Instead, he was pretty sure he could kiss her forever.

  Her breasts pressed against his chest, and every beat of her heart was answered by a jolt from his own. Blood pumped to his skin, his lips, his groin, making him desperate for more. She moaned as she arched her pelvis against his thigh. Surely she could feel the effect she had on him. He longed to rip away the layers of fabric separating them.

  He broke away, panting for breath.

  Lesa stared at him. “It’s a good thing you’re sober,” she told him. “Because I think we need you to get us back to your house.”

  He dug his keys from his pocket and beeped open the doors. “Let’s hope you still feel that way when we get there.”

  …

  “Well huh.”

  Lesa looked up to see what Brandon was huh-ing about. She’d been watching the last streaks of day fade behind the mountain, because every time she looked at him, she wanted to finish what they’d started on the other side of the hill.

  There was an immense motor home filling the flat parking area next to the house and a little SUV next to it. It appeared every light in the house was turned on.

  “My brother’s home.”

  Well, there went all of Lesa’s plans for the rest of the night. She wanted Brandon with every fiber of her being, and she knew he wanted her, too. Every look, every touch, every word they exchanged was loaded with attraction.

  “I wonder if Allie is still helping him out,” he mused.

  “Eve’s sister?”

  “Yeah. Justin banged up his leg a couple of weeks ago, and she stayed with him to help take care of him and then somehow convinced him to travel halfway across the country on one of her goofy schemes.”

  His smile was fond, so clearly he thought her goofy schemes were okay. And Lesa felt a vague wash of jealousy spread over her.

  “Are you okay?” Brandon put his car in park and looked over at her. “You have a funny look on your face.”

  “I’m fine.” Just…jealous. Which was weird, because she absolutely didn’t want this life, with all of this family responsibility to smother her. They just all seemed so…happy. Even crabby Mrs. McGrath had a certain serenity about her.

  Lesa’s parents had loved her. Papa still did, she knew. And she had Tia Rita and cousin Raoul. But there had been so much sadness after Mama died. It was like she took all the joy with her when she died. The Morgans and McGraths had experienced loss, too. Eve and Allie’s brother and father had both died. But there was still friendship and joy and laughter, even in the midst of the drama of the past day. “Let’s go see what’s going on.”

  They were met at the top of the stairs by two anxiously whining dogs.

  “What’s the matter, girls? Did Uncle Justin put you out and not let you back in?” He squatted down and made kissy noises and rubbed ears and scratched back ends.

  Mabel and Maude were in ecstasy, and now Lesa was jealous of them, too.

  A female scream rent the night air.

  “What the hell?”

  Brandon rose to his full height, flung the door open, and ran into the house.

  Lesa was hot on his heels, but the dogs passed him before he made it to the arch from the kitchen to the living room. Where he stopped.

  Lesa crashed into his back and they tumbled to the floor, landing in the middle of…a tangle of arms and legs and other body parts. Naked body parts. And very exuberant dogs.

  “Get these fucking mutts out of here, you asshole,” bellowed the man attached to that— Whoa. Lesa would have closed her eyes while she tried to extract herself from the pileup, but she didn’t want to accidentally put her hand down on the wrong thing while she scrambled away. She did pause to allow herself to wonder if that sort of endowment was genetic and shared by brothers, however.

  The female half of the naked people—Allie, Lesa assumed—was laughing and swatting at the dogs, who were swiping her face with their enormous tongues, fighting for the right to slobber on her more.

  But they quickly realized that Lesa was there, too, and one of them—Mabel? Maude?—turned to share her generous affections.

  Somehow, Brandon managed to grab a quilt from the back of a nearby chair and got it to Allie, who wrapped it around herself. Then he grabbed the dogs and began to pull them away. Justin sat with a pillow over his lap, glaring at Brandon, the dogs, and then her.

  “Who are you?” he growled.

  “Be nice,” Allie chided, tossing Justin a pair of shorts.

  Lesa d
ecided not to take it personally. They had interrupted something pretty astounding, to have produced that kind of a scream from Allie, a very pretty strawberry blonde.

  Now that Justin was decent-ish, Lesa took a closer look at him. He was as good looking as Brandon—the same blue eyes, the same high cheekbones, and light brown hair. But where Brandon was almost pretty, Justin was rougher looking. Brandon had told her his brother had served in the military, and it showed.

  He was also very bulky and tattooed.

  “I’m Lesa Ruiz,” she told Justin, reaching to shake his hand.

  “Do you mind?” Instead of taking her hand, Justin twirled his finger to indicate that he’d like her to turn around.

  “Oh!” She swirled.

  The woman snorted. “God. It’s just a dick.”

  “It’s a really nice dick,” Justin protested.

  “It’s not like she hasn’t already seen it. Hi, Lesa. I’m Allie McGrath. Ignore Sergeant Surly there.” She reached a hand to help Lesa to her feet, holding on to her makeshift sari with the other.

  Brandon had managed to shove the dogs through the door to the basement and slammed it shut, in spite of howling, whining protests.

  “So,” he said, coming back into the room, a grin across his face.

  “Don’t start,” Justin said, apparently dressed now, from the sound of a zipper behind her.

  Brandon took Lesa’s hand and turned her so they were both facing his brother, who sat, arms crossed over his chest. One ankle was wrapped in an elastic bandage, the other leg was stretched in front of him.

  Justin waved a hand, dismissing Brandon. “It’s no big deal. Mom and Dad already know, so there’s no need to get on social media and start spreading gossip.”

  Allie gasped in mock outrage. “It is so a big deal.” Then she snorted. “At least it was a few minutes ago.”

  Lesa coughed a laugh.

  Justin reluctantly let a smile curve his hard mouth to the side. “Yeah, well. I guess it’s kind of a big deal to me, too. Just don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

  Brandon turned to Lesa and explained, “I told him he and Allie were meant for each other.”

  Justin looked from Brandon to Lesa and to their clasped hands. “So. Anything you want to share?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brandon hadn’t realized he was holding Lesa’s hand until he dropped it at Justin’s question. “No. I mean, nothing like—” He cut his eyes to Lesa, who was patiently watching him, expressionless. Did she think they were—did he think they were…? They certainly had been about to be…if only his brother and Allie weren’t here.

  She smiled and turned back to Justin and Allie. “I’m Lesa Ruiz. Brandon allowed me to invite myself to your home to visit Blue Mountain Bourbon and determine the suitability for a business agreement with my father’s company, Pequeño Zarigüeya—Little Opossum Tequila.”

  “Oh.” Justin shot him a look, one that promised brotherly retribution for the coitus interruptus. But then he put on his big boy face and said, “I’m interested to hear your ideas.”

  “You are?” Brandon couldn’t help himself. Justin had spent the last twenty-odd years of his life trying not to be involved in anything to do with the business.

  His brother shrugged. “Well, you know. If I’m going to be around, I might as well know what’s going on.”

  Huh. Hooking up with Allie must have changed his mind about moving out west. He’d have to thank her later.

  Allie, who’d grabbed her clothes and run out of the room wrapped in the blanket, came back, fully dressed and folding the quilt. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, dropping the quilt on the back of the couch and shaking Lesa’s hand. “Blue Mountain is an awesome place, and I’m sure you’ll find plenty to impress you.”

  Brandon hoped so. It hadn’t gone so well to this point, not with half of the production equipment on the fritz.

  He really needed to find a few more touristy things to do to keep Lesa’s attention off of the malfunctions until they were straightened out.

  “We met with Lorena and Eve this morning to see the plans for the new tasting center, but got side tracked by building the new tasting center, so…” He trailed off when Justin and Allie exchanged a glance.

  “Was my mom okay?”

  Was she ever? The woman was never relaxed, so it was hard to tell. Then it dawned on him. “Is this”—he wagged his finger back and forth between Justin and Allie—“is this not sitting well with Mrs. McG?”

  Allie shrugged. “Nothing sits well with my mother. But Eve got her an appointment for a full spa day tomorrow.”

  That might help. Lorena McGrath was the hardest working woman in the universe—she’d made sure that her books were spotless after she took over when her husband died and left her with that mess—and she could put on the grace and charm when dealing with the media and business competitors, but she was a stone-cold bitch when it came to the Blue Mountain Bourbon family—including her own daughters. Eve was the only one of them who could, if not manage her, at least keep her in check. Usually.

  “Have you toured the plant yet?” Justin asked Lesa.

  Lesa shot Brandon a look, but before he could spew his line of excuses, she said, “We’ll be checking it out in a few days. First, I’ve made Brandon promise to show me all over this wonderful state of yours.”

  “What are you going to see?” Allie asked.

  “I was going to ask if we could go to a race, but the Horse Park didn’t work out so well,” Lesa said. “What would you suggest instead?”

  “Wait. You went to the Horse Park?” Justin’s eyebrows rose to his nearly nonexistent hairline. “You, Benadryl Brandon?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Did you not remember that you’re allergic to horses?” He shook his head. “Dude.”

  Brandon cleared his throat. “I hoped I’d outgrown it.” Geez. It had been bad enough waking up from his accidental overdose. Getting to relive the embarrassment was excruciating.

  “Dude,” Justin repeated again. Between that and the all-purpose f-bomb, his brother didn’t need many more vocabulary words.

  “I might have been a little too pushy about wanting to go,” Lesa said. “Brandon was being polite, I think.”

  Well, that and too blinded by lust for you, he didn’t say.

  “Do you remember that time you tried to get your horsemanship badge in Boy Scouts?” Justin laughed. “We had school pictures the next day, and you were so swelled up that Grandma Morgan didn’t know who you were when she got the pictures.”

  “Gee, bro. Thanks for that reminder. Maybe you can pull out the photo album.”

  “Oh! Great idea!” Justin stood and limped toward the bookcase.

  “Halt!” Allie pulled a bag of chips from a box on the kitchen table and carried it into the living room. “Not to change the subject from Justin’s attempt to torture you, but what do you say we see what’s on Netflix?”

  …

  Lesa had almost as much fun watching a Gotham marathon with Brandon and his brother and Allie as she would have had her other plans for the evening come to fruition—finishing what they’d started at the building site.

  She never, ever sat at home and watched television. That was Papa’s domain. The darkened living room, the blue light cast over everyone’s features, normally gave her a case of the moodies. She liked to read at night. When she went out, it was to Puerto Vallarta with Raoul and other employees from the distillery. She didn’t like to watch television; it made her sad. She told herself that she’d rather live life than watch it piped into the living room.

  But here it felt comfortable.

  As it was, she felt like a schoolgirl with a crush sitting next to Brandon on the couch, wishing he would put his arm around her. Especially after Justin and Allie had piled into a large recliner together under her dressing-gown quilt.

  If they’d been alone, she might have laid her head on Brandon’s shoulder and traced patterns on his thigh until he
lost complete track of the TV show, but instead, she settled for leaning the other way and tucking her bare feet under his leg.

  Her ploy worked. After a surprised glance her way when he felt her toes slide between him and the couch, he smiled and put a hand around her calf before turning back to the TV. Fortunately, she’d remembered to shave that morning.

  But after an episode and a half of watching the future Penguin waddle around after Jada Pinkett Smith, Lesa was getting restless.

  Brandon still had his hand on her leg, but other than the occasional stroke of his thumb along her shin, he completely ignored her. His touch sent shivers all the way to the base of her skull…with a few stops in between. She needed to squirm, but didn’t want to dislodge his hand. That touch, that relatively small point of contact, had become the center for every erogenous zone in her body.

  She didn’t dare move the calf he held, but her other leg, the one closer to his hip, might just need to stretch. As nonchalantly as possible, she slid that foot from under his thigh and reached it right across his lap.

  And wouldn’t you know it? His right hand grabbed that foot and held on to it.

  Now those shivers were traveling up both of her legs and meeting in the middle. She arched her back, because the tension was beginning to take on a slight throbbing ache.

  And still he didn’t look her way. But if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a distinctly firm shape under that ankle on his lap. She shifted her leg a tiny bit and he stiffened—both his shoulders and his erection. Bingo.

  She watched him stare at the television. He was fixed on a commercial for some sort of miracle cleaning product and so busy not noticing her that she was sure he registered every breath she took.

  “Hey, guys, I think we’re going to go to bed,” Justin said. Allie rose from his lap and Justin followed more slowly, his injured leg still apparently causing him discomfort.

  Lesa started to pull her foot back from Brandon’s lap, but he held it in place, still not looking at her.

  Her breath sounded shaky when she wished the others a good night, but they were so wrapped up in each other, giggling and touching, they didn’t seem to notice.