A Taste of You (Bourbon Brothers)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  Bourbon. That was the scent on her breath. “No.” He stepped back.

  “Excuse me?”

  “No. I can’t.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I wish I could. But I just remembered that I have to be somewhere.”

  “Well, that sucks.” She looked at him, brow furrowed, oblivious to the disaster that had almost occurred. Of course. Because she hadn’t come down here intending to be kissed by her carpenter. She’d come to invite him to a work social event, and he was acting all weird and shit.

  “Yeah, I…have to go to this meeting thing.”

  “About your dad? With his care team?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “Oh. Okay. Maybe next time.”

  He didn’t answer. Maybe there wouldn’t be a next time, and it wouldn’t be an issue.

  “All right, so I guess I’ll get back up there and let you get out of here.”

  She left, the smell of heaven—and hell—going with her.

  She had wanted him to kiss her. And he had really wanted to kiss her. Hadn’t he? The way his heart had sped up when she was near, the way his skin practically vibrated with want—that was about her, not the sudden unnerving need to taste liquor on her lips. It wasn’t about the booze. Was it?

  It was time to get out of here, away from this place. He shoved the blueprints and Eve’s giant Binder of Everything into the portable shed, locked it, and got into his truck.

  He turned his key in the ignition, put on his seat belt, then pulled down the sheet of paper he’d shoved into his visor. The list of local meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous wasn’t long, but there was one starting in an hour not too far away. He’d have time to grab a drive-thru burger and get there in time to introduce himself to the group. He might not find out if he was so desperate to kiss Eve because she smelled so much like his drug of choice, but at least he’d get a chance to remind himself why it was important to stay as far from the business end of Blue Mountain Distilling as possible. He wasn’t about to throw five years of sobriety away for a few minutes of heaven on the lips of an angel.

  Chapter Five

  Nick worked for several hours before Eve appeared the next day. He tried not to look for her. Even after going to an AA meeting last night and talking with some old-timers—and a couple of new guys—he’d gone home feeling unsettled.

  He hadn’t considered that his attraction to Eve had anything to do with booze until he’d almost kissed her while she smelled like bourbon, and now he had to question everything about the way he’d been obsessing about her. Sure, he’d thought she was hot the day she’d come out to Raleigh’s place, before he knew anything about her family. But it hadn’t been until she’d told him where the job was that he’d really started thinking about her almost constantly. Was it the lure of liquor?

  Could it be that he didn’t like her so much as he liked the idea of having an excuse to accidentally drink again?

  Maybe what he needed to do was to meet another woman while he was in the area and hook up. There had been a couple of girls at the meeting last night who weren’t so new to the program that he’d be 13th stepping if he’d introduced himself to them. But AA relationships could get messy even if he wasn’t only in the area for a short time, so maybe he should troll the produce department at Kroger instead.

  But now he looked at Eve, standing in front of the storage shed in a pair of worn jeans and cowboy boots, a Tucker Trojans T-shirt snug against her breasts, and knew he was going to have to figure out if it was the alcohol or the woman that appealed to him so much.

  As every other time he’d seen her, she was fresh and shiny and pure. No sign she’d tied one on last night—even if she had. Maybe she was one of those normal people he’d heard so much about. People who could have one drink and stop when they started to feel a buzz. Nick had never understood the point. Stop, just when the effect is kicking in? Why bother?

  “How’s it going?” He tried to go back to sorting hardware. He’d been stalling—delaying the necessary search for Mason—but whatever. He wasn’t in the Beer and Barrel waiting for him to show up for happy hour, either.

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  She smiled. “Okay, we got all that out of the way. I’m sorry I’m just now getting down here, but I had to run into town for emergency office supplies and got side tracked by baby shower plans.”

  “You let a baby shower distract you from office supplies, huh? Sounds critical.”

  “You have no idea,” she told him. “I was out of one-fifth cut manila folders.”

  “Out of one-fifth cut? Oh, man.” Considering the way she cradled that notebook everywhere she went, maybe she did take paper products very seriously.

  “Yeah. You know. The little tabs on the top? There are fat ones with a tab on the left, one in the middle, and one on the right. I use those for sorting bills. But the smaller ones have a tab almost all the way at the right, and one almost on the left, too, and those are good for—” She stopped when she saw him grinning at her and shook her head sadly. “You clearly don’t understand the wonder that is office supplies.”

  “You’re talking about pens and paper and…folders.”

  “Oh, and Post-its and tape and notebooks, too.”

  By the way her eyes shone, she clearly wasn’t entirely joking. “This stuff really gets you going, huh?”

  “Oh, honey,” she said, cocking a hip and shooting him a come-hither stare. “You should come see the magic closet some time.”

  “Is this where you keep your pens and tape?”

  “It’s better than any red room of pain you can imagine.”

  “I’m going to have to guess that’s a good thing.”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  “I don’t know about that.” He wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He knew he didn’t trust himself.

  “So, anyway.” She looked at her notebook—the dreaded notebook—and cleared her throat. “So…did you have a chance to check on that lumber we talked about?”

  He glanced at the foundation, waiting for the basement monster to come up out of the sump pump and save him, but it didn’t. Instead, he gave her his best Nick Baker smile. He figured this was as good a time as any to test how resilient she would be as a boss. If she had a big hissy, he could still cut and run. Or even better, maybe she’d fire him. “About that.”

  She drew in a breath, but didn’t speak.

  “Well, darlin’, there was some confusion—” He shook his head. He’d use the charm whenever he could, but he wouldn’t lie to her. “Naw. The truth is, I thought that pile of wood next to my dad’s shed was scrap, so I used most of it to build all that furniture you saw when you came out to my place.”

  Still silent.

  She held her notebook and stared at him, chewing on her bottom lip. He hoped she didn’t draw blood—that would be a shame, because that lip should be treated with love and care. The little crease was back between her eyebrows.

  “It’s really good furniture,” he pointed out. “You said so yourself when you saw it.”

  Was that a hint of a smile? Maybe? No. The furrow deepened and she opened her notebook.

  The way she avoided his gaze made his gut clench. “It’s not a problem, though,” he told her.

  “No?” She looked back up at him, one eyebrow raised.

  “Nope. I’m working on a solution. As a matter of fact, I found a barn that needs to come down out in Gallatin County. I can check it out this afternoon and text you pictures if you want.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Damn. He reminded himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t want this job in the first place, because it was such a big commitment, but knowing that he’d screwed up—which was why he had the job—

  “What kind of barn is it?” She flipped her notebook open. “Is it going to be the same wood as the last set? Because I really liked that, although it’s not like I was married to it—”

  “Phew. I’
m glad, because that old wood was pretty beat up and might make you all splintery when you got up close and personal with it during conjugal visits. It’s probably a good thing that I used it. I’ll find some more, and we’ll get it nice and sanded before you get frisky with it.”

  There it was. Her lips curved up, though he could tell she was trying to keep them flat.

  Once again, his mouth worked before his brain. “Why don’t you ride along with me to take a look? Then if it’s not right, we can check out some other options. I hear Match dot com has a whole section devoted to old wood. Though maybe that’s just the geriatric Viagra board. Not sure. But I bet you could even get enough to expand your special closet.”

  Finally, she let herself giggle. “Magic closet.”

  Yes.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” She tucked the notebook into that enormous bag she lugged around and pulled her phone out of her pocket as she walked toward his truck. “Do you mind driving, since you know where we’re going?”

  “Sure. No problem.” Great, Nick. Ask her to spend the entire day with you, shut up in the cab of your truck, where you’ll be able to smell her perfume for days after she’s out of there. Where you’ll be able to see that fat lower lip every time you turn your head her direction.

  “Hi, Brandon, it’s Eve.”

  Who the hell was Brandon? Shit, did she have a boyfriend?

  “I’m heading out to look at some materials for the tasting center this afternoon. If Mother’s looking for me, will you let her know?” She waited a second and then said, “She was having a meeting with Hamilton Distributing this morning, and I don’t want to interrupt her.” There was a moment of silence, and then a laugh. “Yeah. I know. I’ll owe you one.”

  Nick used his long-legged advantage to reach the truck before her and opened the door just as she shoved her phone back in her pocket.

  “Thank you,” she said, letting him take her bag while she hoisted herself into the cab, then accepting it and shoving it between her knees before he shut the door.

  “Who’s Brandon?” he asked in spite of himself, when he got around to his own side and buckled himself in.

  “He’s the director of marketing, among other things. Blue Mountain is owned by two families—my family, the McGraths, which consists of my mother, Allie, and me; and the Morgans—Clyde is the father, and his two sons, Brandon and Justin, Clyde’s parents, and of course, Mrs. Morgan.”

  “Ah. Will all four of you kids run it, then, when your parents retire?” Very different than his own family, though he seemed to be running Raleigh’s business while the man’s body healed. The difference was, he was going to split as soon as possible, and there wasn’t much to inherit anyway.

  “It’s complicated. Brandon and I both work full-time at Blue Mountain, so we’ll probably stay on forever. But Allie and Justin, who are married, just started a new business, Rainbow Dog Whiskey. I guess it depends on how that does and whether or not they decide to roll it in with Blue Mountain at some point.”

  “So you’re a whiskey girl forever, huh?” It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop thinking about getting acquainted with those lips and the rest of her exquisite self, but he wasn’t a forever anything. Especially not with a woman whose life was liquor.

  “I can’t imagine doing anything else,” she said with a wry smile.

  Of course not.

  The abandoned barn leaned sideways in the middle of an acre of knee-high weeds, the afternoon sun shining through gaps in the sides of the rickety structure.

  “I don’t know…” Eve stood on the edge of the gravel road next to Nick, sipping one of the Diet Mountain Dews she’d bought at a convenience store on the way there. “We were planning to use some of the beams to build the bar, and this—” She shook her head. One good wind, and this whole thing would be a pile of toothpicks.

  “It’s all good,” Nick said. “Some of these old barns have been here longer than you and me put together. It looks fine to me.”

  “Are you high? It’s gonna crumble if we look at it too close.”

  He shot her a sharp glance then grinned and said, “We won’t know until we get out there and find out, will we?”

  She wondered what kind of hazards were hiding in the foliage in front of them.

  As though reading her mind—or maybe just seeing the expression on her face and where she was looking—Nick said, “I’ll go first, you can follow my path. And don’t worry. I’ll be glad to check you for ticks later.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She laughed and pushed at his hard shoulder, which got him moving down from the road and through the field. She followed, trying not to look at the way his butt moved in those worn Levis. She’d been trying—unsuccessfully—not to ogle him since they’d left Crockett County.

  The ride from Blue Mountain had gone surprisingly fast, and she’d learned a lot about Nick on the way. He’d grown up in neighboring Napier County, learning carpentry from his father and then working construction for a few years after high school. He moved to Knoxville about five years ago—she realized he hadn’t told her why—and had never come back. Down in Tennessee, he took jobs as they came along and was lucky in that he’d never starved.

  “Surely there are companies that would hire you full-time,” she said, trying to imagine living not only paycheck to paycheck, but job to job.

  “Yeah. But I like variety.”

  She’d shuddered, and he’d shuddered right back at her when she told him that she’d had the same protein drink for breakfast every morning for the past three years.

  “I like to know what’s coming,” she’d told him.

  When he stopped in the grass abruptly, she nearly crashed into him, putting her hands on his back to stop her progress. The muscles under her fingers were warm and pliable. She pulled back immediately, not having intended to grope him. She made her way around to his side and stared up at the enormous hunks of old wood leaning precariously toward the ground. He seemed to not have noticed her near molestation and had his phone out, taking pictures from every angle.

  A closer inspection of the barn from the outside showed that even though it was losing its fight with gravity, most of the timber was in good shape. Weathered, definitely, but not rotten or infested with termites.

  “Look at this. I bet it’s walnut. That’s gonna be gorgeous when it’s cleaned up.”

  A door hung on rusty hinges, and he pulled at it. He managed to get it open a few inches before it stopped, the bottom edge digging into the ground. “Ladies first.”

  She peered into the dim interior. “You know, I appreciate the chivalry, but I think I’ll let you take the first spiderweb to the face.”

  He chuckled and slipped through the crack. She reluctantly followed, waving a hand in front of her to ward off any mad attacking arachnids that Nick might have missed.

  “Be careful. There’s a big hunk of something.”

  He took her hand and guided her around the metal skeleton of a long-forgotten piece of farm equipment. When was the last time someone—a man—helped her over an obstacle? A more relevant question was, when was the last time she’d let it happen?

  Did the time Brandon and his now-girlfriend Lesa helped pour the foundation for the tasting center count? Brandon had certainly come through for her. But he was more or less family. Well, he was family, now that her sister Allie and his brother Justin were married. But a real guy—one who wasn’t related to her—touching her, helping her—that was as foreign to her as the way she reacted to his touch.

  Her fingers tingled where Nick held them, the heat from his calloused hand sending goose bumps over her entire body in spite of the August sun and humidity.

  “Well, what do you think?” he asked, pulling up short in the center of the big old barn. He was still holding her hand. Where, apparently, her question-answering-nerves lived, because she couldn’t seem to respond. Or remember what he’d asked.

  Instead, she stared up at him, taking in his shadowed jaw, the hair th
at fell over his forehead, those dark eyes looking down at her, right at her, waiting for her to tell him what she thought.

  He smelled really good.

  And her hand was still in his. Sweating. She slid it out of his grasp and stepped back, reaching into her bag for her notebook. She cleared her throat, and said, “I think it’s okay, if you do. Do you? Think it’s okay?”

  He hadn’t moved, just watched her, that half smile on his face.

  So she kept talking. “How long do you think it will take to get the demolition done and the wood delivered?”

  She opened her notebook and clicked the pen. “How many days do you need to prep the wood once you have the barn down? Does your friend work weekends? Because if he does—”

  “Whoa! Can you put that thing away for a few minutes?”

  “Well…” She didn’t actually know if she could. “I just like to know what’s going to happen next. You might have guessed I’m a little nervous…about the job. You know, about the job and how it’s going to all get done on time, so…” She trailed off, because he’d taken her notebook and pen from her hands, tucked the pen inside the notebook, and put the notebook gently on the ground at her feet.

  “You want to know what’s going to happen next.”

  The air in the barn was suddenly gone. Golden-brown eyes held hers in place. He glanced down at her mouth and then back up. She licked her lips, unable to stop. And then Nick kissed her. He didn’t put his hands on her waist, didn’t pull her close, just stepped forward, leaned down, and placed his lips against hers.

  His mouth was soft and hot and tasted of mint and coffee, she realized, because she kissed him back and the world spun.

  What was she doing?

  “Oh!” She nearly fell as she stepped away, but his big strong hands were there to stop her from landing on her ass. This time he let her go right away, waiting for her to regain her composure.