A Taste of You (Bourbon Brothers)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  Nick wasn’t dressed any differently today than he had been yesterday. He wore another pair of jeans with a splotch of stain along the right leg and a tear in the knee, another T-shirt that had seen better days. His hair was still a little damp from a recent shower, and he’d shaved. And he was even more irresistible than he’d been the day before.

  The memory of the kisses they’d shared had kept her tossing and turning all night. She woke half a dozen times, always with the feeling of wanting just a little bit more of his lips on hers, his body against hers, his soft laugh in her ear, sending shivers along her spine.

  She’d been nervous about calling to ask if she could come along for the barn demolition, which was nuts. She never hesitated to ask someone if she could go with them while they worked. She’d done ride alongs with the county sheriff, helped the old veterinarian from Frog’s Hollow deliver horses, worked a few days in the cafeteria of the local high school, all in the name of learning stuff.

  This was just more stuff, right?

  But it was stuff with Nick. Tall, handsome Nick with the big, easy smile and the dark shadows in his eyes. She’d realized last night that, in spite of his laid-back attitude and easy come, easy go life philosophy, there were things he kept locked away. Something that made the shadows clear away a little when she told him how excited she was to go with him. Was it because she was interested in his work, or was it because it was him?

  “So what’s going on with your dad?”

  “He’s trying to escape from the hospital, apparently.”

  “Escape?”

  “Well. He wants to come home.”

  “Can he come home?”

  Nick’s expression made Eve laugh out loud. “God, no. He still can’t get to the bathroom and back on his own, but I know he won’t ask for help with anything—not that I want to help with that. If he comes home, he’ll want to come to work with me and tell me what to do since he can’t, which will drive me crazy, and you’ll have a murder-suicide on your hands.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He shot her a pleading look. “You’ve got to help me convince him to stay for rehab. Please.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  …

  Mr. Baker was finishing his breakfast when they arrived. Or, rather, he was at the tail end of complaining about his food.

  They could just hear him in the hallway, over the voices of an old western movie blaring from the television mounted on the wall across from his bed.

  “If you can’t bring me some God damned salt, darlin’ don’t bother with lunch. It’s bad enough these eggs have never seen the ass end of a chicken. If you can’t disguise the fact that this food came from a plastics factory by drowning it in salt, I’ll just wait until I get home to eat. I bet my damned dog’s eating better than this.”

  Nick stopped at the doorway to let Eve enter the room before him, so she was the first one Mr. Baker saw. His face lit up.

  “Evie! You came to rescue me, didn’t you? Thank the Lord!”

  “Uh, well, gee, Mr. Baker. Really I’m here—”

  Nick stepped forward and Mr. Baker caught sight of his son.

  “Well it’s about God damned time you showed up here, Nicholas.” The old man shoved the tray table out of the way and groped through the bed sheets until he found the remote.

  He hit the mute button, then started stabbing at another button.

  “Yes, Mr. Baker?” came a tired voice over the remote.

  “Is this the nurses’ station?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You can send somebody to get these wires offa me. My boy’s here to take me home.”

  “No, I’m not,” Nick said, taking the remote from his father’s hand. “Never mind, ma’am,” he said into it. “We’re fine for now.”

  “What the hell?” Raleigh protested, trying to snatch the remote back from Nick, who held it out of reach.

  “Are you giving the staff here a hard time?” Nick asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m done. They want to move me to some stupid geriatric floor. I’m not gonna get locked up there with the droolers and get stuck in an adult diaper.” He crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. “Besides. Miss Evie needs me over to the distillery.”

  Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not a nursing home, Dad, it’s a rehab floor. For physical therapy.”

  “You can put mascara on a cow, but it’s still gonna shit in the living room. I ain’t going.”

  Nick looked about ready to blow, so Eve decided to offer her two cents.

  “Mr. Baker, I hate to say it, but I think Nick’s right. They need to keep you for a few more days so they can help you get your strength back.”

  “But what about your project?” he asked. “You need that job done, or all hell’s gonna break loose, isn’t it? One of these days your mama’s gonna show up down there and open up a can of Whoop Ass on everyone.”

  Nick’s neck appeared to really be itching right now, because he had his head down and his hand back there tearing off a sheet of skin. And not looking at Eve or his father.

  “Actually, Nick’s doing a pretty good job of keeping the show rolling.”

  Raleigh snorted. “If he’s gonna be my employee, he’s gonna have to do things my way. You leave it up to him, you’ll have Louie the Ninety-ninth fancy-ass shit with sequins in your lobby.”

  “Oh, I think he’s got a good idea of what it is I’m looking for.”

  After a deep breath, Nick said, “Dad, I’m not your employee. We are not in business together. I’m just filling in. But everything’s under control. Really.” His hands were hanging open at his sides, but Eve had the impression of white knuckles nonetheless.

  “I doubt it. You don’t know a damned thing about the project, for one thing,” Raleigh said.

  “I’m pretty much up to speed. Eve’s very thorough with the notes she’s got.” He shot her a sideways grin.

  “I can’t argue with that. She’s probably got every damned screw labeled with colored stickers right about now, don’t she?”

  Nick’s grin grew.

  “Hey! I’m just organized, is all.”

  “That’s true,” both men said in synchrony.

  “So anyway, Mr. Baker, you need to stay here and get your strength back.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I need strength for,” the old man griped. “I’m just going home to die. Alone. With no one but Franklin, and he’ll probably just hang around to gnaw on my bones once I’m done breathing.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. You’re not dying.” Nick blew out a breath.

  “I might as well. Since you’re here, ready to take over everything I’ve achieved. What does anyone need me for?”

  “I’m not taking over your business! Just this job for a few more days.”

  “Oh, we still need you, Mr. Baker!” Eve couldn’t let him think he wasn’t important. “We need you to consult on the construction of the bar until you’re in shape to take back over.”

  Nick looked like he wanted to protest, but only opened and closed his mouth a few times.

  She opened her eyes wide at him, and without uttering a sound, tried to send a telepathic message, “Go along with me or I leave you to deal with him alone.” He apparently heard her, because he turned around and went to look out of the window.

  “So it’s settled then, Mr. Baker. You’ll go to the rehab floor, and as soon as the therapists agree that you’re ready to get around on your own, you can come to work with Nick and help finish the building. Even if they want you to stay here at night, I’ll see if we can spring you for a couple of hours on Monday, okay?”

  Raleigh’s smile totally trumped Nick’s scowl.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick dragged a twenty-foot beam from the heap of barn parts and dropped it next to the other solid pieces that would be used for the main bar area. His back practically creaked, the muscles were so tight from all the lifting and hauling he’d done over the
past four hours.

  As he arched his back to stretch, he glanced at Eve, who was sorting and—of course—inventorying ten-foot lengths of barn siding, hopping around and moving the planks like they were pick up sticks. How did she do that? She was like an ant…tiny, and lifting a million times its own weight.

  Except sexy as hell.

  Her hair stuck to her face and neck in clumps, and sweat stained the tank top she wore. Her shoulders had gone from creamy white to pink.

  Instead of ogling her, he bent to pull a nail from a plank.

  He was mostly over the snit he’d gotten in at the hospital—hell, if his dad actually did manage to get out and be in good enough shape to come back to work, Nick would just take off. He’d be off the hook and could head back to Knoxville. Which didn’t sound as appealing as it had just a week or so ago, but still—the chances Raleigh would show up and be able to work were slim.

  “Are you still worrying about having to work with your dad?” Eve had snuck up while Nick was distracted by the stubborn nail.

  “Nope,” he lied.

  “You’re lying,” she said, hands on hips.

  “No, I’m not. I don’t worry about things. You worry about things and write them down so you can remember to keep worrying about them. I wait until things happen, and then I deal with them.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “What?”

  With a heaving sigh, she looked at the sky and said, “You’re right. I’m a worrier.”

  He nodded. “Maybe you need to leave that planner at home and be a little spontaneous now and then.”

  Her horrified expression made him burst out laughing. “Okay, I’m kidding. Kidding. I don’t want any meltdowns on my conscience.”

  “Oh, you’re probably right about that, too. But it’s part of my genetic makeup. And now I’m worried about the rain that’s about to soak our hard work.”

  “Well that’s something I can promise you that you don’t have to fret over. This wood’s been outside for the past fifty-some years. A few more hours of rain isn’t going to ruin it.”

  With that, a crash of thunder broke overhead and a streak of lightning split the sky to the west.

  “Whoa!” Eve jumped about a foot into the air. “That was close!”

  “Go get in the truck,” Nick ordered. “I’ll gather up the tools.”

  He jogged to the other side of the clearing to grab a pry bar Mason had left behind when he’d split to take his oldest kid to soccer practice. A drop of water hit him on the head. Another landed on his arm. He turned back toward the truck in time to see Eve dragging the toolbox toward the bed of the truck.

  “I got that!” he called. “Get in the truck!”

  Just then, the heavens opened up and dumped about a thousand gallons of water in four seconds. And continued to pour from the sky in great buckets, soaking Nick to the skin in a heartbeat. He cursed and gathered as many tools as he could find in the rapidly filling puddles. Screw it. He began to run toward the truck. Water ran into his face, blinding him to the board that had been left between him and the truck. His boot struck the obstacle and he managed to right himself in time to plant his foot in the slick mud that had formed beyond the plank. Tools flew from his hands, and he splashed face-first to the ground.

  “Nick!” Eve’s voice was way too close.

  “What the hell are you doing? Get in the truck!” he said, struggling to push himself up.

  “I’m not gonna melt.”

  He got himself to his hands and knees, but when he looked up at Eve and saw how transparent her pink tank top had become, his hands slid out from under him and he fell again.

  She knelt next to him and brushed his soaking wet hair from his face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Really okay. He had his own personal wet T-shirt model right in front of him.

  She must have been wearing one of those stretchy sports bra things, because her nipples stood straight out from her breasts through the fabric. Niiiice.

  Looking down, seeing where his eyes were fastened, she scowled and crossed her arms. “I thought you were hurt!”

  He was going to be hurting pretty soon, the way he was swelling beneath the belt.

  “Come on, get up before you drown.” She held out her hand to him.

  Oh hell. He took her hand, rolled to his back, and tugged.

  “Waaaaugh!” she shrieked, laughing as she fell, landing across Nick’s body like a warm, damp…woman. And oh, Jesus, was she perfect. Her breasts, hard nipples and all, pressed into his chest, and her lower body covered his growing erection with a blanket of heat so nice that he couldn’t stop himself from groaning.

  She glared down at him, but couldn’t hide the light in her eyes. “You’re a bad, bad man.” Water dripped from her chin onto his face.

  “Yep.” He put a hand behind her head and tugged her face down. Closer. Almost close enough for his lips to meet hers.

  He looked at her staring back at him with those laughing eyes.

  When he murmured, “I have to taste you,” her smile faded, but she nodded slowly.

  “Yes.”

  This kiss might even be better than the ones the other day. Her lips met his, touching softly and moving away before coming back to nip. He slid his hands down, over the curve of her ass, and pulled her more firmly against him, so that she straddled his hips.

  It might have been thunder, or it might have been his heart slamming against his chest when she moaned and rocked over him. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweet kiss. Aching to feel more, he moved a hand between them to cover one breast, teasing the nipple with his fingers. She squirmed in response.

  Rain continued to wash over them, soaking into his clothes and making him feel weighed down to the earth, pressed into it by the woman above him.

  Thunder crashed again.

  She gasped and pulled her lips away from his. “Aren’t you worried about your tools getting wet?”

  He laughed. “Baby, the only tool I care about right now should be wet.”

  She pulled her chin back a bit to look at him in puzzlement, then with dawning understanding. She huffed out a laugh and slid off of him. “I’m not doing this out here in front of God and everyone.”

  Did that mean they were going to do it? Somewhere? Yes. “There are clouds. God probably can’t see us. And there’s no one else out here for miles.” But he rolled to his feet anyway. He had condoms in his wallet, which was in the truck.

  He pulled her up with him, and laughing, they held hands and ran, splashing through the puddles and sliding in spots.

  They reached the truck, and he pushed her back against the door, pressing his body against hers. She stared up at him, all big blue eyes and need, so he kissed her again. And again. He could stay here, like this, forever.

  No he couldn’t. He had to be closer. Naked closer.

  Soaking wet, freezing and burning up at the same time, Eve had never been so turned on in her entire life. She let Nick open the door to the back seat of the crew cab and climbed in, dripping water on everything there. She shoved her boots off and tossed them, with her wet socks, toward the foot well of the front seat.

  “Just shove that stuff onto the floor,” he practically panted, climbing in behind her.

  It was a testament to how badly she wanted Nick that she barely registered the piles of envelopes, folders, magazines, and receipts that went hither-nither off the seat.

  She reached the other side of the back seat and turned to see Nick coming toward her, like a…like a panther or something. He practically stalked forward, his long, muscular arms moving along either side of her legs, his body following along. He paused to pull his feet in and shut the door, then with a growl, pulled her down under him, so that he was pressing her into the seat.

  Unfortunately, making out in the back seat of a truck during a thunderstorm turned out to be more complicated than making out in a puddle in the same thunderstorm.

  “Ow!” Eve sai
d when Nick’s knee came down on her shin.

  “Sorry.” He moved off of her, but in the process had to shift his weight, in turn crushing her into the back of the seat, knocking her breath out in a great whoosh.

  “Damn!”

  He managed to pull up to a sitting position, one of Eve’s legs trapped behind his body, the other splayed awkwardly around his lap. Her head was tilted against the arm rest on the door, and she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands.

  And she was starting to sweat.

  “Here.” Nick reached a hand to her and helped her sit up, then scooted forward enough for her to retrieve her leg and get her body arranged in a safer position, no easy feat with jeans that had absorbed ten times their weight in water.

  “So…” he started, then stopped. His shaggy, blondish-brown hair was dark now, and he pushed it out of his eyes. Those entrancing light brown eyes, which fixed on her with a mixture of heat and laughter.

  Okay, yeah. Getting into the back seat with a guy while you were both covered in mud and soaking wet might be uncomfortable as hell, but when Nick Baker was the guy, and he was looking at you like he wanted to tear your soggy clothes off with his teeth—it was still a pretty big turn on. And even sexier? She was having fun.

  His wet jeans were definitely clinging to him in a way that suggested that he was still as turned on as she was.

  “So…” she repeated, but went him one further. “I bet we’ll be more comfortable if we get out of these disgusting clothes.”

  He nodded, the dimple in his cheek deepening. “You might be right.”

  Suddenly feeling very, very brave, she moved again so she was farther from him, her back to the door. With the rain beating on the roof of the truck, they were in their own little world. She pulled up the hem of her tank top, gathering it as she went. Slowly. Watching his pupils widen as he followed the path of her hands. When she got to her bra, his mouth opened. The tank went over her head easily. She dropped it on the floor.

  She put her hands on her thighs and waited.

  Well, she would have waited, if Nick hadn’t yanked his shirt up and off in about a tenth of the time she’d taken. Following her lead, he put his hands on his thighs. “Your turn.” He grinned.