A Taste of You (Bourbon Brothers)

by Teri Anne Stanley

  She waved his concern away. “That old sonofabitch can’t do anything that’s going to shock me.”

  The screen filled with the face of a plastically-pretty woman holding a Channel Four logo’d microphone and panned out to show her smiling at Lorena McGrath.

  “We’re here at Blue Mountain Distilling today to talk to Lorena McGrath about the exciting bourbon tasting fundraiser event her family is hosting tomorrow night to benefit a variety of charities.”

  “That’s right, Paige,” Lorena cooed. “We’re celebrating the opening of the brand new Blue Mountain Distilling tasting and visitor’s center by hosting the first annual Jamie and David McGrath Foundation Open Barrel Fundraiser to benefit local charities.”

  The interviewer spent a few minutes asking about Eve’s late father and her brother before the camera moved from Paige and Lorena to pan the distillery grounds. Nick leaned over his mom’s shoulder to peer at the screen, like that would make Eve magically appear. He saw the front of the tasting center, which looked great, and the other distillery buildings in the background. There didn’t seem to be any editing; there were a few bumps and awkward places in the video. This must not have been shown on the news, but somehow released to the internet anyway.

  “I understand we might be able to get a sneak peek at the new facility before opening day?”

  “Let’s go take a look.” Lorena led the way to the front door, explaining how the center had been designed by members of the family and built by local craftsmen from locally sourced stone and reclaimed lumber. “Come on in,” she said, throwing the door open and stepping inside, the camera following her into near total darkness.

  There was some jostling about and some nervous laughter, some words he couldn’t understand, and Eve’s voice crying out in surprise just as the room blazed with light.

  The first thing he noticed was the bar. It was black. Fucking black. It looked like someone had poured tar over the carefully restored wood. What the fuck?

  But he didn’t have time to dwell on that horror, because a bourbon bottle rolled across the floor, followed by…shit. Raleigh.

  Lorena screamed, and Eve ran into the frame, pulling at his father, who was— Jesus, was he getting sick?

  Mercifully, the cameraman backed off, but that had the effect of making sure he got a clear shot of Lorena when she kicked at Raleigh, shrieking, “Get off of me, you low-life piece of white trash!”

  He had a brief glimpse of Eve’s horrified face before the camera went dark.

  In the silence that followed the end of the video, Nick tried to swallow down the fiery lump of despair that rose up and choked him. On the road outside, a truck downshifted and then the air conditioner kicked on in the room, drowning out everything but the chaos in his brain. He didn’t know what to think. How the hell had Raleigh gone downhill so fast? Usually his relapses started off slow, with a drink one day, two more a few days after that… It would take him a few weeks to build up to a complete loss of control like that, and Nick had only been gone two days. He’d figured even Raleigh couldn’t fuck up the few things left on the Blue Mountain job before he went off the rails again.

  “Well,” his mother finally said, clicking the browser closed and pushing herself back from the desk to look at him full on. “I guess he can still throw me for a loop.”

  “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

  She shook her head. “What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

  “I shouldn’t have left him alone. I should have waited until he was completely done out there.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair.

  “Nicholas.”

  He looked up.

  Mom had her teacher face on. “You aren’t your father’s keeper. He was getting better. You’d told me you’d be here to help me get the classroom together. No reason you should have stayed in Kentucky any longer than you did.”

  “I—” had a damned important reason to stick around, but I cut and run.

  “Who was that girl in the video?” She studied him, as she’d been doing a lot lately. “Is she the reason you jump every time your phone vibrates?”

  Nick thought about lying, saying she was just someone he’d worked with while he was there, but there was no chance he’d get away with that. His mother had a double-strength bullshit detector—she was a mom and a teacher. He found that he wanted to tell her about the woman he’d fallen for so hard.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s Eve McGrath.”

  “Aah. Eve.” She nodded. “She’s pretty.”

  And smart, and funny, and has an office supply fetish.

  “You hit it off with her?”

  To say the least. “We, uh, we got to be pretty good friends while I was there.”

  Mom snorted. “So you like her a lot, huh?”

  “God, Mom. Yeah, I like her. A lot. But I’m not what she needs, so it seemed best to get out of there before anybody got hurt.”

  “Why do you think anyone would get hurt?”

  “Because. It’s me. It’s us. The Baker men. We’re fuckups. You can’t rely on us.”

  “I can rely on you.”

  “Are you kidding?” Nick stepped back and waved. “I did this to you. If I’d been reliable, you wouldn’t have to drag that damned cane everywhere you go!”

  His mother jerked as though she’d been hit. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Your stroke. If I’d been here to help you instead of bellied up to a bar somewhere, you wouldn’t have—”

  “You hush!” Mom pointed at him. “Have you been carrying that around with you all these years?”

  He breathed deeply, the vise around his vocal cords making speech difficult. “It’s my fault.”

  “When did you finish that residency in neurosurgery? I must have missed that, because that’s the only way you might have been able to get that clot out of my brain before it screwed up my balance.”

  “That’s dumb—”

  “Exactly. My stroke wasn’t your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t been out drinking, acting like my dad—”

  “And here I thought you sobered up because you had a moment of clarity about how short life is.”

  “I did.”

  “Remember when you got out of rehab, and you came and told me you were sorry for all the wrongs you’d done?”

  “Oh yeah.” That had been scary. For no reason. He’d sucked up his courage and thrown himself on her mercy, and she’d said, “Okay, so stay sober, and maybe someday I’ll need you to do something for me.”

  “Well, now I need to take you up on that offer. Let this go. Get over it. Move on. Have a life. I moved away from your dad so I could live my own life and not be dragged down by his disease. Don’t make this into a vicious cycle.”

  He took a breath. He’d offered his amends to her as part of his recovery, and she’d accepted, but, he realized, he’d never really let her get better—at least not in his own heart, because he still carried the guilt, and it held him captive.

  Maybe it was time to grow the fuck up. Time to recognize that not making promises might be as harmful as making them and not following through.

  “I think I’m in love with her, Mom,” he said. And the sun didn’t suddenly go out, nor did the clouds part and angels trumpet. Instead, he felt what he’d been feeling ever since he’d met Eve. Terrified and exhilarated.

  “How does she feel about you?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think she kind of digs me, too.”

  “Maybe you should go find out.”

  “But, I’m an alcoholic. Her dad was alcoholic, too, and he was a total fuckup, and she’s all up in Al-Anon stuff…”

  She nodded. “You’re sober.”

  “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that could go pear-shaped any time. And she lives at a distillery.”

  “She’d probably move if she was serious about you.”

  He couldn’t ask her to do that. Could he? “And what if the worst happens,
and I fall?”

  “Then you’ll deal with it. You’ll trust her to take care of herself.”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Isn’t there something in that program of yours about fear?”

  “Yeah, but that’s—that’s fear for myself. This is bigger than that. It’s fear for her.”

  “Hmph. Sounds to me like you might want to give her program a try, too.”

  It was too late. Her whole life was about Blue Mountain, and he’d done the worst thing possible—left her hanging so that her mother was embarrassed. He did need to make amends, though. Damned Alcoholics Anonymous and their good ideas.

  “I guess I’d better get back to Kentucky. Even if she’s done with me, I have to fix this.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let me get the rest of these boxes in here for you—”

  She waved him off. “Go. Put them out of your truck on the walkway out there. I’ll get Mr. Light to carry them in.”

  Nick looked at his mom, his competent, happy mom, and nodded. “Okay. I guess I’d better make a few phone calls.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Eve trudged up the stairs to her apartment but hesitated when she saw the front door was cracked open.

  “It’s about time you got home.” She was relieved to see her sister with her feet up on her coffee table.

  “Is Mom okay? Did you get her to eat?” Eve asked.

  “She had a couple bites of cheese. She’s not going to starve for a few more days.”

  “Oh, gee. That makes me feel better.”

  “That’s why I’m here!” Allie pretended to chirp. “To make everyone feel better.”

  No, Allie’s function was usually to be the brave, honest sister. The one who mentioned the emperor might want to put something on before leaving the house. But since all hell was breaking loose, she’d had to take one of Eve’s jobs—Mom-managing—while Eve took on rearranging the Open Barrel. There was no way to get the tasting center bar fixed in time for the party.

  “Have you figured out what he did, exactly?”

  Eve sighed. She’d spent way too long showing pictures and explaining the issue to the guys at Home Depot that afternoon. And the guys at Ace Hardware. Aaaand the lady at Lowe’s.

  “The consensus is that he should have used some sort of fancy wax that maintains the color of the aged wood. Instead, he put some sort of varnish or lacquer on it, and that’s why it turned black. Then he tried some sort of gel stain remover, and it coagulated, and then he tried some sort of horrible solvent, which is why it smells so bad in there…basically, we’re screwed, until we can get someone to come in here and start over.”

  “Oh, Eve. I’m so sorry,” Allie said.

  “I’m sorry, too.” She’d been so close. So close to getting it done right, and on time. But one fricking old alcoholic had blown it all. She refused to think about the young alcoholic who’d quit on her.

  Obviously sensing Eve’s dismay, Allie steered the subject slightly. “Did you have any luck with tent companies?”

  “I’ve got a line on a possibility in Dayton, Ohio. If they’re available, it’s gonna cost an arm and a leg to have it brought down, but it might be our only option. They’re supposed to call me back.”

  “Now? It’s after business hours on Friday.”

  “I know. But I’m not too proud to beg.”

  “Who knew when all the colleges in the state started in the same week, there would be a run on tents for welcoming parties?”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be sunny, so we could probably get away without a tent, except it’s going to be like ninety-eleven tomorrow, and if we don’t have shade, we’ll have a lawn full of sunburned drunks.”

  “Mom thinks it’s not going to matter, that no one is going to come anyway.”

  Eve’s cup was falling well below half full, but she wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t quit. “That’s silly. It’s a fundraiser for worthy causes. With liquor and food. What’s not to love?”

  “An organizer who kicks drunks, for one thing.”

  “Oh God, don’t remind me.” Eve put her head in her hand. Seeing it in person had been horrible, but knowing it was being repeated all over the world—what the hell? “Isn’t there something else stupid going on in the world right now?”

  “There will be by tomorrow afternoon, I’m sure.”

  “By then, it will be all over but the shouting.”

  “Hey, look at it this way,” Allie said, giving Eve a hug. “I bet more people will come just to say they’ve been to a party with the Bourbon meltdown lady.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.”

  Lorena had gone into a full freak out, as only she could do it. Not with wailing and gnashing of teeth. No, after her original, unprecedented outburst—which was being broadcast over the internet at a rate of a thousand views per minute—she became nearly catatonic.

  “Here,” Allie said, shoving a plastic container at her. “I brought you some brown dog balls.”

  Eve opened the top and took one of her sister’s nearly famous coffee and white whiskey flavored chocolate truffles. She bit into it, but the kick just wasn’t there to take the edge off of her stress this time. “You didn’t bring the bottle with you, did you?”

  “Um, no…”

  “It wouldn’t help anyway.”

  “No. But Eve…you can’t fix everything all the time. No one expects you to be Super Woman. Why don’t you go to bed? Worst thing, tomorrow we’ll go to Walmart and buy every lawn chair and umbrella in the place.”

  Eve was saved from considering that option by a knock at the door, followed by the appearance of a bristly haired head.

  “Hey. You got my baby mama here?” Justin opened the door the rest of the way and entered, followed by Brandon. Both men were in Blue Mountain shirts and looked…fierce.

  “What have you guys been doing?” Eve asked.

  The Morgan brothers exchanged a glance.

  “What?” Her stomach couldn’t get any more upset than it already was.

  Brandon spoke. “It’s nothing, really. We’ve had a few visitors.”

  “What kind of visitors?”

  “Kids, mostly. Sneaking to the tasting center and trying to reenact the scene of the crime—er, you know what I mean.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “Apparently.” Justin shrugged. “I think we got ’em discouraged, though. Caleb’s got the main entrance blocked off, and no one even knows about the back way in, so we should be okay tonight. Besides, we left the girls in charge.”

  “Oh no. You didn’t.”

  “Hey,” Brandon protested. “Mabel and Maude are badass!”

  The two bloodhounds were bad, that was true. They were likely to slobber anyone to death who came within ten feet of them.

  The rumble of a diesel engine sounded outside, and a set of headlights swept over Eve’s front window, seeming to hesitate, before the truck sped up and drove away. Toward the tasting center.

  “Well, shit. I guess we’re not done,” Justin said. “Babe, why don’t you go on home, and I’ll be over after we deal with this?”

  “Maybe I should stay here with Eve,” Allie said, eyeing her.

  “No, you go on. You and junior there need to get some good sleep.”

  Besides she didn’t want her sister to hear her cry herself to sleep. If she managed to sleep at all.

  “So I’m just going to roll up here, dump you out, and disappear into the night?” Mason asked as he pulled around to the back of the tasting center.

  “After you help me unload all this shit,” Nick said, indicating the stack of lumber and hardware he had in the back of the truck.

  Nick had no idea if he was going to be able to get replacement wood installed for Eve’s big party, but he was willing to die trying. He sent a quick prayer to the gods of barn wood that he had enough left over to replace what needed it.

  Fortunately, it only took them five minutes to unload all of the sup
plies. Unfortunately, he was bent over in the shadows hoisting up his tool belt, and Mason’s taillights had just about disappeared around the corner when he was jerked upright by a hand twisted into his collar. Silhouetted by the full moon, all he could see were two hulking figures with baseball bats.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Justin?”

  “Who the fuck wants to—” Nick was jerked around and a flashlight shone in his eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

  He was released, and the bats were lowered, but the voice didn’t get any friendlier. Adrenaline pushing him to fight now, run and ask questions later, he forced himself to hold up his hands in surrender. “Yeah. It’s me.”

  “Don’t kill him,” Brandon said. “He’d leave a stain, and there would be all that paperwork to fill out.”

  “Not if no one found the body,” Justin snarled. “I’ll ask again. What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I came to finish what I started.”

  “Kind of shutting the barn door after the horse is gone, aren’t you?” Brandon asked.

  Taking a deep breath, Nick nodded. Now was not the time to be an asshole. Or at least, not more of an ass than the brothers Morgan already believed him to be.

  “I fucked up.”

  “Right…” Justin again. “What’s your point?”

  Grant me the serenity to accept that some people aren’t very patient when it comes to protecting their loved ones. “I had no idea my dad was going to go off the rails like that. Not so soon.”

  “But you expected him to fall apart?” Brandon asked.

  “He always used to get a good two months between major binges.”

  “That’s fuckup number one.” Justin held up a finger. “So you bailed on our girl before the job was done. What was the rush?”

  “I could tell you that I promised my mother I’d be home in time to fix up her classroom before the school year started, but—”

  “What, she can’t hang her own alphabet pictures?” Justin sneered.

  “Not very easily, no. She had a stroke a few years ago and has a hard time with balance.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, man.”