SECRET BLEND
Book 1
The Bourbon Springs Series
A Land of Bourbon and Bluegrass Book
By Jennifer Bramseth
© 2014, 2015 Jennifer Bramseth
All rights reserved
For the Commonwealth of Kentucky on its 223rd birthday
Cover Design by Kim Killion
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my family; to Kat Sheridan for her support; to my editor, Erin; to Kim and Jen at the Killion Group; to the support I found at Romance Divas; to Mary Jo T. for catching my manuscript goofs; and to the wonderful tour guides I’ve met at member distilleries of the Kentucky Bourbon Trail ™ who answered all my questions with a smile. Thank you all.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
“Rachel, you’ve got a call.”
“I’m on the way to court. Can’t it wait?”
Sherry, Rachel’s secretary, beamed. “I think you’ll wanna take this one.”
Riiiight, thought Rachel.
It was probably some client calling from the jail or a client’s relative or—who knew?
As a public defender, Rachel Richards dealt with many angry, upset, and even verifiably crazy people. As in sent to a psychiatric facility and a small army of qualified healthcare professionals decides: this person is not in his right mind.
Rachel readjusted the stack of files in her arms and tried to throw her long brunette hair over her shoulder. She needed to go, now. Judge McDowell didn’t like to be kept waiting, and Rachel knew the judge wouldn’t appreciate any delay on that special day, his last on the bench after a twenty-five-year career.
“Look, Sherry, unless it’s a judge calling, just take a message. I’ll be back in—”
“It’s the governor’s office!” Sherry whispered.
Rachel dropped the files, and they fell to the floor in an unholy paper avalanche. The two women squealed like little kids given a room full of candy, caffeinated drinks, and toys.
Rachel Richards’ dream had just come true.
She was going to be a judge!
Rachel abandoned the scattered files, ran back to her office, and took the call. She could barely contain her glee as she spoke with the governor and accepted the appointment, bouncing on her heels throughout the short conversation. After hanging up, she rushed back to the front of the office to retrieve the files from the floor before dashing across the street to the Craig County Courthouse, hoping she wasn’t late for motion hour, and thrilled beyond measure to share the good news.
After a hasty call in the courthouse hallway to tell her parents about the wonderful development, Rachel burst into the third floor courtroom, never been happier to be there. She clutched the files to her chest and looked up at the bench, ecstatic to realize that in just a few short days, she’d be the one sitting up there and wearing the long black robe.
Craig Circuit Judge Rachel Richards. That had a really nice ring to it.
Rachel’s supervising attorney, Mira Miller, sat at defense counsel table reviewing the docket. Across the courtroom, Rachel spied Assistant Craig County Commonwealth Attorney Brady Craft sitting in his usual spot at the prosecutor’s table, looking at a file and disregarding the world around him.
Time to share the news.
Upon depositing the files on the table, Rachel bent over and whispered the good news in Mira’s ear.
Mira turned and faced her protégé, mouth open wide in happy surprise. “Really? You’re not joking?”
“I wouldn’t kid about this. Just got the call. That’s why I was almost late.”
Mira let out a happy little cry, stood, and the two women embraced.
Over Mira’s shoulder, Rachel saw Brady staring at her with those piercing blue eyes, confused and frowning.
Mira released Rachel and held her at arm’s length. “Do you know how long it has been since a public defender got a judicial appointment as a circuit judge? I mean, a few have been appointed to the lower bench but—circuit court? I can’t remember—hell, maybe it’s never happened in this area!”
“Until now!” Rachel cried, hugging Mira once more.
She glanced over Mira’s shoulder and saw Brady’s face again. His typical bemused smirk—the one she’d never been able to wipe off that sexy, arrogant face—was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a face painted with complete and utter shock.
Rachel didn’t think the situation could possibly get any better.
But it did.
“All rise,” the bailiff commanded.
Judge McDowell, a tall man with a black hair and a handlebar moustache to match, burst into the courtroom from a door to the right of the bench. He climbed the two short steps, stood motionless for a second, and started to sit. Everyone else in the courtroom was about to follow suit when the judge spied Rachel and popped back up, as did all others in the courtroom. They all looked like they were doing a goofy version of the wave.
Judge McDowell pointed at her. “There you are! I just heard! Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” Rachel said.
“In case anyone doesn’t know,” Judge McDowell began, “today the governor appointed Ms. Richards to be my successor!”
Mira, standing to Rachel’s right, tears in her eyes, started clapping. Soon, everyone in the courtroom seemed to be clapping, from the judge to the jailers to the clerks to the sheriff’s deputies, and even several criminal defendants. Rachel looked over at Brady; he was the only one who didn’t join in the applause. Instead, he was standing, reading the docket, and ignoring her.
Sore loser!
“Of course I’m taking you with me,” Rachel told Sherry later than evening.
“Good! I couldn’t stand another moment at the public defender’s office,” Sherry sighed as she picked some loose hair from the front of Rachel’s black dress.
“And I would be lost without you. You’re indispensable.”
They were at Judge McDowell’s retirement reception that same evening at The Cooperage, the fancy, sprawling restaurant-resort north of Bourbon Springs along Old Crow Creek a few miles south of Old Garnet Distillery. The entire cavernous dining room had been turned into one big reception area for the event and was decorated for Christmas, complete with tree, lights, trimmings, everything. Rachel felt like she’d gotten her gift several days early. Best Christmas ever!
Every attorney in little old Bourbon Springs was there, along with court staff, jailers, sheriff’s deputies, cops, other attorneys from the public defender’s office, and Hannah Davenport (her best friend and a partial owner of Old Garnet Distillery since her father’s death a few years earlier).
And of course Brady was there. She’d spotted him sulking in a corner with two local attorneys, Bruce Colyard and Jon Buckler, along with Kyle Sammons, the Craig County Sheriff. The men were chatting and shooting looks in Rachel’s direction, although Rachel had noticed Kyle’s eyes roving around the room, as though he were looking for someone in particular and not merely people-watching.
Rachel and Sherry stood in the long reception line, waiting to give Judge McDowell their regards. When he’d announced his retirement several months ago, Rachel had been sad at the prospect of losing such a nice, even-tempered judge, but she had been more upset at the idea that the new judge could come in the form of Brady Craft. Everyone—and especially the man himself—had expected him to get the appointment to the circuit judgeship.
When the nomination list had been released, Brady’s name was at the top of the three, and Rachel’s name was last. Everyone had expected the governor to choose Brady, a prosecutor for nearly ten years who had several signature convictions under his belt. Rachel hadn�
��t thought her five years of experience as a public defender and her three years working for a state agency before that would be enough to make the governor give her the appointment.
It was great to be wrong!
Rachel had dreaded the reality she envisioned with the anticipated Judge Craft. Because if their history over the past five years was any indicator as to future collegiality, she figured she had a long, frustrating career ahead of her trying to deal with his dour temperament.
Brady had won most of the cases he tried against her; that wasn’t any big surprise since most criminal cases that went to trial ended in a conviction. So that hadn’t really bugged her.
It had been Brady’s attitude.
So superior.
Rachel figured he’d looked down on her because she was a public defender and he was a prosecutor. She’d lost track of all the snarky comments he’d made to her over the years, always well out of the judge’s hearing. When she’d managed to get two measly acquittals during the past five years (five years!) he hadn’t been a gracious loser and had left the courtroom without so much as a goodbye to her. He was Mister Career-Prosecutor-on-His-Way-to-Being-a-Judge.
Or so he’d thought.
Now the tables had been turned. She’d be the one looking down on him. From the bench.
Being nice to him after she’d taken the job as a public defender hadn’t gotten her anywhere with the man. He had shrugged off her politeness even though they had attended high school together and clerked for the same state Supreme Court justice after they graduated from law school.
That’s why his coldness had been so devastating to Rachel when she returned to Bourbon Springs. She’d known Brady Craft over half her life and for him to treat her so poorly had been a major disappointment, even heartbreaking. Yet Rachel had kept her feelings to herself and practiced against the man for the past several years, all the while wondering what had happened to the nice guy she used to know. She eventually decided she’d never get an answer to that question.
After Rachel and Sherry gave their best to Judge McDowell, Sherry begged off, saying she wanted to go home. “Headache after being around all these people,” Sherry claimed as she put on her coat. “Besides, I see them enough during the daytime, and I’m too old for all this,” she lamented.
Rachel laughed. Sherry Liggett was petite, in her fifties, but looked younger than her years with her tidy little blonde bob. To hear Sherry call herself old sounded completely ridiculous to Rachel’s ears.
As Rachel watched Sherry leave, she heard a comfortingly familiar voice from behind.
“Hello, Judge Richards.”
Rachel spun around to find Hannah Davenport standing behind her. Sporting a bright red dress with a low neck and high hem, Hannah gave every indication she was trying to get on Santa’s naughty list.
“Shush!” Rachel cautioned, grabbing Hannah’s arms. “I’m not there yet!”
“But look at you!” Hannah declared, holding Rachel’s arms and looking her up and down. “Already wearing black—and looking sexy, too!” The friends hugged and laughed. “So what’s it feel like?”
“Like I just won the lottery,” Rachel gushed. “Still pretty shocked.”
“Well, get over that feeling. Act like you knew it all along. Own it,” Hannah encouraged her. “What I wouldn’t give to be in your shoes, girl. Being counsel for the bank has become so dull.” Tucking an errant strand of her long blonde hair behind an ear, Hannah made a few more complaints about her job.
As she chatted with Hannah, Rachel scanned the room. She had it on her mind she needed to say something to Brady, knowing she should be professional even if he wouldn’t meet her halfway. She spotted him in the same corner in which he’d been lurking all during the reception, except that he was alone.
Now or never.
After more hugs and good wishes, she said goodbye to Hannah and strode over to Brady, watching him as he watched her cross the room.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Brady acknowledged as Rachel arrived in his midst. He offered her his hand, and she shook it.
Rachel couldn’t remember the last time she’d shaken his hand or touched him at all. He had a very strong grip, but his hands were remarkably soft. She considered him; even with that five o’clock shadow he still looked pretty damn good that late in the day, and his tousled dark hair added to his allure. He had a latter-day Greek-god quality about him that Rachel had always found a bit too attractive, just a shade too distracting and unnerving.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling herself blush. “I was surprised.”
He nodded, and she figured he had to be thinking you weren’t the only one, sister.
“Look,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table, “I’ll tell you straight out, but this shouldn’t come as an unexpected revelation.”
“Tell me what?”
“Well, that I plan to run for the seat myself.” Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, come on, Rachel,” he said in a mocking tone. “You can’t be that shocked.”
The pure exhilaration of the day had been destroyed by his pronouncement. She should’ve realized he would run for the bench against her and felt stupid for her naiveté. Taking a deep breath, she stiffened, and stood up straighter.
“Well, that’s good to know,” she said in a flat tone. “Thank you for telling me yourself.”
She nodded to him, turned on her heel, and left. As she walked away, she thought she actually heard the jerk laugh at her.
But then she felt his hand gently pulling on her arm.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, sounding almost genuine. It managed to make her stop and turn around to face him. “I just thought you’d already figured it out or knew. It wasn’t any secret that I was interested in the opening. And I think I’m the right one for it.”
The last part he didn’t have to add, and could’ve stopped with his simple statement about wanting to be a judge.
“Again, thanks for letting me know,” Rachel said, and again tried to leave.
“Hey, I have offended you,” he said and touched her arm. This time he pulled her back to him by taking her hand. He didn’t let go, and she was still surprised by the softness of those hands.
“What if you have?” she asked, slowly dropping her hand from his and watching as their hands fell apart.
“I don’t get it. What did I say?”
Even though his tone was more repentant than demanding, she was tired of their exchange. “Nothing, Brady,” she said with a sigh. “Good night.”
“No, tell me,” he insisted.
“It was just a buzzkill the way you put it, OK?” she said. “I’ve been pretty damned happy all day until right now.”
And there was that damn smirk. It walked such a fine line between sexy and outright sickening. But Rachel swallowed as she realized with a start that Brady definitely looked a hell of a lot more sexy in that moment than sickening.
“Sorry to burst your bubble,” he said, snapping her back to reality.
She walked away, determined to burst his bubble—and kick his ass—by beating him at the ballot box. Rachel Richards was determined not to let that man take something from her she had wanted for so long—her judgeship.
Chapter 2
Nineteen years ago…
Rachel glanced at the large round clock on the cafeteria wall just beside the doors. Hannah was late for lunch again.
It had been like this for the past two months, since Hannah had started dating Brady Craft—captain of the basketball team, honors student, and probably on his way to being his class valedictorian. Hannah and Brady usually came waltzing into the cafeteria together every day, several minutes after Rachel’s arrival.
After Hannah had broken up with Kyle, captain of the football team, she’d quickly moved on to Brady. Kyle had never wanted to sit with Hannah during lunch; he preferred to sit with his football buddies and other assorted jocks. Not so with Brady. Not only did he usually accompany Han
nah to lunch, he also sat and ate lunch with her. And Rachel.
Hannah and Brady didn’t seem to mind Rachel’s presence, and Rachel liked being around Brady; he was funny, polite, and cute.
And also her best friend’s boyfriend, Rachel reminded herself as she began to eat her lunch alone.
Halfway through polishing off her turkey sandwich and still expecting to see Hannah appear at any moment, Rachel spotted Brady entering the cafeteria. Alone.
And he walked straight to Rachel’s table.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“Sure,” Rachel said, looking beyond him to see if she had missed Hannah.
“Oh, Hannah went home ill,” Brady informed her. “Stomach bug.”
Rachel winced and her brow wrinkled in confusion. Why was Brady sitting with her if Hannah wasn’t around?
Brady took no notice of Rachel’s puzzlement. He sat, shrugged out of his letter jacket, and opened his brown paper lunch bag.
She glanced around, feeling self-conscious and strangely guilty, wondering whether Hannah wasn’t somewhere lurking and watching, waiting to jump out and accuse them of something nefarious although they were only sharing a meal in public. Even though no one noticed them and no Hannah appeared from the crowd, Rachel still felt uncomfortable and briefly thought she should go find CiCi and sit with her for the remainder of the lunch period. But before she could act on this notion, Brady struck up a conversation about college and beyond. Rachel learned they shared an ambition; they both wanted to be lawyers.
“Strange how the three of us have that same plan,” Rachel said.
“Three of us?” Brady asked.
“Yes, I’m including Hannah in that number, of course.”
“Oh, I didn't know that." He began to gather the trash left over from lunch.
Rachel’s eyes widened. “She hasn’t mentioned that to you?”
“Nope,” Brady said, smiling.
It was murder sitting alone with a really cute and nice guy who was not her boyfriend. That dark hair, those blue eyes, that smile...
Secret Blend (Bourbon Springs Book 1) Page 1