Secret Blend (Bourbon Springs Book 1)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  She sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying the mélange of sensations: the warm water, the soft bubbles, the light floral aroma of the soapiness, and the slight sense of weightlessness as she floated in the water. Rachel moved toward Brady through the water, and he captured her about the waist while she straddled him.

  “This is awfully familiar,” he said as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. It had only been a handful of days since they had been intimate, but this moment felt like a very long-awaited reunion since she had doubted it would ever take place.

  Brady closed his eyes as Rachel slid her palms over his shoulders and chest. She did the same to his face, which was exceptionally rough due to his failure to shave.

  “You just passed inspection,” she declared, her fingers entwined in his dark wet hair.

  He opened his eyes and slid his palms under her thighs. “Good to go?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she assured him and bent to kiss him.

  She put her hands on the back of his head and brought his lips to hers. Brady seemed surprised by her forcefulness but welcomed it, and their tongues combined and battled until they eventually had to pull apart for air.

  She felt his hardness against her, but it was a different sensation than when they’d been on the bench in the woods. His erection swayed in the water and softly brushed across the lower part of her tummy, a sweet promise that he would soon be inside her.

  Brady moved his hands to her breasts where his fingers teased her nipples, and at once her head fell back like deadweight. Rachel quickly reached for his shoulders so she wouldn’t fall backwards into the water while he continued his delightfully tortuous attentions to her breasts.

  His lips soon replaced his fingers on her breasts and Rachel moaned in appreciation as she felt his tongue rake across her skin. His tongue circled and flicked the very tip of her nipples as he alternated his attention between her breasts. Slipping one hand back under her thigh, Brady moved the tips of his fingers until they brushed her tender folds. Rachel squirmed in pleasure and he further explored her by dragging one finger up and down her softness. Brady found her clit, massaged the swollen point with his thumb, and slipped two fingers inside her.

  Rachel ground against him in delight and her whimpers were too much for Brady to wait any longer. He slipped his hands under her thighs once more, lifted her and slid her down on his full length.

  Brady moaned loudly upon their joining, and Rachel grinned and clenched against him, knowing how that simple muscle contraction drove him wild. Her erotic little trick worked, and Brady immediately started to move inside her. His need and urgency was equal to hers, and she matched his movements thrust-for-thrust. She continued to grind against him until she was soon close to what she sensed was going to be an intense climax. When Brady pressed his thumb hard against her clit, it was all she needed. She bit her lip not to scream—she still had the presence of mind to remember they were in a hotel—and she completely came undone as she spasmed repeatedly and hard around Brady’s length. He gripped her hips and thrust hard twice until he tensed and came hard inside her.

  Rachel became limp and draped herself over him. They remained connected and entangled in the tub for a few minutes, saying nothing and regaining their breath. Brady finally moved his head and kissed Rachel’s cheek and whispered in her ear.

  “How does it keep getting better?” he asked reverently.

  Mimicking his action, Rachel kissed Brady’s cheek and brought her lips to his ear. “Because we’re in love,” she whispered, “and we’re not going to let this end.”

  Chapter 27

  They decided to leave the next day, and it was a lonely drive back to Bourbon Springs. Since they had arrived in separate vehicles, Rachel and Brady had to drive home separately, without the companionship of the other. They kept in each other in sight on the roads as they traveled and stopped at agreed-upon points for gas and lunch. But their individual drives were solitary, and Rachel longed for Brady’s presence. Although they had done a lot of talking at the hotel before they left, discussing how they would handle the return home and the inevitable questions and stares, the same fears and unresolved concerns haunted her. Without anyone to share that mental and emotional burden during the journey, Rachel’s general unease increased with every mile as she drew closer to home.

  Brady had revealed that Hannah continued her revenge campaign. He had seen her at Over a Barrel one day during lunch talking to people, and Sheriff Sammons had reported that Hannah naturally had told everyone at the bank what had happened.

  “That woman’s telling anyone who’ll listen—and that’s pretty much everyone within earshot—how she’s been betrayed,” the sheriff had said to Brady with a big eye roll. “She’s cast herself as the victim in her own crazy little drama.”

  Rachel knew that many in the town would readily accept Hannah in such a role. She was a Davenport, and the name carried weight.

  Once they hit the county line, Rachel’s anxiety went into overdrive when she started seeing blue and red yard signs that read Davenport for Judge. It was months before the election, but Hannah’s supporters were multiplying and ready to reveal their support for her. With every sign she passed, her heart hurt knowing that Brady was seeing the same signs as he drove toward Bourbon Springs.

  The following day, Friday, Rachel and Brady returned to work. After Rachel and Sherry had an emotional reunion during which Sherry repeatedly apologized for revealing Rachel’s location, Rachel assured her secretary that she’d done the right thing and gave Brady a hug around the waist, conveying the message that all was well. There was no court that day for either of them, so they remained holed up in chambers catching up on paperwork and research.

  “Are you sure about this?” Rachel asked as they left the courthouse that Friday evening. “It could get really awkward.”

  “And that’s exactly why we have to do it,” said Brady. “Get it over with. Endure the embarrassment and move on. All of this is only temporary and the quicker we meet it, the faster the gossip might die. And maybe that will mean Hannah will finally shut up.”

  “Like that’s ever going to happen,” Rachel cracked.

  Brady had insisted that they go out for dinner together on Friday night, making good on his pledge to go out in public with the woman he loved. He wanted to go to the place where they would be seen by as many people as possible.

  They had reservations at The Cooperage for dinner at eight.

  “What are you going to wear?” he asked.

  “That’s my little secret,” Rachel told him. “I intend to surprise you. But I’ll let you know one thing.”

  “And that is?” he asked as he held the back door of the courthouse open and Rachel passed through and onto the concrete path leading to the parking area.

  “I’ll be wearing those panties you like.”

  With a laugh and a leer, Brady took her hand and was about to reply when Rachel heard their names being called. Turning, she saw CiCi scurrying toward them out the back door.

  “Hey!” she called and asked them to wait up. Her curly brown hair bounced as she trotted to catch up with them, and when she did so she was a little short of breath. She put her hand on Rachel’s forearm. “I heard you two were back today, but I didn’t see you at all.”

  “We stayed in chambers,” Rachel said.

  “And I can understand why,” CiCi said sympathetically. “I just wanted to ask—well, I don’t want to pry—but is everything OK?” she asked, looking from Rachel and then to Brady.

  “We’re fine,” was Brady’s answer for them both, putting his arm around Rachel’s shoulders to make the message loud and clear.

  CiCi beamed. “I’m so glad. We all thought—”

  “We?” interjected Rachel.

  CiCi nodded, causing her curls to bounce again. “Yes—the deputy clerks. After that scene on Monday, all of us were worried about the two of you.”

  “You were?” Rachel asked, truly surprised.


  “Of course,” CiCi said, seemingly flustered by Rachel’s disbelief. “We were—and still are—furious over how Hannah acted. Every last clerk—and I include myself in that mix—we hope never to lay eyes on her again. So that tells you what we think of her as a candidate,” CiCi huffed.

  “What’s the word around the rest of the courthouse?” Brady asked.

  “The same story,” CiCi confirmed, and waved her hand. “The sheriff, his deputies, the probation officers—they were all appalled when they heard what had happened.”

  “Really?” Rachel asked.

  CiCi tilted her head at Rachel’s expression of doubt. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

  “I thought that the courthouse crowd might have—I don’t know—resented us. That they wouldn’t like that we’d not gone public,” Rachel said.

  “Not at all. That was your business,” CiCi assured her. “Don’t you get it? We love you—the both of you,” she said, and grabbed them by the arms. Rachel noticed that CiCi gave Brady’s arm a little extra squeeze, and realized that he’d succeeded in winning her over, along with her staff. “We know what you’re really like. You show us every day. A lot of us are tickled to death that you two got together, and we don’t take a shine to someone who deliberately tries to mess with something like you have.”

  “Thanks, CiCi,” Brady said. Rachel couldn’t respond; she was too choked up.

  “Oh, you two!” CiCi exclaimed and hugged them both quickly. “Everything will work out, I just know it.” She crossed two fingers of her right hand and held them up. “I shouldn’t say anything about the election since I’m an elected official myself, but here’s hoping that Hannah Davenport won’t be robe shopping any time soon, unless it’s for the kind she wears around the house.”

  Brady drove to Rachel’s house that evening to pick her up for their date. A real, going-out-and-being-seen date. Their first one. Brady had told her that he was most anxious to see what she was going to wear.

  And she was not about to disappoint him.

  Rachel met him at her front door in the perfect little black dress, with long sleeves and a low neckline, which gave a sweet little hint of her cleavage. The knee-length skirt was chiffon and floated about her, giving her a fairy-like quality. Her hair was up in a loose bun, around her neck was a short strand of pearls, and she was wearing a pair of black pumps with the highest heels she had dared to wear in months.

  “What a nice surprise,” he said, looking her up and down.

  Rachel snatched her black clutch and an emerald green pashmina from the hall table. “I hope it’s not—well—too showy,” she said as she wrapped the pashmina around her shoulders and locked the front door.

  “You look wonderful,” he assured her, and gave her a quick kiss on the temple. “If someone doesn’t care for what you’re wearing, that’s their problem.”

  The SUV was valet parked, and Rachel walked into The Cooperage on Brady’s arm. The restaurant was full, as usual for a Friday evening, and she was glad that they had reservations so they wouldn’t have to wait.

  The maître d’ led them past the bourbon bar on the left, through the center of the restaurant, and toward the large windows which overlooked Old Crow Creek. Rachel gazed straight ahead and saw that their destination was the table perfectly in the middle of the bank of windows. It was the best seat in the house and the most visible to other diners—the very same table Hannah and Rachel had shared when Hannah revealed her firm intent to run for judge.

  The maître d’ pulled out a seat for Rachel, handed a wine list to Brady, and assured them that a server would be with them very soon.

  “You asked for this table, didn’t you?” Rachel asked him.

  “Of course I did,” he said. “If we’re going to put ourselves on display, let’s go all the way.”

  As Brady glanced at the wine list, Rachel dared to cast her eyes around the room. She hadn’t done so when they entered the restaurant, but she intuited that most of the patrons had been looking at them.

  And many of them still were, even after they’d been seated.

  She caught the eye of a few attorneys she knew and even saw the mayor giving her a blank stare. When she smiled back at the gawkers, most of them quickly turned their heads and did not return her grin.

  Brady declined anything alcoholic, and settled for some juice, but Rachel ordered a glass of white wine. When she asked him why he wasn’t getting Garnet neat (which she had learned was his favorite drink), he reminded her that the last thing he needed was for someone to spot him drinking.

  “Justice Nolan mentioned to me last week that it wasn’t wise to be seen drinking during a campaign,” he explained. “The sheriff gave me the same advice recently as well.”

  They dined in peace. No one came to their table to pester them, nor did anyone come by to say hello, which disappointed Rachel. Despite this, she was nonetheless happy. They’d done it. They’d gone out together. It gave Rachel a sense of calm knowing that they were no longer hiding, and that she could be with Brady when she wanted.

  The other patrons slowly began to leave, and soon the dining room was nearly empty. After polishing off another glass of wine, Rachel was feeling exceptionally relaxed and contented. When she moved in her chair and felt the small tug of her underwear as it shifted on her body, she smiled and blushed, recalling the various methods by which Brady had once relieved her of those undies, and she began to look forward to how he might accomplish the same task that evening.

  Brady paid, and they walked out together as they had arrived: standing tall and arm-in-arm. When they reached the bar area, Rachel paused a moment to wrap her pashmina around her and get a tissue from her purse. She had only just pulled the tissue from the clutch when she heard Brady utter a warning.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, and pointed toward the darkened interior of the bourbon bar.

  Hannah was sitting alone at a table, and was giving Rachel a cold, hard stare.

  Thinking that this could be a chance to make amends or at least give it a start, Rachel took a few steps forward, but Hannah turned her head away. Rachel stopped, her shoulders fell, and she felt the tears starting to form in her eyes. Brady put a hand on Rachel’s shoulder to forestall any further advance, but Rachel shrugged him off and marched into the bar. She heard him behind her as he took a long breath and followed.

  The bourbon bar was a room in which almost ever surface was wood. The walls were lined with rough, used barrel staves with the char removed but still evident with the blush of darkness; the floor was hardwood, polished to a high sheen, and the bar itself was a massive block of dark, weathered wood. On the walls were barrel heads of various bourbon brands, Old Garnet having a wall all to itself toward the entrance. The seats and booths were covered in leather and there was minimal lighting. It was quiet, a place for serious drinking and serious conversation.

  Trembling and fighting nerves, Rachel stopped in front of Hannah’s table. While she was mad at Hannah and hated what had happened, she still couldn’t hate her friend. She wasn’t going to give up a life-long friendship without reaching out and hoping for some level of reconciliation, even though she knew that they might never enjoy their previous level of closeness and trust.

  Hannah looked up at them both. “What do you want?” she demanded, and sipped her drink, which appeared to be bourbon on the rocks. No doubt she was drinking Garnet.

  “Can we sit?” Rachel asked.

  “Suit yourselves,” Hannah said, gesturing to the seats in front of her. Rachel and Brady both sat.

  “Hannah,” began Rachel in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was my idea.”

  “But I went along with it,” Brady added hastily, giving Rachel a supportive nod.

  Hannah wasn’t looking at them, but instead stared off to the side vacantly. She took another sip of her drink, pursed her lips, and returned her drink to its spot on top of a small white cocktail napkin.

  “Look, I just asked for your forgi
veness. If you can’t give me that, I’ll have to live with it,” Rachel snapped, angered by Hannah’s coldness in the face of her earnestness. “But let me tell you one thing before we go so we can set the record straight: I am in love with Brady Craft. We are not having a fling, it is not a physical thing, and we are not friends with benefits. For me,” she said, her voice wavering, “this is the real deal.”

  Brady took Rachel’s hand and squeezed it. “And I feel the same way, Hannah. I love Rachel.”

  Hannah finally turned to face them. Rachel saw Hannah’s jaw clenching and unshed tears in her eyes.

  “So what? And why didn’t you say anything like this when I discovered your little—thing—earlier this week? Why are you suddenly in this mood to profess your love for each other?”

  “You didn’t give us a chance to tell you any of this, Hannah,” Brady said a little too loudly.

  “Well, if you think this makes everything right, you’re wrong,” Hannah said, abruptly standing.

  Rachel and Brady did the same, and Rachel knew it was time to serve notice that any period of contrition was over.

  “I understand that you’re hurt,” Rachel said, causing Hannah to snort derisively. “But if you can’t accept our apologies, let me deliver a warning,” she continued, causing Hannah’s amusement to dissolve. “It’s true that we didn’t tell you. But we just set you straight on how we feel about each other. There shouldn’t be any doubt about that. So if you keep going around with tales of things like friends with benefits or that Brady and I are only having a fling?—well, we just told you those things aren’t true. Those are lies. And if you choose to spread them, you’ll end up the very thing you accused us of being: a liar.”

  Before Hannah could offer a retort, Rachel picked up her clutch, turned on her heel and stomped out of the bar with Brady close behind.