by Jenna Sutton
Ava Grace’s phone trilled, and she pulled it from her back pocket. After looking at the screen, she pressed a button and slipped it into her pants.
“Was that your reminder to call Kyle?” Beck asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t cancel them, even though we have no cell service up here.”
Ava Grace was diligent—almost fanatical—about checking on her father. She called Kyle twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening, as well as texted him every two hours.
Initially, Beck had been a little jealous of Kyle. The tone of her voice when she talked to him clearly conveyed how much she cared for him, and Beck had wondered about the nature of her relationship with the former Marine.
Instead of stewing over it, Beck had asked Ava Grace to tell him about Kyle. She’d assured Beck that she wasn’t attracted to the other man, and she’d sworn that she and Kyle had never been intimate.
Even though women had lied to Beck before, he’d believed Ava Grace. He trusted her more than he’d ever trusted any woman.
“I hope everything is okay at home,” Ava Grace murmured.
“I’m sure everything is fine. Kyle knows how to reach us if he needs to.”
She’d fretted about being out of touch for several days, and Beck had done his best to calm her fears. He’d provided Kyle with the number to the park’s ranger station, as well as the GPS coordinates of their campsite. If something happened to Chuck, a park ranger would be able to track them down fairly easily.
Ava Grace sighed softly, and Beck had a good idea what she was thinking about. She felt guilty about “abandoning” her father—that was the word she had used.
Lightly squeezing her hand, he said, “You’re feeling guilty again, aren’t you?”
She glanced up at him, a sheepish expression on her face. “Um-hum.”
“You have no reason to feel guilty, sugar. You’re doing what’s best for Chuck. He hasn’t had an outburst since you’ve been here.”
“I know.” She looked down at her feet. “For such a long time, I hated him for leaving me with my grandmother. I hated him for abandoning me. But now I wonder … maybe he thought he was doing what was best for me. Maybe he felt like he didn’t have a choice.”
“Maybe,” Beck agreed.
He refrained from reminding her that Chuck chose not to visit her when she was younger and chose not to have a relationship with her when she was older. Beck refrained because those reminders would only hurt her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Ava Grace’s empty places were just as raw and gaping as his own. He wanted to fill hers the way she’d filled his.
He stopped on the path and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I know it feels like you’re losing him all over again.”
Resting against him, she looped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry you lost your dad, and I’m sorry your mom left you when you needed her the most. I wish those things had never happened to you.”
Her words chipped away at the boulder of anger and sadness that had weighed him down for so many years. Being with Ava Grace made him feel lighter … happier … more hopeful.
Leaning back so he could see her beautiful face, he said, “Thank you.”
Her eyes searched his. “Jonah, I…” She took a deep breath. “I…” She swallowed, the sound audible in the heavy silence of the forest. “I’m in…” A weird expression came over her face, something between a wince and a scowl.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She stared at him for a moment before dropping her head to his chest. “I’m hungry,” she muttered into his T-shirt. “I need a snack.”
He looked down at the bright blond hair just under his nose. He had the feeling she’d started to say something else but had changed her mind. He wondered what?
Dropping his arms, he stepped back and glanced around. He spotted a large limb a few feet off the path that offered a perfect place to sit. He headed toward it, and she followed. When they reached it, he shrugged off his backpack and balanced it on the moss-covered wood.
“What are you in the mood for?” He unzipped the larger compartment. “An apple and peanut butter? Granola bar? Trail mix?”
“Why don’t you surprise me?”
As she sat down, he pulled out an apple and an individual serving of peanut butter and handed them to her before grabbing a bottle of water for himself. After placing his backpack on the ground, he sat down next to her.
“I have a knife. Do you want me to cut your apple?”
She dropped the small container of peanut butter to her lap and palmed the apple in both hands. She stared down at it, and when she didn’t answer his question, he repeated it.
She glanced up, and he got trapped in her hazel gaze. “I’m flying to Nashville the day after tomorrow,” she announced flatly.
He understood what she really was saying. She was going home, not just for a few days, but for good.
He’d known she had planned to stay in San Francisco for only a few weeks. He’d known this day was coming. But that didn’t make it any easier.
He wasn’t ready for them to be over. He wasn’t ready to move on. He wasn’t tired of her. He wasn’t bored.
Not even close.
“When will you be back?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Probably not ‘til Thanksgiving.”
He absorbed the information silently, his stomach knotting. Thanksgiving was two months away.
Sixty-plus days without seeing her beautiful smile. Without hearing her infectious laughter. Sixty-plus nights without her in his bed. Without kissing her luscious mouth. Without touching her smooth skin. Without sinking into her tight pussy.
Just the thought of it made him want to throw back his head and howl. Abruptly, he realized she might not be interested in continuing their relationship whenever she visited San Francisco, and the knots in his stomach pulled tighter.
“October and November are going to be really busy months for me,” she said. “River Pearl’s Artist Showcase is just a couple of weeks away, and the ACE awards show is in early November. Then I’m scheduled to record a holiday special a few days before Thanksgiving. And somewhere in between, I have to work on my next album and finish the cookbook.” She sighed softly. “I might not even be able to come out for Thanksgiving.”
A bitter taste flooded his mouth, and he unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a swig. The cool liquid washed away the bitterness and soothed his dry throat enough so he could speak.
“I guess this trip is a good way to say good-bye.”
Her eyes shot to his face. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”
He thought he heard a tinge of panic in her voice. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.
“I don’t either,” he admitted quietly.
She tilted her head, and a tendril of platinum hair fell over her eye. As she brushed it away, she said, “I know you’re busy too, but I was hoping you could visit me in Nashville.”
Her invitation surprised him. He’d figured she’d want to limit their relationship to the West Coast.
“You want me to visit you in Nashville?”
She nodded slowly. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”
He always had a good time with Ava Grace, whether they spent a quiet night at home listening to demos, went out with friends, or hiked through a redwood forest. Whenever he was with her, he felt both relaxed and energized—feelings that should be contradictory yet seemed to co-exist inside him.
“You won’t be bored,” she added, an earnest expression on her beautiful face.
He couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of that statement.
“Why is that funny?” she asked suspiciously.
“I’m never bored when you’re around, sugar.”
Her eyes got all squinty. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“No.”
“So you’ll visit me?”
“If you
want me to.”
Her eyes lit up. “I want you to.”
He doubted she’d feel that way once she was back in Nashville. She’d probably forget she had asked him to visit. She’d probably forget him.
After several seconds of awkward silence, she held up the apple. “Want to share?”
“Sure.”
He screwed the cap back on the water bottle and set it near his feet before fishing his Swiss Army knife from his pocket. After opening the blade, he took the apple from her.
“Wait,” Ava Grace ordered. “Is that knife clean?”
“Yeah, it’s clean … enough.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a guy.”
He cut off a couple of pieces of apple and handed them to her. As she took them, she blurted out, “I don’t want you to have sex with other women.”
It took him a moment to comprehend her words. When he did, his finger slipped off the knife, and he sliced his thumb instead of the apple. But he didn’t even feel the cut.
With his eyes locked on her face, he said, “What?”
“I don’t want you to have sex with other women.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She was the only woman he wanted, and he wanted to be more than the guy who scratched her itch whenever she flew into town.
He wanted more than a fling. He wanted to be the only man in her bed and in her life.
“What are you saying, exactly?” he asked.
She sighed loudly, clearly exasperated with him. “I’m saying I want you to keep your pants zipped unless I’m around.”
The apple and knife fell from his hands. His thumb throbbed with the frantic beat of his heart, and he looked down at it. Blood trickled from the cut, and he watched as a droplet splashed on the ferns under their feet.
She gasped suddenly. “Oh, my God, Jonah, you’re bleeding!”
She dropped to her knees in front of him and cupped his hand in hers. After evaluating the wound, she looked up into his face.
“Do you have a first aid kit in your backpack?”
Ignoring her question, he asked, “If I keep my pants zipped, Ava Grace, will you keep your panties on?”
“Yes.” She released his hand and sat back on her heels. “I think I should clarify something. I don’t want you to go out with other women either.”
“Are you going to go out with other men?” he countered.
“No. You’re all I need.” Her lips tilted up in a slow smile. “Do we have a deal?”
Stunned Ava Grace wanted to be with him and only him, he nodded slowly. “Deal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Holding the glass tumbler in front of him, Beck toasted, “To Trinity.”
Gabe and Ren tapped their tumblers against his. “To Trinity,” they chorused.
As Beck took a sip of his bourbon, his business partners did the same. The oak-vanilla taste of the liquor warmed his tongue and throat before settling in his gut.
He dropped down into the wicker outdoor chair, sinking into the puffy lemon-yellow cushions. Gabe collapsed into an identical chair, while Ren relaxed on the matching sofa.
Taking another sip of bourbon, Beck gazed at the hills behind Gabe’s childhood home in rural Kentucky. The sky was a watercolor of indigo, violet, and lavender, the full moon hanging high above them.
Fall evenings in north central Kentucky were usually clear and chilly, and he was glad he’d put on his fleece jacket. The temperature had already dropped into the low fifties, and bourbon alone couldn’t keep him warm.
“Damn, I’m tired,” he said, propping his ankle on his knee. “This has been one long-ass week.”
Beck, Gabe, and Ren had spent the past several days manning the Trinity Distillery booth at the American Bourbon Festival in historic Bardstown, Kentucky. The festival ended earlier today. More than fifty thousand people from all over the world had attended the event, which was always held the second week of October.
Unlike the International Spirits and Wine Show, which provided an opportunity for distillers and wineries to interact with other industry professionals, the American Bourbon Festival was geared toward bourbon lovers. This was the first year Trinity participated in the festival, and thousands of people stopped by the booth.
“I’m happy to go home tomorrow.” Ren glanced toward Beck. “When are you leaving for Nashville?”
“I told Ava Grace I’d be there for lunch. The drive takes about three hours, so I need to leave by nine.”
There were no direct flights from Lexington to Nashville, and Beck had decided it’d be easier to drive than go through the hassle of a connecting flight. It was a fairly straight shot to her house, according to his GPS.
He was excited to see Ava Grace. No, not excited … desperate.
He hadn’t seen her—hadn’t touched her—in sixteen days, eight hours, and—he looked at his watch—thirty-seven minutes. Yes, he was counting.
Gabe snorted. “You’ll probably leave at the crack of dawn and get to her house before breakfast.” His lips tilted in a devilish smile. “Just in time to put some cream in her … coffee.”
Ren burst out laughing. “Cream in her coffee,” he gasped around his guffaws. “That’s hilarious. I was thinking he could feed her sausage for breakfast.”
“Or maybe she’ll let him eat her croissant,” Gabe added.
Ren was laughing so hard he was holding his ribs, and just when Beck thought they were done with their comedy routine, Ren wheezed, “Maybe he can glaze her donut.”
“G-g-glaze?” Gabe repeated, barely able to get the word out. “Oh, man, that’s awesome. He’s definitely going to glaze her donut.”
“Jesus,” Beck muttered. “Y’all have been spending too much time with Ellis.”
That comment sent his immature best friends into further hysterics, and Beck couldn’t help laughing too. Finally, their chortles died down.
Ren tipped his tumbler toward Beck. “I hope you come back from Nashville with a better attitude. You’ve been a real asshole since Ava Grace left.”
Ren was right. Beck had been a little moody since she returned to Nashville. He hadn’t adjusted to her absence very well. He had trouble sleeping without her beside him.
He’d lost a few pounds too. Food didn’t taste very good without her sitting across the table from him, and he’d run more miles to keep his mind off how lonely he was.
Gabe glanced at Ren, a sardonic expression on his face. “You wouldn’t be too happy if your woman was halfway across the country either.”
“Probably not,” Ren admitted.
“Probably not?” Gabe’s upper lip curled in disgust. “You’d bitch and moan worse than an old man with erectile dysfunction and hemorrhoids.”
Beck laughed under his breath. He felt as if he’d taken a ride in a time machine and traveled into the past. Suddenly, he was seventeen again, hanging out at his best friend’s house after school.
He’d spent hundreds of hours on this porch listening to Gabe and Ren verbally abuse each other. Age had only made their insults more vulgar and creative.
Gabe must’ve been thinking along the same lines because he sighed softly. “It’s good to be home.”
Of the three of them, Gabe missed Kentucky the most, probably because his family was here. His parents still lived in the same house where he’d grown up, and his three sisters lived nearby with their families. He was the only Bristow who’d flown the nest, and he returned regularly for visits.
Beck, meanwhile, had left Kentucky after he’d graduated from college, and he hadn’t returned. There’d been no reason to come back. For a long time, his memories had been too painful for him to even consider making a trip.
Gabe nudged Beck’s foot with his own. “Are you happy to be home?”
More than once in the past decade, Beck had been homesick for Kentucky—the lush, rolling hills; the fresh, woodsy smell; and the soft southern drawls. But to his surprise, he felt like a visitor in a strange land instead of a go
od ol’ Kentucky boy.
“It doesn’t feel like home anymore,” Beck admitted.
There had been a time when the world outside of Kentucky hadn’t crossed his mind, except for attending college at Duke. He’d wanted to work alongside his dad at the family distillery and live in the same small town where his parents lived. His dreams had been simple and homegrown.
Though he tried not to, sometimes he got hung up with what ifs. What if his dad were still alive? What if the Beck family still owned Jonah Beck Distillery? What if he’d gone to Duke as planned and come home to work with his dad?
But being here in Kentucky had given Beck a greater appreciation for the life he had. All the bad shit that had happened—his dad’s embezzlement scandal and death, his mom’s desertion, and being accused of assault—forced him to take an alternate path.
As Beck handed out thousands of samples of Trinity at the bourbon festival, he realized he was content with the person he’d become and what he’d built. He was content with his life.
And when he was with Ava Grace, he was more than content. He was happy.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think Kentucky feels like home anymore either,” Ren said quietly. “I miss San Francisco.”
“I do too,” Beck agreed, a little surprised by how much he missed his adopted home by the Bay.
“Gatsby can’t wait to get home,” Ren added. “She really missed Chicken. She’s so excited he’s going to stay with us for a few days.” His smile faded into a glower. “Hopefully, your dog will distract her from Sasha.”
With her lip rings, tattoos, Goth fashion sense, and bright blue highlights, Sasha wasn’t the kind of woman Ren wanted Gatsby to emulate, or so he said. He insisted his upstairs neighbor was a bad influence on his daughter.
Ren tried to keep Gatsby away from Sasha, but the little girl was obsessed with her. And Beck suspected Gatsby’s dad was obsessed with her too.