Table of Contents
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
Whiskey Wedding
A Tasting Nashville novella
Kimmie Easley
Wine Worthy Romance
COPYRIGHT © 2016
Whiskey Wedding
Kimmie Easley
Published by: Wine Worthy Romance
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This book contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means either electronic or mechanical. Including but not limited to, photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you received this book from any vendor other than Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, or Createspace, please go to one of the vendors listed and purchase the book legally.
CREDITS
Cover Design: DeLaine Roberts
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to everyone who’s been there for me through this process. My friends, virtual and 3D, my review crew, Kimmie’s Winos, my family – the small circle they are is quite powerful. I love you all.
DEDICATION
To my number one badger, Nikki Lynn Barrett. You are a true source of positive inspiration. I adore you.
CHAPTER ONE
Joselyn
Goose bumps stipple my pale skin as I sit in the front row of the Stapleton Arena. The thousands of other people in the room fade into the background. The rest of the world no longer exists. It’s simply Whiskey Bent and me. More specifically, Dean, my strength. My hero. My very own knight in Converse.
He owns the stage. His presence overshadows the entire auditorium.
My heart is in my throat as I drink him in. The man still gives me wild butterflies. However, it’s not all physical. I see him and he sees me. It’s deep rooted, once in a lifetime. His strong voice washes over me. The soft lines around his ocean blue eyes are now deeper and more defined, which only makes him that much hotter in my book.
The man possesses every part of me.
Stick a fork in me – I am done.
The song is drawing to a close. How do I know? The lyrics are engraved on my tattered, stitched up soul. I wrote the weighted words from the same cold chair week after week as medical staff pumped poison through my cancer ravaged body. It had been a long, dark road, but I finally chose to fight. It was a close race, but I crawled tooth and nail across the finish line.
Remission.
I can still hear the glorious sound resonating through the halls as my shaking hand pulled the string, ringing the bell on the wall of the Cancer Institute.
It had only been a mere two years, but some days, it feels more like a lifetime. Ironically, some days feel like it was just yesterday.
That’s how I feel now, witnessing my love pour his entire being out for the whole world to see. Mesmerizing. Captivating. Whatever you want to call it, the man has me, hook, line, and sinker.
The band wraps up, holding that last note, sending everyone in the room to their feet. I don’t trust my legs, but attempt to follow their cue while swiping at the stray tears. Dean searches for me in the crowd, flashing me his signature grin.
Those dimples are my undoing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that leads us to our next award, Song of the Year. And what an honor it is to have her back with us tonight. The music industry, especially the heart of country music, hasn’t been the same over the last two years. Hell, I don’t have to tell you that. It just so happens that we have someone here who would like to say a few words. Dean?”
I fall back into my seat. Dean shakes hands with the host before gripping the microphone.
He dips his head and cups his chin for a second. Once he finally looks up, his gaze penetrates me.
“I must have rehearsed what I was gonna say at least a hundred times. I don’t know why I bother. Now, my mind’s blank.” Relief sets in when I see that the laughter from the audience eases his tension. “I guess I’m missing that little, but very loud, voice in my ear. Yeah, tonight, that precious voice is sitting in the front row.”
His voice cracks and he pauses. “Joselyn Tillman is the hardest headed chick I’ve ever known. And for that, I thank God daily. She’s also the most persistent chick I’ve ever known. When her life was in danger, she fought, hell, she continues to fight. When her career was in jeopardy, she paved a new way to take the music world by storm. I watched helplessly from the sidelines. I watched her struggle. I watched her fight. And I watched as she wrote this song. I witnessed the tears and pain as ‘Last Call’ came to be. This is more than a song, more than words on a page mixed with music notes. No, ‘Last Call’ is a gift, a gift from Joselyn to herself, to all of us. She deserves this and so much more. Damn, she deserves a hell of a lot more than me, but for some reason, she keeps sticking around. Everyone, please, give her a hand for Song of the Year. My better half, Joselyn Tillman, ladies and gentleman.”
Applause erupts. I hold my breath, attempt to smile, and struggle to fight back the sobs as I scramble up the steps to the stage. Elegance seems less important these days. I set my sights on the prize and force legs to move forward.
I move toward the only award that matters.
Dean.
*
Finally, on the plane.
“I can’t believe we haven’t been home for almost two months.” My head throbs from the night before. I don’t drink more than a beer or two at home, but on award nights, the toasting never ends.
“I remember when you hated the thought of heading back to the ranch.” Dean squeezes my hand before brushing his lips across my knuckles causing my tummy to flip flop.
“Yeah, well, that was before.”
He winks and hands me my neck pillow.
Sleep is my new best friend. After having cancer, I thought the fact that I would never sing again would be my downfall. I figured I would be mourning the stage and grieving the lights. However, that’s not the case. Not even close. Hanging up the microphone turned out to be exactly what I needed. Hell, I almost wish I had done it sooner!
Being back home, connecting with nature, and even better, Dean, has helped me to find my place. My place in the music world. My place in this world. I’m a songwriter. Damn, I’m not just a songwriter; I won the fucking song of the year.
I’m a storyteller.
I have a peace I’ve never known before. I love being home with my horse, Bella. I love hiking the hills and spending a lazy day in bed with my fiancé.
My fiancé. Holy shit.
But not for much longer.
I’m going home to get married. In just two weeks, I will be Mrs. Joselyn Covington.
*
“Wake up, babe. We’re here.”
I rub my eyes and glance around. The plane is already empty. We’ve landed in Nashville and now, it’s time to turn off work and play the role of a lifetime, the bride. I’m a fucking bride.
“Rick should be out front with the truck.”
&nb
sp; “And Judy?” I ask.
Dean tilts his head and smirks. “Be warned, she’s in full wedding planner mode. She’s back at the house ready to go over schedules and seating charts.”
My insides flutter. It’s becoming more real with every passing second.
“We’re really doing this?” I gaze up at him, lost in the way he gazes back. He flashes that signature smile.
“Damn straight.” His warm lips devour mine. “You’re not getting away, ever, so forget it!”
I giggle. He’s so easy to tease.
*
After the long ride out to the property, I was happy to get out and stretch my legs. I draw in a deep breath of fresh, mountain air.
“We’re home, Mrs. Covington.” Dean swoops me up into his massive arms and spins me around in circles until I force him to plant me back on the ground.
“You’re a little premature, but yes, we’re home.”
I see it before it happens. The way his eyes dance. He takes off running toward the house, taunting me into a race. I’m close to winning when he opens the door and comes to an abrupt halt. I tiptoe to peer over his massive shoulder.
Holy shit.
My living room resembles a bridal shop after a blue light special.
Wall to wall gift bags, boxes, and flowers vases. Tulle and lace are scattered across the couch and chairs. Serving dishes cover the dining table. Scared of being bombarded by more frills and decorations, I attempt to take a step backwards.
Too late.
“Welcome home!” Judy bursts out from the back hallway, sending my heart into a panic.
“Oh my God! You scared the shit out of me!”
Judy snickers, with Dean in a full-blown laughing fit coming from behind. “Sorry, hun. So, what do ya think?”
I place my hands on my hips and survey my surroundings. “Well, it looks like you’ve got it all under control. Um, sort of, I guess.”
Judy waved her hand through the air and chuckled. “Don’t let it fool ya, sweetie. It’s all organized and running like a well-oiled machine. You just let me take care of everything. This is your time to pamper yourself. Rick and I got this. And this stud here,” she says as she smacks Dean square in the middle of the chest. “Has got you. Right, son?”
He quickly stands at attention. “Oh, yep, absolutely. My favorite pastime.” He winks at me. I know he’s playing along for Judy’s sake.
She’s such a kind soul. Dean and I would have been lost over the years without Rick and Judy. They live on the backside of the property, out of our way, but still close enough to feel like family. They take care of our livestock, the grounds, and the house while we’re out of town. We’ve grown to depend on them and love them.
When Judy offered to handle the wedding details, I jumped at the chance. And as I observe the room now, I’m thankful that I wasn’t home during most of the process. However, I do know one thing - when Judy makes a promise, damn if she doesn’t see it through.
This wedding is going to happen and it is going to be perfect.
CHAPTER TWO
Dean
There still so much shit to do before the wedding.
I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to make it the perfect day for her. Joselyn deserves every ounce of happiness. She’s overdue. The universe owes her.
“Everything looks good, Rick. You’re doing a great job, man. I really appreciate it.” It’s a huge relief to look around at the acreage and see it cared for as if I were tending to it myself.
Whiskey Bent has really taken off over the last year. Joselyn’s lyrics have proven to be a goldmine, which means more time away from home is in the near future. I wouldn’t trade it for a damn thing. We’ve created the perfect life. The perfect partnership. But that doesn’t keep my head from fucking spinning when it comes to my to-do list.
“Yeah, well, you know Judy. She’d have my hide if I didn’t stay on track. This wedding is all she’s been talking about for months. Y’all made her real happy asking her to plan your shindig.
“Yeah, and you know, Joselyn. She adores Judy. I think it helps fill the whole mother daughter thing when it comes to weddings.” My heart jumps in my chest. “Holy shit, Rick, I’m getting married.”
The older man chuckles. “Son, you were made for this gig.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sometimes my own head fucks with me. Not about getting married, but about being the best for her. I would never forgive myself for fucking up her life. “Looks like we’d better get back to work before Judy has both our hides.”
*
It’s the perfect night to start a fire. I pile on the wood and set up my girl’s chair. I pop the cap on her beer and wait for her to join me.
Perfection.
Over the next two weeks Judy manages to keep Joselyn busy hustling around with fittings, table settings, and seating charts. I’m hoping this is exactly what she needs to get excited and let her hair down.
“Hey baby.”
The sight of my future bride wearing her favorite worn out jeans, an old Whiskey Bent shirt, and her hair up in a hat makes everything right in my world. One smile erases all of my self-doubt. All of insecurities. All of my imperfections.
“Hey, sugar. Got ya a cold beer and a warm seat.” I smack my knee and my heart pounds like a damn jackhammer as she takes me up on my offer. The woman gives me butterflies, or whatever that bullshit is that people talk about.
“How’d everything go with Judy today?”
Joselyn snickers while taking a swig off her first beer. “The old woman’s a slave driver.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She twists her lips into a yummy grin. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Everything is really coming together. I can’t believe the wedding is so close. Hell, people will start coming in soon.”
“Yep, Rick and I will be clearing some area for the travel trailers. He managed to wrangle up ten. I think that should be plenty. We only have a few people staying on the grounds for the weekend. Everyone else will be heading back into Nashville after the reception.”
“Shit, that reminds me. I need to check on the linens. Judy also made some welcome baskets for the overnighters. Is Uncle Mel getting excited?” She asks.
“Hell, he said he’d be here by now if he could get away from the Bone Picker. I think he wants to be able to call himself helping. He’s gotta be fitted for his tux anyway. They’re probably gonna have to let it out a few more inches. That damn man lives on greasy barbecue.”
“It’ll all work out. If Judy has her way about it, for sure.” Joselyn giggles. She has no idea that the sweet sound works like an aphrodisiac for me. “Do you know how many we’re up to now?”
I shake my head and widen my eyes while finishing off my beer. Actually, it’s a question that I’ve been scared to ask. We talked about a small wedding, close friends, a few family members, which mostly consists of our musical family. However, after seeing the inside of the house, I think our quaint, little get together is now a full-fledged celebrity affair. My stomach lurches.
Joselyn drops her head. Not a good sign.
She takes in a deep inhale before releasing it slowly. “Apparently, Sylvia has dipped into the client list. She’s insisted on inviting major A-listers. We’re at a hundred and eighty confirmed.”
“Are you shitting me? We said sixty, eighty tops.”
She just sighs, defeated. “I know. It’s not what we talked about. Judy has been taking care of the increase in the menu. I think it’s too late to cut anyone out. We just have to suck it up and deal.”
“That’s right, sugar. Let them have their show. We know why we’re here.”
I gaze at my best friend. Our future is uncertain, but damn, it’s going to be a delicious ride.
CHAPTER THREE
Joselyn
I hide my cell in my hoodie and run off to barricade myself in the bathroom, dialing Uncle Mel’s number.
“Hey, darlin. How’
s my favorite, little gal?” He asks with a snicker. His deep, baritone voice reminds me of the way his portly belly jiggles when he laughs. We were at odds once, but not now, not ever again. He really stepped up. He was there for Dean during my cancer treatments. He flew on a plane for the first time to come and visit me in Los Angeles. It became clear how much Dean relied on him, looked up to him as an actual father figure. Once I saw him through Dean’s eyes, the big bear was easy to love.
“She’s turning into a bridezilla.” I struggle to maintain a whisper.
“Oh, I doubt that. Besides, everything’s covered on my end. The plan’s all set.”
My insides quake. “Are you sure? Everything’s ready? I’m not so sure that we should keep it as a surprise. Don’t you think we should tell him?”
“Look darlin’,” Mel chuckles. “Quit your worrying. It’s all gonna be ok. We’re gonna stick to the plan and watch it work its magic. All you gotta do is show up and be your gorgeous self. Have I ever let you down?”
“Never.”
“Exactly. Now, you just try to enjoy this time. I’ll call tomorrow and update you on the details.”
“Speaking of that, how’s it going having company?” I ask. We’ve been working on a wedding surprise for Dean. Although, now, I’m wishing I hadn’t agreed to the half-baked plan. Dean was a ball of nerves lately and this could certainly put him over the edge.
“Not bad. And with the extra help at work, I have more time to pick up the ladies, if you know what I’m sayin’.
“Uncle Mel, I sure do love you.”
He just laughs. “Love you too, sweet girl.”
*
The next few days were long, but productive. This wedding is actually going to happen. I’m thrown off kilter by the rush of excitement at the thought of wearing a veil and gown.
Butterflies flutter in my chest like a little girl with a toilet paper dress and a towel on her head acting as a veil.
Whiskey Wedding (Tasting Nashville series Book 3) Page 1