Marty shot Justin a look, with a raised eyebrow.
He didn’t let his expression change, but suspected his own skin was a little pinker than usual. He wasn’t about to admit that there had been an accident involving a crutch and a bottle of chocolate syrup and nakedness. He was incredibly grateful he wouldn’t have to explain that one to an emergency room doctor, too.
They got into the camper and waved good-bye to their new friends.
Allie made him stop the motor home by the entrance so she could take a picture of the sign for the campground. “For posterity,” she said.
“So Allie Junior will be able to see where she was conceived?” he asked.
“Omigod. Just shut up and drive.”
…
Allie slept for about two and a half hours of the three-hour drive from Nashville to Memphis. She’d eaten nearly as much breakfast as Justin had, going back for seconds at the breakfast buffet where they’d stopped before getting on the interstate.
She’d apologized before she abandoned the front seat for the bed in the back, but Justin promised that he didn’t mind. “You get some rest. You might need some extra energy later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
As she slowly awoke to the sounds of Justin singing something that sounded vaguely like Blake Shelton, she thought that maybe she had everything she’d ever wanted, right this very minute.
Well, she still wanted to prove to her family that she was an adult, someone to be taken seriously, by making her project successful, all by herself. Herself and one smoking-hot sidekick.
And someday she wanted more. She wanted the husband, the kids—she flashed on the thought of a couple of little Justins bouncing around. She put her hand over her lower belly, wondering what it would feel like to be pregnant. She didn’t think she was right now, but… Her last period had ended a few days ago, and that condom had barely leaked. Best not to get too caught up in the fantasy.
“Hey! Sleeping Beauty,” Justin called from the front of the camper. “Where’s that paper with the reservation info on it?”
“I’m coming,” she said.
“Wait until we’re at the campground. I want to come, too.”
“What have I done? If we’d just kept our genitals separate, how many dumb puns could we have avoided?” she asked as she made her way to the front of the camper and sat in the passenger seat.
His eyes left the road long enough to wiggle his eyebrows again. “Or maybe, we don’t have to wait. If you scooted down there between the seats, you could probably—”
“Better be careful, Sport. I might just call your bluff,” Allie said.
But then they had reached their exit, and her map-reading skills were more important than her oral abilities, at least for a while.
Their phones chimed almost simultaneously with incoming calls. Since Justin was driving, Allie saw her screen first.
She gave herself one extra ring to have a microscopic panic attack before answering. “Hi, Mom! How’s the cruise?”
“Allegra, what’s going on there?”
“Oh, wow, that sounds great. So lots of fun in the sun, huh?”
“Allegra…”
She sighed. Justin glanced at her while he hit his own “ignore button” and returned his eyes to the road.
Lorena continued. “We’re in port, and when Clyde checked his phone, it had imploded with messages. From the insurance agent and fire inspector and contractor.”
Through a frozen brain, Allie heard herself say, “Really? Why would they call Justin’s dad? Justin and I have been in contact with everyone, and we’ve got things completely under control.”
Justin’s shoulders stiffened, and his jaw muscle ticked.
“From the middle of nowhere?”
“Huh? No, we know exactly where we are. Where did you say you are right now?”
“Stop playing games. We trusted you to be mature enough to keep the distillery intact while we were gone for a very short time, and you’ve not only destroyed a perfectly good building, but run away from your responsibilities.”
Allie winced. “Like I said, Mom, we’ve got it all taken care of. I’m sure the contractor told Clyde that the rickhouse will be back in business again before we know it, and that we have the deductible taken care of—”
“And that deductible came from D—”
“Mom, you’re breaking up. I think we’re losing our connection. Mom?” Allie hung up before her mother could say anything else damning, and when the phone rang again, she sent the call to voicemail.
Proving her mother’s contention, that yes, Allie was immature and incapable of dealing with life like an adult.
“Shit fuck damn,” she said, knocking her head into the window and closing her eyes. They needed to find an investor more than ever now. If she wasn’t pregnant, she needed to make sure Justin didn’t feel obligated to stick around and work for his father in order to pay her back so that she could get Rainbow Dog launched. She’d rather put the business on the back burner than see him be miserable in a job he hated every day.
If she was pregnant, though…if she was pregnant, she’d need money to take care of herself and a baby…maybe with Justin, if he were serious about sticking around, in a job he liked…maybe he could be a firefighter, or even a cop at home, if he was so determined to stay in some sort of warrior protector-guy job.
The motor home rolled to a stop, and Allie looked up to see that Justin had pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a strip mall.
He picked up his own phone and said, “I guess I’d better call my dad now, huh?”
…
But all his dad said was, “Brandon assured me that you’ve got it all under control. We can discuss the finer points of financing when we’re all back at Blue Mountain. Your mother was just calling to make sure you’re okay, but she’s off getting a spa treatment right now.”
“Okay…” This made Justin nervous. His dad was never easygoing about distillery business. There was something else going on. Did Clyde think he could trap Justin with sweetness and convince him to stay home to work for the families? “Hey, Dad, is Brandon around? He left me a couple of messages I didn’t get a chance to return.”
There was silence at the other end of the line.
“Dad?”
Clyde cleared his throat. “Brandon took a day trip on the island today.”
“Oh. So where is he? Whale watching? Visiting a museum?”
“I think he said zip-lining.”
It was Justin’s turn to be quiet while he contemplated that news.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Clyde said, and Justin laughed—a rare moment of agreement that his safety-conscious, bookish brother zinging through the tropics on a clothesline was one of the craziest things he’d heard in a while.
…
“Damn,” Allie said, slapping her leather portfolio against her thigh. “Memphis was a bust, and the first half of our appointments in Atlanta were a waste of time. I thought those guys would want to buy into Rainbow Dog for sure. Especially after how much they sampled it!”
“Hang in there,” Justin said. He had to distract her, keep her spirits up. He couldn’t tell her that Merilee was a 99.9 percent sure thing, because he wanted to see her do it on her own, but she was starting to look desperate.
Well, sex always kept his mind off his troubles. He put his arm around her as they walked back to the car. He’d reached the two-week mark in his recovery and was down to one crutch. He felt like a new man. The bruise on his chest from the rickhouse fire was just a green-and-yellow memory at this point. The freedom to use his arms was electrifying. Especially since he could use the hand attached to one of those arms, any time he wanted, to touch Allie.
He’d turned into a total sap. Allowing himself to touch her was bringing out a level of corny he wasn’t completely uncomfortable with, which bothered the living shit out of him.
He needed to go to the gym. A boxing gym. A stinky, man-sweat-filled
, jockstrap-displaying boxing gym. Where he could beat the hell out of a heavy bag and spit and scratch.
After he got Allie back to the camper and cheered her up with strawberries dipped in chocolate and kisses over every inch of her body.
“Can we stop by a store?” he asked.
“A grocery store? A toy store? A hardware store?”
“Hmmm. Any of those could prove interesting, but I was thinking more like a condom and stuff store.”
“Shhh!” She waved at him to keep his voice down. “Sure. Maybe we could find one attached to a grocery store so I can pick up some things for supper while you’re getting…other stuff?”
For a woman who was so wild behind closed doors, she could be charmingly circumspect about discussing some of the finer points of their intimacy. “Don’t you want to go with me to help me pick out what to get? Colors? Flavors? Ribbed or not?”
“No, actually. I’ll trust your judgment. After all, my last choice wasn’t very reliable.”
“Your last choice expired in 2010.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “Come with me. It’ll be fun. Besides. You helped use up the last of the unexpired stock.”
“I am not going condom shopping with you. Everyone will know we’re going to have sex!”
A middle-aged woman pushing a toddler-containing stroller hurried past them, shooting Allie an annoyed look.
“Grandma, is sex good or bad?” the kid asked.
“Ask your mother,” the woman said.
Justin cracked up, wrapping Allie in his arms. “Babe, anybody who sees us together probably assumes we’re going to have sex. I’ve got a constant semi whenever you’re around. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed, with all the time you spend staring at my junk.”
“Oh my God. Really?” She jumped in front of him and looked. “Oh my God,” she repeated, turning around to walk in front of him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, grabbing her arm and yanking her to the side. “Blocking everyone’s view?”
“Yes! God.”
“God can see it no matter where you stand.”
“You’re sick. Go sit in the car. I’ll go to the store alone.”
“Nope.” He was having too much fun tormenting her. Honestly, it was just the conversation about condoms that had him somewhat inspired. He didn’t really walk around with a constant hard-on, but if it kept Allie blushing, he might have to find a way to make that happen.
They finally compromised, and Allie bought groceries while he took care of protection.
When he got outside, Allie was leaning into the back end of the Escape, her long legs bared by her short skirt, her fine ass perfectly inviting.
Unfortunately, it was a very public parking lot, so he couldn’t approach her the way he wanted to and press himself against her, letting her know how glad he was to see her. Some asshole in a jacked-up Dodge Ram whistled as he passed. Allie turned to see, then gave them a dismissive wave.
Justin sneered. “Poser. Real men drive their mom’s five-year-old mini SUV because we don’t have to overcompensate. And we still get the best girls.”
Allie responded with a smile that made his secret longing for a Ford F-250 Super Duty float away like diesel exhaust.
He backed her against the side of the car and gave her a long, hot kiss.
“Let’s get back to the campground,” she panted into his ear after they broke apart.
“That’s my girl,” he said, reaching behind her to pull open the car door.
She paused for a moment, mouth open, then snapped it shut again and gave him the smile that said she had more than dinner planned when they got back.
…
They finally found the campground close to the festival location. And they’d been assigned a campsite next to the world’s longest, fanciest two-story RV, which was covered with a larger than large photo of Billy Bob Panko, grand-père of cheesy restaurants.
Still trying to keep her spirits up, Justin told Allie it was a sign that she had to keep trying. She told him she didn’t have a choice. Atta girl.
Billy Bob’s screen door was open and the sounds of Wheel of Fortune drifted from the inside.
“I’m going to go borrow some ketchup,” she told Justin after they’d set up their camper—Rainbow Dog sign artfully placed where it faced the Panko-mobile—and started to prepare dinner on the little grill they set up on the picnic table.
“There’s a bottle in the—” Justin was cut off when she gave him the universal “shut the hell up and follow my lead” look, which involved a fair amount of eye widening and lip pursing.
“Okay.”
She walked over, knocked on the door of the Billy Bob Express, and when a walking, talking sixty-year-old Barbie opened it, she introduced herself and said, “My guy here forgot one of his major food groups—ketchup. I don’t suppose y’all have a bottle we can borrow? I’ll run into town and get another one first thing tomorrow, but we’re having steak, and he just won’t eat meat without drowning it,” she told the woman.
Billy Bob’s voice echoed throughout the campground when he yelled from somewhere inside, “We don’t have any goddamned ketchup. And even if we did, we wouldn’t let your dog eat it. Get her a bottle of Billy Bob! On second thought, you two come on over here and eat with us.”
Allie turned to Justin and shot him a triumphant smile. She turned back to Mrs. Billy Bob, who rolled her eyes and grinned.
Over the next two hours, Justin listened to Billy Bob explain how to cook every kind of meat from pork to partridge. Season it, smoke the hell out of it, and dump a quart of Billy Bob’s on it.
The overly sweet but somehow addictively tangy sauce would ruin the flavor of the best rib eye, but Billy Bob had something going on when it came to marketing his sauce. The Panko family owned a string of a hundred restaurants between Roanoke and Tulsa, and they sold their signature barbecue sauce in grocery stores across America. They had a reality show called Porkers, which had a seriously dedicated viewership, or so Allie had assured Justin.
He kept waiting for the camera crews to arrive, but Mrs. Billy Bob—Maggie—confided that she’d insisted this trip was a second honeymoon for them, and no cameras were allowed in the campground. Allie seemed disappointed, no doubt looking forward to the marketing boost that a guest appearance on Porkers would provide.
As they finished their pulled pork sandwiches, Allie said, “I’ll go get dessert. It’s the least I can do, after you fed us this wonderful meal.”
Justin wasn’t sure how there was going to be room in his body for more food, but when he saw what Allie brought out, he managed to sit up a little straighter and find a few more inches inside. “Are those bourbon balls? Where were you hiding that?” he asked when he saw what she brought out.
She shot him a canary-eating cat smile. “I have to keep some secrets,” she said. “And these are Brown Dog Balls.”
“Umm…” Billy Bob stared at the plate of round chocolates.
“Well,” Allie said. “Brown Dog is one of the new products we’re debuting at the festival tomorrow. It’s a chocolate-coffee flavored whiskey.”
“I hope this tastes better than it sounds,” the old man grumbled, popping one into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and grinned, taking two more from the plate.
Allie had her foot in the door. She explained their project, how white dog was un-aged bourbon whiskey, and how they planned to market different colored—and flavored—dogs.
Justin didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to persuade Billy Bob to consider introducing Rainbow Dog drinks in his restaurants, and maybe even serving her Brown Dog “bourbon” balls on the dessert menu.
“I don’t know, girl. Not sure we can call them Brown Dog Balls. Although I guess that’s better than Brown Dog Turds, which is kind of what it looks like.” The whole camper shook with Billy Bob’s laughter.
They spent a couple of hours with the Pankos, then Justin feigned a sore ankle as an excuse to get Allie alone in their own cam
per.
“They’re awesome, don’t you think?” she asked, throwing her arms around his neck.
“I think you’re awesome,” he agreed, nibbling on her ear.
She giggled, but said, “It’s great, but it’s still not an investor. I mean, if he signs a contract, we might be able to do some creative financing, but…”
“We’ll get there. It’ll be fine,” he said.
“I’m getting worried. I’d feel better if we were going into On the Rocks with at least a few possible leads. Then it would be easier to get someone with more cash there.”
“It’s gonna be fine.”
Allie, whose smile was becoming more and more essential to Justin’s existence, frowned. “I hope so.”
“It will be.” He wasn’t going to tell her how he was so sure, because he really wanted her to know that it was her, without his interference. Her product, her pitch, her business sense that would seal the deal with Merilee when she showed up and offered to be a silent partner in Rainbow Dog. He was just the…matchmaker.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The day of the On the Rocks festival dawned hot and muggy, but the conference center was well air-conditioned. A good thing, because there was a lot of work to do.
By the time Allie got through the line and managed to add Rainbow Dog as a late entry to the product competitions, Justin had—with one bulging, tattooed arm—unloaded the last case of Allie’s secret mugs into the booth. “I got us signed up!” she said. “We’ll see soon enough if I’ve been wasting our time.”
“Darlin’,” Justin said, catching her around the waist and pulling her in for a kiss, “if we don’t have this business locked down solid by the end of the weekend, I’ll eat my hat. Or you. Although I’ll probably eat you anyway.”
She laughed and pushed him away. “I’ve unleashed a monster.”
“Let’s unleash these mugs you’ve been so anxious about,” he said.
She opened the top box and pulled out one of the tiny mason-jar-shaped shot glasses and handed one to him.
He looked at it but didn’t speak.
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