Drunk on You

by Teri Anne Stanley

  “What do you think?”

  He shrugged and put it back in the box. “It’s okay.”

  “Just okay?” The glasses were etched with a cartoon bulldog face that David had drawn on everything when he was in high school. The Marine Corps mascot was a bulldog, and David had made his own version, simpler and friendlier. Allie thought it was perfect for Rainbow Dog. Cute, but badass.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” He turned and began lining up bottles of the various flavors of Rainbow Dog on the back table.

  “I thought it would be a nice thing, a way to include David in the process.”

  Justin straightened, fingered the watch that she’d seen him tuck into his pocket. He nodded, then met her gaze, and one side of his mouth rose. “Yeah, I like it.”

  Did she really think he was going to coo and gurgle over them? She took a breath and reintroduced the cemetery idea. “I think he’d like it. I was going to take him one on the way back to Crockett County.”

  Justin looked at her then, face blank. “What are you talking about?”

  She took a deep breath. “Arlington. I want to go to Arlington on the way home.”

  “I don’t—” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Fine. You can wait in the camper.”

  What the heck was wrong with him? She wasn’t asking him to write poetry to read over the grave, just to go to the damned cemetery with her. She thought maybe he could use some closure—he hadn’t stuck around after Dave’s funeral and never talked about him. She’d thought that maybe with his approval of the shot glasses, he was putting that aside.

  But maybe there was more. Maybe there was something he wasn’t telling her.

  He hadn’t responded, just kept working.

  “Well, we can talk about it later, I guess.” He half nodded at her, a whole lot more of no response, as far as she was concerned.

  Something over her shoulder caught his eye then, and his face lit up. “Hey, babe!”

  He brushed past her, and she turned in time to see her lover scoop Merilee Cooper into his arms and lift her into the air. He probably would have spun his high school sweetheart in a circle if a gimpy leg and space constraints hadn’t been an issue.

  Something deep in Allie’s chest constricted, and her extremities went numb.

  But then Justin put Merilee down, turned, and pulled Allie against his side, saying, “Hey, Merilee, do you remember Allie McGrath?”

  The buzzing in Allie’s ears eased slightly as Merilee’s smile tightened, and she nodded. “Sure do. How’s it going?” She even held a hand out for Allie to shake.

  Okay, so Allie was overreacting to old wounds. PTRD—post-traumatic romance disorder. But still. The bitch hadn’t gotten any shorter, fatter, or less perfectly blonde.

  Justin didn’t release Allie as he asked, “How long are you back in the States?”

  Merilee’s smile really fled then. “I’m back for good. My husband…he passed away.”

  The devil on Allie’s shoulder pointed out that Merilee was now free to pick up where she’d left off with Justin at the same time the angel was kicking Allie in the back of the head for being so selfish. Angel won for the moment. “I’m so sorry, Merilee,” Allie said.

  “Thank you.”

  She even looked beautiful when she was choked up, Devil pointed out.

  “Where are you staying?” Justin asked.

  Grrrr…said Devil.

  “With my parents at Quail Hill for now,” she told them.

  “Are you going to work for their distillery?” Allie asked.

  Merilee shot Justin a look that Allie couldn’t interpret. “Actually, no. I’m looking to branch out in some less…traditional directions. I’m fortunate to have some options.” She looked at Allie and said, “My late husband left me fairly well-off.”

  Angel pointed out that she shouldn’t jump right on that information…the woman was no doubt still wounded from the loss of her spouse. But if she was looking for somewhere to invest an inheritance…

  Devil told Angel to shut the fuck up, because Allie needed an investor, and it wasn’t like she was going to suck poor Merilee into a Ponzi scheme.

  “What’s all this?” Merilee asked, picking up one of the bulldog shot glasses. “Is Blue Mountain going to the dogs?”

  Allie laughed politely at the joke. “Not exactly. Blue Mountain has a couple of bourbons entered—one in the single-barrel category and Sean’s Small Batch. And we’re presenting Dangerous Dave’s 8-Ball, but no booth for Blue Mountain this year.” Thanks to Lorena, who had canceled their booth after learning that Allie and Justin had planned to run it next to Rainbow Dog. ”The dogs are part of a new company I’m starting on my own. Rainbow Dog.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Allie looked at Justin, and he was watching her, waiting for her to answer. She loved that he didn’t try to take over. “It’s a new product I entered in the innovations category. We’re rolling it out here.”

  She explained her idea, to bottle white dog whiskey and market it to the moonshine crowd. It would be cheaper to produce than bourbon, and a fun, hip way to introduce a younger crowd to whiskey, in the hopes that they’d develop a taste and be willing to spend more on the higher-end bourbons when their income levels allowed.

  “I like it. When do you start releasing it to the public?”

  “It kind of depends.”

  “Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “The Blue Mountain old farts don’t think it’s a good idea, do they?”

  Allie didn’t answer, her condescension stinging.

  Justin spoke up then. “They’ve got their heads up their collective ass. Allie’s got her act together.”

  If he hadn’t stolen her heart before that moment, Allie would have gone completely over the edge. As it was, she melted, just a little more, into Justin’s side.

  “I like it.” Merilee pulled a card from somewhere and handed it to Allie. To her, not to Justin.

  Merilee Cooper Gordon, CEO, Spirit Enterprises.

  Both Devil and Angel nudged Allie. “I’m glad. I have some investment opportunities if you’re interested in learning more.”

  “Let’s talk later. I think I can help you out.”

  Allie just nodded. Would it be that easy? Would Merilee just cut her a check?

  Angel and Devil crossed their arms and raised their eyebrows.

  …

  Allie was quiet after Merilee left, and Justin had a sneaking suspicion that she was having some girl-insecurity shit, but wasn’t about to get into the “Are you okay?”-“I’m fine” cycle that he’d been caught in a few times and witnessed more than a few.

  He didn’t know if she even remembered that he’d dated Merilee back in the day. At some point, during one of his early deployments, he’d stopped emailing Merilee, and she’d eventually sent him a Dear John letter—just to tie up the loose ends.

  “Hey,” he said, catching Allie’s hand as she passed by with a stack of business cards.

  “Hey, what?” she said, swinging around to land on his lap.

  He tugged her hair until she was face-to-face with him, and then he kissed her. He put every bit of you’re-the-only-woman-for-me he could into it, and hoped she got the message.

  “What was that for?”

  Apparently not. “Because you’re my girl.”

  She didn’t smile right away, as he expected. Did she doubt him?

  Or maybe she was annoyed that he was refusing to go to the cemetery to see Dave’s grave. He just couldn’t go there. Maybe someday, but…

  Finally her lips curved up, and she kissed him back. “I’m glad you think so,” she said.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Someone from the liquor board came along and kept him from asking. The officials double-checked that Justin and Allie had all of the appropriate paperwork in place, and another gave them more shit to fill out for the best booth contest. Between the more formal tasting for the single-barrel bourbon, the innovative beverage categor
y, and all the miscellaneous hoopla competitions, they were bound to win something, Justin hoped.

  Finally, the doors to the conference center were opened, and people began to stream into the ballroom. Visitors bought a wristband that said they were over twenty-one, and then were allowed to buy a certain number of tickets, each of which entitled them to a miniature serving of the beverage of their choice.

  Rainbow Dog’s booth was in an area Blue Mountain hadn’t been in before. Normally, their booth was grouped with the traditional bourbons, where most everyone truly was related to someone else, at least by marriage, and the business rivalries were put aside on the golf course, and always at the bar.

  This year, they were located in a much more interesting area. Instead of horse statues and topiary, wagon wheels and rustic fence posts, the Innovative Beverage area was full of fluorescent leis and flashing lights, rap music and semi-naked spokesmodels.

  “Hey, babe, why don’t you have on a belly shirt like all the other liquor wenches?” Justin asked Allie, dipping his lips to her neck for one last nuzzle before the crowd and their drink tickets descended on them.

  “I don’t know. Why are you wearing a shirt at all?” she asked.

  He started to laugh, but then decided to call her bluff. He took off his shirt, which caused the tequila shooter girls across the aisle to hoot and clap. He undid the top button of his jeans, letting them fall a little lower on his hips. He wasn’t going to be sharing any butt crack with anyone, but maybe a hip dimple.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Allie said. “Okay, okay. With the limp and the bruises, that might be a little too much. Maybe just go for ‘hot military guy.’”

  “Good idea,” he answered, kissing her as he dug in his pocket and pulled out his dog tags, and put them over his head.

  She rolled her eyes, and he smacked her on the ass. This was actually going to be fun, he decided.

  “Hey, darlin,’ what kind of dog do you like?” he asked their first visitor, an ultra-blonde middle-aged woman with either a very good plastic surgeon, or a platinum shopper card at Victoria’s Secret.

  She eyed Justin, and said, “You look like a sporting breed.”

  Allie leaned toward the woman and said, “He sheds and won’t stay off the furniture. I suggest you try the Red Dog. That one’s at least housebroken.” She handed the woman one of her little shot glasses with a splash of Red Dog.

  The woman took a small sip, then tilted her head back and shot the rest. “Damn!” she said, tapping her chest, which didn’t make her breasts move at all. “Honey, you gotta try this!”

  She yanked on the sleeve of an enormous black man, who turned to the booth with a smile.

  “Holy shit,” Justin whispered. “That’s Lyle Doggens.”

  Allie looked at the man, who smiled and nodded at Justin, acknowledging he’d been recognized. She had the sense to wait until the couple walked away, admiring the shot glasses, before asking Justin to tell her who Lyle Doggens was.

  “Only the greatest football player in the history of the Atlanta Falcons. He’s part owner now.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  Their next guest wore a flannel plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a John Deere hat that had absorbed more than its recommended lifetime allowance of sweat.

  At one point, she dug her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. “Huh,” she said, and shoved it back into her pants.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. That’s Eve. They’re still coming, but said they got held up. Maybe Brandon got Montezuma’s revenge or something. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Justin shrugged. Brandon and Eve were originally supposed to meet the distillery managers here for the awards ceremony while the old folks rested up from the cruise, but now that he and Allie were here, they could accept awards for both Blue Mountain bourbon and Rainbow Dog whiskey if need be.

  As she handed another customer a shot glass with some Green Dog in it, telling him it was better than an apple a day, he watched her work the crowd.

  She turned and smiled her special Allie smile at him, and… Fuck. He was in so much trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By the time the opening night closed, Allie and Justin had given away every shot glass, and had resorted to giving away unused labels as free stickers—and had an impromptu drawing for the empty jars. Everyone loved all the colors of Rainbow Dog. The Dog was big.

  “Do we have enough product for tomorrow?” Justin asked as they gathered the empty boxes and tossed them in a pile for the cleanup crew.

  Allie grinned. “I think so. But I’m gonna have to find a twenty-four-hour printer for more labels, and make a run to the party outlet for shot glasses.” Maybe she’d talk to Billy Bob about carrying Rainbow Dog mugs or something when they introduced the drinks. Like going to Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans and getting a fancy glass with each different kind of drink.

  She felt pretty damned good about things. One of the judges had stopped to have a taste, and Allie noticed that he came back an hour later with a friend. Billy Bob and Maggie had been by, and when they couldn’t get close to the booth, Maggie shot Allie a thumbs-up and a wink.

  She was finally starting to see evidence that what she believed was true: she knew what she was doing.

  And she wasn’t even that worried that Merilee had shown her perfect self up to stir the pot of Allie’s anxiety stew. Justin was with her, and she was his Ms. Right Now. And, her crazy heart pointed out, until he got on that plane, he hadn’t left. Who knew if he’d really go?

  Justin threw the last box over the side of the booth and flopped onto a folding chair.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked. He’d been on that leg for four hours straight, which was probably a little longer than the doctor had meant when he said he could use the walking boot as much as he was comfortable.

  He pulled her down onto his good knee and nuzzled her neck. That knee was fast becoming her favorite seat. “I’m holding you up just fine. What else do we have to do here?”

  She looked around. “I guess just check out with the organizer. We don’t have any liquor to return.”

  They said good-bye to a few other vendors and made their way to the exit. Justin was definitely limping. “Okay,” she told him. “You’ve got to wait here. I’ll go get the car.”

  “I can make it,” he said. “Besides, you’re not walking through a dark parking garage alone.”

  It was a little creepy, but all of the drunken guests had left hours ago.

  “I’ll walk with you.” Merilee appeared from nowhere. “You can drop me at my car after we get to yours.”

  Yay. More chances to make nice. Allie turned to Justin and pressed her body to his, tilting her face up for a kiss. Her lips against his, she said, “Stay here. You need to conserve some energy.”

  He gave a low groan and kissed her. “Go get the car.”

  When the door to the stairwell closed behind them, Merilee said, “So. You and Justin are a couple now?”

  “Um, yeah.” Allie didn’t know what else to say.

  “I guess you could have been together a long time ago, if I hadn’t elbowed you out of the way.”

  Allie stopped in her tracks, staring at Merilee. Son of a bitch. All these years she’d thought Merilee had ruined her chances with him, but really? She’d cost her some self-esteem and a lot of ice cream, but what would have happened if she hadn’t been there? Allie’d have thrown herself at Justin, embarrassed them both, and nothing would have changed, except it probably would have been worse.

  “Are you okay?” Merilee asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” But she did need to find a way to move the conversation from past hurt feelings to current business opportunities. She clicked the remote for Justin’s mom’s SUV and it beeped from the next row. “There it is. I’m glad you walked up here with me. Can I drop you at your car?”

  “Nah. I’m right ov
er there.” She waved at a little sports car.

  “Will you be here for the rest of the weekend? Maybe we can have coffee before things get started tomorrow.” Allie cringed to hear how false she sounded. Coffee with Merilee? If Eve got here in time for that, she’d laugh her ass off.

  But Merilee shook her head. “Let’s talk now. I really am impressed with your Rainbow Dog. I know you’re looking for an investor, but I’m looking for a little more.” She handed Allie a sheet of paper.

  Talk about prepared! At first, it was just a series of columns of numbers, but then it slowly began to make sense. Production estimates, sales projections, income potential. Holy crap, had the woman been sitting with her laptop doing math since she’d visited the booth earlier? Allie’s scalp tingled with anticipation. This was it, her investor, her silent partner, her proof that she could pull it off!

  “I’d like to buy the brand. You’re welcome to stay on in some capacity, and I’m going to ask Justin to oversee production management.”

  The speculative look in Merilee’s eye drove the words home and sent a spike of nausea through Allie. For an instant, she was standing in an airport arrival zone, holding a poster with her hopes and dreams out in public.

  “I know.” Merilee laughed. “I’m a little surprised, too. But it’s an awesome product. What do you think? Want to sell it to me?”

  Allie zoomed back into the here and now. The blonde blocking her way might try to grab her soldier, but she didn’t have him yet. And this time, Merilee wouldn’t get Allie’s dignity, or anything else. “I’m not going to sell the brand. I’m gonna own the company myself. I’d love an investor—a silent investor who’ll get a healthy rate of return—but it’s still going to be my business. Can you reconsider?”

  Merilee scrunched her face for a moment, then said, “Nope. I want it all. But you think about it, okay?”

  Before she got in the SUV, Allie said she’d keep the offer in mind—but only because she didn’t know how she could forget it.

  Things had gone so well that evening that she felt really confident that an investor would come along, and everything would be just fine.

  …