“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Having the chance to work here has been great,” said Goose, patting Hannah on the shoulder.
“You got the job, Goose,” Hannah said, removing her cousin’s hand. “You can stop sucking up.”
“A little now and then never hurts,” he said, his eyes moving about the table.
“I’d ask you to join us, but I don’t know whether you have much interest in planning Rachel Richards’s baby shower.”
“I’d be happy to help Judge Richards in any way I can,” he said, making CiCi think he was going to pull up a chair and really join the group. “But I need to take this and run,” he said, indicating his lunch. “Electrical problem in Rickhouse 8 needs checking out. “Good to see you all today.” With a nod and a smile for Harriet, he was gone.
After Goose left, the women got down to the real purpose of the lunch meeting: the baby showers for Rachel and Brady. Hannah was full of ideas and decided to throw the first shower (the nonsurprise one) at the distillery in the tasting room or café.
No one voiced any objection as to how odd it might be to have a baby shower at a bourbon distillery. They were in the middle of bourbon country in the middle of Kentucky. And the mother-to-be’s best friend happened to be a part owner of said distillery. As for the second shower, the others tried to talk Hannah out of a “surprise” shower but only managed to get her to reconsider the idea rather than completely give it up.
As lunch began to wind down, Harriet excused herself to make a call and exited the café for the lobby.
“You saw it?” Hannah asked CiCi as soon as Harriet was out of earshot.
“Of course,” CiCi confirmed with a smile.
Lila looked confusedly between her two friends, waiting for an explanation.
“You’d think that someone who’s around kids with raging hormones would pick up on some of these things,” Hannah said, looking at Lila.
“Oh, you mean Goose and Harriet?” Lila asked. “Of course I saw that.”
“It was mostly him though,” Hannah said. “I don’t think I saw any interest on her part. Or maybe she’s just good at hiding it.”
“That wasn’t the first time today he’d checked out Harriet,” CiCi said. She revealed how Goose had watched Harriet as they had entered the visitors’ center.
As Hannah and Lila chatted about Goose and Harriet (wasn’t she dating some lawyer from Lexington?), CiCi took the opportunity to check her phone. She wanted to see a message from Walker, but there was nothing.
Call him? Text him?
That was so… girlfriend-like.
So what if it was?
And that meant she was ready to start a thing with him.
Chapter 5
CiCi excused herself to make a call, and Hannah immediately gave her a sly look.
“I’m sure he’s in the distillery if you want to go drop in,” Hannah teased.
“Shut it,” CiCi said, thereby confirming the identity of the intended recipient of her call.
CiCi went to a corner of the café, called Walker’s cell number, and put a finger to one ear to block out the noise.
“Hi,” he answered before she heard the first ring. “Please tell me you’re at the distillery.”
“Well, yeah,” CiCi said, a little embarrassed at his eagerness to know her whereabouts. “You remembered I was coming here today?”
“Of course I did. I’m the guy who couldn’t wait to see you until Saturday, remember? Are you in the visitors’ center?”
“Yes, but Hannah and Lila are here and—” she began to protest, thinking of all the ribbing she would get should Walker appear.
“Great,” he told her. “It should be easy to find you. And I have other business in the visitors’ center. Be there in five minutes.”
Yeah, great. CiCi knew she was about to be subjected to no end of teasing by Hannah and Lila. But at least she’d get to see Walker.
CiCi returned to the table and saw that Harriet had not yet returned.
“Thought you’d be off to meet a certain someone,” Hannah said as CiCi sat.
“No,” CiCi grumpily insisted.
“Oh, I get it. Walker’s coming to see you. Sweet. But not very private.”
CiCi said nothing but shook her head and sighed as Lila broke into a broad grin. She quickly realized Lila wasn’t smiling at her but someone behind her and turned to see Bo arriving.
Lila gave him a peck on the cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Too many tourists,” he said. “I just had to stand in to give another tour.”
“Wish you’d called me,” Lila said. “I’d have been glad to help.”
“But you need to get back to school soon,” Bo pointed out.
“Too many tourists? Sounds like an embarrassment of riches,” CiCi said.
“I suppose it is, but we do have a real problem,” Bo insisted and started picking at the remains of Lila’s lunch by eating her abandoned pickle. “We’ve got to get more tour guides hired.”
“And we have to hire the person who’s going to manage all those tour guides,” Hannah added.
“Look, there’s Walker,” Lila said, pointing toward the café entrance where the master distiller was walking in with Harriet.
After greetings and Harriet retaking her seat, Bo told Hannah that he needed to meet with her after lunch.
“Then let’s do it now because Harriet gave me those probate papers we also need to review,” Hannah said. “Is this something Lila needs to be in on as well?”
Bo nodded. “She’s an owner, so the answer is yes.”
The three gave apologies, leaving CiCi, Harriet, and Walker in the café together.
“Hey, do you mind if I go over to the gift shop for a moment before we go?” Harriet asked. “I need to buy a few birthday presents for family.”
CiCi told her to go on and that she’d catch up with her in a few minutes.
Walker asked whether he could sit, and CiCi waved him into the seat across from her.
“Still on for Saturday?” he asked as CiCi looked at the envelope Walker had placed on the table. It had a printed return address—Harriet’s law firm.
“Of course. You picking me up?”
“Of course. I could be a little late,” he said, reminding her that he had business at the distillery that morning.
“Just give me a call,” she told him and began to gather the remains of her lunch. She tossed the empty soda can into the box along with a crumpled napkin.
“It’s nice to see you.”
“You too.”
CiCi felt giddy. This man was polite, sweet, and obviously attracted to her. She hadn’t felt like this in years—in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this.
But what was the feeling?
Silly? No, that was her default emotional setting.
Happy? No, not quite—but close.
Lust? Not really, although certain tingles in certain parts of her anatomy indicated the possibility.
It was hope.
It was that little kernel of optimism at the beginning of a relationship shouting out that this guy could be a lot of fun, that this guy could be really serious about her, and this guy could be the One. It was bittersweet, however, because CiCi had felt this way before—and had been sorely disappointed. Hope had blossomed only to be squashed with betrayals and apathy. Men seemed to have a way of leaving her.
Walker slid the envelope in front of her.
“Remember that house you told me about in your neighborhood?” he asked, and she nodded. “I called your neighbor. She’s interested in selling to me, and I had a title search run on the place before I went any further.” Walker tapped the envelope.
“Harriet just delivered that to you, didn’t she?”
He nodded and stuffed the envelope into his back pocket with his free hand. Then he took both of her hands and held them on top of the table. This was the most conspicuous display of affection that had passed between them, a
nd she realized it would not go unnoticed by the distillery and visitors’ center staff milling around in the café along with the tourists.
“Maybe we’ll be neighbors soon?” CiCi asked, surprised at how quickly Walker had moved on the house.
“Maybe,” Walker acknowledged.
But she knew he wanted to be a hell of a lot more than her neighbor, and she was more than willing to explore the possibility.
“Those two,” Hannah said as she entered Bo’s office and Lila closed the door behind them.
“Which two?” Lila asked.
Hannah laughed. “Good question, but today’s couple for purposes of interpersonal relationship gossip will be CiCi and Walker.”
“That’s gonna happen,” Lila declared.
“It is happening,” Hannah said. She fell into a chair in front of Bo’s desk with Lila quickly following suit into the other chair.
“Enough of that crap,” Bo said, displaying his dislike of gossip. “She’s a bad influence on you. Did you know that?” Bo addressed his fiancée and pointed to his sister.
“Just bringing out her natural abilities,” Hannah declared, and Lila laughed.
“Seriously, before we discuss Mom’s estate, we need to talk about the situation with the guides and the gift shop. We’ve got to hire someone. Fast. Last weekend was crazy, and now the weekdays are getting unmanageable. We haven’t even hit the Memorial Day weekend yet, and we can expect at least a third more people after the holiday coming to the distillery to get their share of good old Bourbon-'n-Bluegrass culture.”
“But even if we hired someone tomorrow,” Lila said, “who knows when they could start working? We’re going to have to deal with this extra burden—if it really is a burden—of all these tourists for the foreseeable future and probably after the holiday weekend.”
“Which means we need to start interviews as soon as possible,” Hannah said. “I’ve gotten ten more résumés since our meeting earlier this week, and they all look like decent candidates in addition to the ones we already had.”
“So let’s get some people in here and talk to them,” Bo said.
“But we need to make a decision,” Hannah said, glancing at her brother. “Are we going to interview Jana Pogue?”
Lila was immediately confused. “Who’s that? And what’s the problem with her? Because from the looks you two are giving each other, there’s certainly a problem.”
“The good news is that Jana Pogue is probably the perfect candidate,” Hannah said. “Has PR experience with distilleries, marketing experience, and a minor in history. Lives in the county and has been working for Wilderness Trace Distillery in Danville.”
“And the bad news?” Lila asked.
“She just so happens to be Walker Cain’s ex-wife,” Bo revealed.
“Okay, that’s weird,” Lila acknowledged and sat back in her seat and scratched her head. “Does Walker know?”
Hannah nodded. “He was the one to tell us, in fact. We showed him the résumés on Monday, along with Goose.”
“And he was okay with the idea?” Lila asked, looking incredulous.
“He said he was,” Bo said.
“But Goose wasn’t convinced,” Hannah said. She described to Lila what Goose had said once Walker was out of the room.
“May I see the résumés?” Lila asked, and Bo picked up a folder from his desk and handed it to her. “She almost sounds too good to be true,” Lila said as she went through Jana’s credentials. “And I love she’s got that history minor.”
“But what about the Walker factor?” Bo asked. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes, but I think we need at a minimum to get her in and see what she’s like. I mean, she probably doesn’t have a problem with the idea of working at the same place with her ex-husband. Undoubtedly she knows Walker is the master distiller here. She’s still working in the bourbon industry and lives in Craig County. So if she’s comfortable with the notion of working with Walker, that would seem to be a good sign.”
“I’ll call her right now,” Hannah said, taking the résumé from Lila’s hands.
Saturday was another gorgeous spring day. It was a few weeks after Derby, and the tourists rambling through Craig County were starting to noticeably increase in numbers. They were always easy to spot. They’d usually stop in downtown Bourbon Springs for lunch at Over a Barrel, looking for the renowned bourbon balls made from Old Garnet. Then they’d creep up Main Street, backing up traffic and making local drivers frustrated as they headed north toward the distillery. Walker usually saw that view of the tourist trade since he lived on the southern end of town in his small apartment. But if he got the chance to move to the house he had his eye on at the northern end of the downtown area, he’d be able to avoid a little of the traffic that clogged Main Street on a regular basis in the warmer weather.
He was very interested in that house. It was a good deal, just the right size, relatively close to work. He liked the layout and the yard. And the kicker was that it was only five minutes away from CiCi’s home.
Part of Walker’s brain was telling him to put the brakes on how quickly things seemed to be moving. He was deliberately buying a house near his romantic interest—and the most they’d ever done was hold hands. Maybe today he’d get the chance to kiss her on the lips—and what would it be like to hold her? Walker swallowed hard and tried to keep his eyes on the road. But it was hard to ignore the thought of how CiCi might feel in his arms—and it was impossible to ignore the growing hardness he was sporting just below the steering wheel as his thoughts continued to drift to her.
Damn. And he was just minutes away from picking her up for lunch. He was going south on Main Street instead of north from his apartment; he’d already been to the distillery that morning and met the trade group with Hannah and Bo. Walker thought he’d have plenty of time to get back and pick up CiCi, but there was more traffic than usual going south into town that Saturday.
Walker checked the dashboard clock. One minute until he was supposed to be there. Looking down at his arousal, he knew that wasn’t going away in the next minute. Nothing for it—he had to circle the block.
He passed CiCi’s house, hoping that she wasn’t watching out the window for him and wondering why he’d just rolled on by. Yet the idea of CiCi standing and peeking out her blinds or curtains, eagerly awaiting his arrival, was so preposterous to him that he actually laughed out loud.
But then he thought how wonderful it would be if it were true.
Chapter 6
Their lunch at The Windmill was nice but much too long. They both had turkey sandwiches and split a large piece of strawberry pie.
“So how was the distillery this morning?” CiCi asked as she took the last bite of pie, managing to leave a bit of meringue in the corner of her mouth.
He wanted to wipe it off with his finger, to touch her, to kiss that morsel away, but the tidbit fell from her face and onto the table, unnoticed by her.
Walker had tried—and failed—to keep his eyes off her lips and chest. His typically gentlemanlike attributes were slowly being stripped away. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his lack of manners but feared that she’d seen him checking her out.
“It was fine,” Walker said. “They were nice, and they seemed very interested in nominating Old Garnet for distillery of the year.”
“For national distillery of the year?”
“No, international, although we’re already nominated for state distillery of the year. The state organization has to nominate one distillery for consideration by the international distillery group. And this year it could be us.”
Walker wanted to check the time and patted his pockets down for his phone.
But it wasn’t there.
“What’s wrong?” CiCi asked.
“Lost my phone.”
He’d been so anxious to get away from the distillery that morning he’d completely forgotten about his phone. And he knew where he’d left it—in his office after he’d gone ba
ck there to get some information for one of the members of the delegation. He’d been about to call CiCi to tell her that he was probably going to be late, but then he found the information and ran back to the group waiting for him in the visitors’ center. The phone was on his desk.
“I know exactly where it is,” Walker said.
“Lucky you. Whenever I lose my phone, it takes me forever to find it. Drives me crazy. How can you remember where you put it down?”
“Got a photographic memory, I guess.”
“Bet that comes in handy,” CiCi said as she pulled out her purse and extracted some money.
“Yeah,” he said but not really agreeing. His recent dream about Jana came back to him. Being able to so clearly remember some things wasn’t always a blessing.
Walker drove them to the distillery, flummoxed about the change in plans. He’d envisioned their lunch date ending with maybe a kiss and embrace—and hopefully inside CiCi’s house.
“Wow, look at the crowd today,” CiCi whispered as they pulled into the parking lot.
“And look at that.” Walker pointed to his reserved spot, which was full. “Someone’s taken my parking place.”
Walker had to park far away from the visitors’ center and distillery, and by the time he and CiCi reached the distillery building, they were hot and sweaty. It was now in the upper eighties and extremely humid, and just a short walk in the heat could make anyone miserable.
But they encountered no relief from the high temperatures when they entered the distillery itself. The building, as usual, was steamy and warm. Mash was cooking in the tubs on the floor above them, and two of the cypress mash tubs were being steamed and cleaned.
“Whew,” CiCi said as they crossed the threshold and walked around a tour group to their left. A collection of about twenty people formed a knot around a young tour guide who was giving a basic explanation of the distilling process and pointing to posters and charts hanging on the rough limestone walls behind him.
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