Mack and Jorrie fell into the grass, with Mack clutching Jorrie to his chest. He held her tightly, scared shitless and furious at whoever had nearly killed them.
He managed to get them into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, dazed. “But I don’t think the same can be said for my car.”
The driver’s side of Jorrie’s sedan was crushed, with the driver’s-side door buckled and bent. Every window except the two on the passenger side was shattered.
Mack stood and pulled Jorrie to her feet. Fists on hips, she surveyed the damage.
“I know how you can repay me for those groceries, Mack.”
“Yeah?” Looking over his shoulder, he saw the driver of the truck running toward them from the parking lot.
“Clean out the passenger side of your truck. This girl’s gonna need a ride home.”
5
“You really didn’t have to do this, Mack.”
She was tired, rattled, and all she’d wanted to do was go back to her condo and get a shower before falling into bed. She wasn’t worried about the car since she had decent insurance and the accident hadn’t been her fault.
But she was worried about getting her parents a new gift. In the violence of the crash, the vase had fallen from the passenger seat in her car to the floor and broken. Now she had nothing for her parents and was probably going to be reduced to getting something like a potted plant and a gift card for them on such short notice.
And now Mack Blanton was taking her out to eat. The accident certainly wasn’t his fault, but he seemed to be making amends for her troubles.
After he’d returned to the crash site and watched as her car had been hauled away, he’d insisted on getting her a bite to eat. She’d resisted at first, but he was so sweetly adamant that she’d caved.
“I haven’t been to The Windmill in months,” he said as he held the door of the diner open for her. “But when I passed by the other day on the way to the distillery and the farm, I started thinking about their pie. I hope it’s as good as I remember it.”
“I should think so.” Jorrie pointed to the menu over the takeout counter, which listed no less than a dozen flavors of pie, and the booths filled with people. “This place is more popular than ever. Bourbon tourism has been good to this place.”
They scanned the diner for a seat but saw nothing.
“Looks like we’ll have to do takeout if you’re determined to feed me,” she said.
“Then takeout it will be.”
“But I have no idea where we could go eat,” he admitted. “I’d suggest the distillery grounds—I think I saw some picnic tables out there the other day—but I’m sure it’s closed.”
Jorrie thought for a moment and told him she knew where to go.
“We can go to the courthouse square,” she told him as a couple in front of them placed a large order. “There are some benches around the side of the courthouse. I sometimes go out there to eat my lunch.”
“The courthouse?” he asked, skeptical. “Not the most romantic spot, is it?”
“I suppose that remains to be seen,” she shot back, her eyes fixed on his.
Mack gaped at her before the clerk called for his order.
Twenty minutes later they were in downtown Bourbon Springs, walking across the courthouse square to the concrete benches on the north side of the building. They toted two white bags stuffed full of burgers and fries and pieces of pie along with milkshakes.
“I think we overdid it on the food,” Jorrie said as she took a seat on a bench. Mack took the bench perpendicular to Jorrie’s seat and placed his paper bag next to him.
The evening was now dim, and the streetlights lining Main Street glowed in the encroaching darkness. It was still light enough that one could see the bourbon-bottle motifs on top of the streetlights.
The mild lemony scent of a magnolia tree mixed with the familiar aromas of freshly cut grass and clover. These heady scents of the season still could not completely mask the stench of mulch which had been scattered over the courthouse grounds recently, judging from the pungency.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, happy to have something tasty to eat, a quiet place to do it, and simply to be in each other’s company.
Jorrie reflected on the strangeness of her long day. She certainly hadn’t expected to end up with him on the courthouse lawn as evening bled into night, hungry and tired, yet unwilling to part from him.
“Are you going to come see me at the Fair?” he asked.
“I am. Pepper and Jon are coming with me too.”
“Nice to know at least three people will be there.”
She put her milkshake down, again irritated by his self-deprecating comments. Mack reminded her a little bit of Pepper, and how she’d compared herself to Hannah rather than taking pride in the products of her own imagination.
After finishing their meals and eating the slices of pie (chocolate for him and apple for her), Jorrie hoped that Mack might join her on her bench. But when he was walking back from tossing their trash, the courthouse clock chimed eight.
“Better get going. Need to get home and make sure my grandpa takes his meds and gets to bed.”
“You can walk me home from here. No need to move your truck.”
“You live near here?” he asked as he offered her his hand.
“Only two blocks.”
Jorrie took his hand. Mack pulled her up from the bench a little too quickly and their bodies bumped.
Jorrie felt that same spark she’d experienced by the side of the road when they’d embraced and kissed. She was eager to feel him against her again, to fall into his kiss, his arms, his presence. She let him slide his hands around her waist and then down to her ass.
“So where to?”
“Right here’s pretty nice,” she said, kissing him quickly before she pulled away.
“Not so fast,” he said after she’d broken the kiss.
He put his hands on the back of her head and pulled her into a longer kiss. Mack broke it as soon as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
“I’m sure we wouldn’t want to get busted for doing naughty stuff on the courthouse grounds,” he said. “So lead the way home.”
He walked her to the front steps of her condo, where they shared a decidedly toned-down kiss.
“You’re really coming to the fair?” he asked again.
“Yes, I promise. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He released her hand as he took a few steps away from the front of her condo. “I have a new song I want you to hear.”
“Is it one you wanted to put on your Bluegrass album?”
“No, brand-new material. I think you’ll like it. I wrote it this week.”
“This week? That is new material.”
“Promise me again you’ll be there,” he asked, a little desperately. “I won’t play it if you’re not at the fair.”
“I’ll be there, Mack,” she said. “And I’ll try to wave to you from the audience so you can see me.”
“Good. Because I wrote the song for you.”
Jorrie blinked several times as Mack kissed her cheek.
The man had written a song for her?
She turned to her door and opened it, trying to hide her nerves. They said good-bye and she watched him, a little breathless, as he disappeared into the warm June night.
This suddenly felt like more than simply a possible summertime fling.
Rissa wasn’t upset that Jorrie broke the blind date.
“That junior partner couldn’t have made it this weekend, anyway. He’s all caught up in some trial and working crazy hours. So what about next Friday night at Woodford Reserve? I’m sure he’ll be looking for some fun on Friday night with a sexy blonde.”
Jorrie was reluctant to reschedule the blind date, thinking that she might want to keep her options open for weekend evenings. Mack wasn’t a boyfriend—yet.
But Rissa was i
nsistent, and since Jorrie didn’t want to tell her friend that she had a blossoming romance, she agreed to reschedule.
So it was off to the Craig County Fair on a fine June evening.
Pepper and Jon picked her up at her condo, and the trio headed eastward to the fairgrounds. It was predictably crowded for a Friday night, and they had to wait in a long snaking line of cars to pay to get in and park. Jorrie found herself repeatedly checking her watch to make sure they wouldn’t be late for Mack’s show, which was the only ticketed event of the evening.
“This is fun!” exclaimed Pepper as she walked hand in hand with Jon after she had purchased a very large elephant ear. The trio was looking for a place to sit and eat the gargantuan sweet treat, and finally came upon a large tent adjacent to the food vendors.
“You are going to help us eat this thing, aren’t you?” Jon turned to ask Jorrie. “It’s huge.”
“Love to lend a hand—or a mouth, as the case may be,” Jorrie said.
The group sat at a picnic table and began to devour the soft treat, which was something like a fried pie crust coated with a brown sugar and cinnamon mixture. Since it was the size of a large plate, it easily fed more than one person.
Jon volunteered to go buy some bottled water for all, and left Pepper and Jorrie alone momentarily.
“I think I’m going to need a nap after eating this,” Pepper said wearily. “All these carbs.”
“Sure you’re not pregnant?” Jorrie teased again. “Eating carbs, getting tired…”
“I’m sure,” Pepper confirmed. “Although Jon’s already been dropping big hints about a baby and we’ve only been married for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, but you were more or less engaged for years,” Jorrie said.
“Good one,” Pepper acknowledged and continued to attack the elephant’s ear. “So maybe he does have a point,” she said to herself.
Jon returned with waters and the group finished the snack. Jorrie felt a little sickly after eating so much, and the oppressive heat and humidity of the evening did nothing to alleviate her discomfort. She’d worn a sleeveless green tank over khaki shorts and sneakers (she didn’t want to be traipsing around the fairgrounds in sandals or flip-flops, considering the number of animals about), but even if she’d been stark naked, the temperature still would’ve made her miserable.
They talked briefly about Jorrie’s totaled car, Jon’s new job at Old Garnet, and Pepper’s hopes to get three new retired thoroughbreds in the next week.
“And by the way,” Pepper added, “Hannah Davenport’s going to be here tonight. I told her about the concert idea and she loved it, but she wanted to see Mack perform again before she’d agree to anything. I doubt there’s going to be a problem with the quality of his act. Do you know if he has an agent?”
“I don’t think he does,” Jorrie said, thinking about Mack’s down-on-his luck comments.
“Good,” said Pepper. “It’ll be easier to deal directly with him. Anyway, after the concert tonight, I’m going to ask him about doing shows at Old Garnet, and I want you with me for that conversation.”
With the elephant ear consumed, they left the picnic area and spied Judges Richards and Craft, with baby Jacob Elijah in a stroller. They stopped to say hello briefly (except to the baby, who was fast asleep) and headed toward the concert area.
The sights and smells of a county fair enveloped Jorrie: the greasy smell of something frying, the cries of babies, and a man making balloon animals for kids. It was such a common, shared experience in America, and Jorrie loved being in a place that felt familiar and safe.
“I’m so glad Mack’s getting this chance,” Pepper said as they made their way to the tent where Mack was scheduled to perform. “He’s so talented and—”
But when they reached the tent, they saw people filtering away from the site, all heading in the same direction, to the left.
“What’s going on?” Jon asked someone.
“They moved the concert to the grandstands,” said a woman, pointing in the direction of the flow of the crowd. “More people showed up for Mack Blanton than they’d counted on.” The woman shook her head disgustedly. “Really, why didn’t they plan better? The guy’s a hometown hero! How could they say they didn’t expect such a big turnout?”
The trio edged into the long snaking line of people heading away from the tent. Jorrie was thrilled to see this kind of turnout—could all these people really be there to see Mack?
He must know the crowd had far exceeded expectations since they had to move the site. But she wished he could see the people hustling along as they neared the grandstands, many eager to get ahead and get a good seat. She almost took her phone out and took a picture of the sight before her but thought it might be too fangirlish.
To Jorrie’s dismay, they had to sit high in the stands. There was a pit of people right down at the stage, but Jon and Pepper eschewed the opportunity to get into that mess. Not wanting to part with her ride home, Jorrie joined them, all the while wondering how she could signal to Mack that she was there.
She wanted to hear her song.
“What’s wrong?” Pepper asked as Jorrie fidgeted in her seat and craned her neck to get a good look at the stage. They were at least a dozen rows up in the midst of a packed crowd.
“I promised Mack I’d let him know I was here.”
“Really?” Pepper looked very amused at the idea.
“Yeah—um—he said he wanted to play a certain song, and he wouldn’t do it unless he knew I was here.”
Jorrie had told Pepper about the incident with Mack’s truck and her car and how Mack had insisted on taking her to The Windmill at the end of the day. She hadn’t shared with Pepper all the details of her encounters with Mack—but could see from the look on Pepper’s face that her client didn’t need a detailed picture of what had happened to fill in the blanks.
“I guess you’ll have to stand up and wave, unless you want to go down there with the rest of the groundlings.” Pepper pointed to the thick crowd in front of the stage area.
In the next moment, Jorrie saw Hannah Davenport, followed by Lila McNee Davenport and CiCi Summers, walking up the grandstand stairs. Pepper called to the three women, and Jorrie, Pepper, and Jon scooted down on the hard aluminum benches to allow room for the newcomers.
After greetings all around, Pepper looked confused.
“I know that Kyle’s on duty, but where’s Bo? And Walker?” Pepper asked Hannah, who was sitting between the two women.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Some alleged problem with a mash tub. I think those two just wanted an excuse not to come, really. Bo was complaining how hot it was tonight.”
“Like it’s not hot in that distillery,” Lila sniped. “I can’t believe my own husband stood me up.”
“Exactly,” agreed CiCi, sitting on the other side of Lila. CiCi began to fan herself with a piece of a paper, causing her curly hair to bounce a little in the breeze.
Jorrie strained to see the stage as her companions talked in low tones about the latest gossip, which was all about Old Garnet.
Just a few days earlier, while doing yardwork, Lila, Bo, and Kyle had unearthed a small barrel in Lila and Bo’s backyard on the distillery grounds. The trio had stumbled upon the rumored Booker’s Babies or Wedding Bourbon that Booker Davenport, Bo and Hannah’s grandfather, had allegedly hidden decades ago. The bourbon had been bottled for the wedding of Bo and Hannah’s parents and was a sought-after item. Walker had recently discovered a partial bottle hidden in the distillery. But to find a hoard of the stuff was phenomenal, and it was the talk of the town and beyond.
Yet the rumors coming out about the discovery weren’t all positive. Tales had emerged that bottles were already missing—no fixed number, although there were reported to be nine in possession of the Davenports at present. There hadn’t been any official police reports of theft or burglary—that would’ve made the news in Louisville and Lexington. But Jorrie overheard her acquaintances talking about
security at the distillery and noted their concerned looks.
Finally, the musicians filed onto the stage, their arrival announced by cheers. Mack was the last to get to the stage. He turned to the crowd, a look of complete awe and joy on his face. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a blue-and-white University of Kentucky T-shirt.
Jorrie thought she might get a chance to stand up and wave to him, but everyone else in the audience had the same idea at the same time and she became just another body and mass of arms waving at him.
Mack went to the center of the stage and greeted the crowd as his band set up behind him.
“Thank you so much for being here,” he said as he adjusted his guitar on his chest. “I had no idea so many of you folks in Bourbon Springs would come out to see me.”
A roar went up from the crowd, and Mack actually took a step back, apparently shocked by his reception.
Mack then introduced the members of his band, all friends from work.
“If they weren’t here tonight,” he said, “I wouldn’t be here for you, so give up a big cheer for them.”
The crowd suitably applauded, and Mack shaded his eyes and scanned the crowd.
She took advantage of the lull.
Jorrie stood, waving her arms wildly.
“I’m here!”
Mack’s hand fell from his eyes and he grabbed the microphone.
“That’s all I needed to know,” he said in a tone that made her feel like he was speaking directly to her. He turned to the band behind him. “Let’s get this thing started!”
Jorrie retook her seat, with the eyes of all her companions and many in the crowd still upon her.
“What was that all about?” Hannah laughed.
“Long story,” Jorrie said, happy that the music began at that very moment.
Mack first went through the songs he had performed on The Big Sing Thing, leading up to the song with which he’d won the competition. At that point, the crowd went a little nuts, and Jorrie expected that the band might take a break.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 5