Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  This union was distinctive from their hurried, urgent lovemaking session of the morning and so much better. They actually climaxed together, something Jorrie had never experienced—just like telling a man she loved him.

  They slept curled against each other, and awoke when the fireworks began. Mack pulled another blanket over them, and they lay on their backs to watch the skies above them explode into a billion pieces of color and light.

  Jorrie kissed Mack’s cheek and snuggled into the crook of his neck.

  “Our fireworks were much better,” she whispered and dozed off, even as the heavens above flickered and exploded.

  20

  Success was sweeter the second time around.

  But much more exhausting.

  Mack’s work, concerts, and love life left him in a nearly constant state of fatigue.

  Summer school had ended, and all his students had passed, even Gary. The school year had started, and Mack was now back to teaching his preferred grade level in elementary school. He was looking forward to taking his fourth graders on field trips that fall and especially to GarnetBrooke to see Pepper and the horses.

  Work at the distillery was nothing but pleasant after Sims’s departure. Mack had a great relationship with all the employees and his bosses, and Bo kept dropping hints about Mack coming to work full-time as a bottling manager during the week. While the money and benefits would be slightly better than working for the school system, Mack didn’t want to make that switch because working with the kids made him a lot happier than working at the distillery.

  After a concert and at Jorrie’s urging, Mack mentioned to Bo the ice cream idea. Bo promised to consider the suggestion, and by the next concert Black Garnet was on sale in the distillery café alongside Cinnamon Garnet. Bo gave Mack a share of the profits of the sale of the flavor, and the two started talking about mass producing the ice cream by getting a local dairy as a partner.

  The summer concerts were a massive hit in Bourbon Springs and had drawn visitors from as far away as Louisville, Lexington, and even Nashville on a regular basis. Mack had been approached by more than one agent after the concerts and had turned away every last one of them. He’d e-mailed Webb all summer and kept him updated on the concerts’ success and told him how much fun he’d had playing so many live gigs, although he kept quiet about how much he’d been writing.

  That was something sacred to him, and he didn’t share the fact of his productivity with anyone, even Jorrie or his grandfather.

  They only knew he wrote, and a lot. The truth was that since Jorrie had entered his life he’d written about a hundred songs. All of them were love poems for the woman he adored, and he planned to unwrap his gifts for her slowly, singing a few new songs at every concert.

  Webb repeatedly asked him to come down to Nashville and meet, but Mack kept putting him off. He didn’t have the time, money, or inclination for the trip. Money was still extremely tight, but Mack felt confident that Drake would soon work out some kind of settlement in the lawsuit. If not—well, bankruptcy just wasn’t an option.

  Because he’d have to give up his rights to those songs to be rid of his debts.

  He’d learned that hard fact very early when he’d contemplated filing for bankruptcy. He’d originally wanted to avoid bankruptcy for publicity purposes, as well as to keep the few songs he’d written before returning to Bourbon Springs.

  Now he’d written an entire new catalog of material for the love of his life.

  And he would do everything in his power to keep those songs.

  If that meant he had to re-sign with Webb to get a recording deal or gigs to make some money, so be it. He knew that decision could mean leaving home again, and he didn’t have a plan for that situation. But Drake was optimistic about a settlement on the lawsuit, so that cloud would hopefully soon be lifted.

  Sims continued to haunt his life. Although there had not been any further incidents involving bullets in the side of the house, the mailbox had been run down twice and Albert had received a few threatening phone calls. He also suspected that someone had keyed his truck badly along the driver’s side, but the vehicle was already in such bad shape that he couldn’t determine whether the marks were new or old.

  Kyle hadn’t been able to take them to the firing range as promised since Hannah was on bedrest. Although Mack regretted the circumstances and would’ve enjoyed a trip to the firing range, he didn’t feel like he’d truly missed out on anything since Albert had felt increasingly poorly through the long hot summer and probably would’ve declined to go.

  In this whirlwind of activity, Jorrie was his calm, sweet center.

  They often met for late afternoon trysts at her condo, with her leaving work early and him dropping by on his way home. Their little assignations provided a nice break for him and gave them a way to see each other during the week. On Friday nights, they met at the concerts and returned to her place. He couldn’t stay too late since he had to get home to check on his grandfather and to get some rest since he worked the next day. As a result, they rarely made love on Friday nights, and saved their ardor for the next evening.

  By the Friday before Labor Day, Jorrie insisted Mack come to her condo a little early to spend some time together. He suspected why: she was worried about him. He’d been complaining so much about being tired and busy that she nagged him to come by and rest or take a nap.

  “I’m not sure I can keep doing this,” he groaned. He was flat on his back on the couch in her living room, his forearm over his eyes. “Still have three more of these concerts left before the season ends.”

  He rested quite happily until Jorrie pulled his arm from his face. Mack looked up to find her frowning at him, a hand on her hip.

  “I keep hearing all these complaints from you about the concerts,” she said as she dropped his arm. “So I’m really interested in the answer to this question: how would you feel if you quit?”

  “You mean stopped performing? As in walk away from the rest of the concerts?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not about to do that,” he claimed. “I gave my word that I’d do this, and I won’t disappoint the Davenports or Pepper.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But what if you could just walk away? No problems, no strings attached, no hard feelings? How would that make you feel?”

  “Rested,” he said with a smile.

  “And then what?”

  His smile faded.

  “Lost.”

  “And I know you and the band probably have some gigs lined up for the fall and winter already. Am I right?” He looked up at her with a grin and confirmed her guess. “I thought as much. You just can’t stop performing, Mack. You might as well stop breathing.”

  She told him to get some rest, and he fell back on the couch. He started thinking up some new lyrics just as he was about to drop off to sleep, but Jorrie gently roused him and said she had a letter for him from Drake.

  “Picked it up when I saw it in the outbound mail spot and decided to save some postage. Where should I put it?”

  He sat up immediately and held out his hand for the letter.

  “Give it to me now.”

  Jorrie handed him the envelope and he ripped it open. Mack had been expecting an update from Drake about a settlement offer they’d made and he was anxious to know any news.

  Dear Mack,

  I usually would call with this kind of news, but considering the somewhat complicated circumstances, I thought I should put all this information in a letter so you can read and think before we talk.

  The plaintiff rejected our offer, which shocked me. I thought the proposal we made was very reasonable, as I told you repeatedly. I hope that I didn’t get your hopes up too much for a resolution; I’m sorry if I did.

  After I received the rejection letter, I called the plaintiff’s attorney to see what went wrong. For some reason, they think you have money to pay most of the debt, if not all of it, and have dug in their heels.

&n
bsp; They’ve apparently heard that you’re singing at the distillery concerts and think that’s some kind of hugely lucrative gig. They also hinted that you’re hiding assets. When they told me these things, I was first amused and then mad and got rather hot with them. I pointed out that the distillery concerts were basically free gigs, and that you got paid your expenses, if that.

  As far as the hiding assets thing, I haven’t a clue what they’re thinking. I told them I’d be glad to send them a photo of your truck and where you live to show them the kind of lifestyle you really have. I also said that you were working two jobs to make ends meet and that you were taking care of your grandfather. Forgive me for saying so, but that’s not exactly the high life. I was insulted that they thought you were dishonest, considering how you’ve been killing yourself by working so hard.

  I’m afraid that you really do need to consider filing bankruptcy to get this behind you and start over. If not, they will probably be able to get a huge judgment against you that you’ll be paying off for years through garnishments on your salaries at the school and the distillery or wherever you end up working in the future. You’d have a huge debt hanging over you for years.

  I know you want to protect your intellectual property, and I understand and respect that. But I really think you need to consider speaking with a bankruptcy attorney. Otherwise, you’re going to be in a very deep financial hole for the foreseeable future.

  Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. Call me to talk, and maybe we can make another offer. That would at least give you some more time to think about bankruptcy and slow this thing down, which is the best legal strategy at this point.

  Regards,

  Drake

  Mack slumped on the couch, defeated. Jorrie saw his stance and immediately came to him. She didn’t ask for the letter, but he handed it to her wordlessly and without looking at her.

  “Maybe Drake can still work something out,” she said feebly as she handed the letter back to him after reading it.

  “No, he won’t. These people are assholes. They want my head on a plate. Apparently they think I’m still the big star with all kinds of money.”

  “So why not bankruptcy?” she asked gently. “Drake makes a good point about that.”

  He turned to her, brow furrowed and angry. “Didn’t you see that bit about my intellectual property? That refers to my songs, Jorrie. Everything I left Nashville with the rights to, as well as the new songs I’ve written since I came back to Bourbon Springs. If I go into bankruptcy, I lose the rights to all my songs. I couldn’t live with that.” He rose from the couch with a deep sigh.

  “I understand that you don’t want to give up your work, but you’re looking at a really tough row to hoe if you don’t think about bankruptcy,” she said as he began to pace in front of her fireplace.

  He stopped and turned to her. How could he tell her that he’d written nearly a hundred songs since he’d returned to Bourbon Springs and almost all of them were about her?

  These weren’t just songs. They were pieces of his soul, his gifts to her.

  Giving them up would be tantamount to giving her up, to surrendering memories of the best time of his life.

  “I can’t give up the songs, Jorrie. I’ll do anything to avoid that.”

  He saw the shock and sadness spread across her face.

  “This means you’re going to contact your old agent, aren’t you?”

  He’d told her about Webb’s attempts to make nice, and she’d encouraged him to at least communicate with the guy. But he could see from the disappointment and anxiety on her face that she feared exactly what he knew he had to do.

  That he was going to have to not merely talk to his old agent, but re-sign, and go back to Nashville to earn some money.

  Mack folded the letter and bent to pick up the envelope, which fell to the floor when he’d started to pace. He shoved the letter back into the envelope and shrugged.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

  “The hell you don’t,” she countered, standing. “You’re going back.”

  “I will do whatever it takes to keep my songs.”

  “Even leave?” she said, her voice cracking. “I know that we didn’t promise each other that much, but the thought of you leaving here—”

  She couldn’t finish and broke into tears. Mack was at her side in the next second, and pulling her into his arms.

  “I don’t want to go. But giving up my music…” He held her at arm’s length and looked into her pained face. “It would be like erasing my past and my future, Jorrie. And even if I do return to Nashville, I’ll only stay long enough to pay my debts and then get back here. I promise you that. Because this is where I want to be. With you.”

  They stood for a while in silence, holding each other until she finally turned away and announced they should get to the distillery. He agreed, and within a few minutes they were in separate vehicles heading north on Ashbrooke Pike toward Old Garnet.

  On the drive, Mack ran through various scenarios in his mind as he grasped for a solution to his problem.

  How to keep the songs without leaving Bourbon Springs?

  There was no answer, and he feared he might not find one. By the time he reached the distillery grounds, he was anxious and angry and knew that his performance that evening would suffer unless he focused on the job before him: doing his damned best for his audience and not letting his band mates down.

  Jorrie helped him move some of his equipment to the concert site and then asked whether he’d like to go get sandwich from the distillery café. He declined, saying that he needed to start setting up. She kissed him on the cheek and left.

  As he watched her leave, he felt increasingly uneasy, as though every step put her that much more out of reach in an emotional sense, and wondered whether they’d hit a short pause in their relationship or if they were nearing the end of their song.

  21

  A considerable crowd was at the distillery café, and Jorrie had to wait in line for fifteen minutes. By the time she reached the cashier, many of the boxed sandwich meals had already sold out and she had to settle for tuna salad, one of her least favorite things to eat.

  They’d also sold the entire supply of Cinnamon Garnet, but she did manage to get a cup of some of the last of the Black Garnet. After paying for her food, she had to work her way through the tables in search of a place to sit and eat, but found no open spot. Uneasy with the throng bustling about her but happy that so many people wanted to see Mack perform, she decided to leave the café and return to the concert site. She’d brought a blanket, camp chair, and a cooler so she could set up her own little picnic site like she had for the previous concerts.

  In the usual place directly in front of the stage, Jorrie found the expected crew of people, with a few notable exceptions. Jon, Bo, Goose, Harriet, Walker, and CiCi were all present, but Lila and Pepper were absent. From the lack of camp chairs to accommodate the missing ladies, Jorrie discerned they would not be joining the group that evening.

  “They’re with Hannah,” Jon explained when Jorrie asked. “She’s due this week and Kyle wanted two people with her tonight. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  “Where’s Kyle?” Jorrie asked.

  “He’s around here,” Bo said. “He likes to work these concerts himself. Feels like he needs to be seen at them since he’s the sheriff, considers it his duty since it’s a community event.”

  Jorrie ate her sandwich quickly so she could get to her ice cream, which was rapidly melting in the late summer heat. When she finally started to dig into the cup of Black Garnet, she saw Goose, sitting to her immediate right, eyeing her.

  “By the time I got to the register, they’d already sold out of Cinnamon Garnet,” she explained.

  “You don’t need to explain,” Goose said with a laugh. “Black Garnet is good. But are you willing to tell me which one is better?”

  “That’s not a fair question,” Harriet p
rotested from the seat to Goose’s right.

  “I like them both,” Jorrie said.

  “A great lawyerly response,” Harriet said, nodding approvingly.

  Goose laughed again. “Forgot I was surrounded by lawyers.”

  “I will admit that I got a cone of Cinnamon Garnet on the Fourth of July and went back for a second but Over a Barrel had sold out by the time I returned for more. You really ought to sell it there all the time. I bet it would outsell their famous bourbon balls in the summer.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Harriet told her husband, who looked uncomfortable at the suggestion. “You really need to give the green light to making that available everywhere. People love it! I told you the deli would sell out on the Fourth.”

  “I’m still not completely okay with selling it in the café,” Goose muttered.

  “Why not?” Jorrie asked bluntly. She remembered CiCi’s story about how Goose was protective of the recipe, but didn’t understand why he felt that way.

  “It’s like giving his baby away. He wants to keep it close,” Harriet said. “But as I’ve told him many a time, if you love something, sometimes you have to let it go—or at least be willing to share your gift with the rest of the world.”

  At that moment, Jorrie caught a glimpse of Mack on the stage, helping set up microphones. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up and waved at her before returning to his work.

  “I don’t have a chance,” Goose lamented. “Everyone’s after me to sell Cinnamon Garnet.”

  “So is Harriet right?” Jorrie asked, her eyes still following Mack on stage. “You can’t quite let it go?”

  “I guess that’s one way to put it. It’s just that it was always a family thing for me.”

  “It’s not like you lose it if you share it,” Harriet pointed out. “More people just get to enjoy it, that’s all. Besides, if you finally give up, you get Hannah off your back. And who knows? What if they start wide distribution of Black Garnet and everyone likes it and forgets about Cinnamon Garnet?”