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

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “You won’t be disappointed.”

  She turned and spied the back of the Jeep, spotting a large cooler, captain’s chairs, and a large canvas bag, filled to the brim with what appeared to be food items.

  “I think you should’ve brought a dolly to tote all that stuff.”

  “Who says I didn’t?”

  The parking lot of the visitors’ center was already full by the time they arrived even though the concert didn’t begin for at least another hour. Drake had no trouble parking on the grass beyond the paved lot although parking that far away from the concert grounds resulted in a long, sweaty journey from the Jeep with all the gear and food.

  By the time they reached the fields in front of the stage, they had trouble finding a clear spot to set up their camp. Drake was directing Cara to move farther away from the stage in hopes of finding a clearer space when the unmistakable voice of Hannah Davenport arrested their departure.

  “Oh no you don’t,” intoned a croaky-voiced Hannah, still audibly suffering from her cold. She pointed toward the stage through the crowd. “I’ve saved a special spot for you two. Time to answer some questions.”

  Cara shot Drake a worried look and was surprised to see him grinning.

  “I thought I overheard Jon telling you that he’d caught me kissing the lovely judge in the middle of your lobby,” he said.

  Hannah nodded, then turned to Cara.

  “And you! Why didn’t you say something this morning!”

  “Bo and Ella interrupted me.”

  “Get yourselves up here with the rest of us,” Hannah commanded with a smile.

  Cara and Drake obeyed and followed Hannah until they came to an area in front of the stage. As Hannah had promised, there was space for them. In addition to Kyle, Hannah’s group consisted of Judges Craft and Richards, Harriet and Goose, and Jorrie Jones.

  They set up a little camp next to Jorrie, who was having a fine time drinking what looked to be Garnet on the rocks and laughing it up with Harriet.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here! And with her!” exclaimed Jorrie.

  “You didn’t know about them?” Harriet asked Jorrie but pointing at Cara and Drake as they set up their chairs.

  “Nope.”

  “What’s to tell?” Drake asked and began setting up the chairs as Cara helped. “We decided to go out. Just happened this week.”

  “You might have shared that information with your law partner!” Jorrie cried.

  “Where are CiCi and Walker?” Drake asked, still standing and looking around.

  “Out of town,” Jorrie said, “as are Jon and Pepper.”

  When Cara started to open the cooler they’d brought, Drake protested.

  “My picnic for you, remember? Let me set it up.”

  She relented and sat in the captain’s chair next to Jorrie and Harriet.

  “No Bo and Lila?” Cara asked.

  “Lila has bronchitis,” Harriet said. “But don’t change the subject, Judge! When did you and Mr. Mercer start whatever it is you’ve started?” Harriet giggled, as did Jorrie, and Cara realized both women probably had been drinking for some time.

  She decided to be factual and was relieved to realize that there weren’t that many facts to actually reveal.

  “He asked me out on Monday. I’d gone to the park to eat, relax, and grab some time away from Nate. Drake was there as well.” She explained how they’d both gone to The Windmill at different times, couldn’t find a seat, and then met up in the park.

  Cara felt a nudge on her arm and turned to see Drake handing her a wrapped sandwich.

  “You like chicken salad?”

  “Love it,” she said, taking the proffered sandwich.

  Drake had placed the cooler between their chairs to serve as a makeshift table. On the blanket covering the ground was an open bag of chips, and on the top of the cooler were a few pieces of fruit, bottles of beer, and cans of soft drinks. He gestured to the offering and encouraged Cara to take what she wanted.

  Cara unwrapped the sandwich and at once recognized that it was no ordinary thing.

  “Is this chicken salad from Over a Barrel?” she asked, holding the sandwich up to better inspect the contents between the thick slices of sourdough bread.

  “Sure is,” he confirmed. “But it’s a new version of it. Bourbon pecan chicken salad. Candied pecans, soaked in bourbon—Old Garnet, of course,” he added. “I went over to the Barrel this afternoon to get some chicken salad, and they offered me this as sort of a taste test.”

  Cara felt her eyes widen at the prospect of being a well-fed guinea pig for a new treat from Over a Barrel. Examining the sandwich at the edges, she saw the chunks of pecan in stark contrast to the chicken and mayo. The pieces of pecan were so big that she could see the sugar on the surface sparkle even in the dim light of the evening.

  “I don’t remember this bread at the Barrel,” she said. “Is that something new too?”

  “Nope. Baked it myself.”

  “You bake bread?”

  “And other things,” he added. “I’ve been known to make a mean apple pie.”

  “Don’t say that too loudly around Goose here, or he’ll demand the recipe,” Jorrie interjected.

  Goose’s head swiveled in their direction at the mention of his name.

  “I think my ears are burning.” He chuckled.

  “Drake claims to make a good apple pie,” Harriet said, leaning back in her chair and sipping her drink. She looked like she was waiting for something to unfold.

  Goose snorted. “I’ve had that pie. Nothing to write home about, Mercer.”

  Drake smiled at Cara, who had yet to take a bite of her sandwich.

  “We’ll see whether it’s a hit.”

  Cara pointed to the cooler.

  “You mean to tell me that you’ve got apple pie in there?” she asked.

  “Eat your sandwich, then dessert,” was his reply.

  Taking his direction, she sank her teeth into the soft bread and through the creamy filling. The salty tang of the bread perfectly complemented the sweetness of the chicken salad, and Cara tasted several large sugary pecans as she chewed. She looked at the bread and realized that making sourdough was no small feat. One had to have a starter and have some basic knowledge of the bread-making process. The man’s culinary skills likely surpassed her own.

  “Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked.

  “My grandmother showed me how to bake, but that’s pretty much it. I can do basic stuff, and know my way around a grill, but my skills are mostly limited to breads, cakes, cookies.”

  “I’d like to thank your grandmother someday.”

  “Long gone, I’m sorry to say. She didn’t have any granddaughters, and I was the only grandson to show any interest when she offered to teach me to cook.”

  “So is Mack going to sing anything special tonight?” Harriet asked Jorrie as Cara devoured her sandwich.

  “I don’t think he’s going to sing anything new, if that’s what you’re asking. He will be singing something at the wedding but a familiar tune.”

  Harriet let out a squee. “That’s wonderful!”

  “I actually know the song he’s going to sing at the ceremony—as do you, if you think about it. I’ll be a complete wreck. I’m buying all waterproof makeup.”

  As Harriet and Jorrie fell into conversation, Cara detached, happy for an opportunity to soak up the atmosphere. She’d only been to one of these concerts last year; Brad Byrd had taken her, and it had been an uncomfortable experience. He was stiff and dull, wanting to talk about his medical practice. He’d asked her few if any questions about herself, and his lack of attention had left her cold and bored.

  Drake, on the other hand, was more than attentive. He’d even admitted to her that he was obsessed with her. The vibe on this sultry evening was very different from a year ago, and the band hadn’t even started playing.

  After Cara had consumed her sandwich, Drake asked whether she’d lik
e another one.

  “I don’t know,” she hedged. “That one was so rich and sweet. Almost like a dessert in itself.”

  “I do want you to save room for dessert. I’m sure you’ll like it even though a bit of the surprise has been spoiled.”

  “I take it dessert involves apple pie?”

  “Yes, but that’s all you’ll get out of me. So do you want that extra sandwich? I have plenty.”

  She asked to split one, and Drake cracked the lid off the cooler and pulled another out, this one a bit smaller than the one Cara had just finished eating.

  “I’ll need a workout after eating this picnic,” she said as she took half the sandwich.

  “And don’t forget that we’re picnicking at the park tomorrow, remember?”

  “Are you serious about that?”

  “Of course.”

  “You realize that you not only get Nate on that deal but my mother as well?”

  “I know. I was hoping she’d come along.”

  “Spending time with the family,” she said, shaking her head. “Very clever, Mr. Mercer.”

  He leaned toward her.

  “I know that the way to your heart is not a straight and easy path. And I’m going to show you that I’m more than willing to walk down that road for you and with you, if you’ll only meet me halfway.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Being seen with me and letting me kiss you in public again is a great start.”

  He leaned in to put his hand on her cheek, then kissed her.

  She finished the second sandwich, and Drake slid the lid off the cooler.

  “Ready for dessert?”

  “You bet. After all that bragging, I’m wondering whether your treat can live up to my expectations.”

  Goose stood and walked over to behind Cara’s chair. “Just what do you have in there, Mercer?”

  “Something you’re gonna wish you thought of first,” he said. “If you’re nice, I’ll give you the recipe.”

  Smiling, Drake reached into the depths of the cooler and pulled out two red plastic cups, both covered in plastic wrap.

  “What’d you bring?” Goose jeered. “Milkshakes? Homemade popsicles? In the classic booze party cup? Classy, Mercer.”

  Drake handed a cup to Cara.

  “That,” he said, pointing at the cup and ignoring Goose, “is ice cream with bits of my homemade apple pie chunks blended in. I added a drizzle of bourbon caramel sauce on top, and the ice cream is Cinnamon Garnet.”

  Harriet jumped from her seat and stood in front of Cara and Drake, her eyes fixed on the red cup.

  “It’s like one of those frozen treats you can get at some fast-food places but with bourbon. That’s brilliant.”

  “I’m the guy who showed the world Cinnamon Garnet,” Goose added in a complaining tone.

  “Only after we begged, coaxed, and threatened you. And you said only recently you’re still worried about taking it commercial even though it’s a done deal with Scoop-n-Spade,” Harriet said, referencing a well-known regional ice cream manufacturer.

  Goose shushed her and looked around. “That’s not public knowledge.”

  “Is now,” Drake said as he offered Cara a spoon.

  Inside the red cup, a drizzle of caramel zigzagged atop the light pink ice cream she recognized as Cinnamon Garnet. She’d only had the rare treat a few times at Over a Barrel during workday lunches. Being able to grab some of the ice cream had become akin to acquiring a rare and renowned twenty-three-year-old bourbon—nearly impossible.

  Cara plunged her spoon into the depths of the cup and extracted a chunk of ice cream. Once removed, she could not only better see the caramel—a lovely dark brown from the extra bourbon—but the chunks of apple pie. She slipped the bite into her mouth.

  It was, of course, delicious. The flavors of the bourbon, apples, caramel, and intense cinnamon combined perfectly for a taste experience like no other.

  “Well?” Harriet asked.

  “I’d strongly advise your husband to do whatever it takes to get this recipe,” Cara said, looking down into her cup and digging out her next bite.

  Drake removed another red cup from the cooler and handed it to Harriet, along with a spoon. Harriet took the offering eagerly, scooped out a chunk, and popped it into her mouth. Her long moan and closed eyes relayed approval of the treat, and Goose maneuvered to her side to request a bite.

  “No way,” Harriet said and swept the cup and spoon to the opposite side of her body from where her husband could not grab it. “You made fun of it.”

  “I just want to see how easy it will be to copy the recipe, that’s all,” Goose claimed.

  “Go ahead,” Drake encouraged Harriet. “Let him taste it.”

  Harriet reluctantly scooped out a bite for Goose and brought the spoon to his lips.

  “Don’t you trust me with the cup?”

  “After you taste this, I don’t trust you to give it back,” she said.

  He opened his mouth, and she spoon-fed him as Cara and Drake watched. As soon as the bite hit his tongue, Goose’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

  “Pretty good,” was all he would allow. “But those bits of pie… they don’t taste like the pie you brought to the distillery one day.”

  “That’s because this pie has extra bourbon in it,” Drake explained.

  “You brought a pie to the distillery? And shared it with the likes of him?” Harriet asked Drake as she ate from the cup and returned to her seat.

  “He dared me, so I did. It was about a month ago. We’d been out canoeing on the creek, looking for blockages and to see if the stream was navigable. Started talking about growing up and learned that we both had a woman in our lives who taught us to cook. But then he started bragging about how great a cook he was. I stood up for myself, said I was no slouch in the kitchen. So he challenged me to bring something to one of the next meetings we were having about the kayaking and canoeing trips. I brought an apple pie although I don’t remember the flavor he brought.”

  “It was strawberry,” Goose interrupted. “They were in season and perfect.”

  “Anyway,” Drake said dismissively, “everyone ate my pie—not a bite left. Goose took half a pie home that day to his lovely wife.” Drake dipped his head toward Harriet, who continued to eat from the cup.

  “They only ate yours because you told them you put bourbon in it,” Goose muttered.

  “And you didn’t put bourbon in the strawberry pie?” Harriet asked, momentarily taking a break from her dessert. “A Davenport made something sweet without putting bourbon in it?”

  “Bourbon and strawberries just don’t go together very well. Cherries, on the other hand, are great.” He winked at his wife.

  “Then why didn’t you make a cherry pie?” Harriet asked.

  “Not in season. I only used the freshest things I could. Mercer, on the other hand,” Goose said, pointing to Drake, “used plain old apples from Minnick’s.”

  “How do you know?” asked Cara.

  “He admitted it!”

  “Big deal,” Harriet said. “You’re just mad because people liked his pie better than yours. Serves you right for making something without bourbon. Does Hannah know you did that?”

  “Of course she does. She was at the meeting and ate two pieces of Drake’s pie and turned up her nose at mine,” Goose griped.

  Drake pulled a red cup from the cooler, stood, and walked toward Goose.

  “Don’t take it so hard. Just to show you there’s no hard feelings,” he said, handing the cup to Goose, “you can be the one to deliver this to Hannah instead of me.”

  The emergent smile on Goose’s face faded as Harriet and Cara broke into laughter. Frowning, Goose took the cup and duly conveyed it to Hannah, who was standing at the edge of the stage talking with a security guard.

  Hannah stared at the proffered red cup as Goose explained what it was. She then took it and waved to Drake with an appreciative smile.

  “This
looks like something we might want to sell in the café,” she exclaimed, causing Goose to roll his eyes as he walked away while Harriet continued to laugh.

  Hannah retreated from the stage with her cup, raising it in salute to Drake as she returned to her seat by Kyle’s side.

  “Show-off!” hissed Goose.

  “Be nice, or you’ll never get his recipes,” Harriet cautioned her husband. Drake and Cara to broke into laughter as a clearly irked Goose’s face reddened.

  7

  The spat over ice cream and pie died away as an announcer came to the podium and introduced the musical act. As he spoke, Mack Blanton and the Foolcatchers walked onto the stage to vigorous applause.

  Mack took the mic, but the first thing he did was to remove his cowboy hat, bow, and then blow a kiss to his fiancée. The crowd produced an audible awwww at this gesture while Jorrie blew a kiss back.

  “As you know, this is the last concert for a few weeks because I’m the luckiest man on the planet. That woman,” he said, pointing to Jorrie, “against her better judgment, agreed to be my wife, and we’ll be getting married soon.” He began to strum his guitar as the crowd applauded. “It so happens that I proposed to her on this very spot. I sang her a song that I’m going to sing now, but understand that I’m not singing it for anyone but her—and I do have her permission to sing this, by the way. It’s called ‘Wipe the Slate,’ the first time I’ve played this for an audience of more than one.”

  Love unearned yet love recalled

  You came to me and tore down my walls

  The song of life you teased from me

  You rescued my heart; my soul is freed

  Wipe the slate, we start anew

  Wipe the slate, a life with you

  Debt erased and love unbound

  Life renewed in hope resounds

  Another chance, as one we soar

  Will you fly with me forevermore?

  The pain of need, that burden gone

  I need you now and always, my love

  Wipe the slate, we start anew

  Wipe the slate, a life with you

  Debt erased and love unbound

  Life renewed in hope resounds