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

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Instead, he gave her hands a squeeze, brought them to his lips where he kissed each, and then dropped them. Standing, he offered her a hand.

  “Now let me show you something I truly love,” he offered.

  8

  She could not resist and took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. The expected kiss didn’t come. He simply smiled like a child eager to share something wonderful and new.

  Down the sloping land to the creek they went or, to be more precise, toward the creeks. Returning to the confluence made her jittery since she now associated it with the fright of looking for her lost child.

  But as they approached, her trepidation faded. They were on the opposite bank of Brush Grove Creek than they had been on that horrible day.

  And everything looked and felt very different under the warm blanket of a starry Kentucky summer night.

  Several yards from the water was an unusually flat and broad space, and the grass in patches gave indications of recently having some great weight upon it. Drake released her hands and walked in a wide arc around her until he had completed a full circle.

  “Like the spot? This is where the volunteers are going to build that gazebo.”

  “It’s lovely. But aren’t you afraid that the creek could flood it?”

  “It’s in the floodplain, no doubt about that,” he said, returning to her side. “But we’ve checked with the parks department about historical flooding here. There’s a chance it could get up in this area but not often.”

  “So why here and not up high?” she asked, gesturing back up the hill. “The views are gorgeous from up there.”

  “We liked this spot better,” was his simple response. He took several steps away from her and looked at the confluence, only a few yards down the bank from where they stood. “There’s something about the water here… how one stream flows to the other, how Old Crow broadens at this point when it is changed, supplemented by the waters of Brush Grove.”

  She watched him from behind as he sighed and continued to gaze at the dark water, swirling and combining as the moonlight flashed off the surface between the trees. The tree line was thin at this point around the creeks, affording a decent view of the confluence and both streams.

  Cara walked to his left side and took his hand.

  “You’re drawn to this place, to the water. You were the one to choose this spot for the gazebo.”

  Drake turned to her, eyes narrowed and his mouth curved into something between a smile and a smirk.

  “How is it you already know me so well?”

  He took Cara’s face in his hands and pulled her lips to his. She let him taste her, taunt her, as her mouth widened.

  Somehow she felt he hadn’t planned for this encounter to take place beside the creek, the blanket on the higher ground had given away his intentions. But there they were again, kissing beside a creek in the moonlight.

  Yet it was different.

  The quality of the light was better, if only slightly, and the sound of the water was a soft rush instead of the crash of the waterfall at the creek at the park. Her hands migrated to his waist then up his back, and she felt herself pulling him closer, craving the heat of his body against hers, even though the thick humidity of the summer night made it feel as though they were in the water rather than on land.

  His lips trailed light, then needy kisses to her neck, and Cara felt his fingers slip under her shirt along the waist. She sighed deeply, signaling him to proceed, and he took her cue.

  Instead of fingers and palms creeping upward to her breasts, he instead slid his hands to her back and up her shoulders. He had completely taken her with the move, but all he continued to do was kiss her neck as his palms flattened across her back. He had mirrored her movements; her hands rested on his back but lower and on top of his shirt.

  They had captured each other.

  “Why do you love the water so much?” she asked.

  “The water here is smooth and sweet—there’s a reason they use it to make bourbon, you know. But beyond that, I love it because I can lose myself on the water. I can float away, pretend I’m the only one in the world, or go along with those that I want. It takes me on journeys to places I want to go. Through this beautiful land.” His eyes briefly left her face but soon returned. “Everyone has their special place. These creeks have long been that for me. And maybe now I have another home.”

  She put her hands on the back of his head and pulled him to her until their lips were nearly touching.

  “Welcome home.”

  Drake’s whole body shuddered as their lips met. His hands dropped from her shoulders to the middle of her back. His fingers lingered at her bra clasp, tacitly seeking permission before proceeding. She revealed her acquiescence by flicking her tongue into his mouth, and the next thing she knew, her bra was loose and Drake was pulling both it and her shirt over her head.

  She reeled from the swift movement and from her sudden half-nakedness and stumbled backward a step. Drake grabbed her hand and steadied her.

  “Sorry, didn’t meant to be so—well, eager,” he admitted.

  Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she breathed heavily and shivered, feeling a breeze come across the creek and up the hill. Yet even though she was half-bared to him, Drake’s eyes remained firmly on her face.

  “May I walk you back to that blanket?” he asked, offering her his hand.

  She had not been with a man like this since her husband’s death. Cara couldn’t even remember the last time she and Todd had been intimate. It was her brain’s way of protecting her, she figured.

  Now she was wondering just what Drake wanted to do on that blanket. Is that what he expected of her this night?

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “It seems I am being extremely impolite by not reciprocating.”

  Drake then removed his own shirt and bent to pick up hers, along with her bra. He again offered his hand to her, but all she could do was stare at his chest, unable to return his politeness.

  It had been ages since a man presented himself to her like that. Perhaps her eyes had lingered on the occasional hunky, shirtless lawn guy or a few good-looking specimens as she slowly passed a road crew in the warmer weather. She was careful not to exceed the speed limit in those construction zones. But not merely to avoid the threatened double fine.

  But those men, unlike the man before her in the moonlight, had not revealed themselves for her exclusive pleasure and perusal.

  She finally took his hand and willed herself to look away.

  “Drake, I…”

  “I know it’s been a while, and that’s not what I want from you tonight, Cara,” he said, intuiting her hesitancy. “But let me feel you against me. Let me hold you. Let me remind you that you’re a woman.”

  “Mission accomplished,” she whispered as he led her up the hill and back to the blanket.

  Drake tossed their clothes aside and stood in front of her. He still had not glanced at her chest.

  “You can look, you know,” she teased.

  His gaze remained firmly on her face.

  “I am looking.”

  Drake moved a hand behind her head, slid the elastic from her hair, and dropped it. He wound his fingers into her hair at the roots, fluffing it and letting it slowly fall around her bare shoulders.

  “Your hair…,” he whispered, wrapping some strands around his fingers and gazing in wonder.

  “My turn,” she said, stepping to him and entwining her fingers in those unkempt blond locks of his.

  Her breasts brushed against his hard chest, and they both sighed at the skin-to-skin contact. Drake lowered his hands from her hair and placed them on her waist.

  “Since I’m allowed to look, may I touch as well?”

  “You’d damn well better.”

  His hands moved up her torso with deliberate slowness until his palms covered and claimed her breasts. Stroking her nipples with his thumbs, Cara saw his stare finally fall to her chest as her hea
d dropped back on her shoulders and she surrendered to his touch. Drake caressed her as his lips once more found her neck, and soon she was moaning and sighing as his fingers, lips, and tongue pleasured her skin.

  Drake fell away from her and, taking her by the hand, dropped to one knee on the blanket. As much as she was enjoying herself, Cara was not prepared to completely give herself to him, and she hesitated.

  He kissed her hand.

  “I’m not suggesting we take off any more clothes than we already have tonight.”

  She put her other hand on his cheek, and he turned to kiss her palm, then claimed it as well and gently pulled her down to the blanket beside him. Her head hit the soft ground, but instead of kissing her or turning his attentions to her bare breasts, Drake once more was drawn to her hair.

  With deft, gentle fingers, he pulled it away from her face and from under her, splaying it all around her head on top of the blanket.

  “The way the moonlight catches the color in your hair… you almost look like you’re floating on water.”

  Drake’s hand found a breast as his mouth returned to hers, sweeping and claiming her lips and tongue. This kiss was aggressive, claiming and needy, and she let him take the lead, succumbing and delighting in his forcefulness.

  Unable to fight her instincts, Cara wrapped a leg over one of his and moved against him, feeling the burgeoning desire between his legs, her body questioning her mind’s earlier decision not to go further with this man on this night.

  His mouth left hers, and his lips traveled slowly to her chest. Drake kissed one nipple, then the other, before sucking the latter into his mouth and starting a slow, blissful torment for her. Clutching his head against her, Cara relished the feel of his skin and mouth against her, wondering when she last felt so good, so happy, so needed.

  She couldn’t remember, and she didn’t care. Todd was not just gone from her life.

  He was banished from her heart.

  Drake pulled away, then held her tightly as though he knew the moment was near that this spell of desire and sweetness would be broken.

  “Thank you for letting me bring you here,” he whispered as he stroked her cheek. “Someday I’ll bring you and Nate for a picnic in that gazebo that will be down by the creek in a few weeks.”

  “You and Nate and water,” Cara said, her hands on the back of his head while shaking her own. “My boys.”

  “I’m your boy?” he laughed.

  “Yes,” she whispered, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

  The night and Drake’s presence drowned her, and Cara was ready to forget the world, give in, surrender. Her leg again crept over his, she ground her hips against him, and he responded in kind. Pulling away, Drake stared at her for several seconds, the question lingering in his eyes and in his trembling reluctance.

  But his question was not answered by Cara, who would’ve urged him toward the button on her capris, but by a sound they both knew quite well.

  From the distance and across night-darkened swales and moonlit-slathered fields came a faint yet familiar tolling. The clock on the Craig County Courthouse was striking the hour.

  In wordless silence they listened together, each chime pulling Cara back to reality and further away from the man pressed so intimately to her. She heard the last strike. It was midnight.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Time to go. Past time.”

  “So you are Cinderella.”

  “Unless you’re going to turn back into a mouse and scamper away, I’m actually not. But I do need to go. And I need my glass slippers.”

  “Your what?”

  “My shirt and bra.”

  Laughing, he reached behind himself and handed her the clothes. They both dressed quickly, and he grabbed the blanket from the ground.

  “If that clock had struck eleven instead of midnight, what would’ve happened?” he asked, holding her hand as they made their way back to his Jeep.

  “Cinderella would’ve kept dancing.”

  At the Jeep, Drake threw the blanket into the back and pulled her to him as they stood on the pavement. The moon was higher now, and the light almost as bright as the early dawn.

  “Here’s to hoping that the story isn’t over,” he said and kissed her.

  Cara expected that her appearance with Drake at the concert would abundantly fertilize the grapevine, especially around the courthouse. And after CiCi had been duly informed of her couplehood with Drake (no doubt by Hannah or Harriet), she knew it was only a matter of time before the fact was widely known.

  The judge had a boyfriend.

  To her surprise, the common knowledge was a blessing and relief.

  When she and Drake went out to lunch and dinner the following week, instead of surprised looks from the courthouse crew (clerks, cops, deputies, jailers and lawyers), they got knowing smiles.

  The widow judge and the lawyer.

  How cute!

  Drake was perfect boyfriend material, and she knew he was auditioning for a bigger role.

  The day after their makeout at the nature preserve (her mother hadn’t been mad she’d been late although she did get teased for “breaking curfew”), he had been true to his word, and they all had gone to the city park for the promised picnic.

  He brought the remainder of the bourbon chicken salad, which impressed Vera, and showed Nate (with Cara following closely behind) to the frog-filled waterfall spot. Nate was beside himself as he spotted the frogs, threw things at them, and begged to get into the water, a request that was repeatedly denied. Amazingly, they managed to make it home without anyone falling into the creek.

  At Drake’s insistence, they had gone out on one dinner date that following week to The Rickhouse. When she had protested that The Windmill was fine, he disagreed.

  “Every date or near date I’ve had with you has involved either a picnic or standing in line to get food,” he’d told her one day in the courthouse hallway outside the clerk’s office. “Let’s have a proper date.”

  “Proper date? Wasn’t that what we had at the nature preserve?”

  It was the first time she’d made him blush.

  But their really big outing was that following Saturday.

  Jorrie and Mack’s nuptials at the distillery.

  The day was typical early August in Kentucky—hot, humid, and hazy—and Cara was glad that the wedding was to be indoors. Nonetheless, southern summer heat was impossible to escape, so she wore a light blue silk sheath dress with white pumps, along with a long strand of pearls. Due to the sultry weather and just being lazy, she put her hair up in a bun, leaving her additional time to primp and perfect her makeup.

  As she put the final touches on her blush and lipstick, Cara fell away from the mirror, blinking and astounded. Her reflection seemed to her a stranger, but then she smiled.

  That really was her in the mirror. That was her being happy.

  And it was okay to be happy.

  In fact, it was pretty damned great.

  Her mother, apparently noticing her enhanced mood, had quietly been encouraging her relationship with Drake. He had completely charmed her during the outing to the park, and Vera had made it clear that she was happy to babysit whenever required.

  When Drake arrived, the first thing she noticed about him wasn’t the suit—he rarely wore one and typically opted for sports coats over khakis with a tie—but his hair.

  “You got a haircut?”

  He ran a hand over his hair as his eyes roamed over her form. “Yeah, got a problem with that?”

  She took him by the hand and pulled him into the house, keeping a keen eye on his decidedly shorter locks. “I think I do,” she admitted.

  “You like my hair longer?”

  “I seem to have that preference, yes,” she said, smiling and brushing her fingertips through the shortened strands. “But I have to say that you do clean up well.”

  “But you clean up a hell of a lot better,” he said in a low voice, his eyes darting down her body be
fore coming back to her face.

  He was leaning in for the kiss when Nate ran into the foyer and threw his arms around Drake’s legs.

  “And hello to you too, little man,” Drake said, looking down and with his arms wide at his sides.

  Cara bent over to pry her son from Drake’s legs. “Let him go, honey. He can’t move, and we need to go soon.”

  “Don’t want him to go,” Nate said.

  They exchanged smiles, and Cara’s hands moved to the top of Nate as she pried him away from Drake.

  But only for a moment.

  “Don’t go,” he said, wrapping his little arms around his mother’s legs.

  Cara was shocked and rattled by Nate’s sudden discomfort with the departure he sensed was in the offing. Nate hadn’t made a peep of protest the one night Drake had taken her to dinner at The Rickhouse and had happily waved good-bye to them from the porch as they left.

  “Does he know about the conference?” Drake asked.

  “I bet that’s what this is about,” she said with a sigh.

  After the wedding, Cara was headed to the Judicial College at Fort Shelby State Resort Park. She’d told Nate that she would be gone for several days and that news hadn’t bothered him at the time. But now with his mommy leaving for the afternoon and on the day he perhaps understood was her day to go on her “little trip,” as she had put it, Nate couldn’t deal.

  Cara picked up her son and put him on her shoulder. His little arms wrapped around her neck in a tight squeeze as she walked back through the house and into the kitchen.

  “Did I hear the doorbell?” Vera asked and then got one look at her grandson clinging to Cara. “Oh dear. What’s wrong?”

  “Doesn’t want us to go,” Cara said, sitting on the couch with Nate still attached to her person.

  Vera and Drake greeted each other as Cara tried to console Nate.

  “Honey, your mommy will be back this afternoon,” Vera added, but the child would not relinquish his grip. “She’s going to a grown-up party and then will be back.”

  Nate looked at Cara with those impossibly large and long-lashed blue eyes.

  “And then you go away?”