Bourbon on the Rocks: The Barrel House Series - Book 2

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “I don’t know, Journey,” Melody continued.

  “What if I said I would invite Brett Pearson? Would that change your mind?” I waggled my eyebrows, knowing Melody would do just about anything to see the youngest of the Pearson brothers.

  We were standing in front of the full wall-length mirror that hung above a row of four sinks. Melody pulled her lip gloss out of her back pocket and pressed the color-stained wand to her lips over her dry lips, stalling. “Fine,” she said.

  “Fine, as in, you’ll be happy to enjoy the party and won’t tell Dad?” If there was anything I was good at, it was covering my bases. Plus, Melody and I got through life by blackmailing each other. If there was something in it for one of us, the other got a piece too, or we both got nothing.

  “Fine, I’ll go to your stupid party,” she said, her cheeks blushing more than she likely wished. “Plus, it’s probably better if he’s invited. If he found out about the party, he or his brother could tell their dad, and it would definitely get back to our dad.”

  I fixed a stray hair that had fallen loose from my messy braid. She had a good point. Our dad and the Pearsons’ dad were not only close friends but collaborated with their businesses. Dad ran the bourbon shop and the distillery, and Mr. Pearson supplied the smoked barrels for the use of storing the bourbon. Their town doesn’t have any restaurants or places to hang out, so all the kids from Loftboro would usually truck over to Lakebridge, anyway. They could easily find out about the party. Our schools were sports rivals, but it didn’t get in the way of our commingling.

  “See, you’re smart and pretty,” I told her, poking my fingertip against her nose. “Do you have Brett’s number?”

  Melody pressed her thumbnail between her top and bottom teeth. “Yes, but don’t ask me how I got it, okay?”

  “Whatever, I don’t have time for that story right now. Third period starts in two minutes.” I took my phone out of my pocket and wait for Melody to spout off the digits.

  “You should probably invite Brett and Brody. You can’t really invite one without the other, right?” Melody continues. “Plus, it won’t look so obvious that way.”

  I rolled my eyes because Brody never showed up to anything anyway, but she had a point.

  It took me a minute to compose the text message that would show up by an unknown number, but I managed to do so with a minute left to spare before the bell rang.

  Me: Hey, this is Journey Quinn. Someone gave me your number. You and your brother are invited to a New Year’s Eve Party at The Barrel House. Doors open at seven. Parents don’t know.

  I never received a response to the text message, so we had to wait and see if Melody would snag a New Year’s kiss with the boy she wouldn’t say a word too. Brett was also the boy she used to talk to non-stop about at every get-together our families had, but it all stopped when she realized she had feelings for him.

  Despite a lack of response from the Pearsons’, Melody was in on the party and as excited as I was.

  The next week and a half flew with Christmas and random family parties, but we spent every free minute we had putting together decorations and collecting snack items we hid in the back of my junky two-door, green Neon.

  We entered The Bourbon House a half-hour after Dad closed the shop for the day, making sure to use the back door. We kept the door cracked to give the guests easy access to the closest basement stairwell. We had exactly ninety minutes to prepare the party, which we pulled off nicely.

  “When will Adam be here?” Melody asked while hanging up the last Happy New Year streamer.

  I shrugged, hoping to avoid questions about Adam. “I don’t know.”

  “Um—okay. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you haven’t spent any time with Adam since school break started, and I don’t remember the last time you two have gone this long without seeing each other. So, why wouldn’t you know what time he’d be here for the New Year’s Party?”

  I huffed and poured another bag of chips into a bowl. “I broke up with Adam a few days before school got out.” Melody has asked about him a few times since then, but I’ve brushed the topic under the rug. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’m leaving for New Hampshire in less than a year, Mel. There was no use in prolonging the inevitable.”

  Melody freezes in her path of stacking napkins. Shock fills her face. “Wait, you’re like madly in love with the guy, though. You’ve been friends since Kindergarten. What are you even saying right now? I thought you would run off and get married this summer, which would be dumb, but still.” Her never-ending comments reminded me of the reason I kept the information to myself for as long as I had.

  “No, and it doesn’t matter. He’s going to college in California. It wouldn’t work. It is what it is.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she continued.

  “I want to think about something else tonight and enjoy the party, okay?” I swept my hands together to brush away the crumbs, and the unwanted thoughts, then took a look around the space and called the job done.

  “Of course. A distraction is the best medicine for a broken heart,” Melody muttered beneath her breath as she passed by.

  Seven o’clock on the dot was not the time I expected anyone to show up. Fashionably late was a thing, especially in our town. Therefore, the two who weren’t from our town showed up first—the Pearson brothers. I was surprised either one of them came, never mind both.

  “Ladies, whose amazing idea was this?” Brody was the first one to descend the stairs, holding his hands up as if a king had just arrived. He had always been the cocky one, the attention hog, the loudest of the two, and the one who got in trouble the most.

  I turned to see where Melody went, but I should have figured she would disappear the second Brett arrived. It was the first rule of flirting from her favorite magazine article: How to Never Date the Guy You Like.

  “I’ll take the credit,” I told Brody.

  He walked toward me and offered a high-five, knowing I couldn’t reach his hand. I didn’t care to try, which meant I was in for a bear hug—one that would leave my feet dangling a foot from the ground. “I feel like it’s been a year since I’ve seen you, fireball,” Brody said as he placed me back down.

  “Dude,” Brett interrupted him. “Stop calling her that.”

  “Oh, it’s fine, Brett. I know your brother isn’t capable of remembering names, so I let it slide.”

  “Ohhhh, snap,” Brett said, holding his hand over his mouth while he pointed at Brody with his other hand.

  “I see you haven’t changed a bit,” Brody said.

  “Did you finally graduate high school, or are you a third-year senior now?” I countered. My insults had no real meaning because I had no idea what he had been up to, but Brody was good at teasing, and I wasn’t the type to take it and not give it right back.

  “I’ve already graduated, thank you very much.”

  “Good for you,” I said, annunciating every word.

  “It’s a good thing you have a beautiful smile, Journey,” Brody said, his words soft and under his breath, so no one else could hear, which caught me off guard.

  My heart pounded in my chest, and it was unexpected. Completely unexpected. He was Brody Pearson. I had known him for longer than I could remember, and he had never made my heart beat any faster than a normal resting pulse.

  I forced myself to turn away from Brody, needing a minute to adjust my thoughts. I straightened the various snack bowls and placed the columns of cups closer together, but Brody’s hand found my back as he stepped in beside me. “Sorry if I was inappropriate. The words just came out of my mouth.”

  The touch of his hand had taken my breath away, and I couldn’t find the words to respond. I was acting like Melody, which wasn’t normal for me. “It’s okay,” I finally said.

  “Look, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I will not start a new year by lying, so you should know that I’ve always noticed your smile. I just never said anything before now. We
were in relationships with other people, and we had only seen each other like once or twice a year, and we’ve been in different towns, but I’ve always thought you’re beautiful and awesome.” I was ready for the laughter to roll. I was sure he was teasing me again, but not even a hint of a smile followed his comment.

  Once I was sure it wasn’t a joke, I responded, trying to sound unaffected by his proclamation. “First, I’m not in a relationship. We broke up recently. Second, have you already been drinking?”

  I didn’t smell booze, but Brody had never given me a look that would hint at feeling anything for me. “Interesting,” he said. “I just got out of a relationship too, and no, I haven’t been drinking...yet.”

  I smiled again, which was the universal symbol for a person being happy. Maybe the thought of being with Brody had crossed my mind occasionally. We had known each other forever; he was hot and the quarterback of his football team. Practically, every girl wanted to be with him—from his school and mine. There wasn’t much to ignore about him. Evidently, rumor had it he was the best kisser in the four surrounding counties. I’m not sure who judged the poll, but a rumor always started somewhere. In any case, Brody was older and out of my league. There was no reason to pay attention to what I figured was just a lonely New Year’s Eve desire.

  “A new year doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right now,” Brody said, leaving me to my obsessive organizing of party supplies. More people were arriving, and the basement was full within a half hour.

  “What are you talking about?” Brody asks. “The accident?”

  I guess I did a good job of keeping quiet after the party. I was sure I was going to jail or hell by four o’clock the next morning. Instead, I waited in the waiting room of the ICU, scared out of my mind.

  “Yeah, the accident that sent my life on a downward spiral.”

  Brody is in a clear state of confusion, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why I never saw you again after that night,” he says.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “What happened?”

  “I can’t go into these details, Brody. Not now. Every time I think about that night, I fall deeper into a black hole.”

  Brody nudges me away from the sink and continues cleaning the dishes I hadn’t gotten to. He doesn’t ask another question.

  “I’m sorry for barging in on you tonight,” he says, with his back to me.

  “Eh, it happens.” I feel like letting him off the hook a little, especially since I’m not filling in the blanks of questions that will probably bug the crap out of him.

  “People try to break into your apartment regularly?”

  I sigh with the exaggerated sound of frustration. “No, only you would do something like that.”

  “Good,” he says. “That door better be locked the next time I try to break in.”

  “Or what?” I fire back.

  He turns the water off and dries his hands on the dangling dishtowel as he twists around with a smirk pinned to one side. “I’ll have to rob you, obviously.”

  I shake my head at him, feeling a smile poke at the corners of my lips. I fight the urge. “Spoiler alert,” he says, pointing at the TV. “Khloe finds out Lamar cheated on her while she was in labor with their baby.”

  “Lamar? Their marriage ended years ago.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.”

  I open the front door of my apartment and wait for Brody to make his exit. “Thank you for going on a date with me tonight.”

  “It wasn’t a date, Brody.”

  He leans down and places a quick kiss on my cheek as he walks out. “I kissed you. That makes it a date.”

  “Not in our thirties,” I tell him.

  A look of shock passes through his eyes as he gives me one last look before I close the door. “Damn, Journey. What kind of dating are you into?”

  “The kind that doesn’t exist.” I shut the door on Brody and our conversation, locking the deadbolt for good measure.

  5

  My head feels like it’s spinning, but I know neither of us had enough bourbon to have that kind of effect tonight. I wasn’t expecting past demons to surface.

  I’ve tried so hard to forget about the night of the accident, but it’s like my life has been woven together from the outcome of that day. I have a deep understanding of how much life can change in a split second, deeper than I prefer.

  I wonder what life could have been like if I hadn’t had the New Year’s party, maybe it would’ve been worse.

  The comfort of my unmade bed with an oversized heavy gray blanket is pulling me in where I will lie beneath the stars outside of my dark window.

  The sky is full of glimmering sugar crystals, all awaiting wishes, but I stopped making wishes a long time ago.

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I stare at the device as if it will jump into my hands, but it won’t, and I’m far too comfortable to reach for a connection to the outside world.

  I close my eyes, hoping for sleep to come easily, but the damn phone buzzes again, and again. It’s after ten.

  I throw my blanket to the side and sit up to grab the phone, spotting the cascading messages from Brody.

  He can’t be serious.

  Brody: Thank you for a nice date.

  Brody: That kiss was ... something else.

  Brody: It was a turn-on when I heard your deadbolt slide into place after you slammed the door behind me.

  I toss my head back and groan. I can’t understand what is making him so persistent. If tonight were a date, a typical guy wouldn’t text two hours later, or at least no guy I dated has done something like this. In any case, he came over uninvited.

  Me: It wasn’t a date. It was something else. Maybe try watching porn.

  I figure he would have a sarcastic response, but the little dots stop flickering after a long minute, so I toss the phone back to my nightstand and curl up into my nest of blankets.

  Maybe my life turned this way because of Brody. If I hadn’t invited Brett to the party, Brody wouldn’t have come, and everything could be different now.

  The real reason for the party was I didn’t want to be alone on New Year’s Eve of my senior year. No one wanted to be alone that night any year. Breaking up with Adam right before Christmas break wasn’t my best idea, but I had a logical reason. I would have felt worse if he had given me something special for Christmas, and I broke up with him a week later. The thought of what would happen next fall had been weighing on my mind since the beginning of the school year, and I couldn’t continue a relationship that would soon end.

  What I hadn’t considered was the thought of him receiving an invitation to the party tonight. I didn’t hand him a flyer, but I was well versed in the way high school invites were handled. My name may not have been on the flyer, but Adam knew The Barrel House was my family’s business.

  “Hey,” was his initial greeting. The awkward hello after a breakup was worse than I assumed it would be, and it was the second awkward hello because I broke up with him four days before winter break. I should have waited until the day before winter break, but I thought that was too close to Christmas.

  “Hi.” What else could I respond with?

  “If you don’t want me here, I can leave. I know I wasn’t technically invited by you, but the flyers were all over the place, and I didn’t have plans tonight.” Adam was sweet, innocent, and when I looked into his sad sky-blue eyes, my heart broke all over again. He was the sensitive type. Most guys in my school were into competitive sports, but Adam was determined to be the best pianist in the country. His passion fit his personality.

  “Of course, you can stay,” I told him. “There’s food and—” Adam wasn’t a drinker. Maybe once he reached the legal age, he might become fond of the taste, but at eighteen, he refused.

  “Is there any bourbon?” he asked, surprisingly. I figured maybe he was trying to impress me by drinking. Drinking didn’t impress me. I was raised, knowing that one should enjoy
the taste of alcohol more than the side-effects. If the taste was not enjoyed, it should not be consumed. I wasn’t taught this per se, but I over overheard the statement many times. I didn’t think Dad would have been fond of me drinking anything at eighteen, never mind bourbon. He did not condone underage drinking. I was sure he naively thought we abided by his rules. Melody had, but I was cut from a different cloth than her. Bourbon must have been in my blood, just like Dad’s.

  “What purpose would a party serve without some bourbon?” I took the opportunity to interrupt the uncomfortable conversation and poured Adam a small plastic cup filled with a couple of shots of Quinn Pine. Dad overstocked the bottles that year, and I did not think he would notice a few missing.

  I handed the cup to Adam, interested to see if he planned to consume the drink, which he did in one mouthful. It was obvious, by the clenched marks in his cheeks, he did not enjoy the liquid for taste.

  Adam waved at someone over my head and walked off without speaking another word. I figured he was trying to retaliate because he was waving at Alisha, the head cheerleader at our school.

  “That tension could have been cut with a fork,” I heard from behind.

  I turned, finding Brody sipping out of a red Solo cup. “A fork?”

  “Isn’t that the saying?” He was dead serious, and it’s the only reason I didn’t laugh.

  “I think you mean, a knife,” I corrected him.

  He looked up in thought and smiled. “Oh, I guess that makes more sense.” Brody handed me his cup. “Here. I just filled this. I think you need it more than I do right now. I’ll get myself another.”