The Barrel House Series: Boxed Set: Bourbon Love Notes, Bourbon on the Rocks, Bourbon Nights, Bourbon Fireball

by Ryan, Shari J.

  Of course, my search brings up nothing but the movie. I shouldn’t assume a non-chain themed restaurant in this state would have its own website. Still, I continue scanning down the search engine pages for even a small hint.

  Brody sends along a text, which I see pop up on my phone.

  * * *

  Brody: Dress warm and bring your camera.

  * * *

  Me: I thought I agreed to have dinner at a restaurant with you and Hannah?

  * * *

  I’m not surprised when Brody doesn’t respond. The thought of locking myself in my apartment for the night scrolls through my mind, but I don’t want to upset Hannah, especially if this is the first time we’re spending time together outside of the family dinners. This brings up my next thought of: how did I get here without committing myself to someone? Does hooking up equal reservations? It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about Brody as more than a hookup, but the thought of moving any further in a direction he might want scares me for many reasons. I’m going to have to let go of my other life if I was to do something like that with Brody, or anyone.

  My other life isn’t one that has many sides or communication, or fairness, but I can’t move past the point of believing I should be free to release what I pull behind me.

  I’m going through the motions of accepting the hand reaching out, but I could end up damaging his hand and the smaller hands that come along with him.

  As if Melody can hear my struggling thoughts, her face shows up on the display of my phone. I answer quicker than I normally do.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi. I’m just calling to tell you that you better not cancel with Brody tonight. I had a feeling you might be pacing your apartment, debating how to lock yourself inside, and I won’t let you do it to yourself or him, and Hannah.”

  I simultaneously love and hate how well Melody knows me, but she’s a voice I often tune out. My conscience is stronger and louder than her firm talks. “Why would you think I’m pacing?”

  “I heard you saw Tracey this morning,” she tells me.

  “Seriously … how do you hear every single thing that happens in my life when I don’t tell anyone?” It’s a question I already know the answer to, but it’s frustrating.

  “Well, Tracey obviously called me. She asked me if someone had spoken to you about going back to therapy because she’s concerned.”

  “I’m fine, Melody. I told Tracey the same thing, so I’m not sure what the babysitting efforts are for.”

  “Okay,” Melody huffs. “I wasn’t calling to stir you up. I wasn’t calling to tell you to talk to someone either. We’ve both been through hell these last several months, and we’re going to heal in our own ways. But, whether you choose to admit this or not, Brody has made you glow when you don’t realize it. He’s even made you smile, and that speaks louder than anything therapy can do for you. So, please. Go out with Brody tonight and forget about the world for a few hours.”

  I’m usually quick with a comeback, but it would only be a lie, calling her bluff on my facial reactions to Brody. I know he makes me blush even when I’m one-upping him with verbal slams. He’s made my stomach fill with butterflies, and no other man has ever had that effect on me.

  “Fine,” I say. “I’ll go.”

  “You’re going to have an awesome time. Be yourself for a change.” I almost question her statement, but I’m aware of the front I put on. “No one is going to break your walls down unless you let them, with or without your sarcasm playing a role.”

  “Do I smell too?” I ask her. The truth freaking hurts.

  “No, you actually smelled quite nice this afternoon,” she says with a hint of a smile behind her words.

  “Thanks, Mel.”

  “Call me in the morning and tell me how the night went. I can’t wait to hear. I love you.”

  “Love you,” I said as I disconnected the phone.

  I notice the time on the top right of my computer screen. I have forty minutes before Brody comes to pick me up. What am I supposed to wear when going out with a man and his daughter? I don’t think there are guidelines for this kind of setup. I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m supposed to be dressed warmly—my options are limited.

  My skinny jeans with the fleece lining will work, and my long wool sweater and a scarf, then some lipstick and eyeliner. Fashionably warm. My goal is to avoid being called lame by a ten-year-old. I feel it coming with the way I’ve heard Hannah speaking to Brody.

  I’ve had my phone in my hand, waiting for a text from Brody to tell me he’s outside waiting. I don’t expect him to drag Hannah up to my apartment, but I’m almost not surprised when I hear a knock on the door.

  Rather than keep them locked out like the idea that crossed my mind, I open the door.

  I blink a few times, taking in the sight of Brody in a long gray wool coat, black gloves, and a matching scarf. He looks so dapper compared to the typical t-shirt or plaid attire he normally wears.

  Hannah has her hair up in a high ponytail with a white, sparkling head warmer. She’s wearing a white down coat and jeans, with a pair of striking hot pink gloves. Hannah doesn’t look like she’s in a talkative mood as she stares down the opposite end of the hallway.

  “You both look very nice,” I tell them. “Come on in while I grab my coat.”

  Brody shoves Hannah into my apartment despite her rolling eyes. “Thank you,” she mutters.

  “You look very lovely, yourself,” Brody replies, sounding nothing like what I’ve heard from him thus far.

  “Thank you,” I say, making a point of being polite for Hannah’s sake.

  “Camera. Don’t forget your camera,” Brody says, pointing to my backpack hanging off the bar stool. I didn’t realize he knew my camera was in there, but I’m beginning to notice he sees more than I’ve been giving him credit for, which is better to think that way, so I don’t poke fun at his shortcomings tonight in front of his daughter. Though, I’m sure she does enough of that for the both of us.

  I’m still buttoning my coat when Brody steps toward the kitchen to grab my backpack for me. “I got it.”

  The gesture earns him a small smile and another eye-roll from Hannah.

  “Was school totally lame today?” I ask Hannah, grabbing my purse.

  She narrows her eyes at me as if studying me or inspecting my attempt to sound cool. “It was dope,” she replies with a raised brow. “Kind of radical if you know what I mean.”

  Wow. Okay.

  “Oh, fun, you speak eighties?”

  “Can we go?” she asks.

  “Go use the bathroom.” Brody gives Hannah a fatherly look as he points to the bathroom door.

  “I’m fine,” she says.

  “Go now.”

  An elongated groan rumbles from her throat as she stomps her way into the bathroom.

  “I was pleasant like that at her age,” I say, grinning.

  “Great,” he responds. “Just what I wanted to hear.” He laughs, but I don’t think he’s joking. “It’s fine. I need my girl to have control of the world. I’ll sleep better at night, or so I tell myself.”

  “It’s true.” Although, Mom does not sleep well, knowing I’m not under her roof. I’m not sure that will ever change, but for a good reason. I did run away and all that.

  Hannah steps out of the bathroom, smelling like my perfume. I find it cute. “Did you just spray yourself with something?” Brody asks her.

  “No,” Hannah lies.

  “It’s just air freshener. It’s on a timer and sprays every ten minutes,” I tell Brody, defending his lying daughter.

  “That’s smart,” he says.

  Yeah, and I just earned a point with the ice queen.

  “Your bathroom is pretty, Journey. I love that shade of purple.”

  “Thank you. Most people don’t appreciate the different variations purple has to offer.” Too much. I should have just said thank you.

  “Right,” Hannah responds.

 
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Brody announces, clapping his hands together. I had wondered what could make this man uncomfortable. I didn’t realize the answer was right in front of me all along. Hannah can dump his world upside down in a matter of seconds. Amazing.

  “We can take the Jeep if it’s more comfortable for three people,” I offer.

  Brody glances at Hannah for a reaction, but she surprisingly shrugs. “I’d prefer the Jeep,” she says.

  “Will you let me drive your car?” Brody asks. Those words—this question. It should be a simple response. Who cares? It’s just a car. But it’s my car. My pride and joy. “Are you thinking about it or do you have an issue with—”

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “You can—” I clear my throat. “You can drive my Jeep.” I hand Brody my keys, wondering if he can drive a standard. I noticed his truck is an automatic, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

  Just as we settle ourselves into the seats, Brody turns on the ignition and kicks it into reverse as if he’s driven my vehicle a million times before. I didn’t mean to stare at him as he drove out of the lot, but I’m taken aback by his skill of driving a different car without needing to adjust anything. “What, did you think I couldn’t drive a standard?” He glances over and gives me a quick wink.

  “It is more complicated than necessary, so—you know,” I respond, quickly forgetting my intention of being kind to Hannah’s father tonight.

  “So are you,” he replies.

  That’s a fair play.

  “Now that you’ve gotten me to tag along with little information, what is this restaurant we’re going to?’

  Brody glances in the rearview mirror, but not out the back window, just the back seat. I twist around, spotting Hannah with earbuds plugged into a device. “It’s an iPod, but she’s been bugging me for a phone for the last few months. I’m not ready to give in to that yet.”

  “Really? Kids are getting phones at this age?”

  “It’s bad,” Brody says. “Anyway, Hannah’s mother promised to take her to this place and ditched her about five times this winter. It’s the last weekend they’re open, and I walked in on her doing a Google search for the restaurant. There’s no website, so she thought it was already closed down for the season and started tearing up. Honestly, I didn’t think my kid ever cried. You can imagine it broke my damn heart.”

  It just broke mine too. Poor thing. “Well, I’m glad we’re going to this unknown location of a restaurant.”

  “It’s actually pretty incredible from what I’ve heard, but I’d rather you see it for yourself. My explanation probably won’t do the place much justice.”

  “I like this side of you, Brody.”

  “Shh, she can still hear you through those things. She turns into a T-Rex if anyone says anything nice to me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind tonight. I won’t say anything nice. Easy.”

  “You look gorgeous, by the way. Way more than just beautiful,” he whispers. “And I want to hold your hand, but I think something bad would happen.” Brody nudges his head toward the back seat.

  Holding hands is very symptomatic of a relationship. He jumped into this feet first with me and didn’t have a clue how hard it’s going to be for me to get over this pivotal peak in my life.

  “Is this a date?” I ask him.

  Brody swallows hard before opening his mouth to respond. “It’s whatever you want it to be. I figure if we are going to spend time together, hopefully, maybe, you should know what it’s like to be around me with Hannah because it isn’t always this sugary sweet.” I assume he’s trying to say things are normally hellish between them. I was more of a Daddy’s girl and didn’t give him a whole lot of trouble, but my parents didn’t get divorced. I don’t know what kind of effect it’s had over Hannah. I’m not sure I’d want to be in her shoes.

  “You think you’re going to scare me away tonight, so you want to take things one step at a time?” I laugh because it’s an interesting approach to dating, but not the worst idea. I might be anti-kids, and this would never work out. On the contrary, I say I don’t want kids because I don’t think I’ll ever end up with any. I do want a family. I’ve even dreamed of a picket fence like Melody has, but I’m a realist. My dream slipped away when I took the blame for causing someone’s life to be held in a purgatory of a useless body.

  “Without sounding like a pig. I’ve scared my fair share off over the last few years. A divorce is hard enough to accept, but a kid who hates the world is the perfect formula for a single life for at least another eight years.”

  “Why me?” I ask. “What’s different about me?”

  “Everything.”

  14

  It takes a lot to shock me these days, but as we pull into a parking lot, the sight of glowing lights pulls me forward from my seat, wondering what I’m seeing.

  Brody squeezes my car in between two trucks who are both over the line. Carefully, I step out, trying not to smash my door into the other vehicle … even though the urge to dent their door is great.

  As we walk down a lit path as the landscape unfolds before us, Hannah is smiling, which is rare from what I’ve seen. I wonder how she found out about this place. I’ve seen nothing like it before. “It’s like a castle made from ice?”

  “Yes,” Hannah says with a note of happiness. “It’s supposed to be incredible inside. My friend went two months ago.”

  “Well, now it’s our turn,” I tell her. “Plus, we’ll take lots of pictures so you can hang onto them after and keep them as memories.”

  Hannah twists her lips to the side and shrugs with a nod of her head. “Yeah, that would be cool.”

  Upon entering, there are walls of ice lit up with varying shades of blue. There’s a hostess stand made from bricks of ice and an entire setup of chairs and tables. It almost looks like the Northern Lights within the confines of this ice cave. It’s so beautiful, I hardly notice the frigid temperatures.

  There are intricate carvings along the walls, and I can’t imagine how long it must have taken someone to create all of this by hand. I take my camera from my backpack and snap a couple of shots, completely caught up in the beauty. Brody’s hand rests on my shoulder. “Our table is ready. Do you want to meet us over there?”

  I pull the camera away from my face and run my fingers across the etched lines on the wall. “No, I’m all set.” Settling the camera back in my bag, I turn toward Brody, finding a sweet smile across his face. With all the facial hair, I hadn’t had the right moment to see the details of the lower part of his face. He has dimples and a square chin; his face is more defined than it was when we were younger. “You really love what you do, huh?”

  “It allows me to have the life I want,” I tell him. Alone with the amazing wonders of the world. It’s the best part of my life.

  The tables have metal placemat settings, and there are metal lined areas to sit. Hannah’s gaze has been wandering around the restaurant with a look of amazement. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her, and Brody is watching with a look of love swimming within his eyes. “Can I go look at those sculptures?” Hannah asks.

  “Go for it,” Brody tells her.

  The moment Hannah stands up from the table, Brody’s hand rests on my lap. “Is this uncomfortable?” The two of us have been far quieter than usual. It highlights the fact of our banter taking up most of our conversations.

  “I’m not uncomfortable.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes,” he says. “My butt is cold.”

  “It could be worse. We could be sitting directly on the ice and have wet butts too.”

  Brody pauses our conversation to check on Hannah’s location, but she’s listening to an artist behind one of the displays talk about the sculpture.

  “Thank you for joining us tonight,” he says.

  “I thought you were rethinking your mistakes with me from last week.” I’d rather be honest than pretend like I wasn’
t feeling mildly off after he left.

  “Mistakes?”

  I fold my arms over my chest to warm the chill running through my body. “I didn’t know what was on your mind, I guess.”

  “Well, what’s on yours?” he counters.

  “A lot.”

  “Me too, but probably for different reasons. We have a connection, I can feel it, but I want to make sure I don’t screw this up by being myself, either,” he says.

  The irony of Melody telling me to be myself tonight and he’s saying he’s afraid to screw up by being himself.

  Brody looks for Hannah again before responding. “There’s something about me that people don’t like, including my daughter. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t keep a marriage or any relationship going, so I’m sure I’m doing something stupid. So, I sometimes purposely act like a jackass to fulfill everyone’s predetermined assumptions of me.”

  I’m caught up, looking into his eyes, seeing a hint of pain reel through his expression. “So, you think if you act like a jackass to me and I stick around, I’ll be more likely to put up with you when you’re not acting like a jerk?”

  Brody smiles proudly. “You understand.”

  I close my eyes and nod my head. “No, but yes, I suppose.” When my eyes open, he’s staring at my lips, and I’m not sure he realizes where his gaze is, but I don’t say anything to make him stop.

  “What’s your vice?” he asks, still studying my mouth.

  “Shutting the world out to avoid panic.”

  “Is your pain more from what happened in high school, or what recently happened to your dad?” He’s forward, which I appreciate more than someone beating around the bush.

  “Both,” I tell him honestly. “I don’t know if I can find a normal way to live and figure out how to blend into society. I’m not sure if that makes sense to you or not, though.”

  “Who cares what society thinks?”

  “I try not to care, but for a while, I felt like the world was watching me, every person at the same time. It made me want to run away.”