Whiskey and Moonshine

by Elizabeth Noble

  “Like those chef shows on TV?”

  “Yeah, just like those people, only they drink, not eat.” Mal leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “They’re all looking for an edge. If someone comments on one of our products, give them polite, vague answers like ‘glad you enjoy it’ or ‘it’s perfect for a ball game.’ Never mention part of the process or the ingredients.”

  “I don’t know that much,” Colt reminded him.

  “Eh, you’ve been working at the distillery long enough. I bet you know more than you realize.” Mal stood up. “Phone, wallet, and keys go in your hip”—he patted his own trousers—“pockets or inside pockets of your jacket. Don’t take the jacket off. Corporate espionage is everywhere, not just software and car companies. I’m not the biggest player in the world, but I’m big enough for others to want to steal from me.” He sat back down. “Never, ever give out your personal number or email or address. Always use the official distillery contact info.”

  “Got it. What about a conversation about distilling equipment and something that wouldn’t be a secret?”

  “I honestly don’t think anyone will expect you to know much more than the basics, and you can talk about aging. For some reason, that fascinates people. Right now this is a chance for you to meet some people you’ll see regularly and get you comfortable with some industry lingo and so on,” Mal explained. “These things aren’t the most fun I’ve ever had, but not the worst either.” Colt laughed, and Mal continued, “Audrey and her husband, Marty, will be there. They know everyone in the industry, so feel free to ask them about anyone.”

  Colt stood up and carried his dishes to the food cart sitting on the corner of the deck. “Guess I’d better get some more studying in. What time do you train?”

  “Two.”

  “I’ll see you then,” Colt said and smiled. Mal smiled back and seemed to honestly be pleased Colt was taking him up on the invitation.

  In the meantime, Colt had more details to learn. He also decided a good way to make conversation with a large group of strangers was to learn about Gloria Kensington. Interests she’d had would make for good small talk, and those he could learn through the books remaining in his suite. And he had a second, and equally important, motive—learning more about Mal. He had a nagging feeling there was going to be plenty he’d discover if he simply paid attention.

  Colt was good at paying attention.

  Excitement coiled in his belly as the magic time of two o’clock neared. Colt tried telling himself it was because he wanted to know more about mixed martial arts, even if it was only as a spectator. However, the truth was his emotions were from the fact he’d be spending time in a nonwork situation with Mal. Even better, he was joining Mal while he did something that brought him so much enjoyment.

  Colt climbed the steps to the attic and knocked. There was movement inside and what sounded like someone hitting something. The noises stopped, and shortly thereafter the door opened.

  “Right on time.” Mal stood in the doorway with a towel draped around his neck. A slight sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin.

  Colt opened his mouth and couldn’t form words, so he clamped his lips together and nodded. Mal wore shorts that were snug but not tight. They covered him to his knees in shiny, dark blue material. He wore a sleeveless matching shirt that clung to his chest and showed off the definition of his abs with every breath he took. Colt hoped Mal’s breathing would never slow so he could continue to watch. It was all he could do to keep from running his hands over that well-formed chest and those tight abs.

  Mal stepped to the side and pulled the towel off to wipe his face. “Don’t just stand there—come on in.”

  Colt expected a fully decked-out training facility. The space Mal had transformed looked more like a neighborhood gym. Along one wall were free weights, and hanging from the ceiling a few feet from the wall and at opposite ends were two punching bags. Mats were scattered around the floor on the other side of the refurbished attic.

  A small man used one of the mats to do some stretches and exercises. When Colt crossed the threshold, the man stopped and gave Colt such a thorough visual examination that he rubbed his palms over his thighs to be sure he hadn’t forgotten his pants.

  Colt followed Mal into the room and found a place to sit along the wall where he’d be out of the way. He knew nothing but the very basics about MMA, and those he’d seen on television, mostly when he was a child.

  Once Mal and his trainer began, Colt followed their every move. It was easy to see Mal’s trainer didn’t cut him any breaks. Every time it looked as if Mal might gain the upper hand, his trainer changed his strategy. To Colt they seemed evenly matched, and he didn’t understand how points were attained. The trainer fended off Mal’s kicks, and Mal equally deflected the trainer’s hits.

  Mal’s sweat traveled between the muscles of his sinewy arms and trickled down the front of his shirt. Colt was very happy he’d worn loose clothing. That way his growing hard-on couldn’t be seen. Colt loved that Mal was muscular enough to project power, and he had what Colt could only describe as a nice, balanced, put-together sort of look to him.

  Finally the session ended, and as Mal’s trainer left, he nodded politely to Colt.

  “Does he ever talk?” Colt asked.

  Mal barked a short laugh and shook his head. “Joe? Rarely, and only to tell me what I’m screwing up.”

  “That was amazing! Thank you for inviting me.” To Colt’s ears he sounded ridiculously excited. If Mal noticed Colt was staring, he never let on, and Colt decided he could watch Mal train all day.

  Mal backed up until he was on the mat and waggled his fingers at Colt. “Your turn.”

  Colt stood there for a minute with his mouth open before jogging across the room to where Mal waited.

  “We’ll start with something simple,” Mal said and took Colt by the shoulders, turning him so they were side by side. “Stretches.”

  Colt mimicked Mal’s movements, stretching one leg out behind him while leaving his foot flat on the floor. Next he punched rapidly, alternating arms and switching back and forth between legs. It didn’t take long before Colt was sweating. “I’m a bit out of shape,” he panted.

  Once that exercise was finished, Mal asked, “Do you know how to do squat thrusts?”

  Gulping in a few breaths, Colt nodded.

  Mal waved one hand at the mat. “Let’s start with ten.”

  Colt struggled to keep up with Mal and nearly collapsed when he finally got to ten. He leaned down, hands braced against his knees, sucking in deep breaths and blowing them back out slowly. “You’re kicking my ass.”

  Mal laughed. “I’ve had a lot of practice and haven’t spent years living on the streets.” He stopped long enough to slip what looked like padded shields onto his hands. “These are called focus mitts.”

  “How… come.” Colt’s words were spread out as he tried catching his breath.

  Nodding to the wall with shelves of equipment, Mal said, “You’ll see. Get a pair of those sparring gloves.”

  It took Colt a few minutes of fumbling to get the padded gloves onto his hands. He had to use his teeth to help pull the Velcro straps snug around his wrists and then shook his arms a few times. Turning, Colt stepped in front of Mal, who held his hands up.

  “Using your left, then right hand, punch my mitts.” Mal held up one hand, then the other. “You want to get a rhythm going. Once that happens and it’s second nature, you can begin switching things up, two punches with the right, one left, one right and so on. Quick jabs, keep your knees bent, and never fully extend your striking arm. Keep your other arm close to your body with your fist up and in front of your face, guarding it.”

  Colt tried a few punches and did everything wrong. He was thrown off balance because when he hit Mal the man didn’t budge. Pain jarred up to his shoulder. After a dozen or so hits, he remembered to keep his free hand up and not lock his knee and elbow joints.

  “Good, good,”
Mal encouraged. After what seemed like hours but was likely only ten or so minutes, Mal stood straight and moved back a few steps. “That’s enough for today.” He pulled the focus mitts off, took them to the shelves, and stored them away before returning to Colt. “Here, let me help you with those.”

  Colt held out his hands, and Mal gently removed the gloves. He rubbed Colt’s knuckles a few times. “Ow,” Colt whimpered.

  “There’re ice packs in the freezer in the kitchen.” Mal returned the gloves to the shelves. “I’m going to admit you’re completely shattering my perception of a guy who took to the streets as a kid. I always pictured people who were scrappy and dirty fighters.”

  Colt shrugged. “There were some. I never did fight very well.”

  “Like the people who beat you up?”

  “Yes.” Colt looked away but turned back to Mal when he tapped Colt’s arm.

  “Hey, no one should live in fear like that. Don’t be embarrassed for not using violence. Training and fighting for sport is another thing altogether.” Mal tossed Colt a towel. “I’m glad you’re shattering my beliefs. They’re certainly misguided.”

  “Thanks,” Colt said. He decided to take a plunge. “Can I still ask you any question I want?”

  Mal held the door open for Colt. “Of course.”

  “You said you knew someone who died on the streets. Your brother?”

  Mal shook his head. “I’m an only child. He was Audrey’s brother, but I loved him like he was my brother too. He loved this place and distilling whiskey, and he wanted to learn. I wanted to teach, to share what I knew.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound so horrible,” Colt said as they made their way to the kitchen.

  “I didn’t think so either. But I’ve never been addicted to drugs. It was the one thing that was more important to him than his life,” Mal said softly. He rifled around in the freezer, then finally extracted the ice pack. Wiggling his fingers at Colt, he added, “Hold out your hands.”

  Colt leaned against the counter and rested one hand in Mal’s, hissing when Mal placed an ice pack gently across his knuckles.

  “It’ll stop stinging in a second.” After a few minutes of holding the ice pack and Colt’s hand, Mal instructed, “Other hand.” Mal’s voice was soft and calm. Colt loved listening to him talk, no matter the subject.

  “I’m glad for the chance to change how you think. You’re changing the way I always perceived some things too. All rich people aren’t assholes.” Colt offered his other hand, and Mal repeated the process with a fresh ice pack.

  A slow smile spread over Mal’s face. Colt stood there, taking in the sight before him. A surge of warmth spread through him and settled in his groin, but it was the spark of friendship growing between them that piqued Colt’s interest more.

  Chapter Six

  COLT was waiting outside when Mal arrived in the garage. Gwen was overseeing the loading of the van that would carry their clothes and other essentials for the weekend. Colt leaned against the building, watching and occasionally massaging his shoulders, arms, and thighs. He wore a decidedly amused expression. Mal stayed back for a few minutes to simply enjoy how Colt’s hair ruffled in the soft breeze. It was nice seeing him so relaxed.

  “No, put it on that side. I want to be sure nothing is mixed up.” Gwen was directing one of the young men hired to assist for the day. “Don’t bend that. They have to be hung and not smashed so close together.” She turned around, and as her gaze settled firmly on Mal, she arched an eyebrow and crooked her finger at him.

  “Oh crap,” he mumbled. “Been found out.”

  Colt must’ve heard him because he turned away from Gwen and toward Mal, his shoulders bobbing as he chuckled. He walked over and reminded Mal, “You hired her.”

  Nodding, Mal admitted, “I did.”

  “You are not arriving at the Hermitage wearing that.” Gwen marched up to Mal, hands on hips, looking him up and down.

  “Gwen, think about this. It’s a long drive, and I’m the distiller.” Mal put one arm around Colt and shoved him forward a step. “Colt is the guy they’ll take pictures of. No one cares what I wear. I like these pants.”

  “And, Mr. Kensington, they’re wonderful for working around the distillery. Not walking into the front of the Hermitage.” She pointed to the house. “I selected appropriate attire for you.”

  Colt snorted.

  Gwen rounded on him. “As for you! You will wear the pajamas while we’re there.”

  “How did you know…?”

  Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Gwen grumbled, “They’re still folded neatly, just the way they came out of the packages.”

  “But I don’t….” Colt stopped and turned beet red.

  “What if you have a gentleman caller? You can’t open the door in your underwear,” Gwen chided. “Or nothing at all.”

  “Ha, ha,” Mal leaned in and teased. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Apparently I have to change clothes.”

  I like the idea of nothing at all.

  Colt snickered but didn’t further comment.

  An incoming text intruded on Mal’s thoughts of Colt wearing nothing but his birthday suit. “And I have to meet with Jeffery before we leave.”

  “They’re on your—” Gwen called.

  Mal waved one hand at her. “I know where they are.” He wasn’t back in his suite but a minute when his phone chimed. Throwing it on the bed, he hit the speaker, sat, and proceeded to change. “What’s up, Jeffery? I got your text and was going to stop in your office before we leave.”

  “We need to talk about Mr. Hale.”

  “What about him?” Mal asked, though he had a good idea already.

  “He addresses you by your first name.”

  “So what? I told him to. You’ve called me Mal for years.” Mal stood up to button his shirt. “Give me five minutes, and we can talk face-to-face.” Mal hit the button, ending the call before Jeffery could say more.

  As he’d promised, he walked through the door of Jeffery’s office a few minutes later.

  “Are you sure you should be that comfortable with him?” Jeffery asked without preamble.

  “And a pleasant day to you too, Jeffery.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” Jeffery pressed.

  Mal sighed and closed his eyes for a few beats. Jeffery’s wife had died a year ago, and Mal realized all Jeffery had right now was his job. That didn’t mean sometimes Mal’s patience didn’t wear thin. “You said yourself I should like him since we’ll be working together.”

  “There’s a difference between liking someone you work with and getting too attached. You’re sharing a hotel room with him, and some people on the board are going to question that,” Jeffery pointed out.

  “I’m sharing a suite,” Mal shot back. “We’ll have separate bedrooms. Gwen is sharing the other one with Audrey and Marty. That place costs a fortune. I’d think the board would be happy I’m not a frivolous spender! And my personal life is just that. Personal. It’s never been a secret I’m gay—”

  “That’s not the issue, Mal. This guy is a vagrant you essentially took of the street. Yes, he works for your company, but the perks are unusual.”

  “So I should—what? Only make friends with the right credit score and family pedigree? Who have lived in certain neighborhoods?” Mal strode to the office door and gave it a shove, slamming it shut before he turned back to Jeffery. “There may be a board of directors and shareholders, but this is my company. Mine! If I choose to become friends with those who work here, it’s my decision. I like Colt, and it’s no one’s business what our personal relationship is.”

  “There is a big difference between being friendly with an employee and becoming too attached. People are going to see him as the male version of a gold digger.”

  “Well, people can go screw themselves.” Mal took a few deep breaths to calm down. “I’ll be fine, Jeffery. Colt and I are friends. Anything else is for us to decide. Not you, not the board. I appreciate
your concern, but I’m a big boy and can take care of myself. Now I have to go pass Gwen’s inspection.”

  Jeffery nodded. “Understood.” He stood up. “Be careful. I don’t want to see you or this company get hurt.”

  Mal wanted to point out the only thing hurting him right now was being drilled in this manner. Instead he mumbled a goodbye and hurried back to where the others waited. The tension bled from Mal’s body when he saw Colt waiting patiently. Just the sight of him made Mal feel better.

  Gwen met him with a brilliant smile. “Much better, sir.” She fussed over him for a few minutes, straightening his shirt and adjusting his tie. “This is so exciting. I love coordinating outfits for social functions.”

  He was momentarily distracted when he caught a glimpse of Colt checking out his rear. Focus. “Gweny, you need to get out more,” Mal said. She leveled a stare at him, then shook her head. He laughed and motioned to the SUV. “It’s just under four hours to Nashville, and I want to get there for lunch. Shall we go?” Once they were settled in the SUV, Mal explained, “Audrey and Marty will arrive later.”

  Mal could’ve taken his private jet, but he preferred driving. He enjoyed riding in the SUV, seeing the sights and enjoying the journey as well as the destination. Besides, it was always a hassle getting from airport to hotel. This was simpler.

  The ride was pleasant enough. Gwen occupied herself with something on her tablet. Mal had brought paperwork to do, and Colt was reading. Inviting Colt to watch him train and then showing him a few moves was a stroke of genius, Mal decided, congratulating himself. They were more comfortable and at ease with each other than ever since their workout. Colt seemed eager to learn more about Mal’s business and Mal himself, which eased the deep loneliness Mal had been trying to ignore for far too long.

  They were about an hour into their drive when Colt closed the book, leaned back, and promptly dropped off to sleep. Moving slowly, Mal reached over and took the book, curious to see what Colt was reading. He was surprised to see it was one of his mother’s books on the natural history of the area around their home. He ran one hand over the cover and gazed out the window for a few minutes before placing it carefully on the seat beside Colt. That’s when he noticed Gwen watching over the top of her tablet. She cleared her throat, averted her eyes, and swiped across the screen a few times. Mal was certain she and Audrey were up to something. Her remark about “gentlemen callers” hadn’t escaped him.