Audrey shrugged. “If someone had shoved something like this under my nose when I was dating Martin, I’d have done more than snap at people. The simple fact is, you and whoever you are involved with must deal with this sort of thing. Sign it, file it, and hope you never need to remember it exists.”
“Did you and Jeffery rehearse your speeches? He said the same thing, almost word for word.”
“Of course he did. We’re both right about this, Mal. And don’t say being alone and single is better. It’s not.”
“For once you don’t know everything. I was not going to say that. I might have thought it”—Mal held up one finger—“but only for a few seconds. I don’t want to hurt Colt’s feelings.”
“Give him some credit. He’s catching on to this whole business quickly. He’ll probably fuss and snap too. Then he’ll calm down, think about it, and realize it’s what should be done. No more, no less.”
Mal nodded and slipped the papers back into his pocket. “I hope you’re right.”
The journalist and photographer were driving a Jeep with Phillipe tagging along. Audrey and Colt rode in Mal’s pickup, which was the only vehicle Mal drove himself. He took the lead with the other vehicle following behind. They picked up a back road behind the house that would take them to the hunting shack. It was a short drive, and fifteen minutes later, they pulled off the road into a small dirt lot. A wide path led from the lot into the woods.
“We’ll go on foot from here.” Mal locked his truck after they all exited the vehicle and held out a hand to the photographer. “I can carry one of those bags, if you want.”
She smiled and passed him a canvas bag. “Thanks.”
Mal shouldered it and led them through the woods. The trail narrowed so they had to walk single file. It was a pleasant fall day; the leaves were changing color, and there was a slight breeze rustling the branches of the trees.
It took about twenty minutes for them to reach a clearing overlooking a valley. Audrey was the only one among them who’d been to this spot before besides Mal. They both stood back, watching the faces of the others when they saw the scenery. Audrey smiled, wearing a decidedly amused and satisfied expression.
“Oh my God!” The photographer jogged closer to the edge of the hill they were on and sat down, gazing out over the valley.
“This is amazing!” Colt strode over so he was behind the photographer, Phillipe and the reporter right next to him.
Audrey nudged Mal’s arm. “Every damn time.”
“Yep,” Mal agreed.
“Are we good?” she asked.
Mal nodded. “We’re good.”
The shack sat a dozen yards from the edge of a steep hill, giving them a clear view of the valley and the mountains rising on the opposite side. A river ran through the lowlands, and hemlocks, maples, and birch trees dotted the landscape, interspersed with conifers that became more dominant on the mountainsides. The yellow, gold, orange, and bright red of fall leaves created impressionistic swaths of color among the green of the pines.
The photographer looked around and pointed to a spot another few feet away. “I’ll set up over there. The valley and trees will make a perfect backdrop.”
For the next few hours, the reporter asked Mal questions while the photographer took a series of pictures of Colt.
When they were finished and packing up, Mal asked Audrey, “Do you mind catching a ride back with the magazine crew?”
Audrey nodded and gave Mal’s forearm a squeeze. “Good luck.”
“Uh-huh.” Mal got closer to Colt, and when the others’ attention was elsewhere, he put one arm around Colt’s shoulders. “I brought a picnic dinner. Stay with me for a while?”
“Sure.” Colt’s face lit up, and Mal pushed away his guilt. Colt was probably expecting a nice romantic evening, and Mal seriously doubted that would happen.
They walked back with the others toward the vehicles. After everyone drove away, Mal pulled a cooler from the back of the truck, and they carried it to the shack. During the entire photo shoot, no one had gone inside, so Mal was surprised to see the remnants of a moonshine still there, scattered across the floor.
“Damn kids. I’ll have to make sure to send someone out here to do checkups more often,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re lucky they didn’t blow themselves up. See how this connects?”
“Yeah,” Colt said and leaned down to look closer.
“Too much heat, and boom.” Mal spread his fingers out. “They must not be from around here since no one sets up a still indoors. Every kid that grew up in this county knows that.”
Colt snorted. “Hell, even I knew that before I came here. How about you set up dinner, and I’ll clear this out?”
“Okay.” Mal picked a spot beside the shack and spread out a blanket. Then he laid out sandwiches, fruit, Colt’s favorite iced fruit tea, cheeses, and hummus.
Colt finished piling up remains of the still beside the shack as the sun was setting. Mal patted the spot beside him. When Colt settled close to him, Mal handed over a glass of tea. “You know, I had a thought about what to call your line of moonshine.”
“Yeah?” Colt bit into a sandwich.
“What do you think of Kensington’s Wild Colt?”
Colt beamed. “I like it.” They were silent for a few moments, watching the final minutes of sunset. “Wow. I didn’t think the view could get better, but wow. One of the things that drew me here was a brochure I found at the bus stop for the distillery. There were photos of the Smokies in the background. I fell asleep on the bus, and when I woke up, we were crossing a bridge, the sun was coming up, and the ‘smoke’ was rising off the mountains. It took my breath away.”
“I’m glad you stopped here,” Mal said. “You’ve been here for months, and I still keep learning new things about you.”
“It goes both ways,” Colt admitted.
Mal leaned over and kissed Colt lightly before saying, “Wait until it gets completely dark.” He waved at the food. “Dig in.”
By the time they finished dinner, the first stars were beginning to pop out. Colt lay back and folded his arms under his head. “You know that song at the beginning of Firefly that says you can’t take the sky from me?”
“Yes.” Mal drew a deep, shaky breath and reached into his coat for the papers.
“I bet whoever wrote that was looking at something like this.”
“You may be right,” Mal said.
Colt pushed onto his elbows. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting funny all day.”
“Yes. No. Colt, there’s something I have to talk to you about, some paperwork.” Mal pulled the papers out and held them against his knees to still the shaking of his hands.
“Geez, I thought for a minute you were breaking up with me.”
“No. That didn’t even cross my mind,” Mal said softly.
Colt sat up and tugged on the rolled-up papers. “Well, are you going to let me see them?”
“I…. Colt, we should talk—”
“Did ya bring a pen? Or do I have to jab my finger and sign in blood?” It was too late. Colt had pulled the document from Mal’s hand, taken out his phone, and was using the flashlight to illuminate the pages while he read.
Mal tried to take the document. “Colt, I need to—”
Colt yanked the papers out of Mal’s reach. He was no longer smiling, and he wasn’t teasing. “What the fuck? You hire me to do public appearances, and now you think I want to steal your company!”
“No, Colt, of course not. But I mentioned before there is a board of directors and stockholders, and that means we have to—”
“Shut up,” Colt shouted and scrambled to his feet, still holding the sheaf of papers. He stormed toward the path, then turned long enough to shout, “You kept telling me you’d take care of the board. This is taking care of it?”
“Where’re you going?”
“Home.” Colt stopped and whirled to face Mal. “Or a hotel since I might try to swipe your house
too.” He turned on his heels and started to run.
“Dammit,” Mal spat. He gathered everything and threw it in the cooler, scooped up the blanket, and ran after Colt. That went really well.
When Mal reached his truck, Colt was nowhere to be seen. His first inclination was to panic. It was getting darker and colder. If Colt left the trail and ventured into the woods, the situation could become dangerous very quickly. Colt didn’t know the area and had no weapon in case of predators. Mal had a handgun in the cooler and a rifle in his truck, neither of which Colt likely knew about.
Mal was about to grab his rifle and a flashlight from the storage compartment behind the back seat of the truck when he spotted the papers lying on the vehicle’s hood. “Shit!” He backtracked and grabbed the papers, climbed into the cab, and started the engine, peeling out and down the road.
“Please have gone the right way.” Mal gripped the steering wheel and pressed down on the gas pedal. If Colt had gotten his directions confused and tried to follow the road going away from the distillery in the dark, it was possible he’d walk off a cliff. “I should’ve shown him more of the territory.”
Blasting around a bend, Mal nearly ran Colt over. He’d slowed to a brisk walk, head down and arms hugging himself. When the truck’s tires squealed, Colt jerked sideways.
Mal put the truck in park and rolled down the window. “Colt, you can’t walk all the way back.”
“Oh, bullshit. I’ve walked across a city before.”
“There are bears and coyotes and cougars.”
“I lived on the streets for ten years and dealt with gangs. I’ll survive,” Colt snapped.
“For God’s sake, Colt, you smell like roast beef sandwiches and three types of cheese. Every carnivore for a hundred miles is going to want a piece of that,” Mal shouted.
A deer bounded out of the woods and darted in front of Colt, then bolted across the road and into the woods on the other side. Colt yelped and jumped to the side.
“Whatever is chasing that deer isn’t going to be so picky as to pass up you and chase it,” Mal called. It was a mean and crappy thing to do, but he reasoned Colt wouldn’t know any better.
Colt turned and stared at the woods for a few seconds before running to the truck and scrambling into the passenger seat. He wrapped both arms around himself and stared straight ahead.
Mal put the truck into gear and started driving. “Colt, I—” Colt turned his head and glared at Mal, silencing him. What was he going to say? He wanted to protect Colt, not see him hurt, yet that’s exactly what he’d done. After a few minutes of silence, he knew what to say. “There is nothing in that document that can’t be negotiated. Every contract can be negotiated.”
“Signing it can be negotiated?” Colt sniped. When Mal pressed his lips together and focused out the window at the road, Colt mumbled, “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Will you just read the whole thing? For me? Please?”
Colt shifted so his back was to Mal and stared out the passenger window for the rest of the ride home. The second Mal drove down the drive, Colt grabbed the papers, opened his door, and dropped out of the still-moving truck. He landed on his feet and hurried into the house.
Mal shut down the truck’s engine, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. Finally it was getting cold enough he had to either turn the engine on or go into the house.
Feeling old and weary, Mal shoved the truck’s door open and climbed down, then headed for his home.
Chapter Eleven
MAL paced around the house, not exactly knowing what he wanted to do. He checked some of the windows and made sure the alarm was working properly. Then he went to the kitchen and made a grocery list. Next he checked the liquor cabinet to assure himself it was well stocked. As he was heading for the living room and the globe bar, he stopped.
“What the hell am I doing? I don’t even have company, let alone parties. Who cares if I run out of vermouth. It’s not as if I’ll run out of whiskey.”
Mal left the room, shutting off the light as he went. Taking the steps three at a time, he went to the second story and stopped in front of Colt’s door. He heard music coming from inside as well as Colt moving about. Lifting one hand, he was about to knock softly, but then thought better of it. Positions reversed, he’d want some time alone, not to be pressured. His heart wanted to feel Colt’s presence close to him, see Colt smile and hear his laugh. Squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, Mal clenched his fists and steadied himself, repeating over and over their budding relationship hadn’t been destroyed. All couples had fights.
Heaving a sigh, Mal continued down the hall to his own suite. He flicked on the lights and closed the door softly behind him, then stood in the middle of the room and looked around. Normally this was his sanctuary, the place he came to recharge. Now it just seemed cold and empty. Colt didn’t spend every night with Mal, but they’d spent enough of them together that the thought of losing what was growing between them made Mal’s chest hurt. It wasn’t only the sex; it was the companionship and friendship he treasured.
Colt hadn’t done anything wrong. The document Jeffery had drawn up and given Mal wasn’t wrong. Mal hadn’t done anything wrong, other than not presenting the facts in a better way. He knew that. Hopefully deep down, Colt knew that as well. Mal only wanted to hold Colt close and make sure he knew kindness and affection.
“A workout and good night’s sleep will help you see things more clearly,” Mal said aloud. A few more minutes passed before he shed his boots and clothes and padded into the bathroom.
The long hot shower felt good and loosened Mal’s muscles. He dressed in sweats and a T-shirt before collecting his discarded clothes and tossing them into the laundry hamper. Grabbing the remote control, Mal flopped back onto his bed and started flipping through channels. The workout wasn’t going to happen. When he came to a rerun of The Tonight Show, the same one Colt had been on, Mal watched for a few minutes, wiped a trickle of moisture from his cheek, then turned off the television.
“You’re being stupid. It was a fight, nothing more. People argue and disagree, and they work through it.” Mal turned off the light. Tomorrow he and Colt would work through this.
When Mal’s alarm went off the next morning, he was out of bed and dressed in record time. He jogged down the hall to Colt’s door and knocked softly, but there was no answer. Mal considered his options. He couldn’t barge in, but he could wait. Colt had to come out sooner or later.
Except Mal didn’t have the patience for waiting, so he went back to his room and retrieved his phone. His call went to voicemail. “Colt, I’m sorry. Please, we need to talk.” After that, Mal sent a text repeating the same thing. He hung around the deck waiting for breakfast to arrive. When it did, there was only his meal. Mal left the food sitting on the table and went back upstairs to knock on Colt’s door again, but got no answer.
Mal sighed and sagged against the wall for a minute. “Give him space. Don’t be a jerk.”
There was another photo shoot in Gatlinburg the following day. Originally Mal hadn’t planned to go, but he’d put in an appearance if he didn’t talk to Colt sooner. The day loomed long before him, and the tasks he needed to complete seemed more like drowning than working. It was still morning when Audrey arrived in Mal’s office.
“Colt called me. He’s spending a few days with Phillipe,” Audrey said softly. She reached out and gave Mal’s arm a squeeze. “I know it’s easy for me to say, but give him some space. I also know he’s called Jeffery with a few questions about that paperwork.”
Mal nodded. “Thanks.” He decided not to tell her he’d be driving to Gatlinburg in the morning.
At the end of an interminable day and largely sleepless night, Mal got up at the crack of dawn and set off for Gatlinburg in his pickup. He had some trouble finding the studio, and by the time he arrived, the photo shoot had begun. Building security let him in, and he stood against the wall, watching. He ca
ught Colt’s eye a few times but got no soft smile or knowing glance in return. On the plus side, Mal didn’t get any vibes of hostility either.
Finally the photographer called a break, and everyone wandered off for bathroom and beverage breaks. Mal pulled in a deep breath, stuck his shaking hands in his pockets, and approached Colt, playing over a million things in his head to say.
“I’m sorry,” Mal blurted out.
Colt looked away for a second, then focused on Mal. “I know. I didn’t mean to leave in the middle of the night, but I needed to be somewhere else for a few days.” He chuckled. “I think Phillipe is getting tired of me.”
“Come home, please,” Mal pleaded. “We’ll work this out, and I am more than capable of fighting the board on this.”
“I don’t know, maybe—”
“Have dinner with me, and we’ll talk about it.”
Colt nodded and even smiled a bit. “That’s fair. I’d like that—a lot, actually.”
They were interrupted by a woman approaching with a robe. She handed it to Colt. Mal immediately picked up on the fact her actions made Colt uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure about this,” Colt mumbled to the woman. He was staring at the floor.
“Not sure about what?” Mal asked.
The woman gave him an irritated look but explained, “The magazine is doing a spread with athletes, execs, and models posing nude.”
Mal studied Colt, whose feelings were obvious. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not part of the deal. I don’t know who requested this, but it wasn’t me, and I never approved it.”
“I’m sorry, sir, who are you?” The woman tried to step between Colt and Mal, but Mal wasn’t having it. He squared his shoulders, straightened his spine, and moved so he was beside Colt.
“I’m the guy who owns the distillery that is paying for these photographs.” He turned to Colt and asked, “Do you want to do this?”
Colt shook his head.
Mal leveled a glare at the woman. “We’re done here.”
“But the magazine…. There’s a contract and—”
Whiskey and Moonshine Page 15
