Colt was waiting in a private room, something he was sure Mal arranged while en route to meet them. He’d been questioned, poked, and prodded and was now sitting with Frank and one of the ever-present cops, waiting for the okay to be released.
When he heard Mal’s voice in the hall, Colt’s heart thumped, and his hands began to shake from impatience. He gripped the edge of the bed for a second, then shoved off and landed on his bare feet on the floor. Hospital gown and spectators be damned.
“This way?” Mal was asking.
Colt bolted across the room for the door, inwardly snickering at the shocked expression on the police officer’s face. Frank simply looked amused. Colt had never been a fighter, but he wasn’t a half-bad runner when the situation called for it.
“No, wait, you shouldn’t—” the officer started to say.
He pushed by her and yanked the door open. When Colt saw Mal’s surprised face as he rushed into the hall, he did almost laugh out loud, except the lump in his throat stopped any sound from getting out.
“Colt!” was all Mal had time to say before Colt threw his arms around Mal and his momentum knocked them back a few steps. Fortunately for them both, Mal was strong and balanced. He recovered quickly and stopped them from crashing into the wall.
Not caring how it looked or what anyone thought, Colt sobbed out a few breaths and pressed his face to Mal’s shoulder, shaking.
“Hey, hey, shh. You’re okay.” Mal tightened his grip on Colt and crushed him against his chest. “You’re okay,” he repeated in Colt’s ear, all the while gently stroking the back of Colt’s head.
The lump in Colt’s throat expanded, and all he could do was nod against Mal’s shoulder while hanging on desperately.
Colt finally felt safe.
Chapter Fourteen
IT took what seemed like days for doctors and police and everyone to clear out of Colt’s room. When they were finally alone, Mal sat on Colt’s bed and took his hand. “God, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m not so easy to get rid of,” Colt joked. “Thank you for coming and for what you did to find me. Frank told me everything on the drive here.” He paused and closed his fingers around Mal’s. “I overreacted to the document. It took me by surprise, and I think I was more hurt you didn’t warn me it was coming.”
“I would have if I’d known. Jeffery hit me with it earlier that day. I had no clue. Please believe me. I told him I didn’t want this, but there are some things I have to do to protect my company,” Mal said.
“From someone like me?”
Mal shook his head. “No, from what I might do in a very emotional situation. In a sense it’s to protect my company from me not thinking straight. My parents had similar documents.”
“Even though one of them wasn’t an employee?” Colt said.
“That’s not exactly true. My mother’s family were the Kensingtons. My father was an apprentice distiller when they met. Mom had a great head for business but not for brewing, and no siblings,” Mal said.
Colt confessed, “I feel silly for the way I acted. You’d look out for us both. I know that, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance.”
“I’m sure there was a ream’s worth of paperwork for them to work through and for my father to sign, agreeing to take her name. Normal people are permitted to date, develop romantic relationships, and get married without the benefits of complicated financial and business agreements,” Mal pointed out. “But I’m not a regular guy. I have a whole bunch of people I must answer to and reassure I won’t make bad decisions for my company and lose their money in the heat of passion. Or some such stupid pile of crap.”
“I’ll sign it. The last thing I want coming between us is something like this. It was stupid of me to be so pissed off. I did notice your signature wasn’t on a single page.”
“That’s because if it was going to come between us, I was going to fight it,” Mal said. “My mother didn’t pay for my fancy business degree for nothing. Jeffery Grice is very good at what he does, and he’s not the enemy here. He was simply doing what the board asked him to do. But”—Mal grinned at Colt—“I’m pretty damn good too.”
“You’d do that for me?”
Mal pulled Colt closer. “I’d do that for us. Yes.” He met Colt’s gaze steadily. “Come back home with me, please. I love you, and I’ve missed you so much. I want to wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life.”
“Me too, all of that.” Colt moved to one side. “Will you stay here with me?”
“Of course.” Mal shimmied close beside Colt and took him into his arms, loving how he fit so well under Mal’s shoulder. Colt wrapped one arm around Mal’s waist, and in less than a minute, he was sound asleep, his breath soft on Mal’s skin.
Epilogue
THANKS to the Smoky Mountain Wedding Association, Mal didn’t have too much trouble finding someone to officiate at the wedding he and Colt were planning. They’d decided on something low-key and simple. Above all, they wanted privacy. Colt having attained somewhat of a celebrity status meant making the arrangements quietly. Quietly did not mean quickly, however. Finding and booking an officiate were two entirely different things. It didn’t matter how no-frills their wedding would be or how anxious they were to get married, three and a half months was the soonest that could be booked, even though Mal began arrangements two days after Colt was rescued.
The house on the distillery grounds was now home for both of them. That’s where they wanted to begin their marriage.
“Oh, hey, I have something to show you. A little wedding gift.” Mal finished dressing, then went to the outer part of the suite, Colt trailing behind. He opened his briefcase and pulled out some drawings. “The mock-ups for the labels for your line of moonshine. What do you think?” He spread the drawings over the table.
Colt picked up two of the pages. “Kensington’s Wild Colt will really happen.”
“Like them? I thought the design department did a great job, and the name is damn catchy.”
The labels were brown and tan, with a bucking colt outlining lettering that read Wild Colt. The name Kensington’s was wrapped around the top of the label in a horseshoe shape, and fireflies dotted the background.
Smiling, Colt nodded. “I adore them.” He slipped one arm around Mal and pressed close, giving him a kiss. “Almost as much as I adore you.”
WHENEVER Mal thought of the company bearing his name in terms of ownership, it was in conjunction with Colt. They owned and supervised operation of Kensington’s Distillery and Still House. After a few days of deliberation and changing his mind repeatedly, Colt chose to hyphenate his own last name with Mal’s. Once they were married, he’d officially be Colt Hale-Kensington. He thought it was a bit of a mouthful, but Mal, who’d used his middle name most of his life, thought Colt’s choice of names was classy. Since Colt was going to be with Mal and their company for what Mal hoped was at least another, oh, seventy or so years, they needed a plan. The company still needed a spokesman, and Colt’s duties in that regard would expand so he would be more than the face of Kensington’s. He was also learning about distilling and management. Their plan was taking shape bits at a time.
But first they needed to get married.
Mal was pulling his shoes on when his phone alerted him that someone was at the front door.
“They’re here!” Colt did some amazing move that took him from sitting in a chair to the door of their room in a blink of an eye.
Mal chuckled and finished his task before standing up. “Let’s go greet them.”
They had met the minister and her wife a few days earlier and arranged the details of the ceremony. Mal opened the door and smiled. “Ladies, thank you for coming to our home.”
“Our pleasure. I’ve always wanted to see this place, so you’re doing us a favor too.” The minister was a lovely, outgoing woman by the name of Crystal Porter. Her wife, Linda, who Colt insisted join them today, was a little more on the quiet side.
> “Between Colt being somewhat of a social media personality and the trial we told you about, our lives are a little stressful. We wanted to have the ceremony in our home, as this is where we’re most comfortable. Everything is set up on our deck,” Mal explained.
“You have a beautiful evening for it,” Linda said as they walked through the house to the back doors.
The deck was adorned with tiny blue lights strung along the railings and on an overhead arbor. Baskets of spring flowers in coral, dark purple, and blue hung at regular intervals. A simple altar had dark mahogany folding chairs arranged in front of it for the few guests who’d be in attendance. Solar-powered orbs encircled the altar since Reverend Porter would need a little reading light.
“Do we want to do a quick run-through?” Reverend Porter asked.
“I think we’re pretty prepared,” Colt told her. “We have the rings, and we decided on the vows when we met with you a few weeks ago and planned out how the ceremony would go.”
“Everyone should be here soon, and it’ll be dark enough in about a half hour,” Mal said.
“I’d better get set up,” the reverend said and smiled.
Mal excused himself. “I have to check on the food.”
“I’ll help.” Colt followed him. After they were inside, he added, “She probably doesn’t need us hanging around while she gets ready.”
Colt wore a dark brown suit with a burgundy tie and mocha-colored shirt, the colors of Kensington’s Distillery and Still House. Mal’s suit was in similar colors but a slightly different style. His tie was the same color as Colt’s, but his shirt was dark brown, and the suit itself was mocha.
Mal made his rounds of the kitchen, and when he was satisfied all was as prepared as it was going to get, Colt took a pitcher of fruit tea, and Mal trailed behind him with glasses. They set everything on a table to the side of the altar. “Tea?” Colt poured a glass and offered one to each woman.
“Thank you,” Linda said. “A little bit of paperwork to sign, and we’re all set.”
“Oh, yay, more paperwork,” Colt mumbled, making Mal laugh. Late last week they’d spent hours going through their prenup and company documents, then signed them. Mal swore he had a hand cramp for a whole day afterward. Once they were married, Colt would own the Kensington’s Wild Colt line of moonshine.
“This tea is amazing,” Reverend Porter said.
“Thanks. It’s the inspiration for our new moonshine.” Colt stepped closer to Mal and tugged on his suit jacket. “Browncoat,” he whispered in Mal’s ear, sharing a private joke, and he kissed Mal’s cheek.
“Oh my gosh, Malone, it smells amazing here,” Audrey said as she and her husband arrived. “You’re the only person I know who’d cook his own wedding dinner.”
In no time the deck was filled with their friends. Gwen brought a young man she’d met during their first trip to Nashville almost a year ago. Billy Krems and his wife joined them. Phillipe arrived with a charming man, which made Mal happy. Jeffery, who’d been widowed shortly after Mal’s mother passed away, was there by himself, but for once he seemed to be enjoying himself. Frank rounded out their guest list.
The ceremony was planned to take place when it was dark enough to see the stars over the mountains. Finally the sky went from a grayish color to blue-gray, and then to a deep, deep blue, so dark it was almost black. Stars twinkled in the cloudless sky, and there was a sliver of a waxing moon. Even the fireflies obliged and flew lazy twists and turns through the air.
As Mal and Colt took their places in front of the altar, a gentle breeze ruffled Colt’s dark hair, nearly melting Mal’s heart.
“I am always so happy to perform a wedding. Even more so when that wedding is between a same-sex couple and here in the great state of Tennessee,” the reverend began.
A low ripple of soft laughter went through those gathered. Mal loved his home state, but no one ever claimed this area was the epicenter of liberal thinking.
Mal barely heard the words spoken, he was so excited and still in awe this sweet young man had agreed to marry him. Audrey stepped forward with the rings and nudged Mal’s foot with her toe.
“I do,” he whispered and slid the ring onto Colt’s finger, appreciating the sleek wedding set they’d chosen. Their rings were platinum, with an onyx center band inlaid with three small diamonds.
A few minutes later, Colt echoed, “I do.” He slipped on Mal’s ring, grinned, and hooked one arm around Mal’s neck, making good on his earlier threat to passionately kiss Mal in front of all their guests.
A few of the waitstaff from Kensington’s Place arrived to help with the dinner. They had the food expertly plated and smoothly served in a timely manner. After dinner came coffee and, of course, a three-tiered wedding cake with fireflies decorating the sides and two grooms wearing brown coats on top.
Good food, excellent drinks, and surrounded by those closest to them, Mal and Colt celebrated their wedding until the moon had set and the sky was becoming lighter.
COLT gasped out a moan and shuddered when Mal gripped his hips from behind with both hands and pulled them even closer together. He moved his pelvis rhythmically as he pumped into Colt, hitting his sweet spot in a way that made him cry out with every thrust. Colt was on his knees, supporting himself on his forearms, his head hung down so his forehead brushed the mattress, and his fists twisted in the sheets. Breath catching, Colt shoved his ass back to meet Mal with each lunge forward, driving him deeper inside Colt.
When Mal’s thick cock began pulsing in Colt’s ass, Mal reached around with one hand, gripped Colt’s dick, and stroked hard. Mal leaned over Colt’s back and groaned near Colt’s ear, his entire body trembling. They collapsed onto the bed, Mal holding Colt tightly until both their bodies quieted.
“Hmm….” Colt pulled in a deep breath and sighed it out slowly. “I love your relaxation techniques. I know we’ve only been married six weeks, but I swear the sex is better now.”
Mal kissed and nibbled at Colt’s ear, then lifted his weight up enough to ease out of Colt. “Every time is better than the last.”
Colt burst out laughing.
“Bad?” Mal asked.
“Yeah.” After another minute, Colt eased off Mal and relaxed into the mattress. “This press conference will be exciting.”
Mal rolled off the bed. “Of course it will. You’re a pro at them by now, and you’re announcing your own line of moonshine. I’m so proud of you.” He leaned one knee on the bed and kissed Colt’s back. “Need a shower. You still haven’t told me where you’d like to go for a honeymoon.”
“You mentioned Belize.” Colt shimmied off the bed and padded into the bathroom.
“We still have a few weeks since we need to be here for the trial,” Mal said from the shower. “And I don’t want to be in Central America in the middle of their summer.”
“I’d like Belize, and you know how much I like mountains,” Colt said while he shaved.
Two hours later, Colt had showered too, dressed, then polished off a breakfast of pancakes and sausage. This press conference was being held at the distillery, so he didn’t have much travel time to worry about.
Today’s event was to take place in one of the private party rooms in Kensington’s Place. Colt stood in front of the big mirror in Mal’s dressing room, making sure his tie was straight and his hair looked nice. Mal put one arm around him from behind.
“You still get nervous before press conferences,” Mal said and kissed the back of Colt’s neck. “We can issue a statement.”
“Quite a few of the reporters come to so many of my personal appearances, and I’ve gotten to know them. I want to thank them for respecting our privacy after the kidnapping. And give them first look at—and taste of—the new moonshine.” Colt turned in Mal’s arms so they were face-to-face.
“Your new moonshine.” Mal looked at his watch. “Time to go.” He kissed Colt before releasing him.
Colt and Mal took up positions at the private room’s entranc
e and greeted everyone arriving for the press conference. When the reporters were all present, Mal sat in the back, and Colt went to the front of the room. Colt took a deep breath, picked up the microphone placed near a podium for him to use, and began.
“Thank you all for coming today.” Colt’s gaze swept the room. There had to be at least fifty reporters in attendance. “I wanted to personally thank you for the kindness you showed me after I was kidnapped.” Colt stopped talking to let the murmurs die down. “I’m sure from my accent, you all know I’m a Northerner. I fell in love with this distillery and countryside the first time I saw it.” Colt paused for a few seconds to take a sip of water. “Malone Kensington turned me onto a great Southern beverage, fruit tea. It was on one of our first dates.”
One reporter asked, “Have there been other dates?”
Colt held up his left hand and waggled his ring finger, smiling so much he thought his face might split in two. “Yes! Recently Mal and I got married. I’m officially Colton Hale-Kensington, but that’s a mouthful, so call me Colt like you’ve been doing.
“I have one last announcement. Some of you may have heard rumors of a new line of moonshine. I’m here to say it’s true.” Colt held up a bottle. “Kensington’s Wild Colt, inspired by fruit tea. As you can see, it’s pretty unique, with fireflies as part of the glass as well as the label background since I’m a big fan of the show Firefly! Mal and I would like to invite you all to a reception and welcome you into our home to help celebrate our marriage. And to be among the first to taste the new moonshine!”
“You have to tell us the story,” another of the reporters piped up.
Whiskey and Moonshine Page 19
