Whiskey Kiss: A Small-town Romance

by V McFarlane

  Despite the meeting, I’m in a good mood and grab a bottle from the bar on the way out. It’s one of aour mid-range whiskeys, aged for seven years before being bottled. The sun is still shining, the sky a cloudless blue. I place the whiskey on the passenger seat and turn over the engine, waving to a few of the guys still milling around the distillery.

  I used to come here all the time as a kid, watching, learning. Whiskey is in my blood. It’s a simple passion. There is nothing a good whiskey cannot accompany, from a heartbreak to a celebration.

  Mark Twain knew what he was talking about when he said, ‘too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough’.

  It doesn’t take me long to get back to the ranch and as I climb from the cab, I can hear the splashing of water and shrill, joyous laughter coming from the back yard. I enter through the front door, being instantly hit with the smell of lasagne and garlic, and find it’s still cooking in the oven. It looks amazing and smells even better.

  When was the last time I cooked something decent in this kitchen? With Ripley I cook her up a meal, be it chicken nuggets or fresh fish but when it comes to me, I just grab whatever I can.

  Leaving the whiskey on the kitchen counter I head through the house to the back door and step out onto the patio.

  I was not prepared, not even a little bit, for what was waiting for me.

  The first thing I saw was Ripley, bobbing up and down in the deep end whilst Ava floats near her, these big, bright orange armbands holding her afloat. That was fine, that was normal.

  What wasn’t normal was the blonde leaning against the pool edge, her back to me and her long, wet hair floating on the surface of the water. Her swimsuit is modest, a one piece but the back is completely cut out and whilst it covers everything, I can still see everything. I follow the lines of her body, committing to memory all her dips and curves. Her legs idly kick beneath the crystal-clear water.

  I swallow, all the blood in my body heading south. I’m not even near the woman and she’s having this kind of effect on me.

  What is it about her!?

  “Daddy!” Ripley squeals.

  “Shit,” Penny hisses, dipping beneath the water as if that can somehow hide her from me.

  I reluctantly drag my gaze away from the body bobbing beneath the surface, “Hey sweetheart.”

  “Are you coming in?” She asks, a huge grin lighting up her face.

  That’s not a good idea, “Not today.”

  Penny resurfaces on my side of the pool, using the ledge to cover her body so I can only see her face. It doesn’t help. I can see droplets of water running down the column of her throat and my mouth literally waters at the idea of sliding my tongue over her skin to catch them. Little orbs of water cling to her eyelashes and the bridge of her nose is slightly pink from being in the sun too long.

  “Hey,” she breathes, “I hope this is okay.”

  “Of course,” I shake my head, “No problem.”

  “Good meeting?”

  “Huh? Oh right, the meeting, yeah,” a fog, one that only brings images of a wet Penny to the forefront of my mind has taken over my brain, “I’m just gonna freshen up.”

  I don’t wait for a response. I get the fuck out of there, practically jogging up the stairs and slamming my bedroom door behind me.

  I breathe hard. God, what am I? A horny teenage boy seeing a half-naked woman for the first time!?

  The rock hard length between my legs tells me that’s exactly what I am. I push at it, rearranging it in my jeans and then collapse onto the bed, covering my eyes with my arm. I can feel my heart pounding inside my chest, the blood rushing in my ears.

  I don’t have time for a woman. I don’t. But I want time.

  And I want time with her.

  Thirteen

  Taron

  When I finally return downstairs Penny is in the kitchen, dressed in the same cut off denim shorts and tank she was in when I spoke with her this morning. Her long blonde hair is wet, dripping water down the back of her pale top and turning it see-through.

  My hands itch to twirl it around them, to feel it slipping and sliding against my skin. Before I realise I’m doing it, I’m leaning, only I’ve gone too far and my arm knocks what I’m assuming is Ava’s bookbag off the chair. It makes a thud when it hits the floor and a quick, shrill scream leaves Penny.

  She spins around, clutching her chest, “Jesus Christ!” She exclaims, “you scared the sh – hell outta me!”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, bending to retrieve the fallen bag.

  “Do you always tip-toe around?” she huffs, her breathing still hard.

  “I didn’t realise I was.”

  She shakes her head and pulls two plates from the cupboard as well as a small lunchbox with a purple lid. I don’t remember buying it, it must have been something Della picked up for Ripley.

  “Only two?” I ask before realising the girls are still in the pool. Panic sets in, “You left the girls in the pool alone!?” I yell.

  She cocks her head and puts her hands on her hips, pursing her lips, “You wanna tone it down a bit?”

  Sass. She’s giving me sass!?

  “Where are the girls!?”

  “What the hell do you take me for?” She snaps, “They’re getting changed in the downstairs bathroom!”

  “Shit,” I exhale.

  “Shit indeed,” she narrows her eyes but then a tiny little gasp sounds from behind me and we both turn our attention to the door frame.

  “Mommy, you said a bad word!”

  Penny goes bright pink, pinker than the strip of sunburn on her nose and lets out a harsh breath, “I did.”

  “Do you have a swear jar, Mr Cain?” Ava turns to me, “Mommy owes.”

  “No swear jar here, kiddo,” I tell her, “Maybe we’ll start one.”

  “You said it first!” Penny almost yells.

  “Now, now,” I grin, hoping she’ll just forget about what happened a few seconds ago, “no one likes a tittle tattle.”

  Her nostrils flare and a muscle in her jaw ticks, “Take the garlic bread out in five minutes,” she says to me, grabbing Ava’s bag, “Ava, come on baby, time to go.”

  “But we didn’t eat!” The girl whines.

  “We’re eating at home, let’s leave Mr Cain and Ripley to their dinner.”

  “Wait!” I chase after her, “I’m sorry!”

  “First, you ask me to pick up and look after your daughter, saying you trust me and then you go and insult me.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I hang my head, “Stay. You cooked and you should eat.”

  “I cooked for the girls,” she corrects, “and made enough for you. That’s all.”

  “There’s plenty there, stay.”

  She looks over my shoulder, no doubt looking at Ava still standing near Ripley in the kitchen and I watch her shoulders sag in defeat. It’s a win.

  “Fine.”

  _

  We sit around the dining table, Ripley sat in the chair to my left and Penny directly opposite, Ava sat opposite Ripley. The girls are giggling as they shovel through their food. The lasagne is beautiful, rich, and creamy and the pasta is perfectly soft.

  “This is good,” I comment, shovelling another forkful into my mouth.

  “Thanks.” Penny grumbles, pushing her food around on her plate.

  “Where did you learn to cook?” I ask, trying to continue up the conversation and lighten the mood.

  I’d pissed her off, which I mean, fair enough, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should have known that the girls would be safe.

  She shrugs, “I’ve always cooked.”

  I nod and then sigh, “I’m sorry. I’m new to this and I panicked.”

  Her shoulders sag, “I know.”

  “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  She nods, “It’s okay.”

  “Do you like whiskey?” I ask, placing my utensils down on the plate.

  She cocks her head to the side an
d studies me, her mouth working slowly to chew her food. “I’ve never tried it. Not much of a drinker.” Her eyes flick to Ava.

  I stand from the table and gather up my plate, walking into the kitchen. Penny follows behind, rinsing her own plate before loading it into the dishwasher and then she takes mine and does the same.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, heading over to where I’ve left the whiskey on the counter.

  Once she’s finished, she turns and leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. I pull a tumbler from the cupboard and fill two fingers worth into the crystal glass, swirling the amber liquid around so it sloshes like liquid gold up the sides.

  “Is that your own?”

  I nod once, “Why not come and have a sip?” My mouth pulls up at the corner, my eyes studying her features, from the straight cut of her nose to the lashes that frame her emerald eyes. She looks from me to the glass which I’m holding close to my chest, my fingers wrapped around it. I should just hand it over, but I want her to step close. I want to see if she will.

  For a long time, she just stares, and I stare right back, daring her to step closer. I have no idea what I’ll do if she does. I just want her to.

  Finally, she pushes away from the counter and closes the space between us, coming to a stop in front of me, not close enough I realise.

  “Take it,” I challenge.

  One of her brows cock up in question and then I see her swallow as she takes another step closer. Despite the fact that she has been in the pool, I can still smell subtle hints of something floral in her hair.

  Her eyes flick up to mine, looking at me from beneath her lashes. There’re flecks of brown and gold in her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before and a darker green rims her pupil like a halo.

  As she reaches forward, I inch closer, pushing the glass into her waiting hand, it being the only thing that separates our bodies. I can feel the heat coming off her, feel the push in the air around us, almost enveloping us like we’re the only people who exist.

  Her hand is on top of mine but it’s like time has stopped. I could just lean down, touch my lips to hers, find out whether they are as soft as they look. Her tongue darts out to trace her full bottom lip and I follow it with my eyes.

  I can feel my heart speeding up, my breathing becoming rougher.

  When has a woman excited me this much?

  Never is the answer.

  I lean down, holding my breath, waiting for her to pull away, to stop me because hell if I can stop myself.

  Her breath tickles my face and her eyes fall closed, the lashes fluttering against the apples of her cheeks.

  “I’m finished!” Ava giggles, running into the kitchen.

  Penny jumps back, bumping herself against a stool. She reaches out and steadies it and then smiles, “Well done!” She appraises breathlessly, her eyes quickly darting to me.

  I’m frozen, my jaw tense. Shit. I was so close. So close!

  Fourteen

  Penny

  My almost kiss with Taron has left my head in a state of serious mess. I should imagine it would resemble jelly or mush at this point.

  I take both Ripley’s and Ava’s plates, rinse them, and place them into the dishwasher, keeping my eyes down and anywhere else other than in Taron’s direction. I’m too afraid. Too afraid that if I look at him, I’ll be drawn in again. Drawn into his scent, a mouth-watering combination of leather, smoked wood, and spice, drawn into his eyes that have flecks of amber the same colour as the whiskey in his glass and drawn into that mouth.

  It was the smile

  The half, cocky smile that sunk one dimple into his cheek and sent a spark of mischief to his eyes.

  And I still didn’t get to taste the whiskey.

  My heart is still pounding something furious inside my chest, so hard I’m sure he’ll be able to see the thump of it at the pulse point in my neck.

  I need to get out of here before I do something like, I don’t know, climb him like a tree.

  “Ava,” my voice is husky, I clear my throat and try again, “Ava baby, time to go.”

  “Aw but mom!” Ava moans, “We were going to play!”

  “Maybe another time,” I say.

  “How about tomorrow?” Taron interrupts, “If you’re not busy of course.”

  My eyes dart to him, taking in the casual way he’s leaning on the counter, his hand wrapped around that whiskey glass. He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed, not like me anyway.

  “Can we mommy!?” Ava begs.

  Her blue eyes are wide, putting on her best puppy dog face. I hate saying no. I have to do it too often when she wants something not on the list for the store but this?

  “Okay,” I agree.

  “Great,” Taron grins and pushes from the counter. I head to the door, Ava and Ripley following. They both bundle out onto the porch when the door is opened, jumping and squealing at the prospect of seeing each other tomorrow.

  “Bring your bathing suit,” Taron says quietly from behind me, so close I feel his breath tease my hair, “And maybe we can get you that taste.”

  Be still, my overly eager and enthusiastic heart.

  “Yeah,” I try to sound nonchalant, easy, only it comes out more like a squeak. “Maybe.”

  With a chuckle, he sees us out the door and watches as I make my way to the jeep. Ava happily climbs in the back seat and I strap her up. I can feel Taron watching me, his eyes burning a delicious heat through my body, lighting up my veins like a sort of drug.

  I had a feeling he would be the addictive kind of high. A high so blissful and euphoric you’d never want to come down and that’s just dangerous.

  Thankfully, the car starts immediately with only a grumble, granted it was loud, but it started and saved me the embarrassment. He’s still standing there when I pull out of his long driveway and the large wooden gates that close off the land to the public start to open as I get closer.

  The two of us couldn’t be any more different.

  We’re the opposite of each other, just looking at what he has in comparison to what I do should tell me enough.

  I have no idea what he thinks of me and that terrifies me.

  The drive home is a quiet one and even though it doesn’t take us long, what with Winters Creek being so small, Ava has fallen asleep in the back seat, her long blonde hair curling at the ends from the pool water.

  She doesn’t wake when I unstrap her from the backseat and carry her to the house, awkwardly trying to put the key into the lock with her still in my arms. It’s not until we’re in her room and I’m trying to change her clothes that her eyes flutter open and she stares up at me with drowsiness.

  “Hi momma,” she smiles sleepily, her body limp as I pull the clothes off and replace them with her pyjamas.

  “Hi baby,” I stroke her hair and lay her down in her bed, “You sleepy?”

  She nods, snuggling into the bed and pulling the sheet up to her chin, “I’m excited for tomorrow.”

  “I bet,” I say, leaning to peck her forehead with a kiss, “Love you baby, good night.”

  “Love you, mommy.”

  She’s back asleep almost immediately and I just stand in the doorway, watching her sleep. I’m thankful that there have been no lasting effects of the bullying she received back at her old school and that she’s been able to make friends.

  Children should never have to suffer for their parent’s mistakes.

  I head back downstairs and call Grace. She picks up on the second ring.

  “Hey!” She says, “How are you!?”

  I nod, and then realise she can’t see me, “good, you good?”

  “Mm,” she hums, “How’s life there?”

  Telling her about Taron is on the tip of my tongue but what is there to say? We almost kissed but didn’t. Almost kissing happened all the time didn’t it? A heat of the moment thing and usually you realise it’s a good thing it didn’t happen. It didn’t feel like a good thing though. No, I feel the absence of that k
iss which to me, makes no sense at all. There’s nothing to miss because there was nothing to start with.

  My history, it’s too messy, too chaotic to be able to get involved with a man like Taron. He’s a name I’ve heard all around town, a local celebrity, an eligible bachelor, and me? I’m no one in comparison.

  This isn’t a pity party for one.

  I’m happy on my own but every now and then, you miss a warm body to fall in to.

  So, I don’t tell Grace about him, I don’t tell her that I felt the heat from his body pressed against mine and could still smell him like he was some sort of phantom ghost forever destined to haunt me.

  And the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing he saw. I watched those pupils dilate and the hazel colour darken as he stared down at me, in that moment I witnessed his want for me and if it weren’t for being interrupted by the children, I really have to wonder, what would have had happened in that kitchen, a mere glass of whiskey between us? What would kissing Taron Cain actually be like?

  After the call with Grace I settle on to the sofa with a book. Night has crept in, the sky a dusty dark blue and I can see the winks of white stars buried in the canvas. This town is much quieter than my previous one, so much so, I can hear the crickets chirping in the back yard and the distant coo of an owl.

  If I weren’t so afraid of having my past outed, I could be happy here. I could make a life and have friends but as it is, I’m better off alone.

  Fifteen

  Penny

  I scrunch my hair in my hands and check my outfit one more time in the mirror, my stomach a knot of nerves. I don’t even know why.

  I’m in a simple plain cotton blue dress and sandals, my bathing suit packed in a bag along with Ava’s and my hair is still slightly damp from the shower this morning.

  There’s been a shift somewhere, but I can’t locate it and I can’t tell what it is and that makes me nervous.