by V McFarlane
My brows rise, whiskey was good for many things, talking was one of them but Rhett and I have only spoken over whiskey when we had either good news, or bad news.
He’s so impatient, he doesn’t wait as he stalks passed me into the house, heading straight for the kitchen for glasses and then to the pantry where I used to stock the whiskey before Ripley moved in.
Shit, had it really been that long since Rhett and I had a whiskey together?
He comes out empty handed with a frown, “What the fuck?”
I laugh, “office, in the locked cabinet.”
“But why?”
“Kid,” I remind him, pointing to the ceiling above my head.
“Oh yeah, shit,” he shakes his head, “I forget there’s a little rascal running around.”
I head through to the home office next to the family room and unlock the cabinet, pulling out the same bottle of whiskey I had been drinking the night I kissed Penny for the first time. I take the glasses from Rhett, filling both and then handing one back, taking a seat on the sofa I have in here.
Rhett perches on the edge of the oak desk and takes a healthy sip, sighing as it goes down.
“We make good shit,” he appreciates.
I nod in agreement, taking a sip of my own.
“So, Penny…”
I sigh, “I have nothing to tell you.”
“I mean,” he whistles, “She is some looker, but I didn’t peg you as a guy to mix business and pleasure.”
“I needed a nanny, she needed a job, I knew her before I offered it to her.”
“And you what? Like her?”
Yes. I nod.
“Shit.”
“Why is that such a bad thing?”
He shakes his head and takes another gulp, this one draining the glass. “What the fuck, Rhett?” I snap.
He winces.
I don’t give a fuck if I’ve offended him, what did he have against Penny? He didn’t even know her.
“T,” he starts.
“What do you have against, Penny?”
“Nothing,” he holds his hands up, “Nothing at all, man. She seems nice, I mean real nice.”
I growl.
“Right. Your girl. Got it.”
“Rhett,” I warn, losing patience.
“T, it isn’t Penny. She seems great, really, she does. I’m happy that you like her. Will it go somewhere?”
I shrug. I hope it does. Everything about the woman enticed me, from the heat in her green eyes to the way she cares for both the children. To an outsider, you’d never believe Ripley wasn’t hers, even if she is just the nanny. She dotes after the girls, her attention always on them, even when she’s focused on something else. It’s like a sixth sense, an eye in the back of her head, a knowledge that only she knows.
She’s incredible.
She’s strong.
She’s so God damned perfect, it hurts!
Rhett’s nodding as if everything that has just been said in mind has been said out loud.
“What’s going on, Rhett?”
“She’s going to be a distraction,” He finally says reluctantly.
My blood boils, “The fuck you talking about, Rhett? Penny means I can work more again.”
He shakes his head, “The council came by after you left.”
My heart sinks, “What?”
“They wanted to speak in person, but you weren’t around, so they asked me to convey a message.”
This can’t be good. I wait for him to continue and I swear he’s pausing for dramatic effect like those old Hollywood movies or those game shows that cut to a commercial right before divulging results.
“Rhett!” I bark.
He jumps. Shit, what the hell was going on?
There was no hiding that he loved the distillery as much as I did. We’d grown up together and he spent just as much time down at that plant as I had, both of us learning at the same time. It was why I made him my second when I took over, it’s why I pay him a great wage and always pass things by him on the big decisions.
“You haven’t submitted any plans for the space behind the distillery,” Rhett mumbles, “they have given you a month to come up with a plan before they force you to sell the land.”
Fuck.
“They can’t do that!”
“They can,” Rhett sighs, “and they will. You gotta come up with a plan, T.”
If they get that land, it’s going to mess things up at the distillery. We don’t need to expand right now, our business is steady, the current space more than enough to put up with the volume, if I expand, I could risk putting the distillery into a shit ton of worthless debt. There’s got to be another way.
“I need to think,” I tell him, “I have no idea what I can do with it. They’ll destroy us.”
It pisses me off. The distillery has made so much money for this town, it’s brought in tourists who would never have thought to visit this nowhere town in the middle of Tennessee, it put Winters Creek on the map and those ungrateful swine’s were about to shit all over it.
The Cain family put blood, sweat and whole lot of tears into that distillery and I’ll be damned to see it burn to the ground because a couple of money grabbing idiots decided to take a swipe at some unused land.
Old relationships and friends be damned, this was war and I’m sure my father would agree.
I pull my phone out my pocket and text Penny.
“Meet me at the distillery at seven thirty,” I tell Rhett, slamming my glass down, “We got shit to do.”
“You have a plan?”
“No.”
“Taron, what the hell we gonna do? We can’t let that land go. I mean they’re being generous giving us an extension.”
“Does it matter what the plan is?” I ask, tapping a finger to my lips.
“I think they have enough respect for the distillery to let anything go, hell we could have a petting zoo.”
I scoff and then shake my head, “Too many kids.”
“I wasn’t serious about the zoo, T.”
“I need to think,” I tell him, “I just need a bit of time.”
“We have a month.”
“Give me a week.”
_
I see Rhett out and then pour myself another drink, switching out the lights and locking up before heading upstairs.
Despite the news and the dread settling in my stomach, when I climb under the sheet and prop myself up on the headboard, my thoughts turn to Penny. Seeing the way her face morphed when she climaxed, hearing the way her breath hitched and her hips moved.
Shit, what I wouldn’t give to have her with me right now. To have her beneath me, naked, wet, moaning and screaming my name.
I manage to sleep restfully that night, thoughts of the fuckery to come with the distillery at the back of my mind whilst images of her swirl in my head.
Twenty-four
Penny
“I don’t want to!” Ava cries, “I’m tired!”
She throws her backpack to the floor and slams herself down onto the bottom step, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. After we got home last night she woke up, and not just to change into her pyjamas, I mean she woke up. She wanted to play and sing and draw, she wanted to do everything but sleep.
It was almost eleven by the time I managed to get her to calm down and go to sleep and that was only because I put her in my bed and held onto her to stop her from throwing herself around.
Ava’s never been a bad sleeper but that was when she was asleep. If I let her sleep, even for an hour during the day that’s the bedtime routine gone, shot, like it never existed.
This was all because I got distracted with Taron. This was because I let myself get lost with him in that god forsaken kitchen. Why was it always the kitchen anyway!?
It was only my first day and it was already playing havoc on my routines.
Just give it time. I tell myself. It’ll all work out.
That was the truth, but I couldn’t le
t myself be distracted like that again. I have to keep a routine for Ava’s sake.
“Baby,” I crouch in front of her, “How about this, we go get Ripley and then after school we can get some icecream?”
Her eyes light up, “Really?”
“Yes, baby, but we need to go otherwise we will be late.”
I woke at six this morning to a text from Taron asking me to be there at the ranch at seven thirty, some emergency he had to deal with as soon as possible. I text back with my agreement and then woke Ava up, bundling her into the shower seeing as she missed bath time last night.
“Okay,” she agrees.
“Thank you.”
We finally make it out the door and on the road by ten past seven, heading towards the ranch.
I knock once before Taron opens up, freshly washed, his dark head of hair still wet from the shower. I could see the tension in his face, in the way his jaw was pulled tight and his brows drawn low but then his eyes rake over my cropped jean and tee’d body and he visibly relaxes, his hard eyes softening.
“Good morning,” he breathes.
“Hi,” I reply, my cheeks warming.
He was a distraction. My disastrous morning with Ava was almost forgotten with the way he was looking at me now.
“I’m sorry I called you in so early,” he looks down sheepishly.
Ava pushes passed him, disappearing into the house, leaving the two of us on the porch.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Just some things at work,” he shrugs, “I’ll handle it.”
He steps out onto the porch, pulling the door up enough to shield us from innocent prying eyes and then leans in, brushing his lips against mine.
“I’m not sorry about seeing you this early though.”
“We need to work this out,” I tell him, my guilt about Ava eating at me, “I mean this.”
I gesture between us.
He nods, “Later, okay?”
“Okay.”
He kisses me again before bouncing down the steps to his pickup and climbing inside, disappearing out the driveway.
Is it normal for a man to make you swoon the way he makes me swoon?
Probably not.
But then again, it’s been so long since I’ve actually been intimate with someone, maybe I’ve forgotten how it works.
I head through the door and call for the girls. Both come running, Ripley dressed in a cute little pink polka dot dress and Ava in the blue and white playsuit I had dressed her in this morning.
“Daddy didn’t do my hair,” Ripley pouts.
I stifle a chuckle, thinking up images of the rugged, manly Taron braiding Ripley’s hair.
“I can do it, sweetheart,” I tell her.
“Can you!?” She beams, “Can I have it just like yours?”
I touch my own hair. I’d only pulled it up into a high sitting bun but then I had wrapped hair around it to hide the tie, so it made it look a lot more sophisticated than I actually was.
“Sure, sweetheart, how about some breakfast first?”
They both nod and I go about making scrambled egg and toast for the two of them, making extra to feed myself.
After I clear the plates, I guide Ripley into the living room, a brush and ties in tow and she sits between my legs, her long flowing dark hair cascading down her back.
I run my fingers through it a few times, before taking a brush to it to work out the knots that have formed through the night. It’s amazing how like Taron she is, from her hair and eye colour, to the way she carries herself with confidence.
I realise, that whilst he may not have had her for a long time, he is raising his daughter right. He isn’t afraid of asking for help. He knows where his strengths lie.
I pull the brush through her mane, dragging it away from her face whist Ava watches with a smile. Her long blonde hair is in two braids that fall over both shoulders, such an easy style to do when the hair is wet.
Wrapping the tie around Ripley’s hair I begin to secure the strip of hair I had left lose around the bun.
“Mommy didn’t do this,” Ripley says quietly, “She said she was never good at it.”
I sigh, sorrow filled, “Sometimes, mommies can’t do everything. I mean we are superheroes but even Superman had his kryptonite.”
“She was good at making stuff!” Ripley tells me.
“See, I’m not very good at that!” I tell her.
“I miss her,” Ripley replies with a crack in her voice that makes my heart break.
After I finish her hair, I spin her around and bring her into me, “It’s okay to miss her.”
She nods.
I gently push her away and look down into her little face, “Really, it is okay. You have a great life, sweetheart, your daddy loves you, but you also had a life before this one. One with your mommy and that doesn’t just go away.”
She nods, understanding everything I’m saying. “Why weren’t mommy and daddy together like you and daddy are?”
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words, “Sometimes mommies and daddies decide that it’s best when they’re apart but that doesn’t mean they love you any less. It just means they’re doing the right thing in order to give you everything you deserve.”
I have no idea about her mother’s story, I don’t know why she did what she did and didn’t tell Taron about Ripley’s existence but after being judged and judging Taron unfairly I find I don’t judge her at all. There could be a million reasons why Taron was unaware, none of which I would speculate about because it wasn’t my place to, even if that reason didn’t make sense to me and you.
After a quick hug, Ripley skips off to check her hair out in the mirror and the squeal of excitement tells me she’s happy with my handy work.
“Right then, little ladies,” I tell them, gathering up their book bags and lunch boxes, “Time for school.”
Twenty-five
Taron
Rhett and I have been brainstorming ideas all morning and I need a break. I make us both coffee and then slouch down onto the leather couch that has been in this office for as long as I can remember. When I was kid and I was here with my dad, I spent so much time on that couch. If I moved the beige pillow sat in the corner by the arm, there would still be a large scratch through the leather from where I threw my backpack down and the buckle snagged the material.
“This is a dead end,” Rhett sighs, rubbing a tired hand down his face, “At what point did we think a fairground would be a good idea?” He scoffs, looking down at the piece of paper in his hand.
I laugh and shake my head, “Hey, nothing’s off the table right now.”
“Kids and whiskey don’t mix,” he laughs.
I nod my agreement, “I mean the hotel doesn’t sound like an awful idea, we could make it rustic and authentic.”
“It would be a lot of work,” Rhett advises, “All that extra paperwork and all the extra staff we would need.”
I sigh, “True.”
“Knock, knock,” a shrill, familiar voice says from the doorway. I stifle a groan as Carla steps into the office, her skirt short, blouse unbuttoned one too many, so the swells of her breasts threaten to spill from the shirt. Her auburn hair is pinned back and her face, whilst pretty, is too heavily loaded with makeup. “Am I interrupting?”
“Mrs Clark,” Rhett stands, “What can we do for you?”
She giggles, “Just Carla, Rhett, we went to school together.”
Rhett’s jaw is locked tight, his shoulders bunched up to his ears. He never liked her. Still doesn’t. I can’t say I don’t share the same sentiment. Especially after hearing she had given Penny a hard time.
You’d think being married to one of the wealthiest men in town and having a kid with him would keep her busy, but no. She’s always been a bit of a bitch, all through high school and apparently late into adulthood too. Picking on those she deemed beneath her. It could be because your family weren’t rich like hers or because you wore last season’s
jacket. She was that type.
“What do you need?” Rhett asks, squaring his shoulders.
“I didn’t realise Taron had a bodyguard now,” she waves a hand, “I was actually here to enquire about purchasing a few bottles of your finest for my husband’s birthday next month.”
“The boys out front can help with that,” Rhett tells her sternly, “We’re in a meeting.”
Her eyes flick around the room, taking in the paperwork scattered across the desk and the empty pastry bags littering the floor around the bin. We’re messy workers.
“Looks like it,” she huffs, “Anyway, I thought seeing as we have history, I could get the personal service.”
At this I do groan, or is it more of a scoff? There’s no history. I mean, I had a moment of weakness back in high school, I was drunk, very much so, and I kissed her just to shut her up. It was the worst kiss of my entire life but that had something to do with who I was kissing and not how she kissed.
My noise of disbelief has pissed her off. Her cheeks warm and her eyes turn hard as she crosses her arms beneath her chest, pushing up her breasts so far, I’m surprised a button doesn’t pop.
“How’s Penny working out?” She asks with a sneer, “It’s so nice of you to start working with charities.”
“Get out,” I snap, “And don’t talk to Penny. Ever.”
At this Rhett has fully squared his shoulders. He won’t be above escorting her from the building.
“Oh, touchy,” she laughs, “Has little Taron Cain got a thing for the girl from the wrong side of the tracks? Or is it because she’s easy? They usually are when they’re like her.”
My molars grind together. What the hell was wrong with this woman!?
“Jealousy isn’t a pretty mask to wear, Mrs Clark,” Rhett growls.
“Jealous? Ha!” She barks, “There’s hardly anything to be jealous of is there?”
“In response to your enquiry,” I stand, coming to a stop by Rhett’s side, “Sorry, we have nothing for sale.”
She tsks, “Turning down a perfectly good sale but that’s fine. See you around, T.” She turns her attention to Rhett, “Rhett.”
She spins and sashays from the room, leaving the door wide open. She ignores everyone between the office and the door, pulling the door open so hard it slams against the back wall.
