Whiskey Kiss: A Small-town Romance

by V McFarlane

  “That smells good,” I tell him, my stomach backing me up with a grumble of hunger. Missing dinner was well worth it but I’m paying now.

  “Five minutes,” he smirks, “Want coffee?”

  I nod and take a seat at the kitchen island, both girls abandoning their duties to take the stools on either side of me.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” Taron admonishes, “I’m not good enough now, huh?”

  Both girls giggle and I ruffle their hair, accepting the coffee Taron hands me. His eyes linger on mine and my cheeks burn.

  Sex has never been that good for me. I don’t think a man has ever made me orgasm before, but he did it twice. My muscles remember.

  He was attentive, caring and he made sure I was satiated, twice.

  The girls disappear into the dining room with cups of orange juice and Taron takes the opportunity to stalk towards me, gathering me up in his arms, “Can you greet me every morning wearing my clothes?”

  I snort, “What is it with men, and women wearing their clothes?”

  “Possession,” he shrugs, “Shows everyone else that you belong to me.”

  “And do I?” I ask.

  “You do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he growls, dipping his head to touch his lips to mine, “You are mine.”

  “Okay.” I sigh dreamily, my eyes falling closed at the second press of his mouth.

  “I mean it, Penny,” he says, “Exclusivity. Me and you.”

  I nod. Not like I had anyone else anyway or would want anyone else. It’s been Taron since that first kiss.

  “Can we tell the girls now?”

  My heart stops, “Not yet.”

  He sighs, “Why are you so worried? Ripley loves you and Ava and I have a great relationship.”

  “It isn’t that Taron.”

  “Then what, darlin’? What are you so afraid of?”

  What am I afraid of?

  Everything.

  “Just give me a little more time,” I say.

  “You’re gonna give me a complex,” he chuckles, “You ashamed to be associated with me?”

  He’s joking of course but his words hit home. It isn’t me who’s going to be ashamed. It’s going to be him.

  We carry breakfast through to the dining room and all settle at the table.

  “Penny?” Ripley says to me.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Are you going to stay? I mean, forever?”

  I smile at her, “I’m going to be your nanny for as long as you need me,” I tell her.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she says with a sigh and then shakes her head, “Don’t worry.”

  My brows draw together, and I look at Taron who just shrugs and turns his attention to his daughter, “What’s going on, sweetie?”

  “Well mommy brought home people and they always said they would stay, but they didn’t.”

  I choke on my coffee.

  “Mommy, you don’t bring people home,” Ava chimes in.

  Oh God!

  “What kind of people?” I see the tension rolling up Taron’s muscles, “What people did mommy bring home?”

  I wonder just how much he knows about Ripley’s upbringing so far. Not much, I’m guessing, I mean how could he if he only found out about her a few months ago.

  Ripley shrugs, “Just people.”

  I touch Taron’s arm and shake my head, he shouldn’t press her on the issue. I don’t think there’s anything sinister behind her words other than the fact that maybe her mom had a few boyfriends who offered empty promises they had no intention to keep.

  I can’t blame her.

  On more than one occasion I’ve wondered how easy life would become if I just got a boyfriend. One to fix all the problems, one to make the nights a little less lonely, one to make me feel special but then I remembered Ava. She needed stability with me even if she couldn’t have stability anywhere else.

  So, what’s different about Taron? A little voice in the back of my mind asks.

  I ponder on that all throughout breakfast and whilst I help clear up.

  “Should we swim?” Taron asks from behind me as I rinse the plates and load them into the dishwasher.

  I nod, “That sounds nice.”

  “What’s wrong?” He asks instantly, wrapping his arms around my middle.

  “Nothing,” I lean into him, relaxing under his touch. I’ve grown so accustomed to him it scares me a little.

  I’ve never needed anyone other than myself and Ava and here I am. I need him like one needs air.

  He completes things I didn’t realise were missing parts.

  Like a puzzle, Taron slots into all the places, completing the picture and making it whole.

  Thirty-one

  Taron

  I see Penny out the door Sunday afternoon, my fingers itching to grab her and hold her to me, burying my face into her honey hair and inhaling her scent.

  Instead, I grip the door until my knuckles turn white and watch her lift Ava into the car and drive away. I’m excited to find out her idea for the empty space at the back of the distillery and we’ve made a plan for her to come on over after she’s dropped the girls off at school.

  There’s this sense of rightness inside me, like something’s been filled without me knowing it was empty. It’s dangerous to feel this way so soon. Feeling like this makes you vulnerable to heartbreak, it makes you open and at risk. I’d like to think this could be it, but there’s still something she is hiding.

  How do I address it?

  With a shake of the head I wander through to the family room where Ripley is knelt in front of the coffee table, a colouring pad open in front of her and her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

  “What ya doin’ kiddo?” I sit behind her, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees to peer over her shoulder.

  “Drawing Penny a picture,” she says gleefully, “Look!”

  She holds up her pad to reveal a picture of a man, a woman and two children, all holding hands. I don’t fail to notice that the man and one of the kids has black crayon hair and the other two have yellow coloured, resembling the four of us. In the background is the ranch, the barn and stick ponies.

  “Is that how you see this?” I ask, running my fingers over the drawing, the crayon waxy beneath the tips.

  “Mm,” she nods, “Happy.”

  “That’s right, baby girl,” I lean forward and kiss her head, “Should we make dinner?”

  _

  Penny arrives at eight the following morning, her eyes are soft as she watches me prepare Ripley for school, zipping up her bag and handing her the lunch Penny packed when she arrived. Ava waits patiently by her side, her blonde hair pulled into pig tails with two blue ribbons wrapped around them to match the denim dress she’s wearing. She’s even wearing a little pair of cowboy boots that look new.

  I don’t comment. The last time shopping was involved Penny panicked about the cost, it sits nicely inside knowing she’s no longer struggling.

  “See you soon?” I ask Penny quietly.

  She nods and her cheeks warm, “Yes.”

  She helps the girls into the back and then drives away, leaving me alone for the first time all weekend. I don’t linger, instead I grab my keys, lock up and head down to the distillery.

  “You look cheery this morning,” Rhett comments, looking at me over the rim of his mug.

  I shrug, “I had a good weekend.”

  “Oh yeah? What’d you do?”

  I smirk and head to the office.

  “Oh shit!” Rhett hollers, “You got some didn’t you!?”

  God, he’s worse than a teenage girl with gossip.

  “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”

  “Who was it? Penny?”

  I say nothing.

  He shakes his head and laughs, “Shit man, you’re in deep!”

  I don’t deny it. I’m well aware just how deep I am. If you had asked
me a few months ago if I had ever thought about this, I would have scoffed and told you to fuck off, now, I’m thinking about a future. One that involves four people.

  When I sit behind my desk, I see an envelope sitting on the top, the town council address stamped in big bold letters over the front. I rip it open and anger rushes through me. An offer.

  “You seen this shit?” I snap, throwing the letter to the other side of the desk. Rhett picks it up and cocks a brow.

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “It is.”

  “I thought you had a month.” Rhett comments, “Why are they making offers when they can get it for at least half of this if we fail to come up with a plan?”

  I shrug, “They’re sweating. They’re used to getting what they want and because I’m not rolling over and giving it to them, they think they can buy me with money.”

  There’s no amount of money they can offer that would convince me to sell that land to them.

  “I mean, this is more than I thought they’d even have.”

  “Don’t underestimate them, Rhett,” I shake my head, logging into my emails, glancing at the time in the right hand corner. Penny should just be finishing the school run now which means she’ll be here in about half an hour.

  Anticipation bubbles in my gut and I feel a wash of nerves flow through my veins.

  “We’ve got a visitor this morning,” I tell Rhett.

  “Who?”

  “Penny is stopping by,” I tell him, “We may just have a solution for all our problems.”

  Rhett’s brows draw together, “Do you have to be so cryptic?”

  I smirk and he just shakes his head with a laugh, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  I wave him off, filtering through the mass of emails that came in over the weekend, answering the important ones and filing the rest.

  As predicted, Penny arrives half an hour later, ringing her hands in front of her. Rhett winks over her shoulder and then leaves us alone, closing the door behind him.

  Thirty-two

  Penny

  The sat-nav tells me to turn left but all I see ahead of me is miles and miles of hills and trees, the grass in the fields so tall it would come to at least my waist. I’ve passed the signs several times but now note I have never actually seen the iconic Winters Creek Whiskey Distillery.

  “Turn left,” the woman on the sat-nav demands and I slam on the breaks, not immediately seeing the dirt track hidden in the side of the road. When I see it though, I also see the wooden sign that reads, ‘Winters Creek Distillery’. I turn the Wrangler into the track and bump my way up the road. There’s nothing around at all, no buildings, services or even any other cars and I start to wonder if my sat-nav has taken me the wrong way.

  There’s nowhere to turn so I continue further hoping to find a lay-by I can spin around in. I crest the brow of a hill and then a huge, wooden building comes into view, followed by several others and a parking lot filled with cars. The large sign above the glass doors tells me I’m in the right place, that, and the familiar truck parked closest to the entrance.

  People mill in and out of the buildings, dressed in overalls or jeans, worker boots dusty, cowboy hats and ballcaps pulled low.

  I pull the car into a space and look around. Wow, this place is stunning.

  The main building looks newly renovated, the wood skirting up the façade glossy and dark, oozing rustic charm and country living. Gravel crunches beneath my sneakers as I climb out and head towards what I assume is the main entrance. The doors open up into a bar, a long oak top stretches the length of the room and there are several tables dotted around, the high back chairs tucked in neatly. A large set of antlers hang over the bar, watching over rows and rows of whiskey bottles, some empty, some half full and others not opened. There’s a row of stools settled beneath the bar but other than the guy behind the counter, it’s empty.

  “Do you have an appointment?” The guy asks, leaning over the bar with his elbows resting on the top. His eyes drag up my body and a smirk tugs on his mouth.

  “If you value your job,” a familiar voice growls from behind me, making me jump, “Then I suggest you put your eyes back in your head.”

  Rhett steps up next to me. Jesus, he’s terrifying. His blue eyes are hard as he stares down the barman, his shoulders squared. He’s not the type you’d want to find down a dark alley, that’s for sure.

  “Sorry boss,” the barman shrugs, “Didn’t realise she was your girl.”

  Are they going to continue to talk like I’m not here?

  “Not mine,” Rhett tells him almost smugly, “Taron’s.”

  I swallow, panic crawling up my throat. People aren’t supposed to know.

  The barman’s eyes bug out, “Shit.”

  A low chuckle leaves Rhett’s throat. Am I missing something here?

  “Come on,” he tells me, “I’ll show you to his office.”

  I follow Rhett through the open area towards a door right at the back. He knocks and not waiting for an answer, opens it up and ushers me inside. Without another word, he shuts the door, closing me in with Taron whose eyes are eating me up hungrily from behind the large desk.

  “Hi,” I say shyly, ringing my hands in front of me.

  His jaw clenches, the muscles pulsing and then he spins the chair and gestures me forward with a jerk of his head. I go to him and once I’m close enough, he curls his fingers around my wrist and pulls me into his lap, closing his mouth around mine.

  I melt into him, tasting a hint of mint on his tongue. His hands run up my sides, fingers kneading into the flesh.

  “Hi,” he whispers.

  I wonder if it’ll ever get old, kissing him like this.

  “Aren’t you afraid someone will come in?” I murmur against his mouth.

  He shakes his head, “No one just walks in, well, Rhett does but he won’t now.”

  “So, this is the famous distillery, huh?”

  “This is it, darlin’” Taron looks around the office, a sense of pride filling his eyes. I take in the space, still perched in his lap, certificates and awards hang on the walls. A large leather sofa dominates the back wall and a treated tree stump sits before it acting as a coffee table, a stack of magazines that I doubt are read and are more for decoration sit on top. The only window in the room looks out into the woodlands.

  “The creek is through there,” Taron tells me, following my gaze, “We should take the girls there soon. It’s beautiful.”

  I nod my agreement and look down at the desk, spotting three picture frames on the top. One of them is Taron and an older man that looks remarkably like him. They’re stood in front of the distillery. The second is of Taron and Ripley and the third is just Ripley alone.

  “Should we?” Taron asks.

  Oh right, the reason I’m actually here, “Sure.”

  I climb from his lap and we walk back out into the main bar. The barman purposely keeps his eyes down whilst Rhett nurses a coffee.

  Taron slaps him on the back and jerks his head for him to follow. I’m suddenly dwarfed between them as we walk back out the main entrance and towards a beaten-up truck that’s definitely seen better days. I realise with start there’s only two seats in the front and a truck bed. Before I can question it though Rhett jumps into the bed and settles in, leaning against the side. Taron helps me in the front before jogging around and jumping in behind the wheel.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” I ask, watching Taron put the truck in drive.

  “Probably if I were going to go fast but you’ll soon realise the tracks don’t really allow for much speed.”

  I don’t take the warning seriously, not until the truck suddenly jerks down and then up, forcing me up in my seat hard enough that I bash my head off the roof.

  “Fuck,” I hiss.

  Taron chuckles, “That’ll be five in the swear jar.”

  I glare at him, unable to stop myself. “Since when do you have a swear jar?”

  “Since
Ava told me I needed to get one.”

  “Then you must owe at least a hundred bucks by now,” I anchor myself to the seat, gripping every handle available to me.

  The car bounces and jumps over the road and it does nothing for the worry I have for Rhett in the bed. How is he not being thrown from the car!?

  We drive for a good five minutes before we come to a stop. “This is it.”

  I look around. The distillery is small in the distance and an old barn sits in an unmaintained field, the exterior falling apart. An old, gutted tractor has been abandoned in the field directly opposite.

  “This is all yours?” I gasp.

  “The Distillery’s, yeah.”

  Taron climbs from the car and I follow, sucking in a breath of fresh air tinged with the aromas of wildflowers and trees.

  “No wonder they want it,” I say, “You could build another town on this place.”

  “So, what’s the big idea?” Rhett sidles up next to me, placing his hands on his hips.

  The land would be perfect for it, I realise. With a little bit of maintenance to the fields and road and a new building constructed in replace of the barn, it could work.

  “Either of you ever thought about hiring out space?”

  I step into the grass, my palms running over the tips enough for it to tickle.

  “We wanted to avoid high traffic near the distillery,” Taron tells me.

  I nod, “Yes, but hiring doesn’t have to be all year round.”

  Taron’s brows draw down, “What are you saying?”

  “Well, with this space, the fact that it’s so far from the main road and surrounded by natural beauty, it would be perfect for events.”

  “What?” Both Rhett and Taron say at the same time.

  “Think about it, you can knock that down and build a brand new barn conversion, make it feel rustic and sort all this out,” I gesture to the land, “To host parties or weddings or even corporate day’s out. You can hire the space for say six months of the year, March to September and close for winter. I can almost guarantee you’d be fully booked.”

  It was the truth, weddings, and parties especially. I’d get married here if that were ever on the cards for me.