“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers against my lips.
His hands move down my lower back where his fingers tap lightly just above the swell of my ass. Pleasure spins in my chest feeling his need, need for me.
“I can’t wait to have my mouth on you.”
I don’t hide my smile. “Your mouth is on me right now.”
“Other places, sugar.” His lips move over my throat, and his hand slips underneath my dress. “Like here.” Desire rolls through me like a quick rainstorm, when his index finger slides over my thong.
My knees threaten to buckle. And I’m thankful for the support of the car door. I’m all kinds of keyed up for Brant. All he has to do is shove the key into the ignition and drive.
My thoughts scatter like confetti in the wind when I see Ma step out of a black Mercedes in front of the country club.
“Brant, stop.” I tug his shirt.
He pulls back. “What’s wrong?” His eyes search my face.
I duck down and creep toward the back of his car. I turn back around and motion for him to join me. Confusion paints his face.
His lips quirk up. “What’s going on?”
“Look for yourself.” I point toward the building. “My mother is here. Black Mercedes.”
He rises to his feet slowly. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”
Those were not the words I expected to come from his mouth.
I tug on his pants. “What?”
Brant looks down at me. “Your mother is with my uncle Royston.”
My hands fly to my mouth and I shake my head. What is Ma doing with Maybelle’s dad?
Please tell me it’s business.
“They’re inside. You can get up.”
I stand and stalk to the passenger door like the parking lot is on fire. “Must. Leave. Now.”
Brant laughs and walks around to his side of the car. If sex was a car, this would be it. And now, my mind is picturing Ma and Royston making out.
Why did I go there?
Brant starts his car and the engine roars to life. Cool air blasts through the vents and I take a deep breath as I buckle my seat belt.
He maneuvers down the winding road and my eyes stare at the reflection of the country club getting farther and farther away.
“Do you think they’re . . . together?” he asks.
“I haven’t heard Ma talk about seeing anyone or dating—ever. And she definitely did not tell me about tonight.”
“Do you want me to do some investigating when I go to work tomorrow? I’m sure I’ll see Royston.”
I lift a shoulder. “I guess it won’t hurt. I won’t be asking Ma about this anytime soon.”
He laughs. “I hear you on that. Can’t imagine talking to my parents about their date nights, either. And speaking of dates. When can I see you again?”
“I imagine you’ll be pretty busy this week.”
“I’d like to make time for you,” he says and lifts my hand to his lips. He kisses me and I feel it everywhere. “So, let’s play it by ear. How about I text you this week?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Another date with Brant. I can hardly believe this is my life right now.
Brant turns onto the main road that leads to my house. Ma dating never came to mind. Until now. It’s not unthinkable. She’s in her early fifties. Very much young. And I imagine lonely. I miss my daddy. Sometimes I still cannot believe he’s gone.
I’m close with Ma, but Daddy and I had a special bond. He was my running buddy; my biggest cheerleader and he always knew how to lift my spirits—anything sweet would do. When I fell short of beating my biggest rival during my sophomore year, he took me for ice cream at The Penny Plate.
A few years later, he wanted to take me to the Cake Bake Shoppe in Elliston when it opened for some red velvet cake. I told him that I had a no cake rule. But I left the whole Brant part out.
“Caroline, a life without cake is no life at all,” he told me.
Daddy wasn’t wrong. My mouth watered the entire time he ate his cake, while I sat there nibbling on chocolate dipped hazelnut cookies. I smile at the memory. Seeing my daddy sitting across from me in his grey suit drinking tea and eating dessert with me.
As we approach the tack house, I swallow the tightness in my throat.
He parks the car and comes around to open my door. “Such a gentleman,” I say as I step out.
When my feet connect with the ground Brant grabs me by the waist pulling me against him. “I am a gentleman, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t pin you under me, spank you, and give you the best . . .” He pauses for a moment as his lips move over mine. “. . . leg shaking, toe-curling, mind numbing orgasm . . . multiples.”
A deep breath leaves my lungs as I drag my eyes over his broad shoulders, and down his body, enjoying this moment.
Brant tucks my hair behind my ear before cradling my head in his hand. His lips land on mine and he dips his tongue inside my mouth, stroking me slowly.
“Can I walk you to the door?” he asks.
“No need. Thank you for the wonderful evening.”
“Goodnight, sugar.” His hand connects with my backside as I walk away. “I’ll see you soon.”
I don’t look back. With a permanent smile on my face, I keep walking toward the door. The promise twists inside me. I can’t wait to see him again. And the waiting will be torture.
Brant
It takes me the better part of the morning to walk through the building with Pop. After a detailed meet and greet, the two of us trek out to the storage warehouses and test a few of the barrels.
By the time lunch rolls around I’m wrung out and invigorated at the same time.
I love a challenge. Thrive on the energy of something new and unknown.
“I’m going home to have lunch with your mom,” he tells me and slaps my shoulder. “Soon, I won’t have to go home to have lunch. I’ll just walk down the hallway or up from the stables.”
I smile. “You’re ready to walk away from all this?”
“Nah, I’m just ready to step back. I’m a few years away from retiring completely.”
“How will you fill your days?”
“Golf, traveling with your mom, but I’m looking at a new project. Jack MacCallum wants me to buy into his racing team.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Indy Cars? That’s new. I didn’t realize you were a fan.”
His hands settle on his hips. “Jack invited us to the Indy 500 a few years ago, and we’ve been going ever since. We’ve been to a few other races. Enjoyed them all.”
Pop leaves me at The Tea Room. The lunch crowd is light, but it’s a Monday. And the distillery is closed for tours on Mondays. I pass through the main dining room where I’m stopped by a few familiar faces.
“Your mama sure is glad to have you home,” Mrs. Flannery says. She used to be the art teacher at the high school. When we were home from school, Mom always signed us up for summer classes. Church and summer classes, two things that kept me from being a complete outsider here.
“It’s nice to be back,” I tell her.
“I’ve always wanted to go to New York City. What’s it like?” my mom’s friend, Beth asks.
“The electricity in the streets pumps at night and you can actually hear the heartbeat of the city.”
Some of the ladies look at me like I’ve got a tree growing out of my head. I switch conversation tactics realizing most of these people have never been out of Mayfield, let alone Kentucky.
“If you ever want to visit let me know, I’m sure I can get you a great price on a hotel and theater tickets. Enjoy your lunch.”
I step into the kitchen and find Maybelle behind the cook line. She looks up and smiles. “Hey, Brant, nice to see you here, but you could’ve just phoned in your order. I would’ve brought it up to you.”
“Wanted to see the place for myself,” I tell her. “It’s impressive.”
She glides around the corner and wipes her hands on the to
wel at her waist. “Thanks. I gotta get more traffic out here. While Cardwell Bourbon is a tourist stop, most don’t want to eat here.”
I look at her. “How about getting the tour guides to hand out drink tickets? Two free drinks with the purchase of an entrée?”
She scrunches up her face. “At lunch? Do you think most people will want that much to drink?”
I shrug. “It’s worth a shot. Or offer a happy hour deal, two for the price of one. Half-price appetizers. But make it so that it only applies if they sit in the bar or on the patio.”
She bops her head back and forth. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll look into it. In the meantime, what can we get ya for lunch? I recommend the chicken salad today.”
I scratch the back of my head. “Actually, can I get the club sandwich and fries?”
“Yep. Coming right up.”
As I wait for my food, I glance at my phone. A text message from Caroline makes me smile.
Good luck on your first day. Make good choices.
I type a quick response. All good here. The only choice I need to make is light blue or pewter.
Caroline: Office paint?
Me: Yeah.
Caroline: Check out these two colors: Shoreline and Silver Mist. Or if you want something a bit darker, try Oval Room Blue. The soft blue-green hue offsets the warmth in most woods.
Me: Thanks. These colors are awesome.
Caroline: Happy to help. I’m off to help Sawyer with the guys’ cross-country practice.
Me: Have fun.
I drop my phone back into my pocket and Maybelle hands me a to-go box. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.”
“Phone it in,” Maybelle says. “The lunch order, not the job.”
I smile and make my way to the main building. The executive offices are on the mezzanine level. When I reach my office, I don’t sit at my desk. Instead I kick back at the round table in the corner near my bar cart.
After lunch I spend the rest of my day poring over sales figures from the last five years looking for trends. When four o’clock rolls around, I finish the day answering emails, returning phone calls, and reading the company blog, past newsletters and our social media accounts.
Knock. Knock.
Royston appears in the doorway.
“Hey there,” I say, rising from my chair.
He crosses the threshold and stands near my bookshelf. “Brantley.”
Royston’s the vice president of Cardwell Bourbon. He’s also the director of finance. We’re still small enough that our executive jobs can overlap.
In addition to being the CEO and setting the vision for the company, I’ll also be the president and managing the day to day operations once Pop steps away completely.
“How are you settling into things?”
“Pretty well, thanks. I’d like to get a meeting with you this week if you’re available.”
Nodding, he runs his fingers along the edge of the bookshelf. “Sure, sure. Anything you need. I’m here.”
My relationship with my dad’s brother wasn’t always so reserved. Before his wife left him, they were at the house all the time. Summers were filled with fun family gatherings—backyard cookouts and Sunday lunch after church. Maybelle, Haven, Weston and I would have epic swim races. And then it all changed.
Maybe we can get back some of that old family magic. Bring back the good times.
“Great, let’s set something up for next week.” I step from behind the desk. “How have you been?”
His brown eyes meet mine. “I’ve been just fine.”
“You want to head over to the tasting room for a drink?”
Royston cocks a brow. “Cutting out early on the first day, huh?”
I laugh. “Not at all, just thought we could kick back and catch up. Tell me about something other than bourbon—perhaps local hot spots for meeting people.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I see. Yeah, you’re a young single guy and you want ole Royston to give ya some advice about the ladies?”
I grab my keys. “Something like that. What about you, dating anyone special?”
He shakes his head. “There’s someone, but it’s new. Treading lightly.” Royston pulls his phone from the inside of his jacket pocket. “Oh, I gotta take this call. Raincheck on the drink?”
I nod and he swipes at his phone screen. “Bill, how ya doing?”
He walks out of my office and I blow out a deep breath. “Well, now what?” I sit back at my desk and resume my reading of the past newsletters.
Bursts of laughter echo through the hallway and my head snaps to the door. My sister, Haven, steps into my office and my eyes bug out of my skull.
“What’s up, Mister CEO?”
I stride toward her and pull her in for a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. Why are you here?”
Haven moved to New York for her job earlier this summer. Hooked her up with my realtor, now she and Tyler have an awesome condo in Greenwich Village.
“Well, Tyler’s helping his dad out with some stuff at Nichols Corp and I decided to come with him. Besides, I had to see it for myself—you behind that desk.”
Being engaged looks good on Haven. And Tyler’s a good guy. I’m really happy for the two of them. Her smile is as warm and bright as the yellow dress she’s wearing.
“You look great,” I tell her. “You got time to chat?” I motion for her take a seat at the table in the corner of my office.
Haven nods and she sits down. “I’ve got a little bit of time. We’re having dinner with Tyler’s mom and dad tonight; they want to talk about the wedding.”
“How’s all that going?”
My sister looks up at me and smiles. “It’s exhausting and exciting at the same time. I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to focus on it because of my new position at MCA.”
Haven’s the VP of publicity at a public relations firm. Most of their clients are movie and television stars.
“So, you haven’t made any decisions?”
“Well, we’re getting married here in Mayfield at Cranberry Ridge. I’m gonna book it tomorrow while I’m in town.”
I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face. My thoughts take me back to last night and my date with Caroline.
“What’s got you all smiley?”
“Can’t a guy just be happy to see his little sister?”
Haven cocks a brow in challenge. “Nice try, but I don’t think I’m the one who put that smile on your face. Maybelle tells me that you and Caroline Stratton were getting pretty cozy on the dance floor last weekend.”
“Of course, she told you.”
“Caroline’s good people,” she tells me. “She’s become a good friend of mine.”
My thumb scratches along my jawline. “Really? I had no idea.”
Her nails drum against the table top. “Yeah, so don’t screw it up.”
“Hey, we just started dating.” I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “I got no plans to screw things up with Caroline. I really like her. She’s the only gal on my radar.”
“So, I take it this means you haven’t heard from Natalie?”
I shake my head. “Nope, and I don’t want to. Why do you ask?”
Haven rises to her feet and walks toward the window. “Would you believe that we ran into each other at the Four Seasons?”
“The one on fifty-seventh?”
“Yeah, I met Ryleigh for drinks and Natalie was sitting at the bar alone.”
I walk over to where she’s standing. “That is surprising.”
“Yeah,” Haven says, and takes a deep breath. “She and your ex-boss are no longer together.”
“Wow, I’m shocked.”
Haven’s green eyes sparkle with humor. “Other than saying that she’s sorry”—Haven uses air quotes when the word sorry comes out—“that she hurt you, she let that little bomb drop.”
“I’m sure that she couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“Yeah, so now you know.” Haven step
s back and runs one pink polished nail across the edge of my desk. “So, what else is new? Have you talked to Weston lately?”
“He’s giving paddleboard lessons, swimming with manta rays and bartending at a resort in Maui.”
“Sounds like the perfect job for him.” She glances at her watch. “Well, I should go, I promised Dad I’d stop by and see Mom before meeting up with Tyler.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze three times. “It was really good to see you, sis. How long you in town for?”
Haven squeezes back four times. “It was good seeing you too. I’m not sure when we’re leaving yet. You’ll see me again,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks toward the door. “I’m sure Mom will want to have dinner.”
She isn’t wrong. I definitely see a family dinner happening this week. My stomach rumbles and I wonder what Caroline’s doing for dinner?
Caroline
“All right, listen up,” Sawyer calls out. “You guys did good today. Not great, but good. Tempo runs will happen every Monday.”
Groans filter through the crowd.
“I don’t know what these guys are moaning about, Coach,” Nate Christenson shouts. He’s a senior and a captain.
“Yeah, guys, we got a lot of work to do if we want to make it to finals,” Huck Merriman adds. He’s a junior. His parents own the local coffee shop, Beans and Cream.
“This week we’re just getting warmed up with thirty minutes. Next week, it’ll be forty-five. Run hard, but not too hard. It’s hot, but if you do this workout right, you’ll finish refreshed not fatigued. Are we good?”
“Yes, Coach,” the team answers mostly in unison.
“Coach Collins?” a guy with wavy blond hair speaks up.
“Yeah, Herman.”
For his sake, I really hope that’s his last name.
“Is she gonna be our coach too?”
Sawyer smirks. “You got an issue with a female coach?”
“No, sir,” he tells him and drops his gaze to the ground.
Nate and Huck’s expressions tell me that they think otherwise.
“Herman’s got a boner for her,” someone yells from the back of the pack.
I snort a laugh.
“I don’t care who said that.” Sawyer glares around the pack of sweaty, out of breath teens. “Don’t say it again—ever. You’ll treat Miss Stratton with respect everywhere you see her. You got me?”
Sweet Agony Page 7
