Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  That thought was still in my mind when Ruby Grace’s barrel stopped at my feet.

  I stared at the cursive loops of her name on the gold plate, tracing them a little longer than necessary before I checked the box next to her name and sent the barrel on. My eyes followed it halfway to the buyer’s tent, pulse picking up speed at the thought of talking to her tonight.

  It made no sense. I didn’t know what I expected to get out of any of it. She was getting married — in less than five weeks, no less. I had nothing to offer her that she didn’t already have and she couldn’t give me a single thing more than what she already had.

  And yet, there was some part of me that desired her, that needed her in whatever way I could get her.

  I didn’t really give a fuck if it was right or wrong.

  I was still analyzing it all, trying to pinpoint what it was about that girl that got under my skin, when the rest of the guys and I retreated to the staff tent to freshen up before the opening speech from Patrick Scooter. In less than an hour, the entire Scooter estate would be littered with people from Stratford and the surrounding area. It was the biggest party of the year, a time when no matter where you lived or how much money you made, you got to come together with the rich and the fabulous and drink the same whiskey as them. For one night, our town was united — though everyone would likely still stay in their little circles.

  The band was already playing when I emerged from the staff tent, dressed in my good blue jeans and white, button-up shirt. I left the top button unfastened, rolled the sleeves up to just under my elbows, and topped the whole look off with my best cowboy boots and my favorite cowboy hat. It was a Stetson, made of premium wool that matched the dark mocha brown of my boots, and before it was mine, it had been my father’s.

  Gus had me running around, greeting the barrel buyers I’d worked with throughout the season, making sure they knew where their barrel was to take home after the event and getting them set up in the VIP area with whatever they needed. I’d take pictures of them with their barrels, introduce them to the rest of the barrel raising team as well as the scientists behind the creation of their unique whiskey, and answer any questions they had before moving on to the next.

  This was my element.

  I knew whiskey. I knew Scooter Whiskey. I knew the barrel raising process, the science behind our whiskey, what we could and what we couldn’t tell the buyers about the product they’d paid top dollar for. I knew how to charm a crowd, how to impress someone and make them feel good about blowing all that money, and how to represent our company the same way my father had.

  What I didn’t know was what to do when Ruby Grace walked into the VIP tent hanging on her fiancé’s arm.

  I knew he was Anthony without needing an introduction. He just looked like a politician — all navy suit, complete with tie and pocket square, dress shoes shined to perfection, hair styled in an immaculate wave like one you’d see on the red carpet at a Hollywood award show. He carried himself with a mixture of arrogance and confidence, a balance not many men could pull off. He was both welcoming and threatening all at once, and I found myself hating him before I even had reason to.

  Maybe it was because of the girl he held by the waist.

  A small crew of cameras and microphones followed them around, staying back just enough to give them space while capturing every interaction they had. I assumed it was something he was doing while running for office, some sort of propaganda. Anthony seemed to shine with those cameras on him.

  Ruby Grace seemed to want to disappear.

  She didn’t even notice me, not with Anthony toting her around from group to group, a politician’s smile on his face while she wore a more subdued smile of her own. I watched her for a long while, and I noticed she did nothing more than shake the hand of whomever they were talking to before Anthony would take over, commanding all the attention, leading the conversation.

  She was a sidekick, a wallflower, and it made absolutely no sense to me.

  If he would let her speak, she’d steal the show. It would be her everyone wanted to know. It would be Ruby Grace who would light up the room with her smile, knock men on their asses with the modest yet somehow classically sexy emerald dress she wore. The collar was high, the sleeves covering her shoulders and upper arms, but the hem of the skirt cut just above her knees, showing her deadliest weapons — those killer legs.

  But it wasn’t just the way she dressed, or her body, or her smile or her fire-red hair. It was her passionate and giving heart, her quick and witty banter, her intelligence that made her stand out.

  No one would know that, though. Not if he never let her speak.

  I tore my eyes away from her long enough to toast a glass of whiskey with two buyers I’d met in the winter. They had traveled all the way from California to pick up their barrel and spend a week in Tennessee. The barrel they’d selected had high notes of vanilla and nutmeg, giving it a holiday feel that captured their hearts since they had visited during Christmas break when they bought it. The whiskey warmed its way down my throat, settling in my stomach along with the dozen other ounces of whiskey I’d tried when welcoming our guests.

  It was a perk of the job, and right now, it was also the liquid courage I needed.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeland. I’ll be around if you need anything at all.” I shook their hands, offering a tip of my hat before I excused myself.

  And then I made a beeline for Ruby Grace.

  Her eyes were distant, a little glossed as she listened to the woman Anthony had engaged in conversation with. She stood with her husband, too, both of their gazes fixed on Anthony while Ruby Grace stood there like his shadow.

  Those hazel eyes popped to life when they saw me.

  At first, she didn’t register me. But on a double take, her eyes widened, brows rising just marginally as I made my way toward her. I was confident in my walk, slow and purposeful, letting her drink me in as I crossed the space between us. She’d never seen me dressed up like this, and the flush of her cheeks told me she was affected. I wondered if she was thinking about us standing together on my porch, of my hands in her hair, my lips grazing hers before my brother forced us to tear apart.

  The way her ruby lips parted, I would have bet money that she was.

  It shouldn’t have brought me satisfaction, not with my intention of apologizing to her and setting everything straight between us. I knew I needed to fall into the friend zone, that that was all we could be.

  But damnit if seeing her there with him didn’t light the other fire inside of me, the one that said a feverous mine, over and over and over again.

  Her eyes shifted from something between desire and shock to warning and anger the closer I got. She didn’t want me there. She was likely still pissed about what had transpired between us Sunday night, and she likely didn’t want me bringing it up in front of her fiancé.

  And I wouldn’t. I was a gentleman, after all.

  But I was still going to talk to her.

  I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans, sidling up next to Ruby Grace with my eyes on her fiancé as I waited for him to finish his conversation with the couple. I could feel Ruby Grace staring holes into the side of my face, but I just kept my smile, waiting patiently.

  Anthony glanced at me quickly before turning his attention back to the couple, acknowledging my presence with a hint of annoyance. When the conversation was wrapped up between him and the couple, he shook their hands — and then they shook Ruby Grace’s, of course — before finally turning to me.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Caldwell,” I said, the most southern and welcoming smile on my face as I stretched a hand toward him. “I’m Noah Becker, one of the barrel raisers here at Scooter Whiskey. I helped your fiancé pick out her barrel, and I’m at your service tonight.”

  Understanding shaded the annoyance, and Anthony returned my smile in the most genuine way I imagined he could before taking my hand and shaking it firmly
. “Ah, yes. Of course. How do you do, Noah?”

  “Oh, I’m fantastic. It’s our Academy Awards, after all, and I’m akin to the host of the show.” I grinned wider, squeezing his hand a little too hard before I dropped it and offered my calloused palm to the girl he still held possessively by the waist. “Ruby Grace, always a pleasure to see you. And might I say you look beautiful this evening.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits as she let me take her hand, and I lowered my lips to the back of it, pressing an appropriate kiss to the soft skin before turning back to Anthony.

  “I thought I might show you to your barrel, let you taste it, since you weren’t there for the original purchase?”

  Anthony eyed me, his gaze flicking to his blushing bride-to-be — who pretended not to be affected by our embrace — before it pinned me again. “Of course.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Right this way.”

  I gestured to the rows of barrels lining the far side of the tent, falling into step beside Ruby Grace as we made our way. Her jaw was clenched tight, skin pale as she watched me from the corner of her eyes. She seemed to be warning me, begging me for something, but I kept my attention on the man who demanded it so much.

  “Ruby Grace surprised us all with her very generous wedding gift to you, Mr. Caldwell,” I said, stopping when we reached their barrel. “She surprised me even further with her impeccable knowledge of our whiskey. It’s such a rare sight to behold, a woman who knows how to detect the special flavors and notes, to pick out a fine whiskey. Your fiancé has great taste,” I said, watching his expression the entire time.

  Anthony sized Ruby Grace up, like he was seeing her for the first time, and his brows lowered as he found me again. “I wasn’t aware there was a tasting involved.”

  “Oh, only a small one. No more than an ounce or two,” I assured him. I leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Of course, that’s between us three. Wouldn’t want anyone getting wind of an underage tasting. But, hey, when the mayor’s daughter is getting married to such a prestigious, up-and-coming politician?” I shrugged. “The rules can be bent.”

  I saw the war in his eyes, the struggle between wanting to feel threatened battling with the base level of my words that were flattering him. He cleared his throat, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket before he gestured to the barrel. “Well, let’s have a taste, then, shall we?”

  I poured each of us a one-ounce pour, handing them their glasses first before I lifted mine in a toast. “To a beautiful and happy marriage,” I said, smiling at Anthony. My gaze fell to Ruby Grace, then, eyes pinning hers. “And to the team you two will become. May you always love and respect the other.”

  Anthony mumbled some sort of acknowledgement before throwing his whiskey back like a shot.

  Ruby Grace, on the other hand, watched me with murder in her eyes.

  I just smiled, tilting my glass toward her before I took a sip, tasting it in the same way I’d shown Ruby Grace. She followed suit, and she couldn’t hide the smile on her face when she tasted it the right way, indulging on all the notes of the fine alcohol while her husband-to-be grimaced against the shot he’d taken.

  “Wow,” he said, face still twisted up. His eyes watered a bit as he handed his empty glass back to me. “She really does have great taste.” He sniffed, putting his arm around her and tugging her close. “Such a thoughtful wedding gift. I’m glad I got to be here to taste it at the unveiling. Thank you, sweetheart.”

  She smiled, but before she could answer with a you’re welcome, Anthony dipped her back, kissing her possessively.

  Ruby Grace was stiff as a board in his arms, and when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she pressed against his chest, breaking the kiss with a glare of disapproval masked by a forced smile.

  “My parents are right over there,” she whispered, not bothering to look at exactly where her parents were to make her point clear. She cleared her throat, instead, turning to me with the same tight smile. “Thank you for the tasting, Noah. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get back to the party.” She rested her hand on Anthony’s chest — the hand that shone with the diamond he’d given her. “So many people to introduce Anthony to. You understand.”

  I swallowed past the thick knot in my throat, forcing a smile that was just as tight as hers. “Of course,” I said, waving my hand toward the rest of the crowd. “Enjoy your evening, and let me know if I can be of service to either of you.”

  Ruby Grace rolled her eyes, though Anthony didn’t see, and I smirked a little at that.

  “Will do,” Anthony said, shaking my hand. He held it in his vise grip a little too long, letting Ruby Grace walk a few steps away before he lowered his voice. “You enjoy your evening, too. Somewhere far away from my fiancé, preferably.”

  I tilted my head to the side, smile not wavering. “I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re implying, Mr. Caldwell.”

  “And I’m sure I don’t need to repeat myself to make my point clear.”

  He dropped my hand, wiping his palm on his jacket like I’d given him some sort of disease before he turned, offering his arm to Ruby Grace and toting her off to the next victim.

  I tucked my hands back in my pockets, watching them go with a sense of jealousy settling over my chest like a hot, wet, suffocating blanket.

  And I knew I wouldn’t find relief until I kicked my way out from under it.

  * * *

  Ruby Grace

  The Scooter Whiskey Single Barrel Soirée had always been a grand event in Stratford. I remembered attending as a child with my parents, hanging out in the kiddie area where there were endless games and blow-up slides to crawl all over. As I got older, I’d come with my friends in high school to dance and sneak illegal sips of whiskey — of course, I never drank the whiskey, because I had always been told by Mama that it was a man’s drink.

  I hadn’t tasted it at all until the day Noah Becker showed me the barrel I’d purchased for my fiancé.

  He was still on my mind as Patrick Scooter gave his welcoming speech, relaying a short history of the distillery and his family’s legacy before he launched into the details that made all the barrels in our presence tonight so special. While those of us who purchased barrels were the only ones who could taste those specific ones, there were three barrels of single-barrel whiskey that were cracked open for the town to indulge in. Considering how poor most of Stratford’s residents were, this was a special occasion. Everyone was dressed up, smiling, and celebrating.

  And somehow, on our town’s most joyous night, with my fiancé’s hand on the small of my back, I felt more numb than I had in my entire life.

  “You okay over there, sweetheart?” Daddy asked in between one of his conversations.

  I smiled, assuring him with a squeeze on his upper arm. I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone else would pull him aside and need his ear, whether to pitch an idea for the town or to lobby for his support on an issue. “I’m fine, Daddy. Just a little tired.”

  His eyes softened. “I know this can be a lot. I’ve got my truck keys, if you want to escape for a while.”

  Even though my father and I didn’t talk much, he understood me in a way Mama didn’t. She was an extrovert, outgoing and social in every way. Daddy was more like me — he preferred to be with his close circle of friends. We both struggled in big settings like this, and I had a feeling it was him who was thinking about escaping in that truck.

  “Thank you, but I think we’re both stuck here for a few hours. Might as well make the most of it.” I held up my glass, which held a tonic and lime, and cheersed it with his whiskey tumbler just as the Parkers approached him.

  It was always like that for Dad — just a constant revolving door of people.

  I leaned in closer. “And, hey, if you really need to escape, give me the signal and I’ll fake an extreme illness.”

  Dad chuckled at that, squeezing my shoulder with eyes that said, Okay, here we go, before turning to the Parkers and
greeting them.

  The night passed in a sort of daze after that, a blur of names and how do ya do’s and dances with strangers. I ate the little hors d’oeuvres as they passed by on the silver trays, sipped on the tonic and lime I’d ordered to not be the only one without a drink in my hand, laughed at the jokes Anthony told — the same ones over and over to new people — and when asked, I danced with whoever wanted to dance. That was what was expected, after all. Whether it was my father’s business partners or someone Anthony had just introduced me to, my job was to entertain, to charm and dazzle and impress.

  And while I sparkled on the outside, I felt dead on the inside.

  “Ruby Grace, could I trouble you for a spin on the dance floor?”

  I blinked out of the daydream I’d been in, plastering on my best smile to turn and accept the invitation from whoever had asked. But when I spun on my heel and found Noah Becker’s cobalt steel eyes, I frowned.

  “No, thanks,” I spat.

  Noah tilted his head. “Come on, now. That’s no way to speak to a gentleman.”

  “I see no gentleman here.”

  He chuckled, stepping into my space with his hands sliding easily into the pockets of his dark blue jeans. They were so tight they might as well have been painted on, and I hated that I noticed. I hated that every girl ogled him as he walked around, eyeing his ass through the fabric — me included. He was every country girl’s dream tonight — crisp, white button-up, dark, lethal jeans, smooth, tan skin, boots and a hat that matched and topped off the look.

  My grandmother would say he looked “sharp,” if she were here. And I agreed.

  He was a blade, and I knew I needed to stay away or I’d end up shredded.

  “Hey,” he said when he was closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I’d really like the chance to properly apologize to you. And I know you’d love a break from all of… this.” He looked around us for a moment before he found my gaze again. “So, please, Ruby Grace — dance with me.”