Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “It’s great,” he protested. “It’s brown, the color of bourbon.”

  Hannah pursed her lips. “That atrocity is not the color of bourbon. Bourbon is warm, glowing, and alive with color. Your couch is brown, dead, and just plain ugly. The color of mud or the denuded forest in winter. And you only got that one because it pulls out and you can sleep here overnight without bothering to go the half-mile to your own place. But—seriously—what’s up with you and Lila?”

  “Nothing, that’s what,” he said, and rose from his chair.

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “And just what did you see?” Bo asked, disturbed at the thought of Hannah catching him kissing Lila.

  “I saw you two standing apart, looking guilty as hell, and Lila blushing so furiously I thought she might burst into flames—a really bad idea with so much liquor about. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you two were doing.”

  “OK, well, yeah, something happened between us,” Bo grumpily admitted. “And that’s all you’ll get from me except to say that’s all that will ever happen between us.”

  “Shutting her out already, are you?”

  Bo turned and glared at Hannah. “That’s one hell of an assumption you just made,” he hissed.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she stuttered, eyes widened. Bo paced and felt his sister’s gaze on him as he knew Hannah was figuring out that he’d been the more-than-willing party to the encounter and Lila the reluctant one. “Look,” she said, moving to the edge of her chair and using a softer tone, “why don’t you tell Jon to call off the dogs? Dismiss the lawsuit.”

  Bo stopped pacing and went behind his desk. “But Lila’s counterclaimed, remember? Can’t do it, even if I wanted to.”

  “And if she hadn’t counterclaimed? Would you dismiss?”

  “I don’t know,” Bo answered and fell into his chair. “And besides, it doesn’t matter since she’s sued me.”

  “It does matter, Bo,” Hannah said. “First, if you’re serious about it, you could tell your attorney and maybe—just maybe—she’ll agree to dismiss, too. Everyone walks away.”

  “But even if that happens, the problem is still there, Hannah: no resolution on the boundary.”

  “And in that case, you’re going to have to consider buying land somewhere else for new rickhouses if you’re determined to increase production.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Old Garnet is made here, aged here.”

  Hannah sighed. “Just broach the idea of dismissing the case with Jon, OK? He’ll steer you right on this.”

  “But what if I’m willing to dismiss and she’s not?”

  Hannah stood. “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” she asked with a smirk, and left Bo to his thoughts.

  And every one of those thoughts was about Lila McNee.

  When he’d been talking to her about the distillery, about what his family was instead of what they merely sold, he’d seen something change in Lila’s big blue eyes at that moment. He’d feared at first he saw amusement or, worse, contempt. But there had been a softness, an understanding and awareness there that she’d never shown him before. Maybe that was because he hadn’t shown that side of himself to her—the side that was in love with Old Garnet. Of all the times she’d been to the distillery, why the hell hadn’t he ever thought to give her a tour?

  As she had listened to his lecture and tasted his bourbon, Bo had watched her with a delight he had rarely known. His pleasure came not merely from being in her presence and seeing her enjoy herself, but from seeing someone experiencing bourbon in a new way. He loved teaching people how to taste and enjoy bourbon, and relished the rare opportunity to witness someone savoring it for the first time in the way it should be enjoyed.

  And that was straight, slow, and not mixed. Bo loved a mixed drink now and then, but sipping bourbon straight was, in his biased yet experienced opinion, the only way to go.

  He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Lila in those moments. Seeing her there willingly in front of him, enjoying herself and trying to follow his advice about how to taste bourbon, had been nothing short of surreal and riveting. He had sensed the precise moment Lila had the bourbon on her tongue and how she’d moved it in her mouth; he’d almost felt the sweet heat of the spirit in his own throat when she finally swallowed.

  He’d had a few daydreams about her—but they typically involved getting her into a position where they shared a stolen kiss. That was the most he’d ever allowed himself to fantasize about Lila, since he knew that he didn’t stand a chance with her. And even if the land issue didn’t divide them—figuratively, legally, and literally—Bo was aware of her painful past. He had little hope that even without their legal problems that he would be able to get close to her.

  But that awareness had only made his desire for her that much stronger. He wanted the bitter and the sweet.

  And watching her as she had sipped and savored his bourbon was about the sexiest damned thing he’d ever seen a clothed woman do.

  He’d tried not to get caught looking at her lips, which had possessed a sheen of bourbon after her tasting. Or maybe that bourbon gloss had been his imagination because he had wanted to know how those lips tasted, and all he’d been able to think about was kissing her.

  Lila and bourbon. What better combination could there be?

  He’d looked down at that box of candy and had his answer. Adding chocolate to the mix had been a nice idea.

  As she had started to fidget to leave, Bo had felt a burgeoning sense of loss and he hadn’t been able to figure out why. But then he had seen Lila sitting alone at that table and it had hit him that he didn’t want her to leave. The tour was over; the tasting was over; and as soon as she finished that bourbon ball, she’d be out the door. And the next time he’d see her again would be…when? In court?

  That had been the moment he knew he was falling for her. Or already had fallen for her. And he felt she was completely out of his reach. She might as well have been on another planet instead of sitting across the room.

  The sense of loss had expanded in his chest, hurting and choking him and making him wonder how he’d become the man he was.

  A man that someone like Lila McNee couldn’t trust.

  A man that still had to work every damned day on regaining the trust of his sister.

  A man that had become married to a place and a product—Old Garnet. The distillery, the bourbon, the myth, the idea.

  There in Lila’s presence, Bo suddenly, painfully, and, he feared, probably much too late had become aware of what he had willingly given up to ensure Old Garnet lived on.

  Yet he didn’t feel that alive…except when he looked at Lila McNee…and when he kissed her….

  She had tasted so damn good!

  The bourbon, the chocolate, and her pillow-soft lips had combined to produce the most deliciously erotic kiss he’d ever experienced. Then it was over as quickly as it began and she was gone, fleeing from him and the problems and fear he caused her. Yet she’d been unable to tell him not to try to change her mind, giving him that scrap of hope that there could be something between them.

  Longing and worry boiled in his chest, and Bo knew that the fight in his heart between his desire and his distillery had begun.

  Lila had returned to her house full of regret, confusion, and anger. She had truly enjoyed the tour and learning more about the distillery and bourbon. She had even enjoyed the tasting part—but that was something she ended up enjoying too much.

  How could she have let that happen—kissing Bo Davenport? What had she been thinking? How did she allow herself to get into that situation?

  And the stupid thing was that she really, really liked it.

  It had felt so good to be held by a man again.

  But why did that man have to be Bo?

  She knew that he wasn’t likely to leave her alone, especially after what had happened between them. Why hadn’t she told him to go to
hell when they’d been outside the visitors’ center? When he’d given her the perfect opening to tell him to go away?

  Because she didn’t want him to go away.

  Needing a lift and something to do, Lila made a pot of strong coffee. She wasn’t sure whether it was the effects of the bourbon or because he’d kissed her so hard that she’d seen stars behind her eyelids, but she needed some serious caffeine to snap her out of her strange funk. After she’d poured herself a full mug, Lila went out to her front porch. Even though it was chilly and rainy, she craved the feel of the cold against her exposed skin in the same way she needed the caffeine. It was as though she was trying to slap some sense into herself, trying to tell herself that what she had done was foolish and that it should not, could not, would not happen again.

  Lila didn’t bother with her coat and went out to the porch where she migrated to the northern end of it. From that narrow vantage point, she had a view of the springs and all the way to the distillery grounds.

  Bo’s suggestion of settling the case came back to her. But what possible settlement could they reach? Simply stop the suit and walk away? That would leave no one happy and merely kick the can down the road. And even if Bo wanted to do that and she agreed, what happened if something happened to Bo? What if whoever ended up in charge of the distillery decided they wanted to fight over that boundary? In the back of her mind, Lila was thinking about the possibility of a big conglomerate buying the distillery. She’d heard fear-fueled rumors around town of such a scenario, although from what she knew of Bo and his sister and their love for Old Garnet, that seemed unlikely.

  But that didn’t mean it was impossible.

  No, the dispute needed to be settled. Bo wanted this fight and he was going to get it. Now that she had counterclaimed, there would be no going back.

  Bo drove north away from town after meeting with Jon and getting the bad news that Lila would not agree to dismiss the case. So he had his answer. Lila had dug in her heels—or rather put up her walls—and now they were going to have to fight it out in court. Needing an escape as well as nourishment, he pulled into the parking lot of The Windmill, the small diner on Ashbrooke Pike just south of the distillery. Despite its proximity to his work and home, Bo rarely went to The Windmill, but had recently developed a hankering to return after hearing his sister rave about it. Hannah and Kyle were frequent diners; it was like it was their own little place to hear her talk. It was close to their house, which was just north of the distillery, and Bo figured they went there a lot instead of having to drive all the way into Bourbon Springs to eat out. Everyone knew that the pies at The Windmill were great, but Hannah reported that recently it had started to make excellent milkshakes again.

  As Bo passed the turn to Lila’s place, he resisted the urge to pull off the road, park at her house, and await her return from work. He was desperate to see her and talk to her, but not in a public place like Over a Barrel. It had been two weeks since her tour and tasting at the distillery and Bo was going crazy trying to figure out a way to see her again. So far, he’d failed to come up with a device to either go to her or lure her back to the distillery. He felt like an idiot for boasting to her as she’d left that day that he was going to change her mind about the wisdom of them getting together. How could he do that if he couldn’t even talk to the woman?

  Bo stood in the small foyer of the diner, looking for a spot to eat and saw a booth on the far wall. He wanted to hide, and that was the perfect place. He could still sit and watch the comings and goings of the diner, but keep his head down and stay in the corner at the same time.

  He passed all the other tables, a long row of booths against the front windows of the diner; most of them were occupied at that time of the lunch hour. But it wasn’t as busy here as he knew it would be at almost any other eatery back in Bourbon Springs, and the chance to be in relative solitude at The Windmill was a very attractive idea to him on that afternoon.

  But it wasn’t as attractive as what Bo saw in the next booth.

  One booth over and facing him across the empty seats was Lila.

  She looked exactly as she had a few weeks earlier, wearing her barn coat and her light blonde hair a little frizzy and wispy. From the look of her, he decided that she’d just arrived (she was still in her coat and it looked like she’d just taken off her hat), and he wondered how the hell he had missed her when he walked right by her.

  “Seems as though we had the same idea,” she said.

  “Avoiding the Barrel?” he asked. Another reason he hadn’t gone to the downtown deli was because he hadn’t wanted to be reminded of his last trip there.

  She nodded, and started to leave.

  “Please don’t go,” he begged her.

  She sat on the edge of the booth, her purse strap already slung across her body.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, really,” she said, and looked at the floor.

  “I know. But it still hurts.”

  After a long pause, she spoke. “Maybe it would hurt me to stay,” she confessed in a low voice.

  “Why don’t you stay and see if it doesn’t?”

  She stood and Bo thought he’d lost his point, but instead Lila slid into the seat across from him. She didn’t take off her coat. He knew that she was still being guarded and keeping the option open of leaving at a moment’s notice.

  “I’m sorry about not dismissing the case,” she said.

  He sensed that this was the reason—maybe the only reason—she had chosen to sit and speak with him. After this little apology, he expected she would leave.

  “Let’s not talk about it, please,” he implored. “Can’t we find something else to discuss?”

  “When it comes to us, what other topic is there? Besides, you were the one always hot to talk about the land.”

  “There were a few times you came to the distillery and we didn’t talk about the land,” he reminded her. “Surely we can think of something else to talk about.”

  A waitress came and Bo knew that this was the moment when Lila would have to make the decision whether to leave or stay.

  “Howdy,” the young waitress drawled. “Happy to tell you that today we have pumpkin pie with bourbon caramel sauce if you’re interested. And if you want a piece, you’d better go ahead and order it right now with your food because the past five days we’ve sold out of it before two o’clock.”

  Bo looked at Lila, immediately putting her on the spot.

  “Oh, um, I guess I’ll have the number four combo with a slice of that pie, please,” she said.

  Bo felt the tension leave his body with Lila’s words. When the waitress asked for his order, he told her to bring him the same. He then remembered to order a cup of coffee, and Lila requested a large glass of water.

  Lila finally took off her coat and put it in the booth to her side.

  “So, what should we talk about?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Bourbon balls?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll end up wanting them and I don’t want to drive back to town to get some.”

  “You don’t have to make that drive. I have plenty at the distillery, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said, turning pink.

  “Well, we could talk about those tasting lessons I promised you.”

  “I don’t think we should go there,” she said warningly as the waitress came to deliver their beverages.

  “I’m not being facetious. If you ever want to learn more about tasting bourbon, let me know. And if you don’t want me to teach you, ask Hannah or Walker to do it instead. They know their stuff, especially Walker.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But I’ll freely admit I’d love to give you those lessons,” Bo said, and took a sip of coffee. “I haven’t forgotten what I told you when you left the distillery two weeks ago.”

  “About changing my mind?” she said wearily.

  “That’s right.”

  “Just how determined a person are you?” she asked. “Yo
u could be in for a lot of disappointment, you know.”

  “I can be just as determined as my sister, and I know you understand what that means for you.”

  “We’ll see,” she said dubiously.

  “You take the day off?” he asked, and took another sip of coffee.

  She nodded. “Had to go to town again.”

  And he knew the reason why. It was the same reason he’d been to town: to meet with a lawyer.

  Their food arrived and for the next few minutes they ate in silence. A few minutes later, the waitress arrived with their slices of pie.

  “Thought I’d get this to you before it’s all gone,” the server explained. “We can’t keep this stuff around.”

  Bo looked at his piece of pie. “Wonder if Hannah and Kyle know about this flavor.”

  “They like to come here?”

  He nodded. “And I bet my mother would love to have the recipe for Thanksgiving,” Bo said. “Although her pumpkin pie is already pretty good.”

  “I’m sure bourbon is involved,” Lila said and took a bite of her burger.

  “That should be an unspoken assumption regarding almost anything sweet that my mother whips up,” Bo said. “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  Lila’s gaze dropped to her plate. “Just staying around the house for the long weekend,” she replied vaguely as she poked a fry into a puddle of ketchup.

  “But what about Thanksgiving Day?”

  “Like I said, I’ll be at home.”

  His mouth dropped open as it dawned on him what she was saying. “You’re going to be alone?”

  “Yes. That’s the way it’s been for the past few years now. I haven’t even gone to Kyle’s place. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Bo said. “Why don’t you come over to our dinner? I’m sure my mother would be happy to have an extra guest.”

  “No, Bo, really—”

  “Don’t be alone on Thanksgiving. Or Christmas, for that matter.”

  “One holiday at a time, OK?” she said, and picked up her glass of water. “Really, I’ll be fine.”