Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Lila felt him shivering against her as they lay together, still entangled and most intimately joined. While he had pulled her from her shell and brought her love, she knew she had done the same for him. She had drawn him to the center of that world where love reigned, opening them up to the great experiences of life—love as well as loss.

  Finally, he kissed her cheek and rolled away to her side, and Lila cuddled to him. Hearing the wind howling against the edge of the house, she shivered, pulled the covers over them, and fell into a perfect winter’s nap on Bo’s chest.

  Chapter 16

  Lila could not remember the last time she had been so happy for such a long stretch of time. Christmas night had been one of the most wonderful nights of her life, and she felt as good as she had in years. She eventually came to the conclusion that she hadn’t been this content since her honeymoon—and that had been almost eight years ago. Even the sex was better—much, much better, in fact. She was head-over-heels, head-in-the-clouds, crazy-in-love with Bo Davenport. There was no denying it anymore, especially after Christmas night—and all the other nights that they had spent together. The only cloud on the horizon was the lawsuit; she reluctantly told him that she was going to instruct her attorney to try to get the property line back to where she thought it was. He understood, and they didn’t discuss it any further. She could not accept anyone—even Bo—taking an inch of her property, and would fight to get the judge’s decision reversed.

  They revealed themselves as a couple a few days after Christmas night, much to the delight of Emma and Hannah.

  “So just what was in that comfort-and-joy care package you took to Lila on Christmas evening?” Hannah teased them a few days after Christmas as the trio ate lunch together in the visitors’ center café. “I think I’d like to try some of it.”

  “You did,” Bo told her. “It was all the same stuff you ate on Christmas at Mom’s.”

  “Hmm,” Hannah mused. “It certainly didn’t have the same impact on Kyle. He was in bed by nine o’clock.”

  “So was I,” Bo said, leaving Hannah speechless and Lila a deep red.

  Since Lila was on a school break at that time, she got to be with Bo during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. And much to the shock of Emma and Hanna, Bo actually took some time off—as in he left early in the afternoon a few days in a row—and spent time with Lila. Some of that time was passed on the second floor of her house, but they also went to dinner, did some shopping, and traveled to Lexington one evening for a night on the town.

  “When was the last time you took a vacation?” Lila asked him on the drive to Lexington. There was a long pause and she could almost hear the pages of his mental calendar being flipped back in search of an answer. After watching him chew on his lip for several seconds while he struggled to remember, she finally let out an exasperated grunt. “If it takes you that long to recall, you know it’s been too long,” she said. “I’ll ask your mother. I bet she’ll know.”

  He grimaced. “Don’t do that,” he pleaded. “She’ll get on my case to take some more time off.”

  “Mother knows best,” Lila replied. “Seriously, though—you can’t remember when or even where?”

  “I think I went to a distillers’ group conference about ten years ago.”

  “That sounds like work. And was it really ten years ago?”

  “To the best of my recollection,” he said, and took care to pass a slow-moving tractor-trailer. “So I take it you want to take a trip?”

  “Someday,” Lila said. “Somewhere we can be together and not under the watchful eyes of your mother and sister.”

  Although it was nice to live in close proximity, Lila and Bo quickly discovered that either Hannah or Emma usually seemed to know when they were together.

  “I’m afraid they’re part of the package when it comes to me,” Bo told her apologetically.

  “I don’t mind,” Lila said. “You’re worth it.”

  Bo reached and grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stay in Lexington overnight.”

  “Why do you have to get back?” she asked. “You told me, but I can’t remember.”

  “Meeting with Walker,” Bo said. “And I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “Why?” she asked. “He’s a nice guy.”

  “He’s restless,” Bo said, and eased into the right lane to allow a tailgater to get past him. “He wants to expand the product line, and I’m not for it. I’m afraid he’s going to leave.”

  “Leave? But he’s not even been around half a year!”

  “I know,” Bo said. “We’ve got to figure out a way to keep him. He’s really good, but he’s rather set in his ways.”

  “That sounds familiar.”

  “Point taken,” Bo admitted. “I hope I can make him see that I do want to expand someday—I just don’t know when it can be. And I hope that will be enough of him.”

  “I can think of a reason he might want to stay,” said Lila, grinning.

  “Tell me, please,” Bo said, glancing at her while trying to keep an eye on the thickening traffic.

  “During the tour you gave my students, didn’t you find it odd that Walker kept showing up?”

  “Well, not really. He is the master distiller and pretty much has the run of the place.”

  “No surprise that we’d find him in the distillery, Bo, but then he followed us, remember? He followed us into the rickhouse, and the bottling area, if I remember correctly.”

  “You’re right,” Bo said. “He did follow us there.”

  “Had he never had a tour?”

  Bo shook his head. “Nope. Gave him a tour on his first day, just like I did for Hannah when she came to work at the distillery.”

  “All right,” Lila said in her classroom voice, “then why was he hanging about? He’s a nice guy—a little stiff, maybe—but why follow us around?”

  “The kids?” Bo suggested.

  “Nope,” Lila said, and shook her head.

  “I give.”

  “CiCi,” she said, and smiled, enjoying being the bearer of juicy gossip.

  “He was following us to be around her?”

  “You missed that?”

  “Well, I was giving a tour,” he said a little defensively.

  “OK, I’ll give you that. But it was obvious. He was dumbstruck from the moment she pulled those two kids from behind the door.”

  “I just thought he was thrown off by the interruption,” Bo said, and moved into the left lane to pass a camper that was moving so slowly that it probably was in violation of the law.

  “Initially, yes. But I saw his face. And then he kept popping up. He even showed up in the tasting room, remember? He laughed at one of CiCi’s jokes!”

  “Does CiCi know about this?”

  “I told her that day what I saw—told her before we left the distillery, in fact. But she was clueless and denied it.”

  “CiCi? Are we talking about the same person? CiCi Summers, Craig Circuit Court Clerk, knows all, sees all?”

  “Except when it comes to Walker Cain, apparently,” Lila said.

  “I think this could be information I could use. And I think I know how.”

  Lila laughed. “I foresee your sister’s involvement.”

  “Oh, definitely. This could be fun,” Bo said as he took the final exit off the Bluegrass Parkway and headed east into Lexington. “Wanna help?”

  “Sign me up for that,” Lila said as they both giggled like little kids and sped towards town.

  In light of Lila’s information, Bo decided to put the meeting with Walker off until after the New Year, and the extra few days gave Bo and Hannah time to hatch a plan. Bo told Hannah about Lila’s idea to use CiCi as a lure of sorts, and Hannah was completely on board and tickled to know that Walker apparently had an interest in the eccentric court clerk. Hannah also delivered the unwelcome news that Walker had been sharing some of his concerns about the distillery with her.

  “Yo
u nailed it,” she said to her brother as they prepared for the meeting in a conference room adjacent to the tasting room. “Walker’s on edge. All that energy is good, but we have to make sure he concentrates it here. I don’t want him to get stir crazy. We have to give the man something to do.”

  “He’s already the master distiller, Hannah,” Bo said as he put down a pot of coffee on a round wooden table. “He should have plenty to do.”

  “Walker’s an overachiever. We’ve got to find a way to give him more.”

  “As in another product line? Is that where this discussion is going again?”

  “Of course,” Hannah admitted and poured herself a cup of coffee and went to the windows to look at the gently falling snow. It was a bitterly cold January day, and the weather forecast indicated measurable snowfall. “I’m going to keep bringing it up, Bo. We’re the only distillery of our size that only has one product, as Walker often points out. Even the small craft distilleries make more than one thing. You’ve got to be more open to change,” she said, and took a sip of coffee.

  Bo poured himself some coffee and joined Hannah at the window.

  “I’m like Dad, Hannah,” he said. “Change is rough for me.”

  “Yes, it is. But nothing completely stands still,” and she glanced at the rushing waters of the creek below. Although there were some bits of ice and snow along the banks that partially blocked the flow of water, the stream still pushed on over the limestone and away from the distillery. “And I don’t want you to end up like Dad, Bo. He worked himself to death.”

  Bo was about to protest but Walker entered the room at that moment.

  “Come on in, we’ve got the coffee ready,” Hannah said.

  After everyone got settled and seated, they got to the point.

  “What’s on your mind, Walker? We think we already have a pretty good idea, but tell us,” Bo said.

  “It’s the same thing I’ve been talking about since I got here,” he said, and sat back in his seat with his coffee. “A new product for this distillery."

  “Go on,” Hannah urged, and nodded. Bo noted that Walker looked a little uneasy.

  “Actually, I have two product ideas. First, we could pull bourbon from the center cut barrels. That’s easy to do and we don’t need any more room to make it. We could call that Garnet Center Cut, and market it as a super-premium version of Old Garnet. Buyers would love it. But I also have been thinking of a totally new product, something with a new mashbill. We could call that Garnet Reserve, like I mentioned to Bo before. I’ve finally worked out a mashbill I think would be perfect for it. It would be a little sweeter than regular Old Garnet.”

  “I like that first idea,” Bo admitted, nodding. “But my problem is with the second. If we made another bourbon, we don’t have anywhere to age it. We’re running out of room.”

  “Glad you like the first idea. I guess that’s progress from my point of view,” Walker said, placing his coffee on the table.

  Walker always dressed very neatly. He never wore jeans, only pressed khakis or dress pants, and always wore a shirt with a collar. As a result, he was usually a little better dressed than Bo, who tended to favor jeans or weathered khakis. “I don’t know how or when we will ever get the land to expand, Walker,” Bo admitted, and he leaned on the table with his elbows. “I think what we’ll have to do is empty a few of the rickhouses first.”

  “But those barrels are still aging and it will take years to free up that space,” Walker said, disappointment flashing across his face.

  “I know,” Bo acknowledged, “but in the meantime, we can go ahead with Garnet Center Cut and plan for the new product, Garnet Reserve.”

  Walker sat back in his chair. “Well, I suppose we should start that discussion now,” he said. “I think I told you I already have a good idea about the mix, the mashbill, for Garnet Reserve,” he said.

  The three of them discussed the mashbill, or the proposed recipe for the new bourbon. Walker was proposing a higher percentage of corn and reducing the amount of barley and rye than was used in the current iteration of Old Garnet.

  “I had another idea about the new product,” Walker said. “Why don’t we triple barrel it?” he asked.

  “Triple? Use up three barrels before we bottle it? Why?” asked Bo.

  “There’s at least one other distillery that barrels twice to get more flavor from the oak,” Walker said, and described how the multiple exposure to the charred oak interior of the barrel produced a sweet, creamy vanilla taste to the bourbon. “But what if we did one more than that? Triple barreled Garnet Select.”

  “That would be a lot of barrels to go through. Prent Oakes would love us,” he said, mentioning one of the owners of Commonwealth Cooperage.

  “But we get rid of the barrels easily enough and used Garnet barrels always fetch a good price,” Hannah pointed out. Almost all of Old Garnet’s barrels went to Scotland and Canada to age whiskey. To make bourbon, the barrel had to be a new charred oak barrel; by law, no recycling was allowed when it came to making more bourbon in used barrels.

  “Think about it, Bo,” Walker urged, “we use more barrels, can charge more for the bourbon, makes it seem more premium and select.”

  “It wouldn’t seem that way,” Bo countered. “It would be premium, in at least two ways: the increased use of resources by triple barreling and its relative scarcity. We just couldn’t produce that much of it considering the number of barrels we would go through and our own production capacity. On the other hand, if we didn’t make a lot of it, we wouldn’t need that much more warehouse space to do it, which is a big problem for us right now.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Walker, and smiled.

  Hannah rested her chin on top of her hand and stared dreamily at the wall. “Triple barreled? That would taste wonderful. And the color! Like the deepest caramel,” she sighed. “I’m sold, Walker.”

  “I think a small test production run would work for Garnet Reserve,” Bo said, nodding slowly and smiling.

  “And if we’re going to make this a limited production, would it be possible to start sooner rather than later?” Walker asked hopefully.

  “It’s possible, but I want to think about it. I know you’re anxious to get going on this new project, and I think we might be able to get it up and running within the next few months. I need to check with the cooperage about the barrels, and check the rickhouse capacities.”

  Walker nodded. “Understood, and I definitely want in on that conversation with the cooperage.”

  “You have an idea for the toast and char?” Bo asked, referencing the degrees to which the interior of the barrel was roasted. Walker discussed various char levels for the interior, explaining that he favored something in the middle of the scale.

  “And I guess I’d better get started on a bottle design,” Hannah said, and made some notes.

  “I have to admit,” Walker told them, “this went much better than I thought it would.”

  “Good to hear it,” said Bo.

  Walker looked a little sheepish as he glanced from Hannah to Bo. “I guess you both sense I’ve been a little—I don’t know—frustrated of late.”

  “You’re just a really smart guy who wants to do more,” Hannah said. “We know that and want to put all that energy and smarts to work.”

  “Speaking of which,” Bo said, and cast a glance at Hannah, who nodded to encourage her brother to continue, “there’s something we’d like for you to consider getting involved in.”

  “I’m all ears,” Walker said.

  “You’re aware that Bourbon Springs has a local festival in the spring called BourbonDaze?”

  “Yes,” Walker said, and leaned forward on the table with his arms and clasped his hands together.

  “Well, as you can imagine, that thing is planned by a committee. And we think you’d be a great addition to it.”

  “I guess as the master distiller here I probably should be on it,” he granted.

  “There are a lot of l
ocal people on the committee, so it’s not like you’ll have to shoulder a big burden,” Bo said.

  “Who’s on the committee?” Walker asked.

  “People you’d expect, like business owners, some elected officials like the mayor,” Hannah said. “Kyle was on the committee for a few years but finally begged off a couple of years ago. I think CiCi took his place,” Hannah said as casually as she could and pretended to make a note on the writing pad in front of her.

  “CiCi?” Walker asked, and stroked his chin. “She’s the court clerk, right?”

  “Yes, you know her?” Hannah asked.

  “No, not really,” Walker admitted.

  “She was on that tour you saw last month,” Bo said. “Dressed kinda crazy, like an elf?”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember now.”

  Bo smiled. “She’s on the committee, and I think Judge Richards is, too, even if an honorary member. So if you agree to do it, you’ll get to know some more people around Bourbon Springs.”

  “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” Walker said, and smiled.

  At the end of the meeting with Walker, Bo called Goose into the meeting room. Goose had started a few days earlier and had an office across the hall from Hannah and Bo at the opposite end of the visitors’ center. After appropriate greetings, Goose said he needed to go down and check on an electrical problem at one of the more remote rickhouses out near Ashbrooke Pike. The meeting broke up; Hannah and Bo returned to their offices and Walker went off to the distillery. But as soon as Walker was out the door of the visitors’ center, Hannah slipped into Bo’s office.

  “I cannot believe how well it went with Walker!” she giggled with relief. “I was really worried.”

  “I still am,” Bo said, and fell into his chair. “Walker’s a restless guy. I hope I can deliver on the promise I made him about Garnet Reserve.”

  “Bo, we can’t afford to disappoint him when it comes to a small production run on Garnet Reserve,” she warned. “But the CiCi thing totally worked. I predict he’ll be at every committee meeting.”