She blinked and swallowed. Why was she noticing these little things about him? CiCi looked down at her own somewhat snug sweater and wondered why she’d chosen to wear that particular piece of clothing that day.
Uh-oh.
No. Can’t be interested in him. Too nice. Too normal.
Too dangerous.
“You two go have fun in the museum,” Hannah said. She stood and dropped a key into CiCi’s hands. “I’ve got to give this tour now. The part-time tour guide we hired last week has turned out to be rather unreliable.”
Hannah left CiCi and Walker standing together in the middle of the lobby while she went to the front doors to greet the tourists.
“I need to go back to my office and get a pad of paper and something to write with,” Walker said.
“Oh, sure,” CiCi said, and tore her eyes away from Hannah’s retreating form. “I’ve got a small notebook and some pens in my purse, so I’m good.”
“Came prepared, unlike me,” he said, and scratched his chin. Walker told CiCi that his office wasn’t in the visitors’ center but in the distillery, so they’d need to go there so he could get a pad or a notebook. She suspected that his oversight was deliberate, and that he probably wanted to return to the distillery to check on something—or perhaps extend his time with her.
“Say, did you think Lila was going to meet us here this morning?” CiCi finally asked as they walked out of the lobby and toward the hallway with the offices.
“No, why?”
“I thought she’d be here,” CiCi said, and rummaged in her oversized purse as they walked together. She pulled out a small black, spiral-bound notebook and a pen. “Got confused.”
“I think we’re on our own this morning,” he said, and held the door open for CiCi so she could exit the building.
They passed by the Old House and made for the distillery building, with CiCi’s clogs echoing off the limestone-paved path. Walking side-by-side, CiCi took a deep breath to inhale the welcoming scent of the mash, and caught Walker watching her with approval as she exhaled. When they got inside the building, Walker first checked on the mash tubs, at least partially confirming CiCi’s suspicion about his desire to return to the distillery building; he couldn’t stay away very long from his passion and his craft. Most of the tubs were full and frothy, and another was being steam-cleaned for the next batch. Once indoors, CiCi immediately began to regret wearing a long-sleeved sweater; the heat was intense and dizzying, and along with the carbon dioxide coming off the mash, she got a little woozy. Walker noticed she was unsteady and took her by the elbow and led her into his office just beyond the tubs and down a short hall.
“Sorry about that,” he said as she sat in a chair in front of his desk. He turned a fan on and directed it at her.
“Whew,” she said, and closed her eyes as she directed her face toward the flowing air. “I can see why you wore short sleeves today.”
“Didn’t think we’d be out here,” he said.
CiCi didn’t believe that, but said nothing and continued to enjoy the cool breeze with her eyes closed. She rested as she heard him open a desk drawer and rummage around for the notebook he claimed he needed. But she could feel his eyes on her, and she rather liked knowing he was staring at her as she relaxed. She soon heard him close the desk drawer and opened her eyes to find him gazing at her.
“Better now?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then it’s time to get started on our homework.”
Five minutes later they were in the distillery museum on the first floor of the Old House, talking about dates, people, and places, and making notes. After about an hour of studying the various exhibits and having Walker as her own personal history tour guide, CiCi wandered over to the fireplace and examined the oil portrait hanging above the mantel, and scribbled a few notes in her notebook. She soon was mesmerized by the photos of Cass, Emma, Bo, and Hannah sitting on top of the mantel. CiCi had glimpsed them before when she was there with the students at Christmastime, but she hadn’t had the chance to study the pictures. Walker joined CiCi at the fireplace as she examined the photos.
“Nice family,” he said.
“Almost perfect, aren’t they?” she said, and replaced a photo on the mantel.
“Like out of some kind of sitcom,” Walker agreed. “You have any family around here?”
She shook her head. “My mother’s deceased,” CiCi said, deliberately excluding any mention of her father. “What about you?”
“Parents still live outside Louisville,” he told her as his eyes wandered over the Davenport family photos. “And my sister is an attorney for the state in Frankfort.”
“Older or younger sister?”
“Younger, by about eight years,” he said. “And that’s it. Just the four of us.”
CiCi thought it sounded wonderful—having other family—but said nothing and pulled out her notebook to make one last quick note that Cass Davenport’s name was James Christopher, something she never had known.
“Well, I think we have what we need,” she said, “unless there’s something I’m missing. And I don’t think there is. Your knowledge of the history of this place is really something, Walker.”
“I tried to learn as much as I could when I came on board.”
“And that’s only been a few months—less than half a year. Very impressive,” she said and smiled at him.
After he thanked her, they decided to email their thoughts to Lila about the project and that they’d wait for further instructions. Walker checked his watch and licked his lips.
“It’s about time for lunch,” he said. “Care to go get something?”
Lila’s advice from a few weeks earlier came back to CiCi: just say yes. Go to lunch. Get it over with.
Or get it started, CiCi thought with a bit of surprise.
“Sure,” she agreed. “The café?” CiCi asked and pointed in the direction of the visitors’ center.
“It’s probably pretty busy now with those tourists,” Walker said. “What if we go somewhere else? The Windmill? Or would you like to go on a picnic like Lila?”
CiCi’s head tilted. “How’d you know that she went on a picnic?”
“Uh—Hannah said something about it,” Walker stammered.
“Well, The Windmill would be fine,” CiCi said slowly, eyeing him. “Haven’t been there in a while, so it will be a nice treat. I love their pie.”
He hadn’t fooled her. Walker had been in cahoots with Lila—and maybe Hannah as well?—to be alone with her that morning and through lunch if he could manage it. CiCi thought she should be annoyed or mad. But she wasn’t.
She was curious.
And afraid—because she knew where curiosity had gotten that proverbial cat.
Bo felt like he’d been dropped into some kind of perfect made-for-TV movie.
It was spring in Kentucky.
The landscape was awash in flowering whites and pinks of the dogwoods, and the pink-purples of the redbud trees. The fields were coming alive again as though electrified, and they glistened in the morning light and exuded an ethereal shade of the most vibrant green.
Bo inhaled deeply and detected all the usual smells: the grass underfoot; the mash from the distillery; hay and clover and the light, sweet scent of some flowering bushes.
And manure wafting in from GarnetBrooke Farm across Ashbrooke Pike.
Definitely spring in Kentucky.
“Get a move on,” Lila said from several yards ahead.
“Wait,” he called out. “I still need to follow you into the springs. I’m not sure of the path.”
“Then you’d better keep up and learn,” she said, and turned to smile at him over her shoulder. “Although I’m sure you’ll have other chances to come out here with me.”
“Counting on it,” he said, and hurried to catch up with her as she reached the edge of the trees that surrounded the springs. His advance was slowed by the picnic basket he carried.
Bo did catch up with Lila in short order a
nd he soon was only a few yards behind her, following her path into the springs. They hadn’t planned to do this today—he’d had another idea about how he wanted this day to unfold—but she’d called early in the morning, raving about how fine the weather was going to be. Lila wanted to go on a picnic to the springs, an opportunity he could not refuse, so he decided to adapt his plan to the circumstances.
After a few minutes in the woods, the trees thinned and they were in the clearing with the springs below them. Lila could not resist inspecting the springs, and walked to the little outcropping over the entire area and surveyed her domain. Behind her on the flat, grassy area, Bo deposited the picnic basket and small cooler he’d been toting, and then went to Lila’s side to share the view with her. Bo took the blanket she had under her arm and tossed it on the ground so he could put his arm around her.
“Everything as it should be?” he asked her.
She looked up at him, beaming. “It’s perfect.”
“Not quite,” he said, sensing the moment for action had come.
He released her and unzipped a pocket inside his thin blue windbreaker. With one hand still in his pocket, Bo dropped to one knee and took Lila’s left hand.
“Hey, I asked you already, remember?” Lila teased him, breathless.
“I know. And I said yes. But now it’s my turn, and I’m going to do it right—with a ring.”
“Bo…”
He produced from his jacket pocket a small red box and popped it open with one hand (he’d practiced that little move to get it right). Nestled in white satin was a large round diamond solitaire set in gold with small diamonds and garnets set into the band.
Emma’s ring.
“Will you marry me, Lila?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered immediately, and tears brimmed in her eyes.
Bo removed the ring and put it on Lila’s left hand. It was loose, but not so loose that Lila couldn’t wear it.
“Had it re-sized for you,” he said, and remained on one knee and mesmerized by the ring he had just given his fiancée. “I knew it would be too big if I didn’t do that. You have the tiniest, most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen,” he said, and kissed her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, and the tears spilled down her cheeks and fell to the earth below them.
Bo popped up to his feet, kissed Lila, and held her. “That was the only piece of jewelry Mom didn’t leave to Hannah,” he said, with his head resting on top of Lila’s head. “And before you worry, no—Hannah wasn’t upset about that at all.”
Bo had never felt such security, peace, and resolution as he stood there with Lila, holding her in the midst of her most sacred spot, the springs—or, rather, their springs. She had finally shared this place and all of her land with him when she had proposed and made the offer of her southern acreage for more rickhouses. He knew that they both finally possessed the quiet confidence that life could move on and that they could not only survive but thrive in their changed yet happy circumstances. Resolving their problems—which had involved a lot of compromise by them both—had given him such a renewed sense of optimism he sometimes feared he was dreaming. He knew Lila was possessed of that same hope as well; her newfound sureness had empowered her to reveal she’d miscarried shortly after her husband died. He had listened to her story in silence and sadness, crying along with her yet gratified she trusted him enough to share such pain.
They moved back to where he had dropped the picnic basket and cooler, unfurled the blanket, and set out their little feast.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about Emma’s house,” Lila said. As Bo had suspected, his mother had left it to him, and they were making plans to move in after their late fall wedding. “What if we built a place of our own someday?”
“Where?” he asked as he started taking items out of the picnic basket.
“On the property line, of course. Overlooking the springs,” she said.
“But what about your house?” he asked, and tore open a bag of chips. “You live there and you grew up there.”
“Old and drafty,” she said dismissively. “And not close enough to the distillery to be that easily within walking distance, particularly in nasty weather. I thought you might want to use it for some purpose related to the rickhouses, like an office on that end of the property.”
“I thought you’d never want to build anything on this northern part of your land, Lila,” Bo said.
“I was opposed to building a big old rickhouse near the springs, not a house where I’d live with my husband and family,” she said. “And I don’t want to build right away—maybe never, in fact. If someone tells us that building there could harm the springs or damage the aquifer, those things would be a complete deal-killer. But it’s a long-term plan to think about.”
He never thought he’d hear Lila talk like this—about building in the spot that had been the bone of contention between them for so long. And to hear her talk about long-term plans and a future with him was still surreal.
Lila looked down at the ring on her finger, glittering in the bright spring sun as it reached them through a gap in the tree canopy. Bo saw her admiring her new acquisition and reached for her hand.
“I intended to give that to you in the rickhouse,” he said, and joined her in gazing at the sparkler. “But when you suggested a picnic here today, I knew this would be just as good a spot, if not better.”
“This is the perfect spot,” Lila said. But then she looked mildly worried and bit her lip. “But I do hope the angels won’t feel slighted.”
As she finished her thought, a gust of wind tore through the trees around and above them, causing the old limbs and new leaves to rustle like the waters moving through the springs or wings through the rafters.
Bo squeezed Lila’s hand as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Looks like we have their approval,” he said just before their lips met.
THE END
Hey there! Thanks for reading my book. I am honored that you read it and certainly hope you enjoyed it! I had a great time writing it, as I did the whole Bourbon Springs Series.
So if you’ve made it this far, I guess I did something you like—so may I ask a favor or two?
First, when the book is ready, I’ll email you a FREE advance review copy of the next Bourbon Springs book, DISTILLER’S CHOICE (Bourbon Springs Book 4), if you email me a link to where you left a text review of ANGELS’ SHARE. Leave a text review on Amazon and/or Goodreads and send me the link, and I’ll get the book to you. This offer is only available up until the publication date of DISTILLER’S CHOICE, which will be in fall 2015. Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of the release date.
You get the first chapter of DISTILLER’S CHOICE to read below, so you’ll get a taste of it.
CiCi Summers is the wacky local Circuit Court Clerk. Walker Cain is the somewhat staid but mighty good-looking new master distiller at Old Garnet. Both have failed marriages in their pasts, and pain they are trying to overcome. Just when things start to look like these two have a chance to make a future together, the past has a way of threatening that future.
Interested? Email me at [email protected] and I’ll get a FREE advance review copy to you (electronic form) when the book is ready. I will request that you leave a text review for the book when it goes live, and I’ll (try to remember to) email you when that happens so you can post a text review if you wish.
Second thing: if you sign up for my mailing list, I’ll email you a FREE short story about Rachel and Brady! This story occurs about a week or so after the end of SECRET BLEND (Bourbon Springs Book 1), so it is a nice continuation of their love story and bridges their story to the next book, FILTERED THROUGH BLUE (Bourbon Springs Book 2). Yes, the story is steamy. Or, rather, saucy. If you get the story, you’ll understand my meaning. The story is about 11,000 words.
You can find me all kinds of places
Sign up for my mailing list (and get the free story!)
Email me
at [email protected]
Facebook
Twitter: @jennbramseth
My Amazon author page
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Find my Pinterest board for this book! See the series logo, logos for Over a Barrel, Old Garnet, and lots more!
www.pinterest.com/jbramseth/angels-share/
Bourbon Springs is a small town with a lot of big-hearted, fun, and sexy characters. In order, the books will be:
SECRET BLEND
(Bourbon Springs Book 1—Rachel and Brady)
FILTERED THROUGH BLUE
(Bourbon Springs Book 2—Hannah and Kyle)
ANGELS’ SHARE
(Bourbon Springs Book 3—Lila and Bo)
DISTILLER’S CHOICE
(Bourbon Springs Book 4—CiCi and Walker)
CEDAR AND CINNAMON
(Bourbon Springs Book 5—Harriet and Goose)
DISTILLED HEAT
(Bourbon Springs Book 6—Pepper and Jon)
BOTTLED BLUEGRASS
(Bourbon Springs Book 7—Jorrie and Mack)
TOAST AND CHAR
(Bourbon Springs Book 8—Miranda and Prent)
WATER OF LIFE
(Bourbon Springs Book 9—Cara and Drake)
Below is Chapter 1 from DISTILLER’S CHOICE. You’ve already met CiCi Summers, the Craig County Clerk, and Walker Cain, the new master distiller at Old Garnet. What happens when these two try to get together? Both have unhappy, painful divorces in their pasts—can they overcome those bad experiences as well as new challenges? And how can someone as silly and wacky as CiCi fall for someone as uptight as Walker?
DISTILLER’S CHOICE: Chapter 1
Cherry.
Chocolate.
Butterscotch.
Angels' Share (Bourbon Springs Book 3) Page 28
