Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Again!

  She put down the glass, removed the stopper, and added more bourbon.

  Harriet sat alone in the small living area of Goose’s home, looking at the ordinary objects of life: furniture, a few family photos on a table, a newspaper scattered on the floor. As she sipped, she became more and more relaxed and acknowledged the wisdom of Goose’s suggestion.

  She would take a nap.

  Harriet placed her glass on the table next to the couch and pulled a black-and-red crocheted afghan onto herself; within a minute she had drifted off to sleep. It was the kind of irresistible sleep that came after a full and wonderful day, although some small part of Harriet’s mind was telling her that the day’s fun was far from over and she needed to catch some winks while she could.

  She had no idea how long she’d been asleep but awoke to Goose standing above her, smiling.

  “Can’t be ready yet, can it?”

  “No,” he said and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Snoring.”

  Harriet put her hands over her face. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  Goose got down on one knee next to the couch. “It was cute.”

  “I bet it’s not so cute in the middle of the night,” she said, her hands falling from her face.

  He moved closer. “You planning on giving me a demonstration?”

  “If you wish,” she said with a coy smile and pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

  He smelled of the scents of the kitchen: slightly spicy and greasy and tartly vegetable.

  Good enough to eat.

  “Well, if you wake me up in the middle of the night with that kind of noise, I’ll just have to wake you up. And find something to do to pass the time,” he said.

  “So there is an upside to this snoring thing.”

  Goose left her on the couch and returned to the kitchen while she reclaimed her drink from the adjacent table and sipped. Whatever Goose was making, it smelled wonderful. Harriet finished her drink and wandered into the kitchen to discover what culinary treats were in store for her.

  Instead of finding him, she glimpsed him through the backdoor on the deck, setting the table outside. It was dark, and Goose was lighting several small votive candles in the center of a round wrought iron table. He looked up and caught sight of her.

  His face was bathed in soft, flickering light, and Harriet stopped breathing for a second at the sight. She’d never thought of a man as being beautiful until then, but that was the only word to describe him. He was startled to see her, yet pleased, and gave her a look of such contentment she thought she might never want to leave this place, this night, this feeling.

  “You don’t mind eating outside, do you?” he asked as he reentered the house. “It’s still nice outside, and if you get chilled you can bring the afghan to keep you warm.”

  Harriet wobbled a little on her feet, but not because she’d had too much bourbon (she hadn’t; she was just a little tired and knew the difference). She smiled, trembled, and her lips quivered a little bit.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Harriet nodded, then held out her arms to her sides and let out a little yelp of bliss. She threw her arms around a startled Goose.

  “This—is—so—wonderful!” she cried, like a little kid who’s just seen all the presents from Santa, happy little promises of hope, fun, and joy.

  Christmas had come two months early for Harriet, and she knew it.

  “I’ve had a long time to think about how I wanted this evening to go,” Goose said after they’d kissed. “Although, I gotta admit, I hadn’t counted on all the fun we’ve already had today. That was quite a nice bonus.”

  “What’s for dinner?” she asked. “The smell is killing me, and I think I know why.”

  “You tell me.” He released her, and they walked back into the small kitchen together.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were making hot browns.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “How did you know I loved them? Did I say something? That’s a hard dish to make well, and I bet you wouldn’t have tried unless you knew I liked it.”

  “I’d say most Kentuckians enjoy a good hot brown, but when we were in Frankfort today I saw you looking at that sign outside the restaurant, the place with the hot brown special.”

  “Certainly got me there,” she said with admiration. “I love 'em. Much better on a slightly cool night than a hot afternoon.”

  “My thoughts exactly. It was actually the dish I wanted to make for you five years ago.” After a quick kiss, he shooed her away so he could finish the preparations.

  Before getting kicked out of the kitchen, Harriet got a little more water and ice to make another drink. She then returned to the sitting room, grabbed the afghan and bottle of Garnet still on the end table, and went outside to await the repast.

  Goose brought out all the food himself, starting with rolls and salad, and finally the large casserole-like dishes filled with the hot browns. He then led her to the table, pulled out the chair for her, and sat.

  Harriet was a little chilled despite the blanket and the bourbon and warmed her hands over the steaming stoneware dish, which looked like her own personal pond of cheese, with slices of bacon and tomato floating on the surface. She noted approvingly that Goose had included on the very top a small dash of paprika. Damn, did he know his stuff. That simple little flourish was the mark of someone who took pride in what he cooked.

  But how would it taste?

  The thing was so hot she stabbed it several times with her fork to release some of the heat, and the steam rose like a sated ghost into the cool evening air.

  Harriet briefly turned her attention to her salad as her dish cooled but soon stopped eating and sat back in her chair. She pulled the afghan around her shoulders a little tighter; being just yards away from Old Crow Creek had definitely chilled the environs, and she could detect the faintest layer of fog creeping along the course of the creek as it snaked its way north along the distillery grounds. Thinking about the creek reminded her that the people from the state hadn’t called her back. She made a mental note to start calling people on Monday and pestering them for an answer about the boundary issue.

  “This is really nice,” Harriet said. “I only have a patio. It’s okay when I want some fresh air but too small. Probably my only complaint about where I live.”

  “It was really generous of Bo and Hannah to let me have this place,” Goose said. “I fixed it up over the summer. Put in this deck, for example.”

  “You built this entire deck?”

  “Yep,” Goose said and speared a bite of hot brown onto his fork. “Old one was a disaster, falling apart. Not safe at all. Bo apparently never used it, which I can believe. He never relaxed until Lila came along. And I wanted a place to come out and kick back, drink a beer—or Garnet,” he added quickly.

  “It’s lovely. And the view of the creek—I’d like to see it in the daytime.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get that chance,” he said, winking at her.

  The hot brown had cooled sufficiently so that she could finally eat it, and it was wonderful. Gooey, creamy, cheesy heaven. It took a talented hand to make a good one, even though the dish looked slapped together.

  “From those moans you make every time you take a bite, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you like it.” All she could do was nod her head, keeping her eyes closed as she savored the food. “You look like you’re tasting a bourbon.”

  Harriet pressed her lips together, licked them, and opened her eyes. “Just as much craftsmanship in this meal as a good bourbon, only on a smaller scale. And like good Kentucky bourbon, it tastes like Kentucky—like home.”

  Harriet ate every last bit of the hot brown and used a yeast roll to mop up the remnants of cheese on the stoneware.

  “Remember, I’ve got dessert,” he said as he cleared the dishes, again refusing her offer of help.

  “O
h, that pie.” She sighed. “I don’t think so, even though I love pecan.”

  “It’ll keep. It’s just frozen,” he said. “But I do have something else. Homemade. It’s almost gone, and that’s why I got the pie at the store because I don’t think there’s much left.”

  “Homemade, you say?”

  “By yours truly.”

  She sat up in her chair. “Bring it!”

  19

  Goose returned with two small white stoneware bowls, each containing a single scoop of ice cream.

  “Not exactly the warmest thing for a cool night, but take a bite and you’ll warm up,” he said cryptically.

  “You made this?”

  “Yep. And I ate the remainder of it, so I can attest that it’s good and not going to kill you.”

  Harriet raised her spoon and plunged it into the small soft dollop of ice cream, scooped out a good bite, and brought it to her mouth.

  Her eyes bulged, and Goose laughed.

  “It’s bourbon and vanilla and… Is that cinnamon?”

  He nodded. “I call it Cinnamon Garnet.”

  “I call it delicious! Have you shared this with anyone? Hannah would love it! I bet she’d want to sell it in the distillery café.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so, Goose.” She quickly polished off the contents of her bowl.

  “Maybe I’ll talk to Hannah about it. But I’m not sure. It’s really my mom’s recipe, and I just added a little extra cinnamon to it.”

  “If you don’t tell Hannah about this, I will,” she said, snuggling back into her chair. “It would be a crime to deprive the public of that flavor.”

  Goose asked Harriet whether she wanted another drink, but she declined any further bourbon for the evening. Instead, she asked for decaf, and Goose brought her a cup after taking some of the dishes into the kitchen. He joined her in drinking a little bit of java, and they continued to sit out on the deck even though the chill of the evening was deepening.

  “I can’t remember a better day, Goose,” she said and claimed his hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome. But that sounds like you’re about to leave.”

  “I’m at your mercy since you’re my driver. But just so it’s perfectly clear, let me add that I’m in no hurry to leave.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said and moved his chair until it was next to hers.

  She let her head fall back as Goose took her face in his hands.

  He just looked at her for several long seconds, amazed that he had this incredible woman for himself now. He’d finally been able to make love to her again and play out his sexual fantasies of the past several years.

  But this was the best part.

  Just being with her.

  Cooking a meal, giving her a drink, holding her hand, gazing up at the stars.

  “This is what next feels like, Harriet,” he said, kissing her.

  Harriet’s lips were cool and still infused with the taste of bourbon and coffee. They melted into an intoxicating, consuming kiss, broken when Harriet pulled away.

  “I feel like a fool,” she said in a languid, groggy voice.

  “Okay, not the sentiment I was hoping to hear.” He fell back into his chair.

  “I meant that I feel like a fool for wasting so much time, Goose. Five years. Because you’ve shown me over the course of just a few hours today that you’re the perfect guy. And I’ve wasted my time with an idiot. I feel stupid, angry.”

  “I’m not perfect, Harriet,” he said gruffly.

  “Then look at it from my point of view.” She turned in her chair to face him squarely. There was little light except from a sliver of a moon overhead and the light leaking from the house through the door leading into the kitchen.

  “Okay, tell me all about myself.”

  She sat up straight and looked directly at him. “You know boatloads about Old Garnet, my client. I’ve learned tons from you. You pretty much single-handedly got together the application to expand the historic site acreage designation, and you’re all over the National Historic Landmark application process. Very impressive.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “That’s my job.”

  “You noticed today when I looked at that sign advertising the hot browns. Incredibly perceptive. You wanted to get a sandwich and sit outside to eat lunch. Incredibly practical, fun, and downright sweet.”

  He said nothing. Her compliments had silenced him. He’d never thought of himself as that great, and to hear the woman of his dreams saying such things was embarrassing and stunning.

  “And when I told you about the ethics opinion, you were understandably angry, but you got over it. So then I got to have the best sex of my life in the woods with a super hunky and sweet guy.”

  His eyes bulged at her confession, and he wondered if the polite thing to say was it was the best for me, too, even better than The Cooperage, but Harriet kept talking.

  “Then you help me buy tires, buy a bunch of groceries and cook me a fantabulous dinner, feed me homemade ice cream, and to top it off you tell me that you built this deck,” she concluded, shaking her head. “So don’t even begin to tell me that I shouldn’t feel like a fool. I’ve missed so much not being with you all this time.”

  He took her hands in his and held them to his chest. “There is one big silver lining to all that wasted time.”

  “What’s that?” The warm vapor of her breath against the cold night air filled the space between them.

  “All the fun we’ll have making up for lost time.”

  The afghan fell from her shoulders, causing Harriet to shiver. “How about we make up for lost time indoors?”

  They stood together and entered the house holding hands, excited to keep extending the wonder of the day. In the next few seconds they were in his darkened bedroom, and Goose wasted no time.

  He clawed and pawed at Harriet’s clothing, and she was soon stripped to her socks. As Goose divested her of her attire, his lips claimed her mouth, her face, her neck, her breasts, leaving a trail of hot, teasing kisses and strokes across her upper body. Once she was nude, he gently pushed her back onto the bed, still kissing her until she was on her back. Goose then moved away from her and peeled her socks from her feet, leaving her completely nude and ready on his bed.

  The light was negligible in the small space, but it hit her form such that he could see the soft contours of her whole body and even the glistening wetness between her legs that was inviting him to love her again. His mouth captured hers, Harriet’s lips noticeably swollen and so perfectly inviting and suggestive. Goose hungrily claimed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her very being. Five years without this woman, this exquisite creature, had been an emotional and physical wasteland for him. He wanted to consume her. Finding and then losing her in such a short span of time had marked him, made him needy and, if he had to admit it, scared that she might once more walk out of his life.

  His hand moved lower, as did hers, and they soon were stroking each other, sighing and moaning under the other’s touch. Goose swiped a condom packet from the nearby table, and Harriet claimed it and opened it. She sheathed it on him, grinning as she did so, and damned if she didn’t ease his member right into her waiting wetness.

  Joined once more, Goose thought their lovemaking might be a little less fevered than it had been in the woods, that long-awaited coupling years in the making.

  He was wrong.

  Harriet’s passion and need were quickly evident as she thrust and moved against him, her hips wantonly grinding against his. Goose felt himself quickly peaking and had to pull out of her, moving in shallow thrusts, to hold back his climax; he didn’t want to rob Harriet of her pleasure.

  But her movements and need pulled him into that space of primal, fierce desire, and he was soon thrusting and driving into her, unable to further control or abate his lust.

  She cried his name as she climaxed with Goose lunging into her, her walls clenching and tightening aroun
d him.

  He wasn’t there yet, and kept up his rhythm until their bodies were slapping loudly against each other.

  “Fuck, that’s good, Harriet,” he said through clenched teeth as she continued to spasm around his shaft.

  Harriet went a little limp, but he was still at it, moving in and out of her quickly as he moved his hands around to her ass and pulled her toward him.

  But after her very brief rest, Harriet kept moving against him as she continued to claim him. Her breathing became rough, and her mouth opened in confusion and wonder.

  Even in his ecstatic state, Goose knew what was happening to the woman underneath him, and it was just what he needed to see, hear, and feel.

  “Oh, God, Harriet…” he said in a strangled voice as he came hard as he felt her tightening around him for the second time in such a short span of time.

  He collapsed on top of her and realized that she was nearly unconscious. Goose knew he couldn’t stay in that position because he was likely to pass out as well, and he needed to slip out of her and dispose of the condom.

  With a grinding, ugly grunt, he rolled himself from Harriet’s limp, gorgeous form, disposed of the thing, and returned to her side in the bed.

  He pulled the covers over them and nudged her onto his chest.

  Had he ever made a woman come like that twice? Goose thought not.

  She sighed, and he was a little surprised to see she was awake, if only barely conscious.

  “I… I need to… to…” Harriet trailed off.

  “You don’t need to do a damn thing except stay right here.” He pulled her against his side, kissed the top of her head, and brushed some hair from her face.

  “Just need to tell you something,” she said quietly into his chest. “What I said earlier… about the best ever… when we were in the woods?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s still true.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, unsure whether he should be insulted.

  “Yes, that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had outdoors,” she clarified. “And you just broke the indoors record as well.”

  He laughed raucously and with relief and then kissed her once more before they both fell into a perfect sleep.