Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  And Mack’s audience of one, a silly, conflicted woman, was starting to think that there really could be something worth staying in Bourbon Springs for.

  She was crying and she knew that he saw it, but she made no effort to stop or hide her tears.

  The song ended, and as she clapped and wiped away the last of her tears, Mack took the guitar off, put it on the ground, and sat next to her.

  “Didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “Sure you didn’t”

  “Really, I didn’t.”

  “So why’d you bring me up here? Why’d you write that song?”

  “To impress you. To get your attention.”

  “You can check those off your list.”

  Mack took her hand. Jorrie welcomed the touch and his warmth and snuggled against his side.

  “So you own this land?” she asked.

  “No, not me. My grandpa,” he said as he put an arm around her shoulders. “But I’ve roamed all over this hill all my life.”

  “Lucky you. I bet you come up here and write music, don’t you?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  Jorrie was content in those moments to simply sit and enjoy the feel of him against her as he kept her warm and gave her the gift of not merely his company and his talent, but shared his knowledge of the beauty of an unparalleled view. The heavens seemed to expand the longer she sat there in the cool evening air, and rather than making her feel small and insignificant, the night wrapped around her like a comfort, something familiar and needed.

  “So how do you like my corner of the sky up here?”

  Jorrie lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up.

  “It’s wonderful. Is this where you want to soar?”

  “I think I’m already flying.”

  When his hand touched her cheek, she dropped her gaze from the heavens. Mack brought his lips to her, and he kissed her lightly, sweetly, slowly.

  Jorrie broke away, breathing heavily. She looked down at Bourbon Springs—the town they both hoped to leave someday for the bigger, wider, world.

  And the memory and pain of losing her old boyfriend to that bigger world returned. How did she get into this situation again?

  “If we’re two people who have ambitions beyond what we can see,” she whispered, “we’re acting like idiots, Mack. Why should we do this?”

  “Because of what you just said—there are still things we don’t know, we can’t see. That we’ve still yet to discover.”

  “So you’re still trying to figure out whether there’s something to keep you here in Bourbon Springs besides the old gentleman in the house at the bottom of this hill?”

  “And you’re still wondering whether that old man’s grandson might be that for you?” he shot back.

  “Maybe.”

  “Jorrie, maybe we should stop thinking, stop wondering, stop questioning each other.”

  “That’s a tall order for a lawyer, Mack.”

  “As well as for a musician who tries to make sense of the world by writing songs about all those same doubts,” he countered.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that when I came back to Bourbon Springs I vowed that I wouldn’t get involved with anyone. That I’d decided I wasn’t going to be here long, that I didn’t want a girlfriend, didn’t want the distraction, and certainly didn’t want to risk a broken heart again. But things don’t always go as planned. Maybe there’s more here than I ever imagined.”

  “You let your guard down?”

  “Yep,” he acknowledged. “Think you can do the same? See what happens? See what we can discover together?”

  “I don’t know. Lawyers are notoriously risk averse.”

  He laughed. “I should be too after what’s happened to me over the past few years.”

  “So why aren’t you more cautious?” She moved a little closer to him.

  “I guess I’m a fool.”

  And, Jorrie realized, so was she.

  She was sitting on top of the highest point in the county with a man obviously attracted to her but couldn’t promise anything more than a good time.

  She was shivering and a little afraid, yet enthralled by the view, the night, the sky, and the realm of possibilities that seemed to be unfurling before her, like the fields of Bluegrass stretching endlessly into the darkened distance to the east.

  A whisper, a memory of old pain—losing someone she thought she’d loved to ambition—passed over her like a ghostly warning, leaving her rattled.

  Yet on Mack’s face she saw that glint of hope and interest. It was that same germ of naiveté, vulnerability, and lust that flickered in her stomach.

  And at that moment with the heavens above her and the earth below, she felt as though she was sitting on top of the world.

  It was time to take a leap of faith and see if she could fly, if she could soar along with him, and see how far they could go together.

  “Then that makes two of us,” she said as she leaned toward him and kissed him.

  She felt him give a little start as their lips met, but then Mack responded to her advance by wrapping his arms around her and tightly holding her. She welcomed the feel of his body against hers; she was chilled, but more than that she relished the feel of his hard chest against her own, his hands upon her body, and the brush of his rough cheek against her face.

  Then his mouth became greedier, needier, hungrier, and his tongue flicked the tip of her own. Jorrie sighed as Mack broke their kiss, then trailed tiny kisses from the corner of her mouth, along her cheek, and up to her temple.

  “I have no idea where this will go, Jorrie,” he whispered against her skin. “And the only promise I can give you is this: I want to find out where this goes.”

  “That’s enough for me,” she said, pulling away to look at him. “That’s enough for now.”

  Mack cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard and long, with his hands eventually migrating to her back. She allowed him to lean her back on the hard, cool ground, and he hovered above her, simply looking at her, stroking her cheek, and fingering her short, curly hair.

  Jorrie moved a hand to his cheek and mirrored his movements before he lowered his head to her neck and began to plant tiny kisses along her sensitive skin. She groaned and pulled his head closer while he moved a hand under her thin shirt.

  “Tell me when to stop,” he said amidst the steady stream of kisses to her neck as his hand moved higher.

  Jorrie said nothing.

  Mack’s hand moved higher up her chest until it touched the lower edge of her bra. He leaned back, and she saw him search her face for some sign of resistance, but she smiled at him, finding his hesitancy sweet and respectful.

  His fingers crept under the edge of her bra until his fingers brushed gently across her nipple. Mack sat up and moved his other hand to the same position and began to gently caress her breasts under her bra.

  Jorrie sighed, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply as she felt Mack’s hands upon her breasts for the first time. The smell of mash was faint in the air, and she could detect the smell of something burning from far away.

  “Can I see you in the moonlight, Jorrie?” He slipped his hands around to her back.

  “You first.” She brought her hands up to his chest where her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.

  He shuddered as she slowly undid the buttons. When Jorrie was about halfway finished, she slipped her hands inside his shirt and splayed them on his hard and hairless chest. She gently brushed his nipples with her forefingers and then her thumbs, touching him just as he’d touched her.

  Mack took in a sharp breath and froze; a glance at his groin told her what she was doing to him. Her awareness of his arousal heightened her own, and the tenseness between her legs increased.

  As she moved her hands lower to continue unbuttoning his shirt, a long sigh escaped him and Mack closed his eyes.

  “Take the
damn thing off…,” he whispered, his head falling back.

  When she reached the shirt button at his waist, she stopped, a bit frightened of going any further. He resolved her dilemma by pulling the shirt from his pants and then from his body.

  His skin shimmered before her in the weak light, and she was momentarily breathless at the image of him hovering above her. It was difficult to see his face, but she could hear his ragged breathing, which matched the pace of her own.

  “Let me see you in this moonlight,” he said.

  She let him slowly divest her of her shirt and bra until the garments were tossed aside and she was before him, topless and quaking from desire and the cold breezes which washed over them at that altitude. Her skin was gooseflesh and her nipples hard and taut from arousal and the chill.

  “Jorrie…,” he whispered as the wind began to quiet. Mack put his hands on the side of her torso and slowly moved them up her body until he cupped her breasts.

  She reached for him.

  “I’m cold,” she said, and he fell into her waiting arms. “Keep me warm.”

  Mack pressed his chest against her as he claimed her mouth, and Jorrie knew for the first time what it felt like to truly melt in a man’s arms.

  His lips, his chest, his legs—his entire body was warm, hard, and delicious. The heat pouring off him and through his skin where their bodies touched spread across her skin and through her veins until any chill she suffered was banished.

  She moved to brush her nipples against his chest, reveling in the sensation of such a basic erotic connection, but the move proved too sensual for Mack. He tore his lips from hers and gave her a warningly hungry look.

  Jorrie’s hand moved to his chest, then down until it rested at his waist. She slipped her hand under his jeans, but immediately withdrew it, as if burned.

  Mack laughed and rolled to his side.

  “Busted,” he said.

  “You’re—you’re not—why aren’t you wearing underwear?” Jorrie demanded, scrambling from his side.

  How stupid could she be?

  Had he brought her all the way up this stupid hill just to sing and sweet talk her and then get a quick bang? Did he really think she’d be willing to do that after he sang her a song, showed her a pretty view, and felt her up?

  Jorrie looked down at her naked chest and felt ashamed and foolish.

  So she was a fool.

  “I ran out of clean underwear,” Mack claimed. “Honest.”

  “It doesn’t add up, Mack. You obviously had a clean shirt,” Jorrie said, crossed her arms over her chest, and nodded to Mack’s discarded button-down a few yards away. “So why no clean undies?”

  “It was my last clean one,” he said, and she could hear the irritation in his voice. “Really, Jorrie, if I wanted to do more with you, I’d not take you to the top of a cold hill. And I really didn’t expect we’d end up like this.”

  The wind picked up and she shuddered.

  “Can I still keep you warm?” he asked plaintively, his head a little bowed.

  “Promise me something first.”

  He shrugged.

  “Go get some more undies tomorrow.”

  “Only if you come with me.”

  Mack’s hand slid up and down the side of her body as he bestowed a flurry of kisses upon her. His thumb and fingers brushed the side of her breast, but he made no move to touch her nipple, and she understood he was teasing her a little. His mouth slowly crept to her cheek, her jaw, and down her neck where his tongue raked her delicate skin in long, slow trails.

  Jorrie grabbed Mack’s head and wove her fingers through his hair as his hand finally moved over one breast. He rolled her pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and her eyes closed as her head fell back against the cool earth.

  Mack replaced his hand with his mouth and tongue and began to gently suck and tease as his other hand caressed her other breast.

  It had been a long time since she’d let a man touch her like this—years, in fact. She had forgotten how it felt to have a man’s hands and mouth on her breasts—and other places.

  Now her body was telling her it had been way too long.

  But even if they weren’t going to cross that line tonight to become lovers in the complete physical sense, her every nerve was telling her that they would someday. What was happening between them high on Springfield Knob was just one sweet, sensual step on that journey.

  Nonetheless, she wanted to feel him against her most sensitive places. She wanted that bulge against her own warm core, to revel in the knowledge that his hardness came from his desire for her.

  Jorrie wrapped her legs around Mack’s waist and urged him against her.

  “I thought—not here…,” he whispered against her skin as he briefly removed his lips from her breast.

  “Not here,” she confirmed, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel you, Mack.”

  “Say the word, and I can make sure that you feel me inside you, Jorrie,” he said against her neck. He moved his hand between their bodies until his palm was on her crotch.

  “Not tonight,” she whispered.

  Mack shifted his hand to her breast, sat up, and stroked her cheek.

  “Someday.”

  “I thought we weren’t making promises.”

  “And I’m not asking you for one. Just telling you my dream,” he said. He bent his head to kiss her neck and then trailed kisses until his mouth was back to her breasts.

  She pulled his head tightly to her chest, dizzy with desire, and looked up to the cool, bright heavens. She saw a falling star, made a wish, hoping that one day they would share his dream.

  9

  “Thanks for doing this,” Mack said to Brady and Rachel as he led them through the quiet halls of Craig County High School one Friday morning.

  “Glad to do it,” Rachel said. “I don’t think we’ve ever spoken to a summer school class.”

  Mack had asked Jon whether he could come and speak to his students about the legal system, but Jon had a better idea.

  He offered to contact the two circuit judges and see if they’d be interested in talking to the students. Mack had thought it was just Jon’s way of putting him off and hadn’t expected either judge to be interested in speaking to a bunch of at-risk summer school students with marginally presentable manners. Yet, to his surprise, both agreed to come and talk.

  He’d been a little desperate for something different to present to the kids, just to shake things up. While they needed additional book learning, they also needed exposure to people and places they usually didn’t enjoy. The trip to the farm had been one way to treat them, get them some physical activity, and show them a little piece of the town they probably hadn’t known existed. He was thinking about taking them to the distillery, but knew that some parents might object to the outing due to the product and the underage nature of the kids.

  The trips and diversions also had a more practical aspect. Although Mack had thought he was a decent teacher, he hadn’t been prepared to handle these particular kids in summer school.

  Teaching elementary school kids or music was his thing, not so much handling a bunch of smart-ass teens. He’d been casting about all summer long for novel stuff to do with them besides just testing them and making them read chapters in text books. That had gotten old fast, and the results were mixed at best.

  Adding to his classroom frustration was that since he’d been dating Jorrie, he’d found it harder and harder to concentrate on simply going home, sitting down, and drafting lesson plans for the next day. Invariably when he did this, his mind would drift, and he’d then start thinking about music he wanted to write for her. He’d already written a dozen new songs about her (he hadn’t told her about them), and they’d only been dating for around two weeks.

  Their dates had been nothing more than simple times out at The Windmill or similar places. They hadn’t even made love yet—although they’d come damned close a few times—but he was pretty sur
e he was obsessed with her.

  He had been the one who had resisted getting in too deep, and yet he was the one falling hard.

  When she told him that she was still going on that blind date since she’d promised her friend she’d go, Mack had tried to act like it wasn’t any big deal.

  But the truth was that it had killed him.

  “So how many kids are we talking about?” Brady asked as he adjusted his tie.

  “About twenty, all with very limited attention spans, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve got a cure for that,” Rachel said.

  “Then you gotta tell me your secret, Judge,” Mack begged her.

  “I could tell them crazy stories, of course,” Rachel said as she brushed lint from the jacket of her navy-blue pantsuit. She smiled at her husband. “Like the time the ceiling fell on me in chambers when I was wearing this very suit.”

  Mack looked from judge to judge and realized that there was a tale there, but maybe all of it couldn’t be told.

  “Well, I did hear that you got held hostage in the courtroom once,” Mack said to Brady. “And that you proposed to Judge Richards in that same courtroom.”

  “Those are good stories too.” Brady slipped his wife’s hand into his own as the trio continued down the hall. “Especially the proposal one.”

  “That was a fairy tale,” Rachel whispered to Brady as if to discourage him from telling the story.

  “And we’re still living it,” Brady said to his wife, kissing her hand just before they entered the classroom.

  Mack was pleased that most of the kids were attentive through the judges’ presentations. Rachel stuck to her plan and told crazy stories, and Brady described the judicial process and added a few wild tales of his own. Mack noted that they did not talk about the incident involving the ceiling, or Brady being held hostage, but did describe how Brady had proposed to Rachel in the courtroom.

  The story got a few sighs from the handful of girls in the class, but Mack saw that the boys were completely unimpressed and not paying one whit of attention.

  Except for one.

  In the back, Gary, that surly and never-happy kid, was sitting on the edge of his seat, paying rapt attention to Brady’s story. Mack thought this was a strange sight; Gary rarely showed any interest in anything they’d done in or out of the classroom. But even he’d been enthralled by the proposal story.