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

by Jennifer Bramseth

  Yet due to his mixture of fear and resolve, or perhaps his more impulsive nature, Prent had bestowed upon her the role of victim instead of bearing the ignominy with her.

  How could she ever tell him that and expect him to love her even though her own love for him remained and, perversely, had grown that day?

  Miranda escaped toward Bourbon Springs, her thoughts and emotions as twisted as the road upon which she traveled in the glorious June sunshine.

  2

  Two and a half years later…

  Miranda finished her morning coffee, grabbed her purse and tote bag, and stumbled to her car. With hands slightly trembling as she put the keys in the ignition, she cursed upon realizing she’d forgotten her workout gear for a gym visit after work.

  Her whole damn day had been completely turned upside down in the course of a few minutes thanks to Prent’s visit that morning.

  After showing up on her doorstep bright and early with a bouquet of two dozen roses to mark the anniversary of the day he had proposed three years ago, Prent had challenged her, and she finally let her guard down. They had kissed and had been well on their way to a hell of a lot more before she’d snapped out of her lustful haze and told him to leave.

  But she hadn’t told him to leave her alone for good.

  She loved him and hated him.

  And if he knew the truth about her, he’d hate her instead of love her. But two and a half years after everyone thought Prent had left her at the altar, he still pursued her and Miranda couldn’t tell him to go away.

  Her body and mind had betrayed her that morning to him for the first time since that day. It felt all so familiar, so wonderful—and still so wrong.

  Rattled and running late, Miranda sped to her office, not looking forward to a long day ahead. She knew that most of her time would be taken up with paperwork rather than seeing patients, which was a frustrating time suck. Even though she had competent office staff, the administrative functions of being a doctor were overwhelming. And the stupid thing was that even though she was plenty busy as one of the town’s two OB/GYNs, she still had trouble making a decent living.

  She was seriously thinking about going into practice with the town’s other OB/GYN, an uptight doctor named Bradford Byrd, a decent guy but dull and without any bedside manner. He’d approached her several times in the past year suggesting they combine forces, but she’d rebuffed his offers.

  But it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet, to make sure her staff had a decent salary, and to give patients the attention they needed. Ideally, she’d like to have even more patients despite the added work. She enjoyed personal interaction and felt like she was losing a bit of her common touch.

  And she didn’t want to end up like Bradford—technically proficient but boring and unapproachable.

  Miranda rushed into the office and Grace, her hypercompetent office manager and nurse, was already behind the front desk.

  “Whoa, Doc,” she said and stood up.

  Miranda stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong? An emergency?”

  “No emergency. Just a warning. He’s at it again.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Miranda’s office.

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, Miranda pushed through the door beside the reception desk and back toward her office. Hadn’t the man invaded her world enough already that morning?

  She smelled them before she saw them.

  If she thought the flowers at home had been Prent’s big statement, she’d been wildly mistaken. Adorning various surfaces of her office that morning were no less than five vases, each filled with a dozen red roses. Prent sure knew how to outdo himself.

  After moving all the vases to a table in a corner so she could sit at her desk, Miranda checked her calendar and braced herself for the heavy day ahead. She was pleased to see Lila Davenport had the second appointment.

  When Lila had discovered she was pregnant, her first office visit had been one big crying fest. Lila had come in alone after “peeing on the stick,” as she had put it. She was so terrified of having another miscarriage that she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her husband about her positive home pregnancy test.

  Although Miranda knew Lila had suffered a miscarriage shortly after she was widowed, it was only when Lila became pregnant again had she shared the devastation of losing that child. Miranda hadn’t been Lila’s doctor at the time and had no idea how horrible the loss had been for Lila until that first office visit to confirm the pregnancy.

  After Miranda announced the positive blood test and Lila heard the due date, her entire demeanor changed from frantic to serene.

  “Okay, what’s so special about that date in March?” Miranda had asked.

  Lila clutched a tissue in her lap, smiling as she looked down.

  “That’s the day I proposed to Bo.”

  “You proposed? That’s wonderful!”

  “Not many people know that, so keep it to yourself.”

  Miranda assured her of confidentiality and smiled. “So I take it that particular date is a good sign?”

  Lila had put a hand on her tummy and nodded. “Angels are watching over us.”

  Now that Lila was nearing the end of her second trimester, she was completely healthy and there was no cause for worries. It was fun to watch a couple get more and more excited as the pregnancy progressed, and Bo and Lila Davenport were especially a delight to observe. Miranda suspected that they both never believed they would be parents. To see that sense of wonder and gratitude on their faces was something awesome to behold.

  “So, how’s little Miss Davenport and parents?” Miranda asked as she walked into the examining room.

  Bo and Lila sat side by side as they always did, holding hands and looking astounded and happy just to be there. After Lila’s first solo visit, Bo had been present for every checkup and test.

  “Active!” Lila put her free hand on her tummy. “Angelica’s had the hiccups since the moment I could feel her moving around.”

  Miranda put her hand on Lila’s stomach and felt the telltale patter that indicated that the baby did indeed have hiccups.

  “Angelica? Is that the name?” Miranda looked eagerly from Lila to Bo, and they both nodded. “That’s lovely. It’s old-fashioned, distinctive.”

  “Meaningful,” Bo said with a smile at his wife.

  “Have you shared the name with family yet?” Miranda asked

  “Of course,” Bo admitted, laughing. “Hannah finally wore us down.”

  “Truth be told, it was more fun to tell her and watch her get all excited about the baby’s sex and name than keep it from her,” Lila said.

  “I take it she likes the name?”

  “Loves it,” Bo and Lila said in unison.

  Miranda had Lila get up on the exam table and pull her shirt up and pants down to expose her bump. She checked the heartbeat, did a quick ultrasound, and pronounced all was well.

  “Due date still March 18?” Bo asked as Lila slipped off the table

  “Yes, but due dates are notoriously inaccurate,” Miranda reminded him. They’d had this discussion at several previous appointments.

  “I know. But that’s when she’ll arrive.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Miranda advised.

  “But some babies have to arrive on their due dates,” Lila pointed out as she arranged her clothes and slipped back into her shoes. “Just a matter of odds.”

  “I’m not going to take those odds.”

  “Not a betting woman?” Bo asked.

  “Far from it. I love a day at the races. But when it comes to babies, I’d never bet on a specific arrival date.”

  As Miranda sat at the small desk where Lila’s file was open, the parents-to-be engaged in a small verbal tussle.

  “Ask!” Lila urged her husband.

  “Not here,” Bo said.

  “If it has anything to do with the baby, by all means, ask me,” Miranda said.

  “It actually doesn�
��t have anything to do with the baby,” Bo said. “It’s more of an idea or venture we’re thinking about at Old Garnet.”

  “Sounds interesting. Tell me.”

  “We want to establish a small clinic on-site for our workers,” Bo said. “We’ve recently added another production line, and that means more employees on-site.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Miranda asked.

  “Something like a walk-in place,” Lila said. “We’d like to have a place for them to go on-site to get minor medical attention.”

  Bo nodded. “Our attorney says that the only way we could do it and make it work with the state authorities and make it financially doable is if we combine with a few other businesses to have a rotating doctor.”

  “You mean someone there on certain days?” Miranda asked, her interest piqued.

  “We’ve been talking with some other businesses about essentially setting up a kind of rotating clinic,” Lila said.

  “I think this is something I’d be interested in doing,” Miranda said. “How many businesses are you talking about?”

  “Jon—that’s Jon Buckler, our general counsel—tells us we need at least three to make this thing work,” Bo said, glancing at Lila. “We’ve got three now, but…”

  “Three? So what are the other two businesses besides Old Garnet?”

  “GarnetBrooke is one of them,” Lila said.

  “That would be convenient,” Miranda said. “You could have a doctor on-site at both Old Garnet and GarnetBrooke on the same day at different times since the businesses are just across the road from each other. So what’s the third?”

  Bo and Lila looked at each other, then to Miranda.

  “Commonwealth Cooperage,” Bo said soberly.

  “Oh,” Miranda said, unable to keep a flicker of disappointment out of her voice.

  “I take it that could be a deal killer?” Lila asked.

  “No, I’m interested,” Miranda said. “It’s just that Littleham is at least half an hour away and going there would take me away from Bourbon Springs for the better part of the day. I thought you were talking about a local business here in Craig County.”

  “There just isn’t a similarly-sized business in Bourbon Springs that would need this kind of service. That’s why we reached out to Kurt a few months ago. He thought the idea was great.”

  Kurt Oakes was Prent’s uptight uncle who ran Commonwealth Cooperage. Even though Prent and Kurt owned equal shares in the company, Kurt was in charge because Prent routinely deferred to his uncle’s decisions rather than risk his wrath.

  Although Prent’s personality usually was contrary to submissiveness, the reason for his acquiescence to his uncle’s control was because Kurt was the trustee of Prent’s fat trust fund. He held the purse strings for Prent’s deceased father and kept reasonably tight control on Prent when it came to his personal conduct and ruled the roost at the business. Miranda had never cared for the man. He was gruff and downright unpleasant.

  “Well, I agree with him,” Miranda said and closed Lila’s file.

  “You’re really interested?” Lila asked.

  “Yes, although the drive does worry me.”

  “Think about it,” Bo said as all three stood. “This thing is still not a done deal, and we haven’t talked to many doctors around here. We only have the ability to do this because of a pilot program through the state. The state health cabinet is trying to get small clinics into businesses as a way to expand medical access. If we tried to get our own health clinic permit, that process would take years. Jon’s put out feelers for physicians to join the project, but we haven’t had a great response. The money might not be enough for the work required. I don’t know.”

  Miranda parted with the Davenports, but they were on her mind the remainder of the day. She really liked the idea of the rotating clinic. Her schedule could easily be adjusted to make a few visits to Old Garnet and GarnetBrooke every week.

  She liked the idea of giving people better access to medical attention even if she technically wasn’t a primary care physician. It was part of her oath as a doctor to help others, and if she could do so through this kind of program—and make a little money on the side—that might not be such a bad deal.

  But the flaw in the Davenport plan was Commonwealth Cooperage. While the drive back and forth to Littleham would be problematic, the bigger problem was Prent.

  He went to work every day, despite his cavalier reputation. He had often mentioned his daily routine at the cooperage even though he was frequently out on timber-buying trips to Missouri or going around to distilleries to glad-hand. Prent was a charming rogue and the public face of Commonwealth Cooperage, much like Hannah Davenport had become the gregarious face of Old Garnet over the past few years.

  Trying to work with Prent, even on a part-time basis, was asking for trouble. Although they had contact, she tried to limit it to public events like going to BourbonDaze or a Mack Blanton concert.

  She never should’ve let him step foot inside her house that morning. Being alone with him had proven to be too much of a temptation. And in the likely close confines of an office setting, Miranda wasn’t comfortable with how she’d react to being around Prent on a semiregular basis even if they technically would be in public.

  She reluctantly concluded that working a rotating clinic was not feasible due to her personal connection to Prent, and the drive to Littleham would likely mean she’d miss half a day of work. Miranda felt no great loss since the opportunity had sounded tentative.

  Soon after five o’clock and front doors locked, Grace walked into her office with a stack of mail and chewing a big wad of gum. Miranda propped her feet up on her desk as she prepared for their daily after-work review.

  “Love the clogs.” Grace nodded to Miranda’s spectacularly gaudy footwear, which boasted rainbows and flowers. “Brightens up the place.”

  “Like we need that?” Miranda pointed to the five vases of roses, still stuffed onto the table in the corner of her office. “I really need to take them over to the hospital.”

  “I’ll get rid of ’em tomorrow,” Grace said, chomping her gum. She flopped into the chair in front of Miranda’s desk and looked at her boss stoically. “Good news or bad news first?”

  “Since I didn’t expect any good news today, give me that,” Miranda said and let her head fall back against her office chair.

  “Your mother called and canceled lunch for tomorrow. Said to call her.”

  “Bad news?”

  “Rent’s going up.”

  Miranda swung her feet down and snatched the letter proffered to her by Grace.

  “Again? But they just did that to us six months ago!”

  “Lease lets ’em do it,” Grace said and handed Miranda a copy of the current office lease. “Told you to lock in for two years.”

  Miranda cursed as she read the letter.

  “This property company is gonna bleed us dry!”

  “What can you do?” Grace shrugged. “Not like we can move, can we?”

  Miranda knew that was the truth. She’d looked into other office space the previous summer but couldn’t find anything with that combination of affordable, appropriate, and conveniently located to the hospital.

  She threw the letter down, thinking that this was the final straw for her solo medical practice in Bourbon Springs.

  “I’ll send you Dr. Byrd’s number,” Grace said and left.

  Miranda glanced at the letter from the property management company again and did some calculations in her head. There was no way she could pay the new exorbitant rent. It looked as though she would have to take Dr. Byrd up on his offer to go into practice together—if that offer still existed.

  And if he found out that she was on the ropes financially, the terms of that offer might change to her disadvantage.

  But then she thought about Bo and Lila Davenport’s unusual program and knew that was the direction in which her smart head but foolish heart was leading her.

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nbsp; 3

  Contrary to what many believed about him, Prent loved working at Commonwealth Cooperage.

  He loved the guys on the line, the people in administration, the truck drivers. He loved going to the distilleries to learn about the new bourbons they were planning and relished every opportunity to help a master distiller create the perfect barrel.

  Because Prent understood the craft. He understood the business, the people, the barrels.

  And one thing he knew better than anyone was his oak.

  When he was growing up, since his last name was Oakes, Prent thought his family owned every oak tree in the world. How else could they get the wood to make all those barrels? He could still recall his shock when he’d discovered the name was merely a quirk of fate although it did tend to prove that old saying about name as destiny.

  Prent had learned as much about the business as he could from his father, Ollie, before his dad’s death shortly after his graduation from Vanderbilt over ten years ago. He’d inherited half the business as well as a decent chunk of money, but there were so many strings attached that Prent felt like a marionette.

  Tethered to another, without control, not his own person.

  Outwardly, he presented a happy, even reckless attitude. But a decade after his father’s passing he was no closer to having a true partnership with his uncle.

  He still had to be a reasonably good boy to get Uncle Kurt to ensure regular trust fund distributions since his father’s will had left it within Kurt’s sole discretion to dole out money as he saw fit until Prent was forty years old when he got everything.

  His father had provided a means to escape his uncle’s financial tyranny.

  If Prent married and stayed married for at least one year by the day he turned thirty-five years old, the entire principal would be his. No more grumpy uncle holding the keys to his kingdom, no waiting for what should rightfully be his.