Whiskey (Brewed Book 2)

by Molly McAdams

  “Whiskey,” he said after a few moments, a hint of dejection peeking out through the word.

  “Brand?”

  “Does it matter?” His eyes widened comically when my head snapped up at that. “Right, sorry. Uh . . . I don’t know. Jack.”

  I sighed dramatically. “Woulda taken you for a bourbon guy.”

  That crooked grin that was bound to be my undoing crossed his face. “Why’s that?”

  Because it’s all I can think about anymore.

  It’s in my head, and I want to be wrapped in it . . . in you.

  “I have my reasons,” I said vaguely.

  “Well, I’m not really an anything kinda guy, so I’ll trust you. Whatever you choose.”

  “Then I’ll be back,” I said as I twisted around and headed down the hall and into the bar.

  Slipping behind the bar area, I grabbed two tumblers and the bottle of Knob Creek, pouring a couple fingers in each before I realized someone was watching me.

  “What’s up?” I asked Brady as I put the bottle back and headed to the POS system to put the drinks on my tab.

  “What’s that?” he asked with a jerk of his chin toward the glasses.

  A little laugh of confusion left me.

  He knew about my tradition. He’d worked here for a few years now.

  When he continued watching me, I asked, “What do you mean? It’s Sunday.”

  How many times would I have to say that tonight?

  “There are two of them,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “Well, it’d be rude to drink without him.”

  “Cayson’s still back there?” Shock ripped through his words and across his features as he looked toward the doors that led to the back.

  When he brought his attention back to me, I was just watching him, silently daring him to say something.

  His eyes rolled in aggravation as he faced forward. “Just be careful, Em.”

  “It’s Cayson Dixon,” I said as I grabbed the drinks. “I’m always careful with him.”

  When I made it into the office, Cayson had the binder on my desk and was staring at it like it had the power to ruin him.

  “I think you should tell me where to go, and I should do the counting,” he mumbled before looking at me, his brow furrowing when I set one of the tumblers in front of him and grabbed a chunk of bread. “You look angrier than when you left, and I’ve been in here the entire time.”

  My eyes rolled, the explanation coming out on an irritated huff as I sat on the corner of my mom’s desk so I was facing him. “Just Brady putting his opinion where it isn’t welcome.”

  “He likes you,” he said, the words so low and rough they felt like a caress even with the hint of amusement behind them. “Boy’s trying real hard to put a claim on you.”

  “I’ve been made aware,” I said through a large bite. At Cayson’s questioning look, I explained, “Your brother likes to remind me.”

  He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward, the muscles in his forearms tensing and rolling and being entirely too distracting. “Is there a claim there?”

  I was so focused on his arms that I almost didn’t catch what he’d asked.

  Swallowing the food, I met his curious stare. “No, of course not. He works for me.”

  “And if he didn’t?”

  He would’ve never been you.

  The truth was begging to be heard, but I silenced it.

  Looking away, I pressed the glass to my lips and said, “My answer wouldn’t change.”

  The grunt that rumbled in his chest screamed his doubt, but before he could put words to it, I spoke, switching subjects again.

  “And why would you be the one to count? You don’t know where anything is back here.”

  “Still has to be faster than doing it yourself.”

  “No,” I said, the word almost a laugh. “It would probably take twice as long that way.” When he only stared at me, still not offering to go back to the original way, I sighed. “Fine, we can both count. That way you can learn where everything is.”

  Amusement poured from him when he asked, “Already planning on having me back next Sunday?”

  “Of course not,” I said quickly, sputtering for an explanation when that crooked smile crossed his face, showcasing his dimples.

  “You don’t even know if I’ll ruin your inventory yet.”

  “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

  “Is it a date since there’s food involved?”

  I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and my breathing shallow as humiliation and old fears swept through me. “No,” I wheezed. “I-I—No.”

  “I’ll be here,” he assured me, marking it by downing half his drink and then grabbing a slice of pizza. “Let’s do this.”

  “You’re ruining this for me,” I said dramatically, a smile pulling at my lips as I continued to enter the order hours later.

  “It’s the Dixie Chicks,” Cayson said from where he’d been protesting my current music choice behind me, his voice even huskier than usual.

  I reached back, swatting at him and connecting with his face for a moment.

  A shiver ripped through me when he grabbed at my hand, letting the tips of his fingers curl around mine for a moment before letting them go.

  Once my breathing had returned to normal and the chills that had erupted across my skin had disappeared, I somehow managed to dislodge the knot in my throat enough to speak. “They fill my soul. It’s also the last part of the tradition . . . so . . .”

  “It’s been two songs now.”

  “Oh, it’s gonna be more than that.” The words rolled from my tongue, all affection and gentle taunt. “They’ll be singing us through the entire order. They help me focus.”

  He tilted my tumbler where it sat next to my arm, his mouth coming dangerously close to my ear when he said, “You’re tipsy. I don’t think the Dixie Chicks can help you now.”

  “They help me through everything.”

  Including you leaving.

  “So, can we blame them if the order’s wrong?”

  “It won’t be,” I scoffed, feigning offense.

  As if I would ever input a wrong order.

  But a little giggle still slipped free and ended on a gasp when he picked up my tumbler and knocked back the last of the contents.

  “Mine,” I said in something that possibly bordered on a whine as I turned to follow and reach for the glass, his free hand stopping the attempt and his eyes capturing mine.

  And there went my heart.

  That chaotic pounding that belonged solely to him.

  The air grew thick with tension as we stared at each other, with him so close and standing so tall and imposing in this room.

  I silently begged him to bend down. To press his mouth to mine.

  To let me know I wasn’t the only one who had been weakening under the strain of keeping my thoughts and hands and mouth to myself as the night wore on.

  To put me out of this misery I’d been living in the last ten years . . .

  One or two drinks had turned into four despite Cayson’s early reluctance and Brady’s rising irritation.

  Each drink disappearing between quips and sneers and dancing around difficult conversations with lesser honesties.

  Cayson’s teasing banter had my body betraying me. Smiles cracking, laughs tumbling free, and the space between us disappearing with a touch here and a playful shove there.

  Wholly different from the teasing he’d been known for. Unexpected. Intriguing.

  It was all so new, yet he made it feel familiar. As though we’d been doing this for years and not hours.

  And somewhere along the way, my defenses had fallen and been forgotten in a puddle of trembling need.

  Between the husky laughs and crooked grins and brushes of his skin against mine when he’d reach for something. The way he’d casually snatch the last bite of food from my fingertips and pop it into his mouth, winking when I’d look at him in shock . . . I
was starting to forget why I was supposed to hate him.

  Why I needed to keep him at a distance.

  Why I needed to look away when my body and heart wanted to get lost in those eyes.

  Those eyes that were currently dipping to study my mouth as his fingers drifted from mine to my wrist. His hold both gentle and firm in a way that told me this was exactly how he would touch me if I asked him to.

  If only he knew that I’d dreamed about those hands on me for longer than I could admit.

  “Em—”

  I jolted away from Cayson and his touch. My chair rolling back to put even more distance between us when the door was flung open, slamming against the wall and bouncing back to Brady’s outstretched hand.

  His wounded yet defensive stare shifted from Cayson to me, one of his shoulders lifting a little. “Whoops.”

  Cayson coughed out a dark laugh and looked over his shoulder.

  “We’re closed,” Brady said evenly. “Have been for a while now. You should head out.”

  “Brady.” A soft sigh escaped me as I sagged into the chair.

  After tapping the pause button to stop the song, I started to speak again, but Brady effectively silenced and sobered me with a few simple words. “Brooke came in.”

  There went my heart, wrenched from my chest and shredded into a bleeding pile on the floor.

  “Said she hasn’t heard from you.”

  When Cayson realized that news wasn’t for me, he shifted to face where Brady stood guard in the doorway. “Okay . . .” he said slowly, drawing out the word. “I didn’t know she expected to.”

  A harsh breath heaved from Brady. “And that’s why I didn’t tell her you were back here.”

  “I mean, what do you want me to say?” Cayson asked with a hint of frustration.

  “Want?” Brady asked. “A lot. Expected?” The word hung in the air for a long moment, thick and weighted until Brady’s huff shattered it. “Not much more than you did.”

  “The fuck is that supposed—”

  “Are y’all done?” I asked over Cayson, refusing to meet either of their stares. When no one responded, I kept my tone firm. “Brady, are y’all done with the closing tasks?”

  Seconds passed before he gave a reluctant, “Yeah.”

  “Then, goodnight.” I practically felt the protest shouting from him, so I looked at him and added, “I’m almost done here. And I maybe, sorta know how to lock up the building.”

  I offered a smile to top it all off and felt a little of the tension ease when he smiled back as if he couldn’t help himself, and gave me a small nod. “Get home safe, Em.”

  After a hard look in Cayson’s direction, he started down the hall, his footfalls echoing until they were gone altogether.

  “Jesus,” Cayson said on a breath. “Kid’s got it—”

  “You can go too.”

  Silence.

  Deafening, awful, soul-crushing silence.

  “So, we’re back there now?” he asked after a while, voice gruff.

  I didn’t respond. Didn’t look at him.

  I wasn’t sure I could without breaking down.

  Whiskey-induced, long-forgotten defenses and all that.

  Instead, I tapped the play button and focused on inputting the remainder of what I needed for the order as my girls sang songs that healed unbearable hurts.

  Tremors moved through my body when Cayson leaned across me, placing a hand over mine and tapping a key with the other.

  Once again stopping the song. Stopping me.

  Forcing me to look either at him or at my lap.

  Refusing to let this go, twisting the knife a little deeper.

  “Can’t figure you out, Emberly Olsen.” I clenched my jaw tight and let my head fall when my name on his lips was too much. “You’re gonna have to help me out. Tell me what just happened.”

  “You happened,” I cried out, looking up to glare at him. “And now I want you to leave. I don’t even know why you insisted on being here tonight—what you’re getting out of this.”

  “You don’t—” He straightened to rough a hand through his dark, messy hair, an aggravated groan raking up his throat before he leaned forward, caging me into my chair. “How is it not obvious?”

  “Why would anything with you be obvious?” I shot back. “Even tonight—you said you came for dinner only to take it back five minutes later.”

  “And what if I’d told you I came here for you?” he asked, chest rising and falling roughly as he studied me, waiting for my reaction. “What if I’d said that in front of everyone who was waiting for something to gossip about when you were already pissed and walking away?”

  “I would’ve called you out on your shit.”

  He tossed his hands in the air before letting them fall as he sat back on the desk and pierced me with a devastating look. “I can’t win with you because you’ll always expect the worst of me.”

  “Well, when you’re fucking your ex one night and being groped in front of me by Caroline a couple nights later, it’s kinda hard to see anything else.”

  The backs of my eyes burned. A few of my words hitched.

  But I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  Because this was happening. Words I’d buried deep were being said. And Cayson was staring at me with a mixture of rage and confusion.

  “What?” It was a growl, plain and simple.

  Instead of repeating words I wasn’t sure I could get out again, I lifted my chin and held his stare.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “Don’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t pretend, don’t try to make me feel like some naïve, stupid girl. That won’t work anymore.”

  “No, I mean what,” he said roughly, folding his arms over his chest as if trying to keep his shaking under control. “If you’re gonna come at me for having a relationship when I was away from this town, we’re gonna put an end to that shit now. It’s over. You know it’s over.”

  My head shook wildly, trying to block out how he was trying to distract me from the truth of this conversation with things I’d never wanted to think about in the first place.

  “Not that anything I did with Gabriela is your business, but considering I was on an offshore rig before coming here, it’s been a hell of a lot longer than a couple nights since I’ve slept with her.”

  “You know she isn’t who I’m talking about and you know what you’re doing right now!”

  He was all exasperated laughs and frustration when he said, “No, I really don’t.”

  “Brooke!”

  He leaned back at my outburst, the frustrated amusement slipping from his face. “Brooke . . .” His head shifted a little, almost as if he was about to shake it and then stopped. “What about Brooke?”

  I let my head fall into my hand and placed my elbow on the desk. “Cayson, don’t . . . just don’t.”

  A startled gasp ripped from my lungs when his knuckles pressed under my chin and lifted so I was looking directly into those eyes.

  “What about Brooke?” Everything about his touch and expression and tone was pleading. When I started pulling away, he begged, “Emberly.”

  “Y-you,” I stammered, my head subtly shaking. “You and her.”

  Genuine confusion crossed his face and gave way to anger, filling my stomach with dread and forcing the explanation from me.

  “My mom,” I started shakily, “she saw you with her in here the other night—the night we thought you left. Brady was talking about it later, saying you moved quick and was annoyed that it was with his sister.”

  His stare slashed to mine, brows drawn close, expression unreadable.

  “That afternoon, Brooke was in here with some friends, recounting your night for damn near the entire café to hear.” I awkwardly waved toward the open doorway. “I think that’s half the reason Brady’s so pissed.”

  His chest heaved with a muted laugh as he pushed from the desk and started toward the door.


  Just when I began to crumple, he turned and ate up the distance he’d placed between us, once again caging me in my seat by placing his hands on the arms of the chair.

  “Brooke? Haven’t touched her since long before I left Amber. Long before,” he repeated, the words hard and clipped to make sure I understood their meaning. “The other night? Yeah, I talked to her and about a half dozen other girls that came up throughout the night to return their greetings and shoot down their interest.”

  I thought through everything Mom had told me when she’d come to check on me during the hangover from hell . . . what Brady had said later.

  Neither of them had seen Cayson and Brooke do anything. My mom had only said I needed to be careful.

  Guard my heart.

  Add in what Brady had heard and his moving fast comment, and I hadn’t needed any other explanation.

  Then again, how many times had I seen girls touch Sawyer or Hunter? Practically drape themselves across them in a disgusting attempt at getting their attention?

  All with the hopes of snagging a Dixon.

  When Sawyer had fallen hard and fast for Rae, the women around here had practically become animalistic in their attempts of catching Hunter’s eye whenever he came into the main part of town.

  I should’ve known. Shouldn’t have been surprised.

  But I’d heard Cayson and Brooke and started shutting down, trying not to think about the man walking in and out of my days and making me crazy.

  When Brooke had come in bragging, I’d gone into self-preservation mode.

  I hadn’t even considered that she might be making an unfounded claim in an attempt to crush others’ hopes.

  “Make no mistake, Brady is mad,” Cayson continued. “But he’s pissed because he knows all I can see since setting foot in this town is you.”

  Chaos erupted in my chest.

  So wild and fierce it stole my breath and made my head feel light for a moment.

  “Cayson,” I managed to gasp.

  “But I think I understand now.” He pushed from the chair and stepped away, his face etched with sadness as he studied me like he was looking at me for the last time. “I’ve already done too much damage for that to ever mean anything.”