The Barrel House Series: Boxed Set: Bourbon Love Notes, Bourbon on the Rocks, Bourbon Nights, Bourbon Fireball

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “I like you. I don’t know. I care about you, and I’m attracted to you physically and emotionally. What other reasons could I have after just hanging out with you a few times? I have the desire to be around you and be someone you might need or want in your life.”

  “Even with all the baggage?”

  “We all have baggage. It’s a part of life, but when you hide the baggage, you disappear with it, and I don’t want that for you.”

  “Brody, if you sleep on it and feel differently, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. Just be honest, and I’ll be okay.”

  “Honestly, I just want to be with you—all parts of you, broken and whole.”

  I didn’t think I’d feel the same about him. I’ve avoided friendships and relationships for so long because I didn’t want to bring anyone into this life I’ve created. I never assumed anyone would volunteer to break down my walls just to be in my life that I consider a mess.

  “I won’t push you away.”

  “Good, because I still need to run an errand with you after this.”

  “What errand?”

  “You’ll see.”

  18

  The nearest Walmart is only twenty minutes away, but I rarely shop there. However, Brody is insisting on going for his errand. “I’ve never met a person who can’t go to Walmart by themselves,” I tell him as we pull into the large parking lot.

  “I told you, I’m needy.”

  He’s not needy. He’s up to something.

  The sun has reached its peak today, and it’s the first time I have felt the warmth from the sky since Dad passed away. I’m ready for spring.

  “How long have you been—um—dealing with—”

  “Bulimia?” There’s no sense in beating around the bush at this point. “Since I was twenty-one.”

  Brody nods and continues walking. “Does it make you feel better or …?”

  “When I’m not feeling well, mentally, I don’t have an appetite, so when I eat, the feeling of being full comes quickly and makes me nauseous. I can’t deal with the sensation, and I want it to go away. Therefore, I try to be more mindful of how much I eat at once so I can avoid feeling full.”

  “Do you snack throughout the day? Maybe it would be easier on your stomach?”

  I know he’s trying to help. I wouldn’t expect complete silence after finding out about my issue, but it’s not so easy to explain my reasons behind it. “I don’t think about eating or food like most people. If I do, it’s about dinner, and I think about it when it’s time to eat. I’m just not usually hungry.”

  “Makes sense,” he says.

  No, it doesn’t.

  We walk through the sliding doors of Walmart, greeted by the scent of preserved lunch meats and over-seasoned sub rolls. Which I am not a fan of. The store is relatively empty since it’s mid-day, and Brody knows exactly where he’s heading, which seems to be the back of the store.

  “Did you take the day off? Or do you just work when you feel like it?”

  “I work when I feel like it,” he says, continuing to walk ahead.

  “Liar.”

  “We have a flex schedule. I work with my dad, and we smoke barrels and handle the warehouse input and output. It’s not a typical nine-to-five job.”

  “I guess that’s not a bad deal.” We turn the corner at the last aisle, heading toward the Television displays. “Okay, I’m stumped. What could you need down here?”

  He stops walking and turns around, facing me. “DVDs,” he says.

  My confusion is purely because people rarely watch DVDs anymore. I only know one person who still watches them. “Journey, I have a feeling you will say no, but I want to go with you to visit Adam tomorrow. I realize the implications of what happened that night was because of a decision we made, and if I had known sooner, I would be doing what you’re doing. I need to do the right thing.”

  My heart feels as though it hasn’t been beating in at least thirty seconds. I’m dumbfounded, listening to his explanation. “I can’t prance in there with you and say: look who I found.”

  “No, I will tell him I just found out after running back into you. It’s the truth.”

  “What if he feels pain?” I ask Brody.

  I don’t know if Adam feels pain. I don’t know if he feels love. I don’t know if he feels anything at all.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  Brody turns for the DVD bin and shuffles through the stacks, pulling out movies I wouldn’t choose.

  “Brody, I don’t know how I feel about this.”

  “Why don’t I go alone?” he offers.

  I know that I can’t stop him from visiting Adam, assuming he finds out where he’s located, and I don’t have say in the matter, and it’s never been an issue before. Most people who were aware of the accident stopped visiting Adam years ago. It’s as if he’s just a memory now.

  “He doesn’t know you,” I tell him.

  I don’t know if he even remembers me. I convince myself there’s a look in his eye, saying he knows who I am, but I don’t know for sure.

  “I’ll introduce myself.”

  “Why are you insisting on this?”

  “I want to be a part of your life, and he’s part of your life. He needs to be a part of mine too.”

  “Can I think about it for the night?”

  “Of course. You can bring the DVDs if you decide against me tagging along.”

  I feel the need to stare at Brody for a long second as he continues to dig through the DVDs, wondering why he seems to give in to me so easily sometimes and other times won’t take no for an answer.

  “I don’t like this.”

  Brody straightens the pile of DVDs in his hand and peers into my eyes. “Which part?”

  “You see me as broken. That’s all you see now. It’s all you’ll ever see. It doesn’t feel good.”

  “What is it you need, Journey? I’m trying my hardest, and everything I do is pushing you farther away. Just tell me how to be around you?”

  “I don’t have an answer.”

  Which leads to silence until we make our way through check out. “If I pushed too hard today, I’m sorry,” Brody says as we walk toward the doors.

  “Stop apologizing. You’re not a weak person, and I know you’re not sorry.”

  “Fine,” he says. “I’m not sorry. I’m a go-getter. I don’t give up easily, and it might be the one thing to push you away.”

  “Maybe,” I agree.

  Standing before the sliding doors, I realize we lost track of time today, and it’s dark. Plus, the nice warmth from the sun I felt on the way indoors should have been a warning for imminent rain. It’s pouring. Awesome.

  “I didn’t think it was going to rain,” Brody says, tightening the knot on the bags, so the DVD’s don’t get wet. “How about I go get the car and pick you up, so you don’t get wet?”

  “It’s just water,” I tell him.

  He seems surprised by my response. “I didn’t think women enjoy running through downpours.”

  “You keep grouping me in with a stereotype, and it’s the very place you keep taking a wrong turn.”

  I don’t know if something clicks in Brody’s head after hearing my explanation, but his eyes light up as if he suddenly understands me. I think.

  With a step toward the sliding door, I walk out first, feeling the cold drops pummel over me. Brody begins a slow jog, moving past me before realizing I’m still holding steady at a walking pace. It doesn’t matter how fast we get to the Jeep; we’ll still be soaked. Therefore, running will not make a difference.

  “Come on; we’re getting soaked,” he shouts.

  “We’re already soaked,” I inform him.

  Brody tosses his head back, possibly annoyed, maybe frustrated, but he stops and waits for me to catch up. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

  Maybe. “I like the rain.”

  “No, you don’t,” he argues.

  “How do yo
u know?”

  “You like to be cold and wet?”

  I shrug. “It makes me feel alive. It’s like adrenaline mixed with an electric shock running through my blood. I like it.” I might exaggerate a little, but I do like to end my hot showers with a burst of cold water for a boost of energy.

  “You’re crazy. You know that?”

  “I’m well aware,” I respond.

  It takes a good five minutes to make it to the Jeep, and I don’t think either of us could be wetter if we took a dip in a pool. “We’re going to get your seats wet,” Brody says.

  “They’ll dry.”

  Brody reaches for the door, but I haven’t unlocked the Jeep. “Get the locks,” he says, trying to open the trunk gate.

  I reach into my pocket, slowly searching for the key, watching as he wipes away the water cascading down his face. His hair is soaking wet and his eyelashes have drops falling from the tips. I unlock the doors, and Brody tosses the bag of DVDs into the trunk. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him, heading toward the driver’s seat.

  He follows me.

  “I can make it to my door, Brody.”

  “Good,” he says, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. “I don’t think you’re going to make it there for a long minute, though.”

  His hands press against my cheeks with force, and his body shoves mine up against the side of the Jeep. He lowers his head and crashes his lips against mine. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of his wet lips, the water falls from his hair onto my face, his grip tightening with need, and his body constricting air from my lungs. He takes a breath, only parting his lips to do so. “Is this what you wanted?”

  I press up on my toes to reclaim his lips to offer an answer. I wanted him to see me for me, not for what’s wrong with me or what happened in the past. I want to be desired—it’s all I need. I loop my hands around his back, clenching the soaked material of his fleece, holding him against me, telling him not to let me go. His nose sweeps against the side of mine, and the tip of his tongue dances around the inside of my lips. The currents running through my body erase the rain and the cold sensation.

  The kiss continues for longer than a minute, both of us gripping each other as if we have no other choice. Brody’s lips pull away from mine, and he sweeps a wet strand of hair from my forehead as he holds his stare on my eyes. “Please, let me stay,” he whispers.

  I bite down on my bottom lip, left without words worthy of a response. He steps away, and I open the driver’s side door. “Come on, we’re getting wet,” I say, closing myself inside.

  He smiles before jogging around to the passenger side of the Jeep and hops inside. I turn the ignition on and blast the heat, feeling the cold seep into my bones.

  Without question, I drive us back to my apartment because it’s where his car is, but I don’t know what will happen next.

  Before stepping out into the rain, Brody drops his hand onto my thigh. “Hold it, stormy …”

  I glance over with a smirk. “Yes?”

  “I’m coming upstairs.”

  “What if I say no?” I tease.

  “No? Journey, trust me when I tell you, you’ll be saying, yes, faster than you can imagine.”

  “Is that a challenge?” I reply, raising a brow.

  Brody jumps out of the Jeep and runs around the front, opening my door and yanking me out. “I’m not standing in the rain any longer tonight,” he says, pulling me to walk faster and jog up the stairs until we reach the back exit.

  I press my hand against the door and turn around to face him. “I told you, I like the rain.”

  “It’s a good thing I like you,” he says, but we’ve had enough for now. Brody lifts me up, holding his arm beneath my butt as he opens the door and walks us inside. “Are you going to walk up the stairs, or should I continue carrying you?”

  I don’t answer him. I take the opportunity of my position to nip at his earlobe, then trace my tongue along the same spot. “Jesus Christ, Journey.” Brody runs us up the stairs and tries to open my door. “You locked your damn door this time?”

  “I took your advice,” I say sweetly.

  He lowers me to my feet. “Open the door.”

  “What do you say?” I smirk.

  “Please, Journey, would you open your door before I take you right here in the hallway?”

  I unclench my hand, freeing the key. As fun as being arrested for indecent exposure sounds, the inside of my apartment sounds like a better idea.

  Brody twists the knob before I can get the key out, and he’s pushing me inside and kicks the door closed behind him. “You know what’s better than cold water?” He pulls me into the bathroom and tears the shower curtain across the rod, then twists the faucet to the left. It takes forever for the heat to turn on, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out quickly.

  His lips are against my neck as he peels my coat off my shoulders. The stubble on his chin scrapes against my collarbone, reminding me he shaved his beard per my request. However, feeling the stubble ignites the nerve endings in my body. It makes me wonder if the beard was a better accessory than I thought. Articles of clothing fall from our bodies, one by one, until Brody steps into the shower first.

  “Holy crap, why is this water so damn cold?” he shouts.

  I step in after him. “It takes two minutes to warm it up.”

  “You are something else,” he groans, pulling me in against him. His body presses against mine and fulfills my needs as if it was my dying wish. His hands cup my breasts, and he takes the time to taste every spot of my cold perkiness. I love the feeling of his hands roaming freely across my body, and by time his hand reaches between my legs, heat from the water ignites, steaming us into the closed space.

  Brody reaches out of the shower and bends over … without shame. Wondering what he’s doing, I get clarification when I hear the belt from his pants clang around on the bathroom floor, followed by the sound of a package tearing open. He returns and spins me around, running his hand back down my center. I place my hands on the shower wall, and he grips my hips before entering me, making it known our height difference is perfect for shower sex. Brody’s breaths are erratic as he moves heavily against me, and though my knees threaten to give out, I hold my body up by the wall, enjoying a moment of every thrust. He isn’t gentle or careful with me. The force is coming to a point where I won’t be able to hold myself up much longer. My hands begin to slip, and pulls out, then twists me around and lifts me up, resting me on his hips to re-enter from the front. I rest my head against the shower wall, enjoying the sensation of his tongue circling my nipples. I grab onto the wet strands of his hair for stability, and when the sensation of a small bite hits me, I scream, “Oh God!”

  “Oh, you like that?” He bites again, and his hands scoop around my back, slowly lowering, causing my body to buck against his.

  “Don’t stop,” I cry.

  “Like this?”

  “Yesssss!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Beautiful,” he whispers.

  My body gives into the pressure, and I collapse against Brody’s body like a rag doll as he continues pumping into me until I feel his release. His lips are back against my neck, moving up slowly until he reaches my lips. “I love the way you say, yes,” he mutters into my mouth.

  I open my eyes, finding a proud smile stretching against his cheeks, and I can’t help but match the emotion, feeling the same way.

  “Who would have thought this was all it took to see you smile,” he says quietly. “I won this round, Journey.”

  “Fine, but the game isn’t over yet,” I respond.

  Brody frees himself and lowers me to my feet. “You know, I wondered if I’d ever find out whether the carpet matches the drapes, but apparently, it’s something I must keep wondering about.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t believe in covering hard-wood with any carpeting,” I reply.

  “Holy—wow. I think you might be perfect.”


  Perfect. The irony of the day ending on a perfect note.

  “You make me feel warm inside,” I tell him. “The feeling is foreign, but I like it.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want it to stop,” he says, combing his fingers through my hair.

  We take the next few minutes to rinse off and clean up before stepping out into the warm bathroom air. I hand Brody a towel and stare down at his clothes, remembering how wet they are.

  “I can make dinner, and you can hang out with a blanket and your towel,” I tell him.

  “Can I watch the Kardashians?”

  I playfully slap my hand against his bare chest. “I thought you were joking about your love for that show.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t stop watching. It’s a problem,” he says seriously.

  “Can I sit with you for a few minutes before I start dinner?”

  He seems surprised by my question. I guess it’s not something he should expect out of my mouth, but I’m craving more warmth. “Only if you stay in a towel too.”

  We curl up on the couch and pull a blanket over us, and I do something I haven’t done with anyone, ever. I curl my head into the nook between his neck and chest and take a deep breath.

  This spot. It feels right.

  I wish I had always known the definition of feeling right.

  19

  I hadn’t understood why Vegas was proclaimed the city that never sleeps, but I quickly learned the reason. They pumped fresh oxygen into the casinos, keeping people awake, and the lighting mimicked daytime. Once inside a building, there was no track of time.

  I had never been to a casino, but I was sure the ones in Vegas would ruin any smaller casino I would visit in New England someday. Each hotel was like a piece of art and themed by country. I could have spent months there, losing track of all my worries. I figured I would likely run out of money before a few months were up, but I thought maybe I could win some too. It was that first-time rush of hope. I hadn’t drunk much in the prior two years, but it was my big twenty-one, and I wasn’t driving anywhere. Plus, I had company, and Tucker and I were going on a three-hour streak of non-stop laughter. I wasn’t even sure what we were laughing about, but there was a lightness in my chest, and I felt happy and excited. It was overwhelming after feeling so low and in the dark for such a long time.