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

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “I already know,” she says, kissing me on the cheek. Hannah seems emotionally unaffected by the tears in everyone’s eyes as she scoops everyone into bear hugs, taking Isla on her hip and carrying her down the row of parading arms waiting to grab her.

  “I feel like I’m dreaming,” Journey says. “I’m winded or breathless, something. I’ve never felt this way.”

  I turn to Journey, seeing the true blissful happiness in her eyes, reminding me how much she loves Hannah, me—our family. I kiss my wife and mutter against her lips, “I needed you to get here. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “I know,” Journey says, smiling against my mouth. “That’s why we found each other again. It was meant to be this way. We just didn’t know it all those years ago.”

  Melody is snapping a million pictures of one of the graduation signs. Brett is staring with an empty, fearful look on his face as Hannah poses next to Parker—Parker, who is up next to graduate high school in two years. I know what he’s thinking. We’ve got to figure out how to slow everything down.

  But that’s the funny part of life. We can control almost everything except time.

  Journey grabs her camera to take over for Melody so she can get some good shots of Hannah while I take a minute to throw my arm around Brett’s neck. “Dude. What the hell? How is she eighteen and a high school graduate? I can’t digest this,” Brett says. “It feels like just yesterday the two girls were wreaking havoc in the warehouse while we tried to get some work done.”

  “You know what I’ve realized, bro,” I say. “Fatherhood is like a shot of bourbon Fireball. It burns like hell when it’s going down, but then you get this euphoric sensation of comfort and warmth as the liquid settles, and it just makes you want to do it all over again.”

  Epilogue

  Four Years Later

  * * *

  We do this every year on the anniversary of Harold’s death. Journey’s dad left a legacy of bourbon through our family, and it’s only appropriate that we continue to celebrate the way he did, year after year. It was his dying wish, and we have kept our promise since then. The Barrel House has always been a stomping ground for a good party. It’s where Journey and I had our first kiss back in high school. It’s where Melody and Brett had their first kiss back in high school. It’s the place they got engaged, and the place Journey calls a second home. Our families merged businesses over the last several years, and two operations became one, just as two families became one. It’s all kind of perfect.

  It was all perfect until the front door just opened, and Hannah and Parker walked into the party.

  “Um, what am I looking at?” I ask Journey.

  “Hannah and Parker,” Isla says, “duh.”

  “Thanks, kiddo,” I respond.

  Journey twists her head to the side. “Oh, that must be—”

  “Who? Who must it be, and why do you know and I don’t? Why didn’t you tell me? Why does the other person look exactly the same?”

  Journey grabs my wrist. “Isla go hang out with aunt Melody for a minute.” Melody hears Journey’s request, and her eyes widen as if she knew this moment was coming but didn’t know when. She swoops in and takes Isla by the hand and pulls her out of sight, and Journey manages to push me into the backroom.

  “What in the world is going on right now?”

  “Hannah wanted to surprise you with something tonight, and I need you to smile and drop your shoulders about five inches. Right now,” she says.

  Journey places her hands on my cheeks. They’re thankfully cold, which lowers the rising temperature scorching my face. “His name is Kellan. He’s a good guy. He goes to Brown, and his family lives in New Hampshire. Breathe.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me about this … Kellan … guy.”

  Journey tilts her head to the side and stares up at me. “Because of this.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, feeling mildly annoyed because I have asked Journey not to keep any more secrets from me. This whole girl code thing is old, and I don’t like it.

  “Because of this,” she says again. “Hannah is twenty-two and you need to cut it out already.”

  “He’s not good enough for her,” I say. “No one is.”

  “You don’t know that, Brody. Take a deep breath and count to ten. Now.”

  Because the moment wasn’t hard enough while trying to digest this new boyfriend or whatever he is bringing to my daughter’s life, Brett comes flying through the back door with rage in his eyes. “Who the hell is Kacen, and why is his arm around Parker?”

  Journey is standing between Brett and me, and I feel like it’s not the best place for her at the moment, but she’s aware of the situation, which is why she doesn’t move. “Brett, breathe. Now,” Journey says.

  “No, why am I breathing? Who is Kacen?” Brett growls.

  “Okay, so, Kacen is Kellan’s younger brother who Hannah might have introduced to Parker a couple of months ago. Um. They’re dating. Parker and Kacen, and Hannah and Kellan. They’re very nice boys who come from a good family. I think you two need to have a drink and take a minute to collect yourselves so you can act appropriately around these two, very nice young men.”

  “You knew?” Brett snaps at Journey.

  “Your wife knew too, Brett. You two are impossible when it comes to the girls dating, and you need to stop. It’s going to happen whether you like it or not.”

  “I don’t have to accept anything,” Brett continues.

  Journey drops her head and licks her lips. “Okay, let me say this so you understand me. If you two try to stop them dating this pair of brothers, they will most likely go off and do something stupid to prove their independence—like get married in Vegas or—”

  “Okay, okay,” Brody says. “We don’t need to relive your past through Hannah and Parker.”

  “I’m just saying. It can happen even with two understanding parents. If you push them, they will go the other way. So, embrace them and their dates. Okay?”

  Journey slaps both Brett and me on the back and leaves us standing in the back room alone.

  “Can we kill them?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, we can,” Brett says.

  “Why would they bring them here tonight of all nights?”

  “Safer in numbers,” Brett continues.

  “In a Bourbon distillery? I’m guessing no one thought this through,” I say.

  “Did you think your decisions through in this very same distillery?” Brett asks.

  “No, did you?” I respond.

  “No, but—we’re both pretty damn lucky with what happened because of the decisions we made in The Barrel House, so maybe let’s hold off on killing them until after we meet them?”

  I close my eyes, taking in a flashback of kissing Journey in the storage closet downstairs, remembering the spark that flew through my mind with the thought of forever—not understanding how long it would take for that to happen. “Fine,” I say. Maybe The Barrel House is where all fate begins.

  “This place has given us the best in life. Let’s appreciate the thought and be open-minded,” Brett says.

  “I will appreciate the thought. That's it.”

  Brett rolls his eyes. “Okay, seriously. Stay calm, please, so this night doesn’t turn into a disaster. This isn’t about those boys or us. It’s about Journey and Melody’s dad and his legacy.”

  “His legacy that is moving onto yet another generation right before our eyes,” I grumble.

  I follow Brett out into the party, finding Journey and Melody in a cheerful conversation with Hannah, Parker, and their dates. Journey takes my hand as we approach and squeezes tightly. “Did you know that Kellen is on Brown’s football team on a full scholarship?”

  “Oh yeah, what position do you play?”

  “Quarterback, sir,” he says. “Hannah said you were the quarterback for UConn.”

  “Sure was,” I say. “We’ve got a lot of freshmen coming in on scholarships—some good prospe
cts I guess. It’s supposed to be an exciting season. You should come to some of our games,” Kellan says.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’d love to watch some games. That sounds great.” Hannah is grinning at me like someone just gave her the world’s best news.

  “I’m on the team too,” Kacen says.

  “Yeah, but you’re just a wide receiver. No one cares about that,” Kellen teases his brother before punching him in the arm.

  I can tell Kacen is the quieter of the two brothers, which is probably perfect for Parker, who is the quieter one of the girls. Parker has hearts in her eyes as she stares at Kacen’s profile. Oh God. These two girls are already in love. I can see it.

  “I guess I’ll be going to some games too, then,” Brett says.

  “Yeah, you should totally come,” Kacen follows.

  It’s no wonder how this all worked out with Parker going to school at Rhode Island School of Design, which is a block away from Brown University. And now, we find that these brothers go to the same school. How perfect. At least they play football. I mean, it’s something.

  “Why don’t you guys go get some food, and we’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Melody tells the four of them.

  Hannah and Parker both offer us quick, nervous smiles and run off after the two football stars. “What are we going to do now?” Brett asks.

  “Be old men drinking bourbon?” I ask.

  Journey walks away and returns a moment later with four glasses. “Guys, come on. It’s all good. The girls are happy. The younger kids are playing hide and seek in the basement with bourbon barrels. We’re happily married. We’ve kept our businesses running for our parents, and we have a lifetime supply of bourbon. What else could we really ask for in life?”

  “I’ll toast to that,” Melody says. “Dad’s legacy has become our legacy and a lifetime of happiness.”

  She’s right. They’re both right. Everything is good. Everything is better than good. It’s perfect, and it’s more than I could have ever wished for. However, I will hurt one of those boys if they hurt either of those girls, but for now, I will give them the benefit of the doubt. I lift my glass, feeling the clink of the other three.

  “To the happiness The Barrel House continues to bring our family. Let our legacy live on for generations to come,” Melody says.

  “Cheers,” we all say.

  Life has been a slow burn, followed by the peaks of high and low notes, but as time goes by and moments blend, there’s nothing left but the smooth road ahead.

  * * *

  THE END

  COMING SOON

  FALL TO PIECES - A STORY ABOUT ADDICTION AND LOVE

  A New Standalone

  In an instant the word pain was redefined...

  August Taylor thought she could manage the weight of the world on her shoulders. Forcing a smile, she hid the secrets of the man she loved and pretended everything was okay. Until she found him unconscious, having chosen his addiction over her ... one last, fatal time.

  Unable to understand the sickness that consumed him, grief rivets through August’s body. As she spirals into self-destructive behavior, she finds her life mirroring what she despises.

  Chance Miller wants to make a difference. After witnessing the death of his parents at a young age, he longs to help others as he was helped. He thought that path was leading him to adopt a child, but he’s not sure his heart can take another rejection.

  Then, he saw August. From a distance Chance watched the sweet woman transition into a shadow of her former self. Now, despite her resistance, he feels compelled to step in and pull her back from the precipice of pain and darkness.

  Can August and Chance find a way to help each other put their lives back together? Or are the scattered pieces of their broken hearts shattered beyond repair?

  CHAPTER ONE

  The antique brass bell on the door clangs, greeting another patron into this somber-lit muggy bar that has been rotting on the corner of Smith Street for the last hundred years. I don’t know why, but the damp stone walls and sticky-film-covered hardwoods make for a good local hot spot in town.

  Out of habit, I peer over my shoulder at every person who strolls through the door. It’s usually the same crowd every day, but occasionally a new face will wander inside. He or she instantly becomes the focus of everyone’s attention.

  My brows furrow as I observe a petite brunette with a blunt-cut bob walk inside. Compared to the rest of us here, she appears a little too polished with her business-casual attire to walk into this rundown, hole-in-the-wall bar, especially alone at night.

  This girl has a mysterious look in her eyes, and her rigid stature highlights a sense of confidence. She didn’t accidentally stumble upon this bar. There is an obvious purpose as she falls heavily down onto a bar stool.

  Despite my desire to find out who she is and why someone like her would choose this bar of all bars, I’m not looking to be the idiot who approaches her. She probably has a boyfriend hiding in the shadows just waiting for someone to say hi to her. I’m certain someone will.

  “Sorry, hey, bro. It’s slammed tonight. How was your day?” Luke, my buddy and owner of this joint, places my drink down on a coaster before spinning around to tend to his next order.

  “No worries, man. My day wasn’t bad. How about you?” I talk loud enough so he can hear me while racing down the length of the bar. I’m used to having conversations with him while he circles around shaking drinks, popping bottle caps, and scribbling down food orders on a notepad. He’s a pro at multitasking.

  “It was quiet until an hour ago. Now, I don’t know what’s going on here. You’d expect I was offering free booze.”

  “Are you?” I joke back.

  Luke shakes his head and grunts. “Definitely not. I’ve got your burger cookin’ in the back. It shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Thanks a bunch.” I’m starving and thankful I don’t have to sit through a bunch of orders. It’s always nice to have the perk of being friends with the owner. Perks, it seems this new girl would like in on. She’s drumming her pink-tinted fingernails against the bar-top and her knee is bouncing a mile a minute.

  After tossing two beers to the other side of the bar, Luke notices the girl sitting a few seats down, staring at him with evident impatience.

  “What can I get for you, miss?”

  The girl scans the back shelf as if searching for the perfect bottle of liquor. Either that or she doesn’t know what she wants. “I’ll have a glass of whiskey,” she states, her words razor sharp.

  “What kind of whiskey are you in the mood for?” Luke asks. It isn’t a question he has to ask often. Most people know what they want and how they want it when they order here.

  “Surprise me,” the girl says with a shrug.

  I catch the look in Luke’s eye as he turns for the shelf of bottles behind him. He’s wondering what she’s doing here too. Women don’t typically seem pulled to this place even if they do like whiskey—all whiskey, without preference. Luke grabs the bottle of Jim Beam, the weakest of his whiskeys, and pours a splash into a glass.

  “Maybe you’ll enjoy this one, young lady,” he says, setting the drink down in front of her. Luke sends another questioning look in my direction. I can assume he’s wondering why she didn’t stop him from pouring the Jim Beam. It isn’t a first choice around here.

  The girl raises the glass to her nose and draws in a whiff. Her ears flinch back, and her small nose scrunches. Only connoisseurs smell their whiskey before consuming the shit. It isn’t a rose, and she most unquestionably is unfamiliar with the taste of whiskey.

  Snow White purses her lips and presses them to the glass before taking a quick taste, just enough to wet her tongue. Another rookie mistake—just drink the damn shit. She sniffles as she places the glass back down on her coaster. “It’s good, thank you,” she says to Luke. I wasn’t expecting to hear that response.

  Luke gives her a quick wink and grabs the bottle of Jim Beam to fill more of her glass. “
I can add a little water to it if you’d like,” he says to her.

  “Water?” She reacts like he offered to add something vile. “Charming, but I don’t need water.”

  “Whiskey lovers sometimes add a bit of water to bring out the taste. I wasn’t sure what kind of whiskey drinker you are, but one should never presume, right?” Luke isn’t one to beat around the bush with his patrons.

  The girl lifts a brow at Luke, seeming to question his facts.

  I should stop staring before I become the weak idiot who approaches this chick tonight. Maybe she’s meeting someone, a tough guy, and needs to look the part. That might make more sense than a pretty little thing walking in here like she isn’t concerned about being in a bar full of rowdy, drunken assholes.

  “One more, please. Something different this time,” she says along with the sound of her glass clinking against the bar.

  Again, I tell myself to stop looking over, but I’m curious why she’s asking for more when she still has a full glass sitting in front of her. My head falls to the side for a moment as I notice that the glass is empty. It’s hardly been a minute since Luke placed the contents down in front of her. Damn. There is no way she inhaled that—not with the look I saw on her face after she took the first sip.

  “Are you sure about that, miss?” Luke asks.

  I wince on behalf of Luke because in the few minutes I’ve studied this girl, I can assume she won’t take kindly to someone second-guessing a decision she made.

  “Yes, I’m certain,” she says, gritting through her perky peach lips.

  Stress lines cut into Luke’s forehead as he tends to a bottle of Swift Texas Whiskey and pours the girl another glass. Luke will hold a tab if he feels a patron has had too much to drink, but after knowing the man as long as I have, I’m presuming he wants to know why this girl is sitting here, drinking whiskey like it’s a glass of water she just found in the middle of a desert.