Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7)

by Kandi Steiner

  “Well, here they are,” I said, tapping one of the barrels on the back wall. They were stacked just as high as the rest of the room, each barrel stamped with a batch number and an exclusive, gold-plated plaque that had all the details about when it was distilled, barreled, what rows it’s been aged in over time, and more.

  “There are so many,” she said, eyes scanning up. “How do I choose? I mean, should I be looking for something specific?”

  I scratched at my jaw. “I mean, there is incredible whiskey inside each and every one of these barrels. Part of what makes buying a single barrel so enticing is that you’ll have a one-of-a-kind whiskey,” I said, finally remembering to give her the spiel I’d put off before. “Usually, we let our potential buyers taste a few to compare but…” I smirked. “There is that whole legal drinking age debacle.”

  Ruby Grace laughed. “Oh. Yeah. That old thing.”

  She swayed from foot to foot, grimacing a little as she eyed the barrels.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her face twisted again as she shifted her body weight to her left foot. “Yes. Sorry, it’s just these stupid shoes. I told my mom I didn’t need to wear heels to inspect whiskey barrels, but she was not having it with me wearing boots.”

  For a split second, I pictured her in said boots. I wondered if the brown leather would cap off under her knee, if her thighs would have been even more exposed in the shorts she would have paired with those boots. Or would she have worn jeans, covering her legs altogether?

  Stop thinking about her legs, Becker.

  “Take them off.”

  Her brows shot up, eyes widening as they found mine.

  “What?” She asked, laughing. “I can’t just take my shoes off.” She threw her arms up, gesturing to our surroundings. “We’re in an old, dirty warehouse.”

  “You act like you weren’t born and raised in an old, dirty town.”

  “Yeah, well,” she said, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t exactly working in the distillery or out raising cows on the outskirts, now was I? A little bit of a different setting when you’re the Mayor’s daughter.”

  She tried to smile, but a soft curse left her lips when she shifted her weight again.

  Without hesitation, I reached back for the collar of my t-shirt and ripped it up over my head, laying it down on the ground at her feet.

  “Here,” I said, holding out my hand. “You can stand on that. It might not be a freshly polished marble floor, but your precious feet should survive.”

  Ruby Grace was gaping, her jaw completely unhinged as her eyes crawled over my abdomen and chest. “I…”

  “Shoes. Off.” I pointed at her feet. “You do that, and I’ll let you taste a few barrels. Just don’t tell anyone, least of all your parents.”

  She chuckled, but finally stepped out of her heels. They fell on their sides as a relieved sigh slipped through her lips, and I watched her polished toes curl on my t-shirt.

  “God, that feels so much better.”

  I shook my head, reaching back behind the first row of barrels for the tasting glasses we housed there. “Are you always so stubborn?”

  “I wasn’t being stubborn.”

  “I guess that’s my answer,” I said, pouring a tiny splash from one of the barrels before holding the glass toward her. “Here. Take a sip.”

  “Oh, no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s okay. Like you said, I’m underage.”

  “So you’ve never had a sip of alcohol in your life?” I challenged.

  She bit her lip. “I mean… I have, but not whiskey. That’s a man’s drink.”

  At that, I full on belly-laughed. “What the hell kind of talk is that? Whiskey is a man’s drink?” I shook my head. “It’s whiskey. It’s expensive whiskey, at that. And I assure you, it’s delicious — whether you have tits or not.”

  Ruby Grace blushed, biting her lip against a smile. “God, sorry. I sound like my mother. More and more every day now, actually,” she mused, glancing down at her toes before her eyes found the glass in my hand again.

  I pushed it toward her. “Just a sip. You’re not even going to get close to feeling a buzz. But this way, you can taste the difference between a few barrels that were aged in different ways.” I swallowed. “You can pick out the perfect one for your future husband.”

  She hesitated, but her hand reached forward, taking the other side of the glass. Our fingertips brushed just slightly, just enough to make me jerk my own hand away.

  “And, hey, bonus,” I continued, shaking off the awkward tension. “You can be as ‘unladylike’ as you want here. I won’t judge. You can even burp, if you’re really feeling frisky.”

  Ruby Grace laughed, eyeing the whiskey like she still wasn’t sure before she shrugged and tilted the glass in my direction. “Oh, what the hell. Bottoms up.”

  She took a sip, and then promptly grimaced and stuck her tongue out as soon as she’d swallowed.

  “God, that’s awful.” She shook her head, shoving the glass back in my direction. “Definitely not doing that again.”

  I laughed, rinsing the glass with a splash of water from the bottles we kept nearby before filling it with the same whiskey.

  “Okay, that was my bad. Maybe I should have told you how to taste it first.” I handed it to her again, though she eyed it like it was poison. “Smell it first.”

  She did as I said, uncertainty shading her face as she looked my way again. “I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”

  “You’re not sure you’re smelling right?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean. I don’t… I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

  “It’s okay, that’s why I’m here.” I stepped closer to her, taking the glass from her hand, and when I inhaled to demonstrate, it was her I smelled instead of the whiskey.

  She smelled like lavender, like an open field in the heat of summer.

  “Watch,” I said, taking another breath, this time focusing on the whiskey. “You smell it first, and ask yourself what you smell. Oak? Vanilla? Honey? Maple? Every whiskey is different, depending on how it’s aged, how the barrels are charred and toasted. See what notes you can detect first. And then,” I continued, taking my first sip. I let it linger in my mouth, swirling it a round before swallowing gently. “Taste it. I mean, really taste it. Does it give you different flavors on the tip of your tongue than it does on the back? Does it burn going down, or is it just warm? And what’s the aftertaste?”

  Ruby Grace watched me, fascinated, her lips parted softly, eyes falling to my bare chest where a small drop of whiskey had landed. I thumbed it away, handing her the glass again.

  “Now, you try.”

  She took a deep breath, like she needed to focus to really do it right, and then she repeated my steps. And this time, when she finished swallowing, she smiled.

  “Wow,” she said. “It’s different when you don’t just throw it back like a shot.”

  I chuckled. “Well, this isn’t shooting whiskey. It’s Tennessee Sippin’ Whiskey,” I said, tilting my imaginary hat. I tucked my hands in my pockets, nodding toward the next barrel. “Take a little from that one.”

  “I can pour it myself?”

  I nodded. “Just twist that spout a little, not too much. You don’t need a lot to taste it.”

  She was hesitant as she poured a sip into her glass, and her eyes lit up, a little squeal of joy popping from her mouth. “I did it!”

  And for the next ten minutes, I watched Ruby Grace be a girl.

  She was so far from the snotty woman who had offered me her hand like a prize when we first met. She was just a teenager, a soon-to-be sophomore in college, drinking whiskey, learning something new and having fun.

  I wondered when the last time was that she had fun.

  I wondered if she’d ever had fun at all.

  The way she looked when she laughed, I hoped she had. I hoped it wasn’t the first time that laugh had been genuine, the first time that sound had ma
de its way into the airwaves. She laughed the way the wind blew — softly, and then all at once, without an ounce of shame for how that sound might permanently shift the atmosphere around it.

  When she’d decided on the barrel she wanted, Ruby Grace regretfully slipped back into her heels, and I tugged my t-shirt on before leading us out of the warehouse and toward the welcome center.

  “So,” I said, walking slow so she didn’t kill her feet in the process of getting back to her car. “What are Anthony’s plans when you go back to school in the fall?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you guys moving in together and he’s getting a job there? Or are you guys doing long distance for a while or what?”

  She laughed, her hair falling over her face a little as she watched our feet. “I’m not going back to school.”

  “Oh…” I paused. “You don’t want to?”

  “I mean, I guess I do… but, there’s no point. You know? I’m getting married. I’ll be his wife now, and I’ll have so much to do. He’s already getting into the political arena, and he’ll need me to be by his side, campaigning and networking and all that.” She shrugged. “I don’t really need a degree to do that.”

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s what I want to do,” she said quickly. “It’s what I was bred to do.”

  “Bred?” I frowned. “You’re not a horse. You’re a human.”

  Ruby Grace stopped with an abrupt click of her heels once we reached the welcome center entrance, and she crossed her arms defiantly as her eyes found mine. She didn’t even have to say another word for me to know I’d pushed the wrong button, and I was about to get the same woman I met in this very spot an hour before.

  “Look, you don’t know anything about me, okay? Or my family, or what I want or what I don’t want, so just stop trying to presume whatever it is you’re presuming.”

  “Oh, look at you,” I chided, stepping into her space. “Using big words again.”

  She scoffed. “They say nothing changes when you leave this town and come back, I guess you just proved them right.”

  “Well, that’s my job,” I fired back. “Proving the ominous they right. Glad I’ve still got it.”

  Our chests were close again, the stains on my off-white t-shirt highlighting the crisp cleanness of her dress.

  “Lucy will take your money inside,” I said, nodding to the doors behind her. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  I turned just as her mouth popped open, but I didn’t look back.

  “Thanks for the tasting,” she said, making sure her voice was loud and clear.

  “Go ahead and say it louder, princess,” I threw behind me. “You’d be in just as much shit as I would.”

  She didn’t respond to that, and when I chanced a glance back in her direction, there was steam rolling off that cute face of hers as she ripped the door to the welcome center open.

  And I couldn’t help it — I chuckled.

  I didn’t mean to ruffle her feathers, but damn if I didn’t like getting under that pretty bird’s skin.

  This has been an excerpt from On the Rocks, book one in the Becker Brothers series.

  Continue reading here (free in Kindle Unlimited)!

  The Becker Brothers Series

  On the Rocks (book 1)

  Neat (book 2)

  Manhattan (book 3)

  Old Fashioned (book 4)

  Four brothers finding love in a small Tennessee town that revolves around a whiskey distillery with a dark past — including the mysterious death of their father.

  The Best Kept Secrets Series

  (AN AMAZON TOP 10 BESTSELLER)

  What He Doesn’t Know (book 1)

  What He Always Knew (book 2)

  What He Never Knew (book 3)

  Charlie’s marriage is dying. She’s perfectly content to go down in the flames, until her first love shows back up and reminds her the other way love can burn.

  Close Quarters

  A summer yachting the Mediterranean sounded like heaven to Jasmine after finishing her undergrad degree. But her boyfriend’s billionaire boss always gets what he wants. And this time, he wants her.

  Make Me Hate You

  Jasmine has been avoiding her best friend’s brother for years, but when they’re both in the same house for a wedding, she can’t resist him — no matter how she tries.

  The Wrong Game

  (AN AMAZON TOP 10 BESTSELLER)

  Gemma’s plan is simple: invite a new guy to each home game using her season tickets for the Chicago Bears. It’s the perfect way to avoid getting emotionally attached and also get some action. But after Zach gets his chance to be her practice round, he decides one game just isn’t enough. A sexy, fun sports romance.

  The Right Player

  She’s avoiding love at all costs. He wants nothing more than to lock her down. Sexy, hilarious and swoon-worthy, The Right Player is the perfect read for sports romance lovers.

  On the Way to You

  It was only supposed to be a road trip, but when Cooper discovers the journal of the boy driving the getaway car, everything changes. An emotional, angsty road trip romance.

  A Love Letter to Whiskey

  (AN AMAZON TOP 10 BESTSELLER)

  An angsty, emotional romance between two lovers fighting the curse of bad timing.

  Weightless

  Young Natalie finds self-love and romance with her personal trainer, along with a slew of secrets that tie them together in ways she never thought possible.

  Revelry

  Recently divorced, Wren searches for clarity in a summer cabin outside of Seattle, where she makes an unforgettable connection with the broody, small town recluse next door.

  Say Yes

  Harley is studying art abroad in Florence, Italy. Trying to break free of her perfectionism, she steps outside one night determined to Say Yes to anything that comes her way. Of course, she didn’t expect to run into Liam Benson…

  The Christmas Blanket

  Stuck in a cabin with my ex-husband waiting out a blizzard? Not exactly what I had pictured when I planned a surprise visit home for the holidays…

  Black Number Four

  A college, Greek-life romance of a hot young poker star and the boy sent to take her down.

  The Palm South University Series

  Rush (book 1) ➔ FREE if you sign up for my newsletter!

  Anchor, PSU #2

  Pledge, PSU #3

  Legacy, PSU #4

  Ritual, PSU #5

  Hazed, PSU #6

  Greek, PSU #7

  #1 NYT Bestselling Author Rachel Van Dyken says, “If Gossip Girl and Riverdale had a love child, it would be PSU.” This angsty college series will be your next guilty addiction.

  Tag Chaser

  She made a bet that she could stop chasing military men, which seemed easy — until her knight in shining armor and latest client at work showed up in Army ACUs.

  Song Chaser

  Tanner and Kellee are perfect for each other. They frequent the same bars, love the same music, and have the same desire to rip each other’s clothes off. Only problem? Tanner is still in love with his best friend.

  I’ll be quite honest — I’m not sure how to properly thank every soul who has helped make Palm South University what it is. So many friends, strangers, lovers, shows, and books have inspired this series, and it has been fueled by avid readers for many, many years.

  I want to start by thanking you, the reader. I always refer to PSU as my “passion project” — which is just a fancy way of saying it doesn’t make me money, but I love to write it so much that I don’t really care. For whatever reason, PSU has been a hard sell, but those who do read it understand why I love it so much.

  That’s you.

  So, thank you for reading, reviewing, spreading the word and being as excited as me every time school was back in session. These past several years are filled with joyous memories arou
nd this series, and it’s all thanks to you.

  Elaine York of Allusion Publishing has been by my side throughout this whole series — and bless her, she’s even stayed with me through three format and cover changes. Thank you, Elaine, for loving my college babies as much as I do and for always polishing them up to a beautiful shine.

  A special shout out goes to Staci Hart, who read the first book in the PSU series and believed in me. She believed in me so much that she threw all her energy into helping me be better, critiquing me like no one ever had — which is a large reason why there is so much growth in my writing from book one in this series compared to the last few. Thank you for always being my ride or die. I love you.

  To my mom, who taught me to do what I love no matter what, thank you for constantly reminding me that these books were worth it.

  To my incredible team of alpha and beta readers for this installment: Lindsey Barnett, Jan Cassi, Trish QUEEN MINTNESS, Jayce Medina, Kellee Fabre, Carly Wilson, Sarah Green, and Michelle Myers — when I say this book (and this series) would be flat out awful without you, I mean it. You were there every step of the way, reading as I wrote, providing crucial feedback that helped make these books better and better. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all your hard work and dedication to making my books shine.

  Tina Stokes is my rock, my friend, my keeper — and without her, my life would be a complete mess. If you ever see her at a book signing, give her a big half and thank her, because she’s the reason I’m still here. I love you, Tina. Thank you!

  To the groups who have supported this series from its inception — the Palm South University Discussion Group and Kandiland — thank you for making the internet a cool place to hang out. Whenever I need good vibes, I know I can find them with y’all.

  A big shout out to my friends at Valentine PR for spreading the word about this series and helping others fall in love with it. And to our blogger community (that includes you, Bookstagrammers and Booktokers). No one would even know I WRITE books if it weren’t for you. You’re the backbone of what we do, and I thank you.