For Love & Bourbon (3 page)

Sandra sighed. “You make me feel so old sometimes. Just yesterday y’all were nothing but babies.”

Ava rose to set the table for dinner. “Oh, please. You’re not old.”

Her mother came up behind her with the wooden salad bowl. “You just wait till you have grown-up babies.”

“Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

“Never say never, honey.”

“I’m too busy. Between the daily tours, helping out at the distillery, and planning for each new batch, I’m tapped out. No time for dating.” Ava pulled plates out of a cabinet, arranged them on the table. “Besides, I love my life just the way it is. There’s nothing about it I’d change.”

“Nothing?” Sandra asked mildly, turning to tend the dumplings on the stove.

Ava stared at her mother’s back, wishing she could defend her statement with one-hundred percent certainty. The fact that she couldn’t left her feeling frustrated.

Ignoring the question, she plopped down at the dining table and fixed a smile on her face. “Dinner smells lovely, Mama.”

T
hough a comfortable night in with a good book and a glass of bourbon sounded preferable, Ava found herself heading downtown instead. And since part of her felt guilty, she had coaxed Adam into joining her. Better she keep an eye on him than he get into trouble on his own.

It was a five minute drive from their property to downtown Fox Hills, where the majority of the town’s residents lived and worked. With less than a thousand people, it was customary that the local bar be the highlight of every Friday night. And since the blood of the town ran hot with whiskey, it was only natural that the residents’ blood run hot with it too.

Adam relaxed in the passenger seat, one arm out the window and the other hogging the center console. His earlier irritation with her had passed at the prospect of a night out.

“So what’re you gonna do if Beau’s there tonight?” he asked, angling his head to give her a devious look. “Raise some hell?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to kick his ass, but that badge on his chest means I’d spend a night in jail and honestly, it just ain’t worth it.”

“
He’s
not worth it,” Ava corrected.

“He’s still crazy about you, you know that, right?” Adam asked her, tapping his hand to the beat of the outlaw country spilling out of the radio.

Ava laughed. “We haven’t dated since high school. And I only slipped up once and let him get me drunk and take advantage of the situation. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson where he’s concerned.”

“I should kick his ass for that alone. Not to mention all the times he talks shit about us behind our backs.”

“Don’t let it get to you.”

“Speak for yourself. You sit on that high horse of yours, but you’re just as bad as me.” He reached out to pinch her knee, amused when she shifted away. “You’re hot-headed as all hell, you drink too much, you can’t commit, and no matter how hard you try, you let other people’s opinions of you get under your skin.”

“I do not,” she defended, though she knew he was right. “Damn it.”

He chuckled as she pulled her Chevy pickup truck into a spot on the street in front of the bar, aptly titled Whiskey Bent. It was a staple in Fox Hills and had, since its inception, served every brand of Lucky Fox Whiskey to tourists and locals alike.

“Whatever. Let’s both just try and behave, all right?” Though she was serious, her face broke into a smile at the knowing look he gave her. “What?”

“This is our town, Ava. Behavin’s just not what we do.”

Inside the bar the lights were dim and the country music was hopping. Sawdust shavings littered the concrete floor and billiards tables lined one wall beneath neon signs for Budweiser, Bud Light, and Blue Moon. In the center of the room lay a wooden dance floor already crowded with cowboy-hat-wearing locals in various degrees of intoxication. Their boots shuffled over the floor as they line-danced, never missing a step. Ava grinned, itching to join them. It was as much a tradition as the whiskey that flowed freely from the bottles lining the back of the bar.

She settled onto a barstool and waved to her childhood friend and bartender, Brandy. The petite blonde sauntered over with a dimpled grin and sassy sway of her hips.

“I was wonderin’ if I’d see y’all tonight,” Brandy greeted, her diamond-blue eyes shifting from Ava to Adam. Her smile deepened. “What can I get ya?”

“The usual for both of us, darlin’.” Adam leaned against the wooden bar top casually, already scoping out the bar for something, or someone, to interest him.

As Brandy turned to pour them both three fingers of Lucky Fox Distiller’s Choice Bourbon on ice, Ava jabbed her brother in the side. “Since you had the nerve to pester me about Beau, it’s only right I get on your case about Brandy. When the hell are you gonna get over yourself and ask her out?”

Adam frowned and stared at his pristine black leather boots. “She’s not my type.”

“Bullshit.” Ava rolled her eyes as Brandy handed them both square glasses packed with ice and rich, golden bourbon. “Thanks, honey.”

“No problem.” Brandy flashed another smile before whisking off to take care of other customers. Ava watched her go, shaking her head. “Maybe we’re both too picky.”

“Or maybe we’re just better off alone.” Adam took a slow sip of bourbon, set aside the glass. “Excuse me.”

He wandered off to persuade a giggly brunette to dance. Ava crossed her legs and leaned back comfortably against the bar. As she sipped her drink, she observed the old familiar antics of a typical small town Friday night.

Cowboys and ranch hands, slathered in smell-good to hide the scent of sweat from the day’s work, cozied up to the same bleach blonde country girls they’d known since the day they’d been born. A group of the distillery employees shot darts and played pool in the corner, blowing off steam with a pitcher of beer. Sidled up to the bar, the salty older folks cracked jokes and knocked back whiskey, reminiscing of times gone by in a town where it seemed nothing ever changed.

Most nights her grandfather would be among them, the song of Ireland in his voice mingling with the southern drawls of people he’d come to love better than his own family back on the Emerald Isle. The feud that had made him a legendary distiller was a well-known and celebrated aspect of the Brannon legacy. It was also a source of pride for Ava to know her grandfather had come out on top, despite all the odds. That was why he called his whiskey “Lucky.”

“It’s a mighty shame to be drinkin’ alone, sweetheart.”

Ava glanced over as Beau Rollins approached, all cowboy swagger in his boots and dusty jeans. Fastened over the heart of his plaid shirt was the badge he had gotten a year earlier when his sheriff father retired and passed him the torch. Beau’s short crop of dark hair framed a handsome face her grandfather often likened to the Devil’s, all hard lines and wickedness. Perhaps it was the bad boy look that had drawn her all those years before, though she’d learned her lesson there. Men, particularly ones who looked like Beau, were not to be trusted.

She motioned toward the crowd. “I’m not really alone, am I?”

He settled onto the barstool beside her and ordered a beer. “Hard to really be alone in this town, but if I had to locate somebody who looks lonely, I’d point at you.”

With a snort, she knocked back more bourbon and shrugged. “What the hell do you want, Beau?”

“Can’t I make conversation with a beautiful woman?”

Her eyes shot to his and burned. “Keep dreaming, buddy.”

A sly smile contorted his mouth, revealing a flash of teeth. “Hard not to when you’re lookin’ as fine as you are tonight.”

“And it’s hard not to knock that grin off your face.”

Beau chuckled. “Ouch. I always loved your fire, Ava.”

“Too bad I never loved you back,” she replied, bringing her whiskey to her lips. “Don’t look for a revival of old times, Sheriff. It ain’t gonna happen.”

Undeterred, he drank his beer and scanned the bar. “You’ll come around. This is a small town with few options. Won’t be long before you’re knockin’ on my door again.”

That got her going. A snide laugh bubbled from her throat as she set aside her drink and rose to her feet. She jabbed a finger in his chest, just to make a point. “You think I’d give you a second chance after the things you said about me? About my
family
?”

“Just callin’ it like I see it.” He brushed off her statement like a bothersome fly. “The whole damn town’s in love with you, Ava. I didn’t hurt your precious reputation. Stop worrying so much.”

Anger flushed her face. “You called my brother a drunk and me a whore. Somehow I think that’s liable to hurt me. But you don’t give a damn, do you?”

A spark lit in his eyes. “Again, just callin’ it like I see it, sweetheart. Besides, if I remember right it wasn’t too hard to get you out of those jeans and into the back of my truck. Damn easy, actually. All you need’s a few shots of that whiskey—”

She wheeled back to throw a punch only to be stopped by her brother mid-swing. Adam wrangled her into his arms, barely strong enough to hold her.

“Stop it, darlin’. Not worth it, remember?” he muttered into her ear, smoothing out the worst of her temper. Beau was on his feet, prepared to fight back if necessary. The golden badge he wore glinted in the bar lights and had Ava swearing under her breath. Damn it all to hell.

She shook Adam off her and raised her hands in a show of peace. “All right. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Adam hovered beside her, eyeing Beau with intense dislike.

“Yeah.” Grabbing her drink from the bar, she turned to face the crowd that had gathered around to watch the fight brewing. She offered them a fiery grin and raised her glass in a toast. “Let’s make some noise for our
generous
sheriff over here who has just graciously offered to buy y’all a round of Lucky Fox Bourbon!”

The bar erupted in whistling cheers. Ava made a point to meet Beau dead in the eye. “Enjoy picking up that tab, Sheriff.”

He gaped at her and at the patrons who came by to slap him on the shoulder and thank him for an offer he hadn’t even made. He’d be a fool to try and back step it now, she knew, which meant he’d be shelling out a couple hundred bucks just for messing with her. That’d teach him.

With a devilish wink, Ava hooked her arm in her brother’s and led the way out to the dance floor. Her favorite song had just come on and she was ready to have some fun.

Adam gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Good move, darlin’. Damn good move.”

“I told him I’d knock that stupid grin off his face.” She laughed and stepped into the line that had formed, Adam at her side. They kicked their boots and sang along to Luke Bryan, drinks in hand and the whiskey flowing. All on Beau’s dime, of course, which made it taste even sweeter.

There in that bar with people she’d known all her life, music that spoke to her soul, and whiskey her very own hands helped create, she was on top of the world.

Nothing was missing, she told herself. Life was perfect just the way it was.

Washington, D.C.

S
pecial Agent Cooper Lawson didn’t make a habit of placing bets, but he’d wager an entire year’s pay that the Brannon family of Kentucky was cooking up more than just whiskey. He was positive they were funding terrorism that had gotten two Americans killed in a car bombing in Dublin.