For Love & Bourbon (29 page)

Adam was a different story. Having no work to occupy him, he spent his days with a bottle of whiskey and a vile temper. He snapped at anyone who dared speak to him and did his best to pick every imaginable fight he could. He was begging for trouble, itching for a release of his pain in the only way he knew how. It destroyed her to see it, especially when nothing she said or did seemed to shake him out of it. What they all needed was time.

But waiting out the thunderstorm only made her more anxious. Every day she felt like a child expecting a monster to jump out at her. Ned—or one of his cronies—could be around every corner, lying in wait. She wanted to believe her grandfather when he said that Ned couldn’t get to the States, but if Cooper was correct and that was exactly what the FBI wanted, then what would stop him? And what would she do when he inevitably arrived in Fox Hills, eager to pick them off one by one?

A violent rage filled her at the thought. She rested her elbows on the desk in her office, burying her face in her hands. Her fingers dove into her hair as she tried to breathe, overcome with emotion at the thought of him laying a single finger on anyone she cared about. He had no right, no matter what her father had promised him. Whatever business they’d had together had been decimated the second the FBI found out about it, which meant no more money from Lucky Fox whiskey would find its way into the hands of the IRA. If it was the last thing she did, she’d see to it that Ned paid for the torment and destruction he’d caused within her family, even if it meant facing him herself.

A dull ache formed behind her eyes, a side effect of her stress. She rubbed her temples and desperately wished for a glass of whiskey to chase the pain away. Knowing that would make her just as bad as her brother, she pushed the thought aside and got to her feet. Better to jump back into work than succumb to an emotional crutch.

She walked out into the distillery, catching the notice of a few employees. They offered her hesitant smiles and nervous looks, as if she were a ticking time bomb set to explode into a rage of grief and torment at any moment. Seeing the concern in their eyes only reminded her of what she’d lost, so she did her best to ignore them.

Her grandfather appeared through the distillery doors, waving excitedly at her with a bottle of whiskey tucked under one arm.

“Today’s the day, dearie!”

Seeing the bright grin on his face as he raced over cheered her up considerably. “For what?”

He skidded to a stop and held up the bottle for her to see. “For Lucky Joe’s Single Barrel Bourbon.”

Her lips parted in surprise as she accepted the bottle, inspecting the label their best graphic artist had designed. It had an old, black and white photo of her grandfather with one foot resting on an overturned barrel and a bottle of whiskey in his hand, with bold text across the bottom declaring it as “Lucky Joe’s.” The picture had been taken the day he’d opened the Lucky Fox distillery, and the endless ambition and pleasure showed on his youthful face. She swore his eyes twinkled with mischief even in the photograph.

“It’s beautiful.” She turned the bottle over, admired the backside with its brief history of the feud along with a picture of the distillery. Her eyes met his. “How does it feel to have your own single barrel bourbon?”

“Like a dream,” Joe replied, beaming at her with pride. “Come on now, let’s have ourselves a toast.”

She led the way back into her office and dug out two glasses from her desk drawer. Pouring them each a healthy drink, she took a seat and lifted her glass.

He raised his as well, his smile both filled with joy and marked by sorrow. “To Sandra, the loveliest lady I ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Ava clicked her glass to his, then lifted her eyes to the ceiling and toasted the air. “To you, Mama.”

They both drank. Ava let the whiskey mingle on her tongue, thrilling in the brilliant combination of flavors and sensations and smells. When she swallowed, a warmth spread over her that tingled all the way down her spine.

“Lord, that’s good,” she murmured, taking another sip.

Joe nodded. “Aye. Of all the troubles lately, at least we have this to show for it.”

She reached for his old, weathered hand and held it tightly in her own. “And we still have each other. We’ll get through this.”

“I know, dearie. I have faith.”

COOPER STOOD
at the window of his hotel room, his eyes on the street below. Being a typical Sunday night, most of the local businesses were closed and people were tucked safely inside their homes. The charming town of Fox Hills slept all around him, as serene and beautiful as an oil painting.

How long would the peace last? he wondered. How long before Ned made his next move?

A day? Another week, another month? Or would he not bother, content with having taken the life of one Brannon for the time being?

Without any real idea on what his superiors were planning, he was left bitterly in the dark. He was no closer to learning the truth than he’d been when Ava’s mother had been laid to rest. The suspect the Sheriff had arrested had been set free, the evidence against him not enough to press charges. Since then, the investigation remained on hold and Cooper was left with no more instructions than to stay put and keep an eye on Ty.

The wait was killing him, and he knew it was taking a toll on Ava. She had been doing her best to stay strong and resume her life like normal, but he could see the restless energy in her eyes. She craved action and resolution just as badly as he did.

If only the idea of what that action would mean didn’t terrify him so much. Would he be able to protect her if Ned came knocking? Hell, he wanted to believe she could take care of herself. But what if she needed him and he wasn’t there?

Shaking off the sick feeling, he turned away from the window and collapsed into the armchair by his bed. He flipped on the television and mindlessly skipped through the channels until his cell phone rang.

He saw Ava’s name and hurriedly answered. “Everything all right?”

“
I’m fine, Slick,
” she replied, a hint of humor in her voice.

He relaxed. “Good. What’s up?”

“
I have a surprise for you. Come meet me at the tasting room in twenty minutes.
”

He couldn’t help himself. “What’s the surprise?”

“
Don’t make me scold you for trying to spoil it. You’ll find out soon enough.
”

She hung up before he could respond. He chuckled, intrigued by the mystery.

Several minutes later he was pulling up in front of the distillery. He parked in the empty lot and walked to the glass entrance doors. A soft, golden light emanated from within, where he could see Ava behind the tasting counter. She glanced up when he knocked, her teeth flashing in a grin.

She wandered over and welcomed him inside. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He turned after she shut the door and locked it, giving her a curious look. “So what’s the surprise?”

“First things first.” She grabbed his collar and dragged him in for a heated kiss, her mouth cruising over his. When she pulled away, she bit her lower lip and smiled. “Right this way.”

He forgot to breathe for a second before he trailed after her, his eyes following the sway of her hips. She wore her usual faded jeans and plaid shirt, which she rolled up to the elbows as she rounded the bar and placed a couple of glasses on the counter. She set a bottle of whiskey in front of him and showed off the label. Her smile was electric.

“This is my grandpa’s signature bourbon. It’s not for sale just yet, but I wanted to give you a taste and see what you think.”

He recognized the pride in her voice, the passion, and adored her for it. “I’m honored.”

“You should be,” she mused, uncorking the bottle and pouring a generous amount into each glass. “You’re only the third person to try it—after me and Lucky Joe himself. It’s a single barrel bourbon, which means all of the bottles for this batch come from one very special barrel. After they’re gone, there won’t be any more.”

“Wow.” Cooper accepted the glass from her and eyed the amber liquid inside. “You sure you want to waste it on a novice like me?”

“Consider it a show of good faith.” Her smile softened as she held her glass up to his. “I trust you, Cooper. I hope in our time together you’ve come to trust me, too.”

It was the first time she’d used his real name. The sound of it falling from her lips, gilded with Southern glory, moved him in ways he couldn’t explain. “I do.”

“Good. Then let’s drink to that.” Her glass met his in a cheerful clink before she drank.

He followed her lead, catching the woodsy aroma as he sipped. The toasted spice hit him first, the burn and the heat of it catching him off guard. But what followed was a medley of flavors so complex he couldn’t put a finger on them all. Instead, he took more into his mouth just to try pinpointing them, impressed by how beautifully they came together.

Ava watched him silently, enjoying the range of emotions passing over his face. He sniffed and sipped and contemplated the bourbon as though it were some great mystery to solve. She supposed in a way it was, though there was never a wrong answer when it came to what a person could taste in a whiskey.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say this is your favorite,” she said at last.

He set down the glass, bemused. “It’s incredible. I mean, wow.”

“Isn’t it?” She leaned onto the counter, resting her arms on the wooden surface with the glass held in her hands. “It’s funny as hell to watch you dissect whiskey like it’s a science experiment.”

“I do not.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you do. But that’s okay. I think it’s my favorite thing about you.”

“Not my wit or dashing good looks?”

“Those are nice, too.” She covered his hand with hers, more at ease than she’d been in days. Just being in his presence had that effect on her. “Can I tell you a secret, Slick?”

“Of course.”

Her heart skipped at the sight of those blue eyes holding her own. “When all of this is over and you have to leave, I’m really gonna miss you.” She lifted her free hand before he could speak. “I know we said from the start that this was just for fun, but I’ve gotten used to having you around. And with Mama gone and Adam on a bender and so many things in my life turned upside down, you’ve kind of become my rock. Crazy as it sounds.”

“It sounds less crazy than you think,” he told her, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her skin and breathed in the scent of vanilla and bourbon and knew his heart was lost to her. “When I came here I never expected to find someone like you. Someone who understands loss the way I do.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

He offered her a kind smile. “You asked me before what my motivation is for my job. I didn’t tell you because it’s not something I share with strangers. I don’t feel like you’re a stranger anymore.”

His eyes fell to their joined hands as he lazily caressed her thumb. “I used to want to be a cop, just like my dad. Like most young boys, he was my hero. I would watch him put on his blue uniform and badge and see the pride in my mother’s eyes when she looked at him. He put his life on the line every day to protect perfect strangers. There’s nothing nobler than that.

“Everything changed when I was sixteen years old. The day started like any other. I woke up, went to school, slept through Spanish class. Then around mid-morning someone came into the classroom to let us know that two planes had flown into the World Trade Center towers. One had collapsed, and the other was still burning.”

Ava winced. She remembered the day well. While she had been hundreds of miles away, safe from the carnage, Cooper had been front and center.

He continued. “They told us to stay put, but that they’d be contacting our parents to come pick us up. A few kids in my class had parents who worked in the towers, and so many of us had family in the city. I remember being so confused. We were all wondering how a plane could hit a building, much less two at the same time. What were the odds? None of us even thought about
why
it had happened.

“The teacher turned on the television so we could see the news report. Minutes later we watched the North Tower collapse. They were filming people running in the street, covered in ash with scraps of paper flying in the air. Then they showed a clip of a policeman carrying a businesswoman in his arms, both of them coated head-to-toe in dust. It hit me then that my dad was probably down there, helping save people from the wreckage. It didn’t even occur to me that he could’ve been
inside
one of the buildings when it crumbled. Turns out, he was in the North Tower. Without realizing it, I’d witnessed the moment the building came down around him and took his life.”