Walking on Sunshine (11 page)

“A glass of wine will do for now.”

“I have bourbon,” he offered, and it pleased Mattie that he must have bought it just for her. “Woodford Reserve, in fact.”

“Nice, but tonight I'm going to be a lady.” She did a little spin in her dress, making the skirt billow slightly before coming back to caress her legs.

“I do believe that ladies drink bourbon.”

“I know that Southern ladies do.”

“Well, then, it's your choice. I do have a nice merlot that'll go well with the shepherd's pie I have keeping warm in the oven.”

“How about starting with bourbon on the rocks and then have the wine with dinner?”

“Brilliant. Would you like to go outside in the fresh air? It's shaded back there now. Dinner will keep for a bit if that's okay.”

“Sitting outside would be delightful,” Mattie replied in her best ladylike tone. She gave him a serene smile, thinking that this was easier than she thought. “Oh, and when I had lunch with Laura Lee we ran into Shane McCray and he wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner at his house sometime soon.”

Garret looked a bit surprised but then nodded. “That sounds quite nice.”

“You don't have to pick me up or anything,” she added, not wanting him to think that she thought of this as a date.

“No, I'd rather pick you up, Mattie, if that's okay with you.”

“Sure. Just check your schedule and let me know when you're free.” She tried so hard to sound casual, but it pleased her to no end that he wanted to pick her up like a real date.

“I will. Perfect. Now let's get your drink.”

Yes! She could use some liquid courage. Mattie followed Garret into the kitchen and watched him fuss around getting her glass and filling it with ice. He added a generous pour of bourbon and handed the glass to her.

“Good stuff, this Kentucky bourbon of yours.” He filled his empty glass and raised it in a salute before tapping his rim to hers. “Cheers!”

“I wouldn't steer you wrong,” Mattie said, and then took a sip. “Smooth, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“It makes me cringe when people add a mixer to something this special.”

“I'll keep that rule in mind and I must agree. Good whiskey should be savored. Now tell me more.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Does bourbon have to be distilled in Kentucky?”

“Okay, well, Kentucky makes over ninety-five percent of the world's bourbon, but by law bourbon doesn't have to be distilled in Kentucky.” She gave him a sideways look and tapped her chest. “But I for one won't buy bourbon that isn't distilled here.”

“Ah, loyal. I like that about you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know a lot about it, then?”

“I do.” Mattie grinned. “I've been on the bourbon trail. I went with Mason and Danny a few times.”

“Sounds like a fun trail to be on. Is it like a pub crawl?”

“No, silly boy. The bourbon trail is a bunch of bourbon distilleries, eight, I think, that got together and created a tourist trail where you can visit each one and learn how fine bourbon is crafted. You get a passport and get a stamp for each one you visit. If you hit them all you get a T-shirt in the end.”

“Did you fill your passport?”

“I did indeed.” She pointed to the bottle sitting on the counter. “Woodford Reserve is on the trail. So, what else do you want to know?”

“What's the difference between bourbon and any other whiskey?”

“Well, since you asked . . . there are strict rules that must be followed to be called bourbon.”

He looked at his glass with interest. “Carry on.”

“Bourbon got its name in the seventeen hundreds when the whiskey was shipped down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers all the way to New Orleans from Bourbon County. At the time Kentucky was still part of West Virginia. Because it was shipped in white oak barrels with Bourbon County stamped on them, the whiskey became known as Bourbon, although
some
would argue that the
name came from Bourbon Street in New Orleans.” She rolled her eyes.

“Ah, I take it you don't like that version.”

“I like to keep it in Kentucky.”

“Fair enough.” Garret gave her a nod. “Tell me more.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Did you forget that I enjoy trivia?”

Mattie grinned. “I like trivia too, so this could go on forever. Take me to a museum and I read everything, even stuff I'm not interested in. Well, I take that back. I'm interested in pretty much everything.”

“Ah, Mattie, the long-suppressed nerd in me is swimming to the surface. I am the same way. I read anything that's put in front of me, even cereal boxes. And now romance novels,” he added with a grin. “So please, carry on.”

“All right, then, since you really want to know.”

“I do,” he said, and gave her a smile that made her forget what she was saying. “I thought I loved scotch, but you just might have converted me to bourbon. I love the color.”

Ah,
color
, she thought as her brain came to her rescue. “Well, the long trip down the river aged the whiskey, giving it the mellow flavor and pretty amber color. Although bourbon doesn't have to be made in
Kentucky
, to be recognized as true bourbon it must be made in the United States. Back in the nineteen hundreds Congress declared bourbon as America's native spirit.” She grinned. “Are you sorry you asked now?”

“Not in the least. In fact, you might get weary of answering my questions. Plus, I enjoy listening to your sweet Southern drawl.”

Mattie felt a blush warm her cheeks.

“So, what makes bourbon so special if it
is
made in Kentucky?” Garret took a sip of his drink. “And this is special.” He tilted his head and gazed at her with interest.

Mattie cleared her throat. “Well, the limestone water for one thing. Limestone naturally filters out nasty-tasting minerals, especially iron.”

“Interesting. And then what?” He scooted a little bit closer, making it hard for Mattie to concentrate on the subject. The heady scent of bourbon mingled with his spicy aftershave, and her thinking power came to an abrupt halt.

“Um . . .” She searched her brain and then took another sip to hide her confusion. “Well . . . oh yeah, grains, mostly corn with rye, wheat, and malted barley, are ground into a mash and cooked with limestone water. After the fermentation process the liquid is actually a beer until it's condensed into the white dog.”

“White dog, huh?”

“Yeah . . . it's the clear liquid right off the still.” Was it her imagination or was he staring at her mouth? Wait. She was staring at
his
mouth. She shook her head, trying to focus.

“And then?” Her gaze locked with his, and time seemed to stand still.

“Oh . . . and . . . then . . .”
And then I kiss you
. “It's aged in, um, charred American white oak barrels, only one time and nothing else is allowed to be added.”

Garret raised his glass and looked at the amber liquid. “Ah, I love the purity.”

“I think it has to be aged for at least two years. Longer gives it a darker flavor.” She arched one eyebrow. “And a bigger price tag.”

“Thank you, Mattie. Now I will appreciate bourbon even more.”

When he turned around to refresh the drinks, she got to admire his very nice butt. “Oh my gosh, you're wearing Wranglers!”

“I'm just a good ol' bourbon-drinking boy,” he sang, making her laugh.

“Not hardly, but you're getting there.”

“A work in progress, then.” Garret turned around and pressed the glass into her hand. “You're not the only one taking notes. I had to wash them twice, though, before wearing them. They were stiff as a board.”

Mattie laughed and then took a sip of her drink.

“So, what do you think of my shirt?” He pointed to the Western-cut short-sleeved shirt that showed off his biceps. The thought went through her head that the mother-of-pearl snaps would pop open easily. When she failed to answer he frowned. “Not good? I knew I should have waited for you to go shopping with me.”

“Oh!” She clutched the glass harder. “No, I think light blue plaid is a good color for you. All you need is some cowboy boots and you'll be good to go.”

He looked down at his loafers. “Then we should take a road trip to Nashville to go shopping. I need to head there soon to do some talent scouting anyway.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Are you free in a couple of weeks on a Sunday perhaps?”

Mattie wondered if he meant sometime in the distant future or was simply making polite conversation.

“I know that your restaurant isn't open on Sundays,” he explained, “but if you're busy or like to relax . . .”

“No, Sundays work for me.”

“Then it's a date,” Garret said, and although Mattie knew he meant the term
date
loosely, she still got a little thrill hearing him say it.

“Shall we?” he asked, and nodded toward the back deck.

“By all means,” Mattie replied, and then turned toward the door. She took a sip of her bourbon but nearly choked when she felt Garret's palm at the small of her back. The touch, although featherlight, somehow felt intimate. As they walked Mattie noticed a slight increase in pressure, the movement of his thumb, and it was all she could do not to toss her fine bourbon over her shoulder, grab him by his Western-cut shirt, and drag him against her for an endless kiss.

When they reached the sliding door, Garret removed his hand, making Mattie long to grab his wrist and put his hand back where it belonged . . . touching her.

“Nice evening,” Garret commented, and Mattie nodded. Her voice, if she found it, would surely come out breathless, so she took another sip of her drink and looked out over the cove. “You should take me on the bourbon trail sometime,” he continued casually, and Mattie had to wonder if he was feeling any kind of reaction to her nearness at all. When she only nodded again he frowned. “Everything okay, love?”

Mattie managed a smile and a nod. She followed him over to the railing and they stood there looking out over the marina.

“So, has the ham bandit struck again lately?”

Mattie knew he was trying to strike up a conversation and she felt awkward not saying anything. After inhaling a breath she said, “No, Rusty is too busy being in love.”

Garret turned and leaned one hip against the railing. “Come again?”

“There's a little beagle mix named Abigail that belongs to a couple who rents a slip for their ski boat. Rusty follows Abigail all the way to the dock and watches wistfully when they pull away. Ham has been the last thing on his mind. In fact, I felt so sorry for him that I offered him a chunk yesterday.”

“Poor lovesick fellow. Does Abigail return the affection, I hope?”

“I don't think so or maybe she's just playing hard to get.”

Garret gave her a sideways glance. “Is that going to be your tactic with Colby?” he asked in a light tone, but his gaze seemed to sharpen while he waited for her answer.

“Do you think that's the way to go?” Mattie asked, trying not to sound disappointed. “I mean, I guess he has to notice me first before I play hard to get, don't you think?”

Garret reached over and trailed a fingertip down her cheek. “What makes you think he's not noticing you?”

Mattie shrugged. She had noticed Colby looking her way since Garret had started with his lessons. “Maybe he
is a little bit.” She held her thumb and index finger an inch apart.

“Well, there's not a man on the face of the earth who wouldn't notice you in that dress, Mattie. You look lovely tonight.” He took a sip of his drink and glanced away. “If I took you out on the town you would most definitely turn heads. Stop traffic, even.” He looked down at his drink and said, “And Colby would all but swallow his tongue.”

Mattie remained silent.

“Don't you believe me?”

“I suppose.” Mattie dug deep for the courage and then after a heart-pounding moment she said, “Well, then, you need to step up the lessons and include, um, seduction.”

“C-come . . . again?” Garret stood up straight and looked at her as if she'd asked him to train her as an assassin.

“I want you to teach me how to be . . . you know . . . sexy.”

“Mattie, you are sexy, love.”

“Well, I guess I mean I want to know how to
act sexy
.” She swallowed hard and then said, “How to . . . entice. Flirt. I want to be irresistible.” She inhaled a deep breath and looked up at him beseechingly. “I want to know how to
kiss.
”

“Kiss? I'm sure you know how.”

“No, I want to kiss like an expert. Can you help me, Garret?”

Sooner or Later

G
ARRET BLINK
ED AT
M
ATTIE FOR A F
EW SECONDS.
O
VER
the years he'd gotten himself into some pretty damn stupid situations, but this particular scenario ranked up there with the best of them. But seriously? Giving a girl he was falling for lessons in how to entice another man was about as horrible as it got, and he'd had his share of horrible. After all the crappy things he'd selfishly done, perhaps this was karma rearing its ugly head. Ha, he should have known it would happen sooner or later.

“Garret?”

Garret had once wanted his own reality show, but his acting skills were suspect. Still, he tried to act pleased and put a smile on his face. “Oh . . . uh . . . sure. We could work that in, I guess. So, when would you like to begin?” Like never perhaps? Never worked really well for him.

“My daddy used to say that there's no time like the present.”

“The . . . present. Like in . . . now.” He pointed down at the deck.

“Yeah.”

Garret jabbed his thumb toward the cabin. “Not, like, after dinner maybe?”

“No . . . now.” She took a sip of her bourbon and waited. “Now is fine.”

“Okay. Yeah, now is a good time as any to start. I'm just going to refresh my drink. You . . . you okay with yours?”

Mattie looked down at her glass. “Yes, I'm nursing mine. But you go ahead. I'll just think of a few questions.”

“Would you like pen and paper?”

“Mmm . . . no, I think I have them all right up here.” She tapped her temple. “I'm going to have a seat on the swing. I'll be waiting for you.”

Garret opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded. “Right. I'll be back in a jiffy.” When he turned around he winced. Jiffy? Who said jiffy these days? God . . . Garret took his sweet time walking toward the kitchen, trying to remember when he'd been this damn flustered. After putting a few more cubes of ice in his glass, he added a generous pour of bourbon but then told himself to go easy or he was going to get smashed. Maybe he needed to get smashed to get through this lesson.

Garret sighed. He really did want to go to Nashville to shop for boots and to take Mattie on the bourbon trail or wherever the hell else she wanted to go. He wanted to take her to London and . . .

Oh God
.

Meet his mum.

When had he ever wanted to take a girl to meet his mum? Addison,
maybe
. That was about it. And in truth, he'd adored sweet Addison and she taught him a life lesson about what love is really all about.

But he'd never felt tied up in knots like
this
around a girl
ever
. Jittery . . . sweaty palms. Ew, were his palms really sweaty? He wiped his palms on a dish towel, checked his breath, and sniffed under his arms. Dear God, he felt edgy . . . no, hyper . . . What the hell was this crazy-ass feeling?

Love?

Wow . . .
love
?

Holy shit.

Was it possible to fall for a girl this quickly? No. Yes. Apparently so.

Garret grabbed the edge of the sink and drew in gulps of air. There was no denying it. Well, he could deny it, but it would be a big fat lie. He was completely captivated by Mattie Mayfield. He knew it the moment he'd opened the door and tried to act completely casual when he wanted to press her up against the wall and kiss her senseless. But if he let on, if he told her or even gave
an inkling
of how he truly felt, the lessons would end and she would be out of his life.

Wait . . . maybe during these so-called lessons she might fall for him too? Garret scrubbed a hand down his face. Right . . .

Garret shook his head and had to find some humor in the situation. “Karma, you are such a bitch.” He took a sip of the cold bourbon and a thought hit him that had him shaking his head. He actually wanted to call his father and ask what the hell he should do about this situation he'd gotten himself into. Dinner at Shane McCray's. And soon he was supposed to take Mattie to Sully's for her big reveal. And perhaps the following Sunday to Nashville. Maybe if he kept her occupied that damn Colby chap wouldn't stand a chance.

But a local bloke like Colby is what she wants,
Garret told himself, and pushed away from the sink with a sad groan. He was what she'd dreamed of all her life, and he'd promised to help her achieve that goal. Maybe he should just carry on with the lessons and squash his feelings for her. Or at least do a bloody good job pretending. A true hero would want her to be happy even at his own expense.

Right?

“What makes you think you're a fucking hero, Ruleman?” he whispered.

Garret thought of Mattie's sweet goodness and of the
trust she was putting in him and knew he had to do the right thing for once in his damn jaded life.

Putting a smile on his face, he knew he had to go back out there onto the deck and do as she asked. It was just so . . . weird.

But he could do it. He would show her how a touch, a look, a lingering glance could drive a man crazy. He added another splash of smooth Woodford Reserve to his glass and paused to put on some soft rock piping through the outdoor speakers to set the mood.

“Hey there.”

Seemingly lost in thought, Mattie looked at him with surprise.

“Sorry I took so long, but I was checking on . . . dinner.”

“Oh, do we need to eat?”

“No, it's keeping warm.” Garret sat down next to her, making the swing glide back and forth. He noticed her bare feet that barely reached the deck. “You're such a little pixie.”

Mattie groaned. “I hate being short. It's so annoying not to be able to reach things, and jeans are always miles too long.”

“It's cute. So are your feet.”

“Oh, sorry, but I toss my shoes off whenever possible. And those were pinching my toes a little bit.”

“No worries. Your little toes make me smile.”

Mattie looked down at her toes and laughed softly. “I'd go barefoot all the time if possible. I guess that's not what a lady is supposed to do, though, right?”

“You don't have to exactly be a lady, Mattie, just soft and feminine. Bare feet are both of those things. In fact, if you want to put those cute feet up on my lap I'll give you a foot rub.”

“But . . . I thought I was doing the, you know . . . seduction.”

“I'm not trying to seduce you, merely soothe your aching feet.”

“Oh . . .” She blushed in the waning sunlight and he thought it was the sweetest thing.

“You might just want to express that your feet are tired from working all day and if I were Colby I'd offer to give you a foot massage.”

“You say massage funny.”

“Part of my charm, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Oh, so you find me charming, do you?”

She pulled a face and waved a hand in his direction. “Right . . . ,” she scoffed, but her comment made Garret chuckle. Maybe she liked him more than she was letting on. Denial is always a big sign. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

“You
told
me that you liked me, remember?”

“A moment of insanity,” she said, but grinned. “Let's just begin the lessons.”

Garret nodded. “Okay, so darkness is falling and I put on some mood music coming through the outdoor speakers. Now you should touch me . . . just barely. Brush up against my leg or graze my arm lightly. Make like it was an accident or that you don't even notice. But I'll notice . . . or, you know, I mean Colby will notice.”

“Simple enough,” she said, but failed to touch him.

“Go on. . . .”

Mattie nodded but didn't move. “I . . . I feel awkward. You know what's coming.”

“Okay, it can be part of conversation. Say something and then touch my arm.”

“I . . . it's . . . oh, I can't!”

“All right, then, let me demonstrate.” Garret turned just slightly toward her and said, “So, I heard that Rusty is in love,” and put a hand on her arm for just a second and then leaned in next to her ear. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Mattie giggled but then sobered at his pointed look. “See, I suck at this. I will never get married and have
babies, and my parents will never come home from Florida.” She raised her hands skyward.

“I think you're overreacting just a tad.”

She nodded. “I tend to do that. Sorry.” She folded her hands in her lap and twiddled her thumbs.

“It's okay.” He nodded but he thought it was funny and cute. “Right, now do it. Say something and then touch me.”

“Did you say punch you?” she joked, and lightly punched his arm.

“Mattie . . . get with the program, love.”

“I'm just nervous. I don't know what to say.”

“Make conversation. Like the bourbon trivia earlier. That was fantastic.”

“Right.” She licked her bottom lip as if in thought and then tilted her head and said, “Did you know that the Cricket Creek Cougars are in first place in their league?” She reached over and briefly put her hand on his forearm.

“I didn't know that. We should go to a baseball game,” he said, and then smiled. “Excellent work, Mattie. You also led into getting a date to go to a game.”

“I did!”

“So we should go.” When her eyes widened a bit he quickly added, “You know to, like, a practice date.”

“Oh, right, sure. To practice. Good idea.” Mattie nodded and then put her hand back on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. “So, do you like baseball?”

“I do, in fact.” When Garret nodded she rubbed her hand over his hand.

“I do too.” She leaned closer so her arm pressed against his side and then pulled back. “How was that? Too much? Not enough?”

“Good.” Garret swallowed hard. “You're getting the hang of it.”

“Sweet!” she said, and put her hand exactly where it was before and left it there longer. Her small hand felt cool against the heat of his skin. She didn't seem to
realize it and that made her touch all the more enticing. “So there's hope for me yet?” Her eyes lit up and he wanted to kiss her so badly that it felt like a physical ache.

Garret put his drink down, turned toward her, and nodded slowly. “I do believe so.”

“Yes!” She fist-pumped so hard that the swing lurched forward, putting her off balance. When she put her hand on his thigh for support, she left it there and then gave him a shy smile. “Is this where I should swoop in for the . . . kiss?”

“Yes.” Garret's heart thudded. “By all means . . . swoop.”

“So, do I, like—”

“Do this?” Garret pulled her to him and captured her mouth with his. Her lips were so soft, so warm. He felt her little start of surprise, but then she melted against him and put one hand on his chest. The swing rocked back and forth and he put his arm about her waist, pulling her closer.

Her light floral scent filled his head and he tasted the bourbon on her tongue. He'd anticipated this kiss for days, but the reality of having her in his arms was even better than he'd imagined. Garret deepened the kiss and longed to pull her onto his lap, but he wanted her to be in control and to take the lead. But when her tongue touched his Garret felt a jolt of desire that carried more punch than the fine Kentucky bourbon.

Mattie didn't need lessons. She was a good kisser in a natural, organic way. She explored his mouth and ran her tongue over his bottom lip back and forth, and to his utter surprise she suddenly swung her leg over his waist and straddled him, barely breaking the contact of their mouths. Her hands clutched his shoulders and she moved against him . . . just slightly but enough to drive Garret wild with wanting her. Her hands moved to his cheeks, caressing his stubble as if liking the abrasion against her palms. With a soft moan she slid her hands upward and threaded her fingers through his hair. She slanted her
mouth, taking him deeper. He felt her breasts against his chest, making him long to tug the strapless dress down to her waist and feast his eyes on her breasts before taking her nipples into his mouth.

She pulled back and Garret thought the kiss was over, but she tugged at his shirt, popping the first few snaps open, and then put her hot mouth at the bottom of his neck. She kissed him lightly and he could feel the tip of her tongue tasting his skin.

A hot tingle traveled down his spine and he became completely aroused. Garret knew she could feel his erection pressing against her panties and he wanted to slip his hands beneath the skirt of her dress and cup her ass. The memory of the silky wisp of lace he'd pulled from his dryer filled his head and he nearly groaned. Her fingers tugged at his shirt, popping the snaps to reveal more of his chest, followed by the teasing heat of her mouth.

“You smell so good.” Her shoulders moved up and down as if taking deep breaths.

“So do you.” This little lesson was getting out of control, but Garret was powerless to stop it. He didn't want to stop it.

And then she suddenly pulled back.

“How . . . how was that?” Her voice was velvety soft but husky. Sexy as sin. Her dress had somehow slipped lower, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. Was she wearing a strapless bra or nothing at all?

“G-good.” He cleared his throat, trying hard not to press his mouth to her bare shoulder. “Excellent, in fact.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

“Then you must be a good teacher.”

“Well . . .” Garret rubbed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I'll take credit, but in truth you have a natural sensuality about you that's completely enticing.”

She played with the collar of his shirt. “Sitting on your lap wasn't too much?”

“Does it look like I'm complaining? I mean, I'm sure
that Colby wouldn't complain. The move was unexpected, which made it all the more exciting.”