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I smirked right back at him. “Details, details.”
“So, if you two are done flirting—” Martha started.
We both jerked back from each other, only just realizing that our hands had been nearly touching.
Funny how that kept happening.
Martha went on, barely pausing to roll her eyes at us: “Here’s the deal. There’s that big liquor expo in two weeks, you know, the one in Martinville? All the brands introduce their new products, give out samples, do deals, all that chummy shit.”
“Yes, I know about the big liquor expo in Martinville,” Hunter said mildly. “I have actually spent a little bit of time in the liquor industry.”
Martha gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “Yeah, but the real question is, were you paying any attention all the time you were in it? ‘Cause if you were then we wouldn’t have to tell you that this is the perfect place to debut your new drink.”
Alarm flashed over Hunter’s face. “Wait a minute,” he protested, holding up his hands. “I’m still in prototype. There’s no way I’ll have a product ready. I don’t even have a factory set up! The investment we’d need for just a small batch run, it’s huge, and we don’t even know if—”
I patted his hand reassuringly. “Hunter, no one’s saying that you need to found an entire new liquor empire in a week. We don’t even need a factory. We just need a sample: some liquor for tasting and a mock-up of the packaging to show the industry you’re back in the game. We don’t even have to start from scratch—since Chuck passed on the original deal I had with Knox Liquors, I can rework all the visuals from the first campaign I developed.”
“And you know those visuals will knock them right over the head,” Martha put in. “They’re gonna be so wowed they won’t be able to see straight.”
Hunter smiled, but his brow was still furrowed. “Well, if you’re sure that will work…?”
“I am sure,” I said firmly. “Obviously, we’ll need to hammer out all the details before we go signing up for a booth or anything. The first thing I’d like to do is take a look at the place you’ve been brewing. That’ll help me see what I need to tweak in the visuals or the copy.”
Hunter grinned, energized again now that there was a prospect of showing off his hobby with no outside judgment. “No time like the present!”
He offered me his hand, and I took it.
As I left, I saw Martha roll her eyes and pull another paperback full of scantily-clad men out from under the cushion of the armchair.
#
Hunter had been brewing the beer not in any of the main distilleries, but in an old shed just off the path leading into the woods. Red paint peeled off the wooden walls, and the copper pipes hissed and gurgled as they delivered ingredients into the bourbon casks, each specially chosen for the particularly fine qualities of their years.
It was all so old-timey and Prohibition I half-expected a jug band to start playing while revenuers kicked in the door and a flapper peeled away in a tin Lizzie, all the hooch safely hidden in the getaway car.
“There are a few different kinds,” Hunter said modestly as he led me through the space. “We separate them by the types of grain, obviously, and then by the different recipes.”
“Like…different amounts of hops?” I asked.
“That, of course,” Hunter said. “But beer is so much more than hops. I’ve been fermenting different fruits and herbs here too, distilling their essence to use in flavoring different brews.” He shrugged, scuffing his feet a bit. “I haven’t exactly had many taste-testers besides myself, but I think the aniseed and dandelion are probably the most successful. And the black pepper is surprisingly good too.”
I made some notes on my tablet. “Can I taste some of these?”
Hunter looked delighted. “Of course!”
He hurried over to the back and brought out a crate; the bottles were labeled with Hunter’s scrawl on plain masking tape, which made me jot down another note—obviously that wouldn’t do for the actual packaging, but there was still something there we could use, something in that do-it-yourself aesthetic that would definitely appeal both to the older, proudly self-reliant crowd, and the younger, less self-reliant (and insecure about it) millennials.
Hunter brought the cold glass bottle to my lips, and I closed my eyes to better appreciate the flavor.
“Mmmmm.” Hints of caramel, a touch of cinnamon, and was that…nutmeg? I licked my lips. “Tastes like autumn.”
“Next,” Hunter said softly. There was a clink as he set down the bottle, and another as he picked the second one up. Then that cool glass was against my warm mouth again, and I shivered as I felt his breath ghost against the back of my neck. I could practically feel the heat radiating off his body behind me. A drop of condensation slipped down the neck of the bottle, rolling down the fevered skin of my neck.
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