“Is it ready?” he asks, just as Sutton steps back into the room, looking like someone just kicked his puppy. He and Sawyer have been in the kitchen all morning, not wanting any help from their mom, Annabelle, or me.
Sutton sighs. “As ready as it’s ever going to be.”
“This is… nice.” My jaw is sore from chewing another dry piece of turkey, needing to add more cranberry sauce to swallow it.
“Liar.” Sutton grins, clearly not taking his lack of cooking skills to heart.
“Well, the beans are lovely, boys,” his mom says as she stabs a droopy bean on her fork and pretends it’s the most delightful thing she’s ever eaten.
“Another liar.” Sawyer looks at her cheekily.
“Should we just skip it all and go straight to dessert?” Annabelle asks the table. “And if we’re hungry later, we can throw together some pizza bites?”
“Yes!” all the boys say in unison, and I laugh, just as enthused by that idea as they are. Thanksgiving was never like this for me. Growing up, it was a big day. Chef Luc outdid himself every year. As if Preston knows what I’m thinking, he looks at me, and I nod. I know, buddy. I miss him too.
We all clear the table, taking a little break before dessert. His mom hangs out with Noah, Kevin, and Preston as Sawyer and Annabelle wash the dishes in the kitchen. I tried to help but was told to go relax, and since Sutton messed up dinner, his brother didn’t want him “breaking any dishes too,” which made everyone laugh.
“Here, this might help wash your mouth out.” Sutton slides his whiskey glass over to me, where we sit back at the dining table, having some time to ourselves. I’ve only ever drank whiskey once before, with my dad on my birthday. It seems somewhat serendipitous that I’m now drinking it at what’s becoming my rebirth of sorts.
I lift the glass to my lips, and the smell of it burns my nose hairs.
“Whiteman’s?” I ask, because I think it’s illegal to have any other brand in this town.
His eyes light up as he nods. “The new one. My one.”
That makes me smile as I touch the glass to my lips. Sutton watches me carefully as the amber liquid moves to my mouth. I take a sip, just enough to coat my tongue and hold it in my mouth. This is how my father taught me to appreciate whiskey. I swirl it a little, exposing it to my palette before I swallow, savoring the flavors.
“Shit… you even make drinking whiskey sexy, Tinker…” he says gruffly.
I hum, leaning a little closer to him. “It’s nice. Smooth. I taste a little honey?”
Smiling, he nods. “Tanner coated the barrels in honey before aging. Makes it very smooth.”
“Easy to drink.” I nod in agreement.
“That’s why, with every sale of a bottle, Tanner is giving ten percent to the Save the Bees charity.”
“Save the Bees?” The question leaves me on a breath. I wonder briefly if this man is actually real. He keeps surprising me in ways that leave me astounded.
He grabs my hand. “Yep,” he says, popping the P and giving me a wink. “My girl loves bees, I love bees, Tanner… likes bees. You know how much reading I’ve been doing, and I’ve learned how important they are to pollinate the plants, to make food, so it’s a worthy cause, don’t you think?” His loving eyes search mine as he brings my hand to his lips, kissing every knuckle.
“Oh my God, you’re serious?”
“Yeah. I’m serious. Bee deaths are on the rise.”
I have to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “I swear, I think my mom brought me straight to you…” My voice breaks as I think of her, and he looks at me meaningfully.
“I think she did too, Tinker. I’ll make her proud and treat you like the princess you are every damn day.” He has so much conviction in every word, it can’t be denied.
“She would’ve liked you.” Even feeling emotional, I grin just thinking about it.
“Oh yeah? My handsome good looks or movie-star smile?” He waggles his eyebrows, making me smile.
“No, your kind heart, your gentle soul, and your protective nature all would’ve rated high in her book.”
“I wish I got to meet her.” He pushes my hair behind my ear.
“Me too…” I whisper, then lean in to kiss him, just as Sawyer steps back into the dining room.
