Page 26 of Tennessee Trouble

For a split second, his eyes meet mine, those deep brown irises holding me the same way they did yesterday morning as we kissed goodbye. Warmth spreads through me, then disappears as quickly as it came on, replaced by a shiver, the sudden knowledge of why we’re even in this meeting to begin with creeping back to me.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat and shaking his head. He disengages our eye lock, giving me a polite nod instead and turning back to my siblings. “I…you looked like someone.”

“Right.” Mikayla purses her lips, her own pointed gaze shifting between him and me as I round the long conference table and sit down next to her. “Lindee, this is Brandt Rawlins, co-owner of Southern Brothers Brewing. Mr. Rawlins, this is Lindee Murray, master distiller for Tennessee Trouble, Ol’ Reverend, and now Wink & Shine. She is also the fourth owner of the company.”

“Lindee…”

The sound of his voice saying my name—my real name—sends another shiver through me. This one is different though. This one makes me want to crawl into him and never leave.

“Brandt.”

His name tastes delicious. Like whiskey-soaked cherries covered in chocolate.

Mikayla glares at me. I can feel her eyes trying to drill holes in my skull, unable to believe I just referred to this guy so informally. I push my glasses up my nose reflexively and slip into an empty seat, trying to let the moment die.

“Mr. Rawlins,” she continues, her emphasis on the formality more for my sake than anything else. From the other side of her, I hear Kyra stifle back a giggle. If I were braver, I’d look over there, making a face at my little sister to make her crack. But that would only piss off Mikayla more. “As I was saying, Southern Brothers Brewing’s slanderous statements about Wink & Shine.”

“It was a joke,” Brandt replies, smirking like an underage kid caught with a six-pack. The casual shrug of his shoulder paired with the nonchalance makes him look every bit of the laid-back guy I got to know.

“‘At least our name doesn’t sound like a stripper’s act,’ isn’t a joke.”

“Except, it was.”

Biting down on my lip, I try to focus on something—anything—else other than the laughter bubbling up in me. Because it is kind of funny. I thought it the first time Kyra showed me the comment—all giggles herself. It’s even funnier now that I know the guy who made it.

It’s exactly the kind of comment I could see coming out of his mouth.

“We’re not laughing.”

Speak for yourself, Mikayla…

“I’m sorry if it came off wrong,” Brandt replies, sitting up straight and leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Really. I am exceptionally sorry. Because that’s not who I am. Not who Southern Brothers is. We’re your average guys, who like to joke and poke fun. That’s what I thought we were doing with all the banter between our brands.”

“We were,” Kyra agrees, sitting up. “And it made for some great engagement.”

“That’s what our social media person said too. I was simply trying to continue that.”

“Until it turned into harassment.”

Harassment? I whip to my right, trying to keep my movements soft and easy, not wanting to let on that I know nothing about this. At least not about any harassment. I knew that there was a little friendly feud going on via social media—it was all Kyra could talk about last fall—but nothing about it escalating past some funny comments.

Brandt’s smile falls, his body tightening. “We’ve proven that wasn’t us.” He swallows hard, his throat muscles constricting as his eyes go dark. “I own up to the stripper comment. That was one hundred percent me. But, I also deleted my U2 account⁠—”

“4U,” Kyra corrects him, same way she would our mother. Calmly and with her disarmingly bright smile.

“I’ve heard it both ways,” he jokes, shrugging.

Kyra opens her mouth to argue, but slams it shut in an instant. No doubt because she can also feel the impatience radiating off our older sister.

“Either way, I deleted my account that day. Presley made me. All the subsequent comments came from someone else. Someone that Hayes Industries’—Southern Brothers’ parent company—legal team tracked down. They have issued a cease and desist. They sent this along, in case you all had interest in pursuing matters differently.”

Reaching down, he pulls a sealed manilla envelope out of his bag and pushes it across the table. Rylan takes it and slips it into his folio pad.

“Thanks.”

That one single word is likely all we’ll get out of my brother—he’s not exactly one for speaking unless necessary, especially when Mikayla is on the war path—but more than that, I know he thinks this whole tirade is a waste of time. That Tennessee Trouble has bigger fish to fry.

“Regardless, the damage is done,” Mikayla snaps, as if everything he just said didn’t matter. “Wink & Shine is a brand-new product we are working on launching, and now…now…we have an unfair reputation that we are going to have to overcome. All because you made a poor life choice.”