Page 35 of Tennessee Trouble

Oh…fuck.

Slowly, I spin on the stool, my back still ramrod straight, held together with fear. I don’t have to turn all the way, the sight of Brandt filling my peripheral vision.

His back is toward us, a charcoal-colored Henley clinging to the well-defined muscles of his back. He managed to change clothes since he was at the distillery, looking a lot more like the outdoorsy guy I met on Saturday, with his wavy hair all mussed. Like he’s run his hands through it half a dozen times.

Swallowing hard, I fight off the thoughts of how soft that hair is. And how good it felt as I weaved my fingers through it as he made me see stars. How underneath that perfect fitting shirt are strong arms that knew exactly how to hold me, hands that knew all my secret places, and a chest I want to lie against as I listen to his heartbeat.

Shit. No. I can’t do this.

I also can’t let him see me.

“Absolutely not.” I pop off my stool, steadying it as it rocks from my sudden movement. “I do not want to see him. Do not want to talk to him. Get him out of here.”

“What do you want me to do? Kick him out?” April retorts.

“Yes.”

That’s exactly what I want her to do. Issue a decree that he is persona non grata here. That’s her duty as a best friend.

April laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll go make sure he’s taking his order to-go, and speed up the process.”

Giving us a wink, she dips out from behind the bar and makes her way over to the take-out counter. I don’t have the nerve to watch her, all the anger inside me rising again.

Anger mixed with sheer lust.

This is not a good combination.

“You okay?” Kyra checks in.

“He used me, Kay. I really don’t know what he thought it would get him, but he used me. And that makes me feel…”

What’s the word? Silly? Unprofessional? I don’t even know.

All I want is to be taken seriously. I’ve worked so hard to earn my position. It might look like it was handed to me because of my family, but that’s not how the Murrays work. Our parents made sure that each of us knew the value of hard work and that we were trained and knowledgeable in our preferred areas. We started at the bottom and worked our way up.

Something that isn’t always easy for a woman in this profession. Like many industries, brewing and distilling has been very male dominated. There are more women joining in every day, but it’s not always easy to get the old-school boys’ club to let us in.

And what do I do? I recklessly spend the night with a man I don’t know, giving him all sorts of ammunition to come after me.

“Icky?” Kyra suggests.

“Yeah…icky.” That works, for lack of a better word. “I won’t let him take us down.”

“No one thinks you will.”

As reassuring as her words are, there’s still something in me that can’t be soothed. Something that wants to march over there and rip his balls off.

Then again, another part of me wants to walk over there, climb him like a tree, and dry hump him like an animal in heat.

So it’s probably best I stay put.

“He’s gone,” April declares, reappearing. “Better?”

I nod, climbing back up onto my stool and reaching for the nachos. Eating my feelings sounds like a damn good plan. One that could be made better.

“Can I have a damn margarita now?”

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