Page 39 of Tennessee Trouble

“Of course.”

“Why do you think that?”

I sputter out a scoff, unable to believe that of all the things he could be wondering, that is on the top of the list. Would have thought that answer was pretty obvious.

“Seriously?”

“Ignoring this morning,” he continues. “I get that you think I researched you or something, but I promise you, I didn’t. But…what makes you so skeptical of a cocktail?”

Good question. Decision time. Do I let him in or tell him to pound sand?

The latter is certainly easier. And it’s what Mikayla would want me to do. But it’s not what I want. It hasn’t been from the second I met him. I want to share my secrets with him. All of them.

Including my big one.

“Because of this…”

I round the lab table on the far end, keeping my equipment in between us. Grabbing my notebook off the table, I squat down and open the mini fridge under the counter, pulling out a small beaker that is a little less than half full.

Pushing back to my full height, I finally close the gap between us, starting to let my guard down.

“What’s this?”

“Not a lightbulb.”

My answer sounds like it’s straight out of left field, but Brandt picks up on my reference right away.

“Well, Edison, I’ll have you know, Southern Brothers has a beer, Silver Lining Sour, because of one of our attempts that didn’t result in a light bulb.”

I laugh, any tension I had in my body flowing right out of me. There is something so easy about being with him.

“The Ol’ Fashioned Preacher is a special, secret recipe cocktail that only makes an appearance once a year, at the Tinsel Tangle.”

“Tinsel Tangle?”

I nod, pressing my lips together, trying to hold back my own embarrassed laugh. “Yup. It’s the bougie, boozy, and incredibly boring cocktail party that the Ol’ Troublemakers, the distillery’s VIP group, puts on every Christmas. The guy who I was hiding from at breakfast yesterday, that was Jerome Cochran, the president. He’s…insufferable would be putting it nicely.”

“Ahhh.”

“Anyway, I’ve been playing around with coming up with something new. Something fun. Maybe that revolved around Wink & Shine. But I can’t quite get it right.”

“And you thought I somehow knew about this, so I was making the offer…”

I slowly nod, admitting to it. Now that he says it out loud, it does—maybe—sound a little crazy.

“You were in here, so it seemed possible that you were snooping.”

“I was…but not in the rummage through your notes sense. More like oh, that’s a cool vintage still sense. I had no idea about your concoction.”

The teenage girl in me giggles as he says concoction, my brain instantly whirring back to Saturday night and his own cock. And all the amazing things it made me feel. That he made me feel. How much I want to feel them again.

My cheeks flush and I force myself to focus on what we’re really talking about.

“It was my grandfather’s.”

“Fourth generation, right?”

Oh, shit, he remembers. A knot forms in my tummy, twisting and turning, the scent of Irish Spring wafting past me.