Page 83 of Tennessee Trouble

A collaboration between Tennessee Trouble and Southern Brothers. Fuck, that’s brilliant. And quite possibly the answer to every question that’s been floating around in my head for weeks.

Except how to tell her about my submission.

“Lindee, that’s…”

“If you think it’s silly, then don’t worry⁠—”

I yank her into me, cutting her off with a kiss. It’s the only way I can think to stop her from spiraling down a road that she has no business being on. Fuck, she has no business being in that part of town, much less that road.

“No, it’s not silly. It’s…fantastic. So much so, I wish I’d come up with it.”

“Really?” She perks up, pushing onto her toes. “You think so?”

I kiss her again, gently and sweetly. “I do. Let’s do it.”

Lindee squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. I try to hold on to her, but she’s a wiggly bundle of joy, making it tough.

“Just one thing,” I say.

Taking her hand, I lead her around the corner, following the signs for check-in. The roar of the conversation quiets as we make our way toward the elevator.

“What’s that?”

The elevator dings, the doors opening up for us. We step on, and I wait until the doors close again to continue, wanting to take advantage of the silence.

“This means that you have to come to Hickory Hills to see the Southern Brothers setup. See how we ferment. Especially if we’re gonna add in hops to our mead.”

Lindee furrows her brow, turning to face me as we reach our floor. She walks backward, skillfully, keeping her eyes pinned on me.

“I’m undecided about the hops. We can discuss it.”

“And Hickory Hills?” I try to hold back my smirk, the parade raging inside me starting to take over. This whole thing feels too good to be true.

“Hickory Hills is a given.” She shrugs, as if it went without saying. “I want to see it all. The brewery, Pour Decisions, Milo…”

“Milo is overrated.”

Lindee laughs, stumbling. I catch her, stopping her from tumbling backward into a display.

“I’m sure he’s not. Anyone who is worthy of being a best friend, business partner, and brother-in-law must be pretty special.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll keep him.”

More laughter fills the air, sneaking its way into my veins. Everything about her is just as addicting now as it was when we were sneaking around and having our weekend fling. Being around her makes me feel…like everything makes sense.

It’s also making me understand why Milo couldn’t resist getting Brenna up on the bar. That’s one of many positions I want to put Lindee in. It’s right up there with cooking breakfast, movie nights, and sharing a last name.

Now I’m getting ahead of myself. She gave me a business proposition, not a marriage proposal.

I need to cool my jets.

And tell her about my drink.

“Let’s get checked in; I wanna go explore,” she says, breaking away and heading to the desk.

We go our separate ways, each proceeding to the designated spot for our last names. The check-in process is quick and easy, the older gentleman on the other side of the table focused on getting me my name badge and the little badge ribbons showing off my categories as quickly as possible. Grabbing all the items, I shove the teal badge ribbon denoting I’m a best cocktail finalist in my back pocket, and turn my focus on adhering the orange category sponsor one to my name tag.

“Look at you, all fancy with your sponsor ribbon,” Lindee mocks.