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They ate in silence, the mood notably somber.
“Sorry you asked, huh?” She took her plate to the kitchen.
“No.” Blake followed her. “I understand now why you don’t like to talk about yourself or your family.”
“I’d rather be seen as polite but aloof than as Debbie Downer or the poor little orphan people feel sorry for.”
A peal of thunder rocked the house, startling Savannah. The storm had abated for the past hour only to reassert itself with a vengeance.
“It’s raining again.” Blake peered out the large kitchen window. When he looked back at her, a spark of realization lit his eyes. “Your parents… That night… That’s why you’re so freaked out by thunderstorms.”
Savannah considered asking if he wanted a cookie for his brilliant deduction. The flash of light across the night sky turned her attention to a more pressing issue.
“Where do you keep the bourbon around here?”
Blake chuckled. “I was saving it for after dinner.”
“It’s after dinner.” Savannah folded her arms. “After that trip down memory lane, I could use something that packs a punch.”
“You’ve got it.”
She followed him down to the den. Sam and Benny greeted them, their tails wagging.
This was the game room she’d anticipated. But instead of having a frat-house quality, it was simple and elegant. There was a billiards table, three huge televisions mounted on the walls, a game table in one corner and groupings of chairs and sofas throughout the large room.
One bank of windows faced the mountains. The other faced the lake with more mountains in the distance.
Savannah sat on a stool at the bar. “This place is stunning. It isn’t what I expected.” She studied him as he stepped behind the bar. “Neither are you.”
A slow grin curled one corner of his generous mouth. Her tongue darted out involuntarily to lick her lips in response. There was something incredibly sexy about Blake’s smile.
He was confident, bordering on cocky. Yet there was something sweet and almost vulnerable about him. When he grinned at her like that, she felt an unexpected heaviness low in her belly. Her nipples tightened, and she mused about the taste of his lips. How they would feel against hers.
Blake produced a bottle of King’s Finest top-shelf bourbon. Something she’d only splurged on for high-end, no-expenses-spared affairs when she’d planned events at the hotel.
“If you’re trying to impress me, it won’t work.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I happen to know you get it for free.”
“Not the premium stuff. I buy that just like everyone else.” He chuckled. “Except for the bottle we give employees every year at Christmas. But I did use my employee discount at the gift shop.”
Savannah couldn’t help laughing. She honestly didn’t want to like Blake or any of the Abbotts. She’d only intended to give the appearance of liking and admiring them. But then, she hadn’t expected that Blake would be funny and charming in a self-deprecating way. Or that he’d be sweet and thoughtful.
Blake was all of that wrapped in a handsome package that felt like Christmas and her birthday rolled into one.
And that smile.
It should be registered as a panty-obliterating weapon.
“How do you take your bourbon?” Blake set two wide-mouth glasses on the counter.
“Neat.” She usually preferred it in an Old Fashioned cocktail. But with the sky lighting up and rumbling around her, drinking bourbon straight, with no fuss or muss, was the quickest way to get a shot of courage into her system.
Before the next lightning strike.
Blake poured them both a fourth of a glass and capped the bottle.
Savannah parted her lips as she tipped the glass, inhaling the scent of buttery vanilla, cherries and a hint of apple. She took a sip, rolling the liquor on her tongue. Savoring its smooth taste.
Light and crisp. Bursting with fruit. A finish that had a slow, spicy burn with a hint of cinnamon, dark cherries and barrel char absorbed during the aging of the bourbon.
Savannah inhaled through both her nose and mouth, allowing the scent and flavors of the twelve-year-old bourbon to permeate her senses. She relished the burn of the liquor sliding down her throat.
“You approve, I take it.” Blake sat beside her and sipped his bourbon.
“Worth every cent.” She raised her glass.
“My grandfather would be pleased.”
Savannah winced at the mention of Joseph Abbott. It was like being doused with a bucket of ice water.
She took another sip of the bourbon that had catapulted King’s Finest to success. Their King’s Reserve label had quickly become a must-have for the rich and famous.
