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ChapterOne
VANESSA
What goes better than Bourbon and autumn? After downing my third shot of liquor, I stare at the empty glass. One more won’t hurt, right?
Death by Bourbonwould make a great book title. One with mystery, intrigue and, of course, a hottie fireman. With only suspenders covering his bare chest, he’ll save me—I mean, the heroine.
My dad was whiskey bent and hell bound that I return home to run the family business because he wants to retire soon. During the day, I worked with him and spent evenings with old friends at my place for two weeks.
On Monday, Barron’s Distillery will be mine to run for a week while Dad attends a conference. All I have to do is sign paychecks on Friday and approve purchase orders.
Dad left this afternoon and insisted that I go out with my friends. He doesn’t understand my reasons for not wanting to bump into people from high school—those relentless gossips who thrive on discussing the demise of mine and Beau’s relationship. It’s safer to stay at home, where I can select who comes through the doors.
Regardless of my status amongst the twenty something’s in Kissing Springs, this reunion with some of my oldest friends is what my life in Nashville has been lacking. Thankfully, Beau’s name hasn’t been brought up. Since we got back home, Wynter has been talking nonstop about me reaching out to him. Wynter is living in a different world if she thinks Beau would be interested in me again.
“Vanessa, come dance. It’s the band’s best song,” Wynter pleads. “Please, I’ll buy you another shot.” With widened eyes, she tips her head, gesturing to the parquet floor.
Well, that sounds fair. Plus, I’m sick of being withdrawn and not being around my real friends. Not one person I met while at college or in Nashville knows what I’ve been through. There are no friends like old friends that know the journey you’ve taken. Wynter and Scotty are certainly two of my best, and tonight, I’m going to soak it in. “Alrighty then, show me to the dance floor.”
Oh, it’s right there. Two feet away.
I attended college in Nashville and the clubs there—well, they weren’t The Brown Jug. What The Brown Jug lacks in the glitzy décor, fancy cocktail menu, and general class the Nashville clubs are known for, it more than makes up for it in men. “Cowboys” in the city of country music primp longer than I do, and they still don’t look like the ones in this fine establishment. In Kissing Springs, Kentucky, guys my age aren’t attempting to look rugged—they just are. Their sculpted muscles are the result of dedicated, hands-on labor, not hours in a gym. They wear cowboy boots because they actually ride horses, not because it’s a fashion trend. Their hands aren’t manicured, they’re weathered and strong from hours spent working outside. And honestly, I’d love to have a pair on me right now.
Scotty Smith grabs me, twirling me around about a hundred times. When he pulls me into his chest, my body feels like it’s still moving, and I swear I can feel the bourbon swishing around in my stomach.
He smiles down at me. “Vanessa, you look good. Glad you’re back in town. Have you seen….”
I force a smile and at the exact moment, bourbon travels up and out of my mouth, all over Scotty’s pressed white shirt. On instinct, he pushes me away, and I’m not upset because anyone else would have done the same thing.
The smell is horrid, and damn, it burns worse coming up than it did going down.
I guess it’s a good thing Wynter didn’t buy me another shot.
Scotty goes to the restroom, coming back without a shirt and lookingfiiiine.Too bad I have zero interest in him.
“Wynter’s taking you home.” Scotty tugs my arm.
I’m seeing four to six eyes, so it’s creepy when his eyebrows shoot above his hairline, just floating around. I cock my head, trying to focus my vision. “Why?”
Scotty and I have known each other since we were kids. At eleven, he was my first kiss on the tilt-a-whirl during the county fair. I shouldn’t count it because Scotty said, “Whew, that was fun,” then he quickly pecked my lips. It was fast and hard, like our mouths accidentally bumped into each other. He used to tell Beau, my longtime ex-boyfriend, that Beau may have most of myfirsts,but Scotty would always be the first one who touched my lips.
His eyes scrunch toward his nose, briefly distracting me from his chest. “Because you’re shit-faced. Why’d you get so drunk, anyway? Don’t you want to be back in Kissing Springs?” His words are clipped, sounding annoyed. “Or is it because you’re afraid of running into Beau?”
ChapterTwo
BEAU
“Building a trustworthy team around you should be at the top of your to-do list,” I say to my friend, Maverick, the owner of a private airplane business. “Then you’ll have the freedom to enjoy your life and money.” You would never know he’s a billionaire because he’s always in jeans and Justin boots.
Maverick drums his fingers against my desk. “You’re right, but I built my business on my own.
“It’s hard to let go. I admit, I’m a control freak, so it’s difficult for me to trust someone else to make decisions. Decisions Ienjoy making.” He leans back in the chair, pressing his fingers together. “Okay, a little team building will do my employees good. I’ll fly the general managers in a day early. It’s thirty-six people. When can you accommodate us?”
Maverick’s been back in town for a couple of years, trying to hold down his billion-dollar business and his family’s horse and cattle farm. He’s searching for an employee who can collaborate alongside him and eventually gain his trust to handle the day-to-day operations and giving up some control. Through my team-building exercises, he’ll discover if there is a person ready to rise to the challenge.
As I’m pulling up my electronic calendar, Maverick scans my office. “It appears you do surveillance. This seems like a different level of body guarding.”
I nod, looking around at the nine monitors, multiple computers, and other surveillance gadgets dispersed across the room. “I do surveillance when a client needs me, mainly for country crooner Hayes Dieslich, but for a few others, too. He had a stalker and wanted his properties monitored while he was away.”
