Bourbon Sunset (Bourbon Canyon #6)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Madison

I was here for one thing and one thing only, and a big, bearded prick of a man was standing in my way. I’d had a crap morning, one in a long line of crap weeks, months—years—and I craved my jelly beans. The red apple ones, to be exact. And some root beer flavor, just to balance it out.

But he needed to move first.

Teller Bailey was carved from stone and moving just as fast. What was he doing in the candy aisle anyway? Did he even know what sugar was with that big, chiseled body of his?

But then he was talking to Cassie Horner, in her short little shorts with her shirt tied at the waist. It was a pleasant June day, but didn’t she get chilly? I was in a black T-shirt with a red plaid flannel over it, worn jeans, and cowboy boots that doubled as work boots for the new line of work I was now in.

Technically, the bar was my second job. Flatlanders Prohibited was also my biggest priority, yet somehow not my biggest stressor.

I tapped my foot.

Teller smiled wider at Cassie.

Ass.

Cassie tore her insipid gaze off Teller. “Oh, hey, Madison.” Sympathy filled her eyes, and I steeled myself for what was coming next. “I’m really sorry about Scooter.”

Scott “Scooter” Townsend wouldn’t be missed by many, but he was missed by me. Grief tore at my heart, but I gave her a quick smile. The months had dulled the pain since my brother’s death, yet I’d rather be run out of town naked than cry in public. “Thanks.”

Teller’s dark gaze bored into me, and I could only imagine what he was thinking. Good riddance to Scott? Did I start a new hobby chopping wood with my attire? How dull my skin was compared to glowing Cassie’s? I didn’t know the man well, but I knew him well enough. I had gotten to see a side to him not many others had, and it wasn’t his nice guy persona. Everyone loved Teller Bailey.

The Baileys were as beloved as the Townsends were disdained. The biggest difference was that there were a ton of Baileys, and they were all charming and gorgeous, Teller included. He didn’t waste his charisma on me though, not after the one real conversation we’d had.

His words reared up in my head. Was this fun for you? You gonna go laugh about it with your brother?

I doggedly ignored his inspection of me.

Awareness filled Cassie’s face. “Oh! Am I in your way?”

“Not you, no.” I finally slid my gaze to Teller’s, wishing away the sizzling of awareness that happened around him. His eyes really were a deep, rich brown, much darker than any of the bourbon produced by his family’s distillery. A girl could get lost in them, but not me.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.

I was one of the few women immune to Teller’s charm. More like I was one of the few who had never experienced his charm. I never gave Teller heart eyes, and I wasn’t a customer of his family’s distillery, Copper Summit. Therefore, he usually acted like I didn’t exist.

The longer his attention was on me, the warmer I got. Had the AC quit working in the grocery store?

He took his gaze off me and casually studied the shelves over his shoulder. “Tootsie Rolls?”

I pressed my lips together and gestured for him to move to the side. “No. Excuse me.”

He didn’t move. “The Blow Pops?”

“I don’t blow.”

One of his brows arched. Cassie made a choking sound.

“A no to the Blow Pops,” he drawled, “or all candy that takes sucking?”

Cassie made another strangled noise. “Teller, just move for the poor woman.”

He didn’t.

Nothing I wanted was on the shelves anyway. The stand-alone rack of Jelly Bellys was right behind him. The two packs with the flavors I wanted the most were behind his broad back.

I had no vices. I didn’t drink too much like my brother. Drugs were a no. I didn’t gamble like my mom had, and I didn’t thrive off anger like my dad when he was alive. But I had a sweet tooth, and it raged.

“I’ll grab it for you,” he offered, “so I can keep chatting with an old friend.”

Cassie’s smile widened.

A bite of envy clamped around my neck. Because I wasn’t getting Teller’s attention? God, no. Because I wasn’t anyone’s old friend? Possibly.

Teller was waiting, challenge in his eyes. This was the story of my life. I butted up against six foot something bearded walls in cowboy boots while other girls got to giggle with them.

“Or you could move, and I can get what I came for and go,” I said tightly.

Cassie grimaced. She squeezed Teller’s biceps, and no, I did not want to know if they were as big as they looked through his green flannel. The irony that I was dressed more like him than her wasn’t lost on me.

“I’ve gotta get going,” she said to him. “See you around.” She turned her hazel gaze on me. “I sure do miss Flatlanders. I can’t wait until you get it reopened.”

It was my turn to flinch. That damn bar was becoming my life. Thanks, Scott. For all the backbreaking work. For the giant damn money drain. For leaving me with a mess.

“It’s a work in progress,” was all I said. I didn’t mind Cassie. She’d been a steady customer when Flatlanders had been open, and she’d never been catty like many of the other girls I’d gone to school with.

She sauntered off. Surprisingly, Teller kept his gaze on me instead of her rolling ass. Even I wanted to stare at her butt. I’d always admired Cassie’s body and her style. If I dressed like her, I’d look like a lumberjack trying on skimpy lingerie, only I didn’t have a beard.

Teller kept his beard trimmed close to his chin, never letting it get shaggy. It was nice. From what I could tell anyway.

“Excuse me,” I said in another attempt to get at my candy.

“How’s the cleanup going?” he asked, his tone neutral.

Cleaning up the trashed bar was about all I could do. Repairing it was a different story. But why would he care? “Worried about the competition?”

He scoffed and the flash of a grin made my belly flip. No . I could not be attracted to Teller. I was not like every other girl in town. Growing up in Bourbon Canyon had shown me that.

“You can’t compare apples to oranges,” he said. “People come to Copper Summit for quality bourbon. They go to Flatlanders for cheap booze.”

“It worked for Scott for years.”

“Did it?”

His simple question poked at the troubling facts I’d learned since getting access to Flatlanders’ books. “Seems like that’s none of your business.”

“Nope, it’s yours now.”

My jaw tightened. The thought of renovating the bar and running it piled heavy on my shoulders until my knees wobbled. Flatlanders was the best chance I had at making a decent living, the only way I wouldn’t ruin my body working as a certified nursing assistant for the rest of my life. I already had tendonitis in both elbows, my knees ached after every shift, and the spot I’d tweaked in my back years ago was acting up. I wasn’t even thirty-five yet.

“Yeah. It’s mine now.” I gave the candy on the shelving next to him a pointed look, hoping he’d get the hint and move.

“How bad is it?” he asked softly.

I stiffened. It was none of his concern, and pretending to care wouldn’t get the information out of me. “Why?”

His mouth flattened. “I’m just asking. Flatlanders is a local business and everyone heard that Scooter destroyed the place and you got stuck with it. People care.”

An indelicate snort sneaked out of me. “Sure. They care so much they peer through the windows instead of asking and whisper behind my back.”

“You aren’t exactly approachable.”

“I’m approachable as fuck.”

He leveled a flat look on me.

My hair would stand on end, but there was a tingling along my skin that liked his attention. “Maybe not to you because what was it you said? ‘How can I believe what comes out of a Townsend’s mouth?’”

He blanched and cleared his throat. “That was different.”

He continued to be in my way. “Is this payback for chasing off your girlfriend?”

“What girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. “The one who was just giggling at you?”

Incredulity filled his dark gaze. “Cassie? We’re just friends. You do know what those are, right?”

I heard the teasing in his voice but it didn’t stop the chafing at my neck. No, I didn’t know what friends were. “I don’t win popularity contests like you.”

He tapped his fingers on his cart. I didn’t trust the glint in his eyes. Then he said, “You might if you smile once in a while.” My mouth dropped open and I sputtered. He laughed, a deep, pleasing sound that made me wish I was in on the joke for once instead of the butt of one. Guys like Teller didn’t joke around with me. “I’m kidding. I’m not that big of a dick.”

I begged to differ. “Can you move please?”

He cocked an ear. “Did Mad Maddy say please?”

A gasp burst out of me. I hated that name. I hated that I earned it in my teen years when my temper was as explosive as my parents’.

I had to get away from it and away from the man who made me want to regress and shout at him to MOVE THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY. His brawny shoulders were blocking my jelly beans.

I could’ve really used something sweet to face the day, but this giant ass wasn’t moving. I’d think of something else or go without, like I always did. I spun on my heel and stormed past him.

“Madison.”

I continued, grateful I hadn’t grabbed a cart or even a handbasket. I nearly ran into an older lady. Mrs. Henderson, my high school Algebra teacher.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Still not watching where you’re going?”

I had plenty of new grudges to deal with, I didn’t need old ones. I curved around her, earning the rude reputation behind my family name.

“Mads,” Teller said.

Tension bunched behind my shoulders. “Mads” was too close to “Mad Maddy.”

“Maddy!”

His bootsteps hit the floor behind me. A wheel on his cart squeaked, and I put the afterburners on, power walking my way through the store. The nickname. My brother. The goddamn bar. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t fall apart in public, and I wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me lose my temper.

I sped to my old pickup, cringing when I noticed Teller’s big fancy truck a few spots down. My ride had rust over the fenders, a dent in the driver’s door, thanks to my ex, and a crooked bumper. Teller’s pickup gleamed shiny silver and blue. He had a nice box cover in the back, and while the vehicle looked well used, it still screamed money .

Cassie would look really good reclining on the tailgate, watching him ride in on horseback from moving cattle. I could picture it in my head. Only the image forming didn’t include Cassie, and the twinkle in his eye definitely wasn’t aimed at her.

I shook off the thought of a wide-shouldered rider in sync with his horse, his cowboy hat tipped low, crushing those loose curls of his that popped out when he went a few weeks without a trim. I erased myself from any part of that nonsense.

Quit thinking about him!

I hopped in my beater and drove the few minutes to the bar. I parked in the alley, right by the rear exit. Flatlanders Prohibited was in an old brick building in downtown Bourbon Canyon. The place was three times longer than it was wide, and there was a pervasive, musty smell I hoped would disappear when I replaced the sinks and toilets.

I slipped inside and locked the door behind me. Slumping against it, I blew out a breath. Tears gathered in my eyes and I let them fall. I gave myself a few moments to miss Scott. Another moment to wonder what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t interfered in Teller’s love life all those years ago. Maybe I’d have my jelly beans. Infuriating man. Then I wiped my cheeks dry. I opened my eyes and took in the place. A long sigh eked out of me.

The damage Scott had done bore the proof of his state of mind. At least he hadn’t been drunk when he’d crashed. That was one thing people couldn’t pin on him. Nor had he hit anyone else when his pickup had gone off a curve and hit a tree.

I brushed aside a strand of hair that had escaped my braid as I walked past the empty storeroom that Scott had used to crash after a long night and was now my temporary residence. Then the office, the bathrooms, and a larger storeroom. Brightly colored balls littered the floor beneath the pool tables, along with busted pool cues. I hadn’t picked those up yet.

I could’ve been so much further ahead, but probate had been a bitch, along with Scott’s ex-wife.

I blew out another hard breath. So much damage. Scott had taken a pool cue to the mirror and bottles behind the bar. The booze had all evaporated, but the caramel scent of whiskey grew stronger the closer I got.

At least there wasn’t Copper Summit bourbon in the mix. Scott had disliked Teller, just like our parents had hated all the Baileys, and since the Baileys owned and operated the rustic and wildly successful bourbon distillery outside of town, that meant Flatlanders didn’t carry the stuff.

I could change that and send my mom into a rage. My dad might even come back to haunt me. I didn’t want more trouble. I had enough of a mess here. Scott had taken a sledgehammer to the bar and countertop. Tables were destroyed, their parts littered around the main area. Booths had been shredded, and splintered wood was everywhere. Broken glass from the light fixtures and glassware mingled with the wood shards.

“The bones of the place are good,” I muttered to myself. A new mantra to keep an anxiety attack at bay.

I scratched the side of my head. I knew where to start, but the whole thing was overwhelming. I needed money, and this would require a financial sink first, a lot of work, and a ton of energy.

I was also on the night shift at the nursing home.

Dread pushed into my throat, closing off my air supply. So much work. I didn’t know the first thing about remodeling a bar, but when it had been open, this place had paid for Mom’s stay at Cliffside Nursing Home. My wages working there certainly wouldn’t.

There was a knock on the door. A large shadow blocked the window. Another nosy lookie-loo? I threaded through the debris and stopped at the window.

I barked out a yelp just as Teller squinted in. His eyes widened when he saw me.

“Jesus, Teller!” My heart was racing for a completely different reason now. He couldn’t be here. Scott would roll over in his grave if he knew a Bailey was rubbernecking the remains of his precious baby.

Teller grinned and held up a grocery bag.

“What is that?” I called. Why would I want whatever he had?

He put a hand to his ear. He couldn’t hear me through the glass. I hesitated and glanced at the door. I’d have to open it, and then he’d see clearly. But he was already shading his eyes and trying to look in.

Wasn’t I used to being a sideshow in this town?

Resigned, I flipped the deadbolts and cracked it open. “What are?—”

“I got candy.” He brandished the bag again.

“Candy?”

“Don’t worry, no Tootsie Rolls or Blow Pops.”

My stomach woke up at the thought of candy. “I don’t need it.” Not from him.

“No one needs candy.”

I bristled as my mom’s words tracked through my head. Don’t eat that shit. You’re a big girl already. “Are you judging me?”

His lips formed a troubled line. “For what?” He seemed sincerely confused. Before I could speak, he lifted his gaze over my shoulder and his eyes widened. “Shit. Scooter really did a number on the place.”

I crossed my arms and tried to block his view, but he was half a head taller than me. “You can take the candy with you.”

His brow was furrowed as he scanned the mess at my back. “Structural damage even?”

“Just to the bar counter and shelving.” I hadn’t meant to answer him.

His gaze dropped back to me and warmth infused my veins. I tried to stay cool toward him, but I’d been out in the cold for so long.

“The bar counter is pretty important for a bar.”

“Oh my god, I would’ve never known without your wisdom. Thanks for stopping by, but it’s unnecessary.” I tried to shut the door.

He put a big hand on the surface. “Will you quit getting upset at everything that comes out of my mouth?”

“Will you quit saying shit to upset me?”

He frowned. “I don’t do that.” At my hard look, he shrugged. “All the time.”

“This time I’m the one who doesn’t believe you.” I hip-checked the door, but it didn’t budge against his hold. Why did he have to be strong in addition to everything else?

He handed the bag over. “Look, I’m not going to eat it. I prefer my sugar in the form of baked goods.”

My stomach growled. A long time ago, I’d had some of his mom’s desserts. She’d made a giant platter of Christmas cookies for the school program. Since Mom would’ve had no way of knowing if I ate any, I’d had five. The most delicious chocolate chip cookie I’d ever had on my tongue. I’d been trying to figure out the recipe ever since.

He jiggled the plastic bag, and I leaned back like it was full of venomous snakes.

“Christ, Madison. Do you think I’m that bad of a guy?”

“You haven’t shown me otherwise. I give you some bad news thinking I’m doing you a favor, and you make comments about how cheap I am.”

“I never said that!”

“‘I only let my tongue taste quality.’” My face burned from the memory of running into him last year in the coffee shop downtown.

He grimaced. “I was literally talking about the quality of the bourbon I make compared to what was sold here. As for the other thing.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You gave me the shit news that my girlfriend was cheating on me with your brother, and I shot the messenger.”

Oh. I hadn’t prepared for an actual apology. “I would’ve wanted to know instead of being a fool.”

“I wasn’t a fool for not suspecting my partner of stepping out on me.”

“But it feels like you’re one when it happens.”

His nod was faint, then curiosity filled his gaze. Crap. I said too much, and it was the last thing I wanted to air out in front of him, or to commiserate with him. I could shoo him away and keep up the animosity, but I needed the sugar high before I faced the mess behind me. All I had was a water bottle and a ton of evaporated alcohol.

“Thanks.” I reached for his offering.

Just as I was taking the bag, a “Yoo-hoo” rang out.

I snatched the sack from Teller in case he got distracted and forgot about forcing it on me. He dropped his hand, not giving me a response.

Whoever it was had his hackles raised. His lips were flattened and he was stiff. I leaned out as Wilna rushed down the sidewalk. She was ninety-something, but I’d thought she was in her nineties most of my life. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she carried a stack of papers.

Her eyes lit when she saw me. I was tempted to scurry away. Wilna had a way of putting everyone around her to work, and I had enough waiting for me.

“Oh, Madison. I’m so glad I caught you.” She whipped out a sheet of paper. “Can you post this in your establishment?”

“It’s not open.” When she blinked at me, I took a flyer anyway.

Next, she beamed at Teller and thrust a sizable portion of her stack in his direction. “Be a dear and distribute these, will you? Have to make sure everyone knows.”

Teller frowned at the papers. Wilna shoved them at his chest. He automatically put his hand on them, then cringed.

What had I missed? Teller always had a retort for me, but a tiny nonagenarian had him silenced?

The sheet was a poster announcing the annual bachelor auction, a fundraiser for shelters and food pantries in the area. Wilna and her crew also organized scholarships for ranchers during bad years and students who couldn’t afford college, and they put on holiday shindigs for the nursing home to ensure that any forgotten family members also got to celebrate.

A picture of Teller’s handsome, scowling face was plastered right in the middle with the words Bid on a Bailey .

A chortle left me. “You’re getting auctioned this year?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “For work.”

I snickered. “No one’s going to buy you for work .”

Bachelors either auctioned off a day of labor or an actual date. Teller was the most eligible bachelor in the area. I wouldn’t be surprised if women from as far away as Helena came down. The auction was going to make a killing from Teller.

His scowl deepened. I almost felt sorry for him.

He worked his jaw back and forth. “I’m giving away one free project. I’m not a date.”

“No one’s going to care,” I said, starting to enjoy his discomfort.

His gaze sharpened. “Are you saying you’d rather buy me for a date?”

His voice was almost a purr and his little gotcha smirk slammed my guards back in place. I’d almost been congenial with him. I’d had empathy for him. And he was teasing me again.

“You’re welcome to come bid on him,” Wilna said. “I’m retiring. It’s the last auction, so it’ll be a full house.”

There was no way I was fighting a bunch of women for Teller. Besides, every cent I had needed to go into this place.

“Two weeks.” Wilna patted the papers Teller clutched to his chest. Her gaze jumped around me, trying to see inside.

Teller witnessing the mess was bad enough, but I was used to being inferior around him. I didn’t need Wilna spreading the word about what little I’d done so far.

“Thanks, Wilna. Good luck, Teller.” I shut the door in their faces.

I put my back to the door and sucked in a long breath. Teller showing up at my door had been unexpected, to say the least. My fingers tightened around the grocery bag. I still held on to the flyer. His brooding face stared back as if Wilna had surprised him like a paparazzo.

He’d brought me candy. Had he felt bad about choc-blocking me?

I giggled. I liked chocolate too, but days like today called for straight sugar. Looking inside, I gasped.

Holy crap . I hadn’t registered the weight, but he’d loaded up. Skittles, Sour Patch Kids, gummy bears, and a bag of Trolli. No Jelly Belly, but my mouth was salivating.

A smile tugged at my lips. Not even my ex had been this generous when I’d asked him to pick up something sweet for me. I mulled over which bag to devour first. The decision took my mind off figuring out why Teller had dropped it off.

Sour Patch Kids first. Then... whatever I had time for. I dug my phone out of my back pocket and checked the time. Shit. I had to get ready for work.

I tapped the back of my head against the door. So. Much. To. Do.

If only I could hire someone. Who could I trust not to screw me over? Between Scott and my mom and my dad when he’d been alive, my last name didn’t garner trust, and I could not afford to fuck around. None of Scott’s old customers were in construction, and I wouldn’t trust them sober any more than I had when they’d been drunk.

I needed a boost in my income, like yesterday. I had to get Flatlanders back in business.

If only I could get some help. Someone who was trustworthy. Someone who wouldn’t waste my last two cents. Someone who the town didn’t scorn for their last name.

I went to stuff the flyer in the bag, paused, and then stared at it one more time.