Chapter 6 #3
“I liked it just fine, but now I know the art and the science of it. Not just the entertainment.” He hands me a glass of the single barrel. “This isn’t barrel strength, so we’ll start with that.”
“What does that mean?” I accept the glass. I should be worried about looking stupid in front of Durban, but something about him makes me unashamed of being curious. Perhaps because he admitted to having had to learn it all too.
“It’s not watered down. The bottling proof isn’t more than two degrees lower than when we dump the barrel.”
“Why do you dump it?” When did we get only a couple of feet apart?
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “That’s what we say when we empty a barrel for bottling. It has to get strained first.” He tips his head toward the glass in my hand. “Swirl it, smell it, sip it.”
“Only if you tell me why.”
“Swirling releases the aromas. The tapered neck of the glass captures them while the flared opening lets the alcohol dissipate so you don’t suck it in.”
I gently swirl, then lift it to my nose.
“Open your mouth,” he says in a quiet growl that sends shivers coursing over my skin. “And inhale.”
Flutters erupt in my stomach as I smell, taking in pleasing notes of vanilla, caramel, and spice. I blink and smell again, concentrating. He’s giving me a tasting, not coming on to me. “Cherries?”
“Yes. Now sip and let it coat your palate. This is an eight-year-old ninety-two proof.”
“The distillery isn’t that old.”
“Lane and Cruz made some single barrels in Denver to get us going while our product ages.”
“So none of this stuff is from Huckleberry Springs?”
“Some of it. We can use it for tasting, but we can’t sell bottles in-house if it’s not all made in-house. Drink, Campbell.”
I would guzzle it if he spoke to me like that again.
Ugh. This is Durban. I’m not supposed to find it so appealing. I can appreciate his mountain-man good looks, but finding his judgmental ass irresistibly sexy? No. I’m not the lonely girl looking to poach someone’s man—and if he can be seduced away, I don’t want him.
I take a sip.
“The flared base—”
I cough and sputter.
Laughter dances in his eyes. “—of the glass allows the liquid to coat more of your tongue. So let it coat your palate.”
Do regular tastings here always sound so sexy? I keep my breathing calm. Every time he talks in that deep voice of his, my chest constricts. I take another sip, and spice fills my tongue. Vanilla, oak, and caramel. Those cherries I smelled. “Mm.”
Satisfaction etches his features. “If we were doing this for real, I’d add a couple of drops of water.”
“What does that do?”
“Opens up the flavors. Softens some. That’s part of the fun. Finding out.”
“Durban Hennessy, I didn’t know you were a wild man.”
He smiles at my gentle teasing and switches glasses. My fingers brush against his warm skin. More butterflies careen through my stomach. I rein them in. This man is not mine, and I won’t accept attention from any guy just to stave off the loneliness.
“Your girlfriend probably appreciates it.” There. I put it out there. A reminder for me—and for him.
His brow furrows, and a shadow passes over his face. “I think she’s enjoying someone else’s wild side.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “What?” Who would do that to Durban? I have a special hate for cheaters.
“At least it’s probably not with my cousin, so there’s that.” His smile is tight. “She broke up with me.”
“Oh.” He’s single? Those butterflies aren’t forbidden? This moment between us doesn’t make me on par with Stanford? More importantly, it doesn’t make Durban similar to my ex. “Were the jokes that bad?”
His chuckle is soft. “I don’t think they helped.” He tips his head toward the whiskey in my hand. “Go through the process again. This is stronger and older. More hints of oak will come through.”
Message received. He’s done talking about Natalie. Even if he’s telling the truth, I’m not on the dating market. I have a job to do, a career to reignite, and family land to get back.
I swirl, gently inhale with my mouth open, and sip. The liquid tingles along my tongue, and I roll it around. I look into his deep-brown eyes, losing myself in their fathomless depths. “I taste cinnamon.”
“Good girl. That’s the American oak.”
Praise from him should put me on the defensive, not make me want to strip down, but knowing he’s single only makes it worse. Laughter from the tasting room reaches us, and I shoot the drink back before I can think twice. I’m also single, and it’s for a damn good reason.
“They’re getting to you.” It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I hiss. “It’s going to be a long four weeks.”
“All this to look like the bigger person?” His gaze strokes over my face. I’m open and raw, but his proximity is soothing.
“They’d do it anyway. In the end, my only revenge is to look unbothered, and that’s hard to do on the sidelines.
” I set the empty glass down and shoot the other one.
Warm whiskey coats my insides, and I close my eyes.
“Besides, each time I’m in the same room as them, January has to be wondering if he still loves me.
She has to wonder if he’s checking me out when she’s not looking.
When I walk by, she has to question how well he remembers me naked and sucking his dick. ”
I open my eyes. Tension is scribbled across his face, and his pupils are wide. He’s focused on my lips.
“That’s gotta be a mindfuck,” I say, my voice husky.
The stiffness in my limbs is melting away as the small amount of alcohol I drank soaks into my veins.
“And I hope it’s a special hell for her.
I hope that no matter how much she tells herself that he chose her, the thought of me still taints her wedding. ”
Several moments tick by. Did I go too far? Does he think I’m demented and that I’m not at all the bigger person? I’m a childish, selfish girl when it comes down to it. I’m scorned, and I want some retribution.
“Good girl,” he says again and drags his gaze up my face to meet my eyes. “And I can assure you, Campbell, that he very much remembers you sucking his dick.”