4. Lindee #2
Then again, Davis was Kyra’s bestie, before they got married in a whirlwind scheme so he could avoid paying taxes. No, scheme isn’t the right word. That would insinuate that it was done nefariously. It wasn’t. Davis has loved Kyra for forever and simply saw an in to finally tell her.
It was a weird way of going about it, but it worked for them. That’s what matters.
“The baby. So there’s a twelve-year gap between them too.
” He chuckles again, smirking as he meets my eyes.
“It was weird at first, and I didn’t handle it well when I found out, but they’re good together.
It’s also why I may never live it down when they find out that the girl I met on vacation is ten years younger than I am. ”
“Who says they have to find out?” I shrug. “About any of it.”
“Point taken.”
Silence falls over us, nothing but the rustle of the breeze through the leaves and the odd snapping twig filling the air.
It’s relaxing, comforting, and romantic all at the same time.
An ease to it—no need to fill the space with anything.
It’s a little weird, since I’ve never been this comfortable with anyone, especially a stranger. At the same time, it’s perfect.
There isn’t anywhere else I would rather be. No one else I’d rather be with.
The breeze picks up, much cooler now that the sun is down, hitting my bare arms and showing its teeth. It’s not an all-out bite—more like a nibble—but it’s enough to make me react. A shiver ripples through me, and no matter how much I try to hide it, my movement doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Cold?” Brewer reaches around me, drawing me in closer and rubbing the exposed skin of my arms with his hand to try to warm them up. “Wanna head in?”
I nod, hating to give up sitting here with him, looking out over my town. But I also know what the wind is like up here. It’s still only March, and there is a lot of weather left to be had this spring.
Without skipping a beat, Brewer is on his feet, bending down to pick me up.
He scoops me into his arms with ease, drawing me into his chest. The powerful smell of Irish Spring hits me again, releasing a new set of butterflies inside my chest. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to smell that soap again and not think of him.
At least I hope not. I want this night burned in my memory for the rest of time.
Wherever the moonshine leads us…
Three large steps later, we’re inside, Brewer somehow managing to kick the doors shut while still holding on to me. I swoon slightly, not bothering to hide it. If the man can carry me into an old miner’s hut and manage to shut out the wind at the same time, that deserves a swoon.
“Let’s get you in front of the fire,” he whispers, voice low and gruff.
“There’s not a lot of room.”
“There’s enough.”
Lowering himself to the ground, Brewer gently deposits me on the round, braided rug I keep in front of the fireplace. It’s old, musty, and has seen better days, but right now it’s warm, the heat from the fire spreading into the room.
“Just enough room for two,” he says, settling in next to me. “Although, I was kinda hoping there was only room for one, and then you’d have to sit on my lap.”
“But then I couldn’t do this…”
I reach behind me, underneath the bed, for my extra secret stash. The stuff that isn’t exactly legal. Grabbing the mostly empty bottle, I hold it up, letting the light from the fire bounce off it.
“You keep a stash up here?”
I shrug. “I use this place to come think. It’s my own personal escape. And sometimes that means coming up with some things that might not pass FDA scrutiny.”
I uncap the bottle and take a sip, letting the sweetness of my very first batch of cherry limeade moonshine take over. Fuck, that’s good.
I hand it over to Brewer, who is looking at me like a child about to go down their first waterslide—wild with excitement, with a smidge of hesitation buried in the back of their mind. He doesn’t let that hesitation win though. He throws back the bottle, taking a good-sized swig.
The muscles of his throat contract as he swallows, making my mouth water. I want to kiss him there, bury myself in that distinct smell, and feel the scratch of his five o’clock shadow on my skin. I want to know if his lips now taste like the cherry limeade.
I want to know what he tastes like in general.
“Well, hell…that’s good. Damn good.”
“Glad you think so. It’s my own personal recipe.”
Brewer’s eyes go wide and I can tell he’s impressed. I do my best to take a little bow, owning up to a job well done.
“Seriously, you should bottle that and sell it.”
Ha…if you only knew, sir.
The urge to tell him rises in me. To spill everything. And I do mean everything.
To tell him that I’m Lindee Murray, quarter owner and master distiller at Tennessee Trouble.
That the siblings I mentioned earlier, Mikayla, Rylan, and Kyra, aren’t just siblings—they’re my partners in crime in running the family company and continuing the legacy.
That Wink & Shine is more than my pet project—it’s been my world for the last couple of years.
And that I will do anything to get people to take it seriously.
But I can’t. We agreed.
“Workin’ on it.”
“Good.” He winks. “I mean it, this is incredible. I could kiss you for sharing it with me.”
“I like that idea.”