6. Lindee #2
“Darren did not bring the coffee.” It’s a statement, not a question. I shake my head, earning an exasperated huff. Turning to Brewer, she slides the other plate in front of him, winking. “Enjoy.”
“I will, ma’am.”
Another nod and she’s off, leaving us with our food.
I look across the table, trying to figure out what he was gifted with.
Three large sunny side up eggs sit nestled on top of homemade tortillas, swimming in some sort of sauce, with a mix of salsa and peppers decorating the edge of the plate.
The aroma hits my nostrils, the slight burn from the peppers catching me off guard.
“Holy wow…” I say.
“Well, here goes…” Brewer holds up his fork, giving me a wink as he digs in.
I wait patiently, barely tasting my own tacos, anxious to know what he thinks. And just how spicy Rosario made it.
“Damn, that’s good.” Brewer shovels another massive bite into his mouth, like a man who hasn’t eaten in a week. “It’s got a kick to it, that’s for sure, but it’s not overpowering. Whatever she put in this sauce, that’s delicious. Like, I might have to lick the plate clean delicious.”
I throw my head back, unable to hold in my reaction. The laughter that bursts out of me is loud and borderline obnoxious, but so was that comment.
“If Rosario sees you do that, she may never let you leave.”
“I might just let her keep me. That is, if you haven’t already called dibs.”
Oh, well, shit. Have I called dibs? I want to say yes.
I want to ask him to stay. To see if we can put him up in Mama Marguerite’s Come On Inn—the town B&B that is technically closed at the moment—or up at the resort on the outskirts of town.
I want to ask if whatever business he’s up here for is going to keep him in the area for a while.
To find out so much more about him. To tell him about me—about Lindee, not Luna.
I open my mouth, ready to suggest it. To throw out the idea that maybe—just maybe—that’s where the moonshine is taking us. Or hell, where it brought us. To each other.
“Morning!”
A familiar voice stops me dead in place though.
The deep timbre, and frankly overbearing cadence, is one I would know anywhere.
There is no escaping it. That voice belongs to Jerome Cochran, president of the Ol’ Troublemakers, the distillery’s VIP group.
He’s an insufferable individual, only to be outdone in that department by his wife, Brenda, the both of them taking everything way too seriously. Especially the Ol’ Troublemakers.
I relax my body just enough to turn and look to see where he is.
Thankfully, still by the entrance. If I scoot down enough in my seat, maybe he won’t see me.
There isn’t anyone here to block me, other than maybe Brewer from just the right angle, and if Jerome sees me, he’s going to come over here. And there goes my secret.
Yes, the same secret I was debating letting Brewer in on. But it’s going to be very different if he finds out that I’m a Murray—and Tennessee Trouble’s master distiller—from a stranger rather than from me.
Fuck.
“Something the matter?” Brewer asks, throwing a look over his shoulder. “Someone we don’t want to talk to?”
“Kinda…” I admit, slouching down and maneuvering so he blocks me. “We’re right back to that whole everyone knows everyone thing and…”
“Say no more. As a small-town kid myself, I get it.”
My insides ease, loving that he isn’t freaked out. He doesn’t even know why I want to avoid Jerome, just that I do. And he’s all in. He gets it.
He gets me.
“In fact, let me help,” he continues.
Reaching across the table, Brewer stands just enough so he’s leaning over our food, sliding his hand behind my neck.
My heart stops, the hairs on my arms standing at attention, his touch putting me on high alert.
The memories of last night—his touches, his kisses—flash through my brain, sending me right back to the hideout.
My breath catches, ready for anything. Ready for him. And he’s right there. A heartbeat away.
Then he’s not.
His lips are on mine, as soft and strong as they were last night. Only now, they’re more powerful. Because I know what those lips are capable of. And that I’m never going to experience them again. That this kiss—this incredibly powerful, sinfully sweet kiss—may be the end. Or maybe the beginning.
I whimper, giving in to him, letting my tongue swipe against his bottom lip, tasting the spicy tang of whatever Rosario put in his breakfast. He’s right—there’s a kick, but not too much.
Same way Brewer kisses. Enough that I feel it.
That it makes me lose all sense of time and place. But it doesn’t wreck me.
Although those might be some famous last words.
Separating us, Brewer loosens his grip on me, easing back over the table. I hold my breath for another second, afraid that once I let go, it’ll be gone forever.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod, not even bothering to look over at the door. Brewer throws another look over his shoulder, then turns back to me, smirking.
“We’re all alone again.”
Thank goodness.
I pop the last bit of my breakfast into my mouth, trying to find something to say. The buzz of my phone cuts off my thoughts. I know that it’s rude to check it, but it’s also early on a Sunday morning, so if someone is texting me now, it’s important.
Unless it’s April trying to get the dirt on what happened last night. Which, if that’s the case, she’s a dead woman for not waiting until a reasonable hour.
Glancing down at my phone, my stomach flips. It’s not April. It’s Rory MacDougal, my second-in-command. Meaning this is serious.
Rory
Know it’s early, but the heating element in still 3 is acting up again.
Damn it. Rylan assured me this was fixed. If the still doesn’t heat properly and evenly, then the wash isn’t going to boil at the correct rate, and then the vaporization all goes to shit. And I can’t be dealing with that. Guess it’s time to get to work. It’s going to be a long day.
“Sorry, it’s—”
“No explanation needed.” He holds up his hand, letting me know that he understands fully. “Life beckons.”
“It does.” I deflate, disappointment flowing through me like an overflowing stream.
Looking at his watch, Brewer sighs. “I should probably get a move on as well. I have a big meeting tomorrow and I need to prep for it, and…”
“Same. Who the hell thinks meetings on Mondays are a good idea?”
“Only thing worse is one on Friday afternoon.”
“Damn straight.”
Silence takes over, making things awkward for the first time since he walked up to me yesterday. I don’t want this to end awkwardly. I don’t want it to end at all. But that’s not what we agreed to.
One night. Wherever the moonshine takes us.
This is where the moonshine ends.
“At the risk of sounding lame and cliché, I had a great time.” One corner of his mouth quirks up, and I smile back at him. “I hope our paths cross again some time.”
“Me too.”
My phone buzzes again, only this time Rory is calling.
Damn it, Rory…
“Better get that. Breakfast is on me.”
“Thank you.”
I slide out of the booth, straightening myself out once I’m on my feet. Giving Brewer one last nod, I take a step forward, willing myself to leave.
Until a hand lands on my wrist.
“Luna.”
Brewer’s on his feet, hauling me into him before I can react, kissing me hard and deep.
Harder than he has up until now. My knees wobble, the feel of him pressing against me making the world fall away.
I return the efforts with everything I have, knowing now for certain, this will be the last time.
That this will be the kiss that I judge all other kisses by for the rest of time.
“Brewer…” I whisper, pulling back just enough.
He’s still holding on to me, pressing his forehead to mine and tickling my lips with his warm breath. If I had a way to freeze this moment and bottle this feeling, I would. Because this is the kind of fairy-tale moment every girl dreams of.
“I’m so happy the moonshine led me to you.”
And just like that, I’m ruined.