19. Brandt
brANDT
“Know what the problem is?” Lindee huffs, her warm breath simultaneously steaming up her glasses under her safety goggles and ruffling the strand of hair that is falling in her face.
The little moon drawn on the side of her safety goggles catches the light, making it look like it’s glimmering.
I smile, my insides ready to burst at how cute she looks like this.
She’s in her element, surrounded by every piece of equipment a distiller could want.
“Everything I come up with is basically an old-fashioned.”
“What’s wrong with an old-fashioned? People love a good old-fashioned.” I shrug, realizing just how stupid a comment that is as the words leave my mouth. Thank you, Captain Obvious…
“Yes, yes, they do,” she sasses back, not skipping the chance to playfully stick her tongue out at me. “Which is why the Ol’ Fashioned Preacher is so popular, and tickets to the Tinsel Tangle manage to sell out so quickly every year.” Because it’s the only time you can get it.
“It’s that big of a deal?”
Lindee nods. Damn…must be one hell of a drink.
“The Tinsel Tangle is the only time it’s served, and you can only get tickets if you’re a member of the Ol’ Troublemakers.”
“You’ve mentioned that drink before, and that the Christmas party was kinda exclusive, but I didn’t realize it was that exclusive.”
“Yup.” She continues to nod, as if she can’t believe it herself.
“There are a very limited number of tickets sold every year. The party is technically open to the public, but I don’t know that I’ve seen a general sale on tickets ever.
Invites go to us shareholders first, then to Ol’ Troublemakers, and then, if magically there is room left, we open it up for sale. ”
“All so they can have this drink?”
Lindee scrunches her face, as if she’s thinking. “Ninety percent about the Ol’ Fashioned Preacher? The other ten percent is a mix of getting a sneak peek at the newest Tennessee Trouble or a taste of something rare enough to only make an appearance at such an event and bragging rights.”
Holy shit…
Instantly, my mind starts to wonder how I can angle an invite.
The idea that such an exclusive event in a small town like this exists is mind-blowing.
It also makes me want to figure out a way to do it for Southern Brothers.
I have no clue what we have to offer, but I bet if I gave it to the Hayes marketing people, they could figure something out.
“The recipe is an old family secret,” she continues. Her eyes sparkle, the nameless glee that comes right before she starts teasing me filling those beautiful hazel irises. “And while others have tried to duplicate it, they are missing the secret ingredient.”
Secret ingredient? Oh, yeah…she’s taunting me. Like I’m a worm on a hook, she’s going to keep me dangling as long as she can. Playing with me every which way.
I’m here for it.
“Which is?” I ask, playing into her hand. I take a step closer to her, closing the gap between us. Her lab isn’t huge, but it’s more than enough room for two, plus her chemistry set.
“Well…” she drawls, pushing her goggles up into her hair, like a headband. Fuck, if I thought she was cute before, this new move is another step up the ladder. I thought she was crazy to put them on since all we’re doing is mixing drinks, but she insisted. Now, I don’t want her to take them off.
Giggling, she steps into me, her pretty pink lips stealing my attention from the goggles. Fuck me, she’s going to make it hard to…well, not be hard.
“If I told you that,” she whispers, her voice husky and low, “I’d have to kill you.”
Oh, shots fired. Two can play this game.
I take a half step, closing the rest of the small distance left between us, leaving maybe an inch of space. Enough that we’re close, but still far enough to leave her wanting. Yearning.
“What if I tortured you for it?”
Lindee gasps, eyes lighting up playfully. She covers her mouth, mockingly shocked that I would even suggest such a thing.
“You wouldn’t…”
“Wouldn’t I?”
I don’t wait for a response.
I grab her sides, catching her off guard, and start to tickle her. Lindee squeals, partly out of surprise, and partly from my fingers dancing across her skin. Either way, it eggs me on. Makes the fire in my veins surge, my hard-on reacting in turn. Each new sound she makes is music to my ears.
Wiggling and giggling in my arms, Lindee rubs her body against mine. I don’t bother to suppress my desire, letting out a long groan. She fits so fucking perfectly into my arms—like she was built for this. Or maybe I was the one built for her.
Holding still long enough to rise up on her toes, Lindee presses her lips to mine, stealing a kiss. The move is quick, fiery, and catches me so off guard I lose track of what I’m doing. At least enough for her to gain the upper hand, placing mine on her hips and holding them there.
“Seriously, though…do you wanna know?”
I look down at her, my gaze catching hers. There is nothing teasing or joking reflecting back in those well-known hazel eyes now. It’s pure warmth and kindness. An invitation to bring me into her world even more.
Flexing my hands against her hips, I hold back from what I really want to do—kiss the fuck out of her. Instead, it’s time to return fire.
“Does a cow have spots?”
“Does a cow have spots?” Lindee snorts. “Okay, country boy.”
I shrug, taking the hit. I am a country boy, there’s no doubt about that. A good, rural, small-town guy from middle Georgia. And damn proud of it.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Pursing her lips, Lindee puffs her chest out, pushing her breasts against me. I bite down on the inside of my lip, trying to hold back a very ungentlemanly noise. Not an easy feat when the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met is rubbing up against you.
“Then earn it…”
Challenge accepted…
I don’t wait. I don’t hesitate. I simply act.
Cupping her cheeks, I hold her still and capture her mouth in mine. I kiss her—hot, hard—giving it everything I have. There’s no holding back now.
The world stops. Time, space, air—all of it. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. Just us—her and me. The sweetness of her lips, the softness of her tongue, and the beauty of her coos. All the things that could fuel me for the rest of time.
Forget food and water. I don’t need those. All I need is Lindee Murray’s kiss.
Lindee grips onto my shirt, trying to tug me in closer. I let her, because I need her. Wholly. Completely. My fingers weave into her hair, the silky strands feeling like satin against my skin.
“Brandt…” Lindee whispers, pulling back only far enough to try and catch her breath.
She stays glued to me, her chest heaving against mine. Right where she belongs.
“Honestly,” I whisper back, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “As curious as I am about this secret ingredient, I won’t ask you to betray your family like that. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you. To put you in that position.”
Lindee’s eyes flutter shut, a barely audible sigh escaping as she rests her head on my chest. I can feel the muscles in her back ease as she snuggles in, and I tighten my embrace.
I mean it—I can’t ask that of her. I know some members of her family think that I’m some sort of spy or that I’m out to ruin her and their brand, but I’m not. I respect the fuck out of her and what she does. And I think she knows that. I sure hope she does.
“That only makes me want to tell you, you know.” Her words are muffled against my tee, the light vibration of her voice reverberating off my breastplate.
“Tell you what…” I draw back, looking down at her. “Save it. Tell me once you’ve won the SLOSH for your amazing new cocktail.”
“Oh, the one I still haven’t come up with?” she sasses, playfully pushing me away. “And CocktailCon is in like two weeks—pretty sure entries for the Society of Liquor, Overproofs, Spirits, and Hops awards are closed.”
“They close on Saturday.”
The look that she gives me could stop traffic. Eyebrows raised, lips quirked to one side, and an accusing stare, all mixed together with her hair still mussed up from my hands.
“What, are you a judge or something?”
“No, but I know a couple.”
I also have a drink entered…
Which, I should mention. I should tell her that we’d be competing against each other. Now isn’t the moment though. Telling her now would only discourage her from finishing. That’s the last thing I want.
“Because of course you do…” She turns back to the lab table, staring at the beaker full of whiskey. Letting out a heavy sigh, she mutters, mostly to herself. “This whole process is making me want a drink…”
I sidle up next to her, pulling two stools up behind us so we can sit. Maybe getting off our feet will help get the creative juices flowing.
“What is it that you really want out of this cocktail?”
“I want it to stand out. Something that people will remember and…crave. You can get a Moscow Mule pretty much anywhere—some are better than others, but plenty of people have done a spin on them.” She lets out a heavy breath, one she seemed to be holding on to, afraid it might get in the way of what she wanted to say.
“A drink that people flock to, hitting up whatever place or event because they want something they can’t get elsewhere. ”
I nod, taking in her every word, understanding that feeling—that desire—well. Deep down in my soul.
I tried to do the same thing. My attempt was just for fun, where hers has a whole different weight to it, but it’s still an internal fire I recognize.
“Unforgettable.”
Lindee’s eyes brighten, specks of gold glimmering like the sun. “Yes, exactly.”
The air around us stills, the moment taking on a new feel. One of importance. There’s a weight to it—not heavy, but still distinct—as if the universe was taking the time to imprint it into our memories. Perfectly fine by me. Because this moment—this woman—is about as perfect as they come.
Placing a hand on my thigh, Lindee leans in, stopping just short of my face. “Maybe I don’t want just the drink to be unforgettable.”