19. Brandt #2
“I wouldn’t worry about that.”
I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her in the rest of the way and kissing her.
Softly, sweetly, like we have all the time in the world.
Even though we don’t. That’s not the message I want to send though.
I want her to know how much I want her. How much she means to me.
How much she has turned my world upside down.
“Hey, Lind!”
Fuuuck…
We separate, giving each other matching looks of exasperation. Because of course Rory needs her right now.
“Lind,” Rory says again, sticking his head into the office. “Interloper…”
He nods at me, greeting me with the new moniker.
It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called, and he says it with enough respect in his voice that I know he means well.
From the little we’ve chatted, I get the impression that if Rory didn’t like you, he’d simply ignore you.
So I’ll take the nickname, even if it isn’t entirely flattering.
“What’s up?” Lindee replies, as if he didn’t interrupt anything.
“Just wanted to let you know Moose called out. Got a bad case of the scoots.”
Ewww…
“Well, that’s more information than I needed.” Lindee scrunches her face in disgust, trying to shaking off the visual. Can’t blame her there; I’m trying to do the same thing.
“You have an employee named Moose?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Last name is Alces, which is Spanish for moose,” Rory explains. “Nickname caught on when we were kids and stuck. Can’t remember the last time anyone actually called him James.”
“Fair.” I shrug. What else is there to say to that?
“How’s the experiment coming?” Rory asks, walking into the lab instead of disappearing like I wish he would. I will him to do an about-face and march right on out of here, but he doesn’t seem to hear my telepathic plea. Either that or he ignores it.
Probably the latter.
I’m not saying that Rory has a thing for Lindee—at least not in that way.
But he’s definitely protective. He’s got a good twenty-five years on her and acts like it’s his personal mission to watch out for her.
As annoying as that is in this moment, there is a part of me that likes knowing there are people watching out for her. A team that has her back.
“It’s…coming…” Lindee shrugs.
“That’s what she said…” I mutter, unable to hold back.
Sputtering out a laugh, Lindee swats at me, giving me a look that silently tells me to behave myself. I plan on doing no such thing.
“You know, when the Scots first developed whiskey—because it was the Scots, not the Irish—they called it uisge beatha. Water of life.”
I turn to Lindee, trying to hold back my laugh.
She warned me that first weekend here that Rory managed to work in the Scottish inventing whiskey whenever he found an in, but I didn’t think she really meant every time.
Sure enough, if he finds the teeniest, tiniest crack, he views it as an in, and all bets are off.
The look she gives me in return doesn’t help me hold back my outburst. I told you so is written all over her face.
“Consider going with that,” Rory continues, oblivious to our silent conversation. “You can’t go wrong with—”
A whistle sounds somewhere in the distillery, stealing Rory’s attention. Giving us a solemn, quick nod, he turns to go without another word.
“Who wants to tell him that that the method of distillation was originally developed in the Middle East and then brought to Scotland and Ireland by monks?”
“Ha!” Lindee scoffs. “Let’s not open that can of worms. Besides, I’m more concerned with telling him that the base for this drink is moonshine and not whiskey.”
I sit up straight, the idea hitting me like a lightning bolt. Like I’m one of those old-school cartoon characters with a light bulb over my head that instantly turns on as soon as he has a thought. That’s me right now. Here’s hoping it’s a good thought.
“What if you did both?”
Lindee swivels on her stool, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Then again…maybe not.
“Both?” she repeats. “As in moonshine and whiskey?”
“Yeah. You’ll need to find the right mix, and then some solid flavors to balance the two out, but talk about unique and unforgettable.”
“That’s insane.” Lindee laughs a little, then pauses, pursing her lips. “But, it might also be crazy enough to work.”
She’s on her feet in the blink of an eye, knocking over her stool as she leaps. I manage to catch it before it hits the ground, simultaneously moving out of the way of her flailing arms. Lindee is moving as fast as the Tasmanian Devil right now, grabbing ingredients and shuffling things around.
Then she stops.
“I don’t know what’s going to complement—”
“Use honey instead of sugar for your simple syrup, and then mint, lemon, and blackberries,” I say, cutting her off. “That’ll complement the whiskey, plus the lemon and mint will give it some zest.”
“You’re a genius.”
We get to work, muddling, mixing, and mashing our way through different combinations.
At one point I run to the fridge to get us both bottles of water, our attempts starting to go to our heads.
As much fun as it is to get tipsy with this beauty, right now we need to remain clearheaded for the task at hand.
We can save the rest for later. Once we’ve nailed something down.
“Okay, try this one.” Lindee hands me a glass, ice clinking as it moves. “I muddled the lemon earlier, and I added a couple of extra mint leaves.”
Slowly, I take a sip, anxious to find out what awaits.
The cool liquid hits my tongue and the flavors explode.
The crispness of the lemon, mixed with the coolness of the mint and the sweet hint of blackberries, all with the backdrop of an incredible mix of moonshine and whiskey.
It’s cool, refreshing, and just unique enough that it’s inviting, but not scary.
Pure fucking brilliance.
“What do you think?”
A mix of hope and fear dances in Lindee’s hazel eyes, her lips pulled into her mouth as she awaits my answer.
“This is it. You nailed it.”
“Really?” she squeals.
“Really. It’s brilliant, Lindee. Just brilliant. People are going to be talking about this everywhere.”
It puts my little creation to shame. Makes it seem like a science experiment run by a toddler.
“Gaaah!” Lindee dances around, not giving a damn about how she looks. It’s all about the pure joy rushing through her veins.
She looking damn cute though.
“So, what are we calling it?”
Stopping dead, Lindee looks at me, eyes going wide. “No fucking clue.”
“Hmmmmm…” I muse.
I also got nothing. Milo is the naming genius when it comes to our beers. He’s named every single one of them. He jokes that Party Mode and Sob Story named themselves. But Silver Lining Sour and Blue Jeans in Low Beams were all him. Maybe I need to call and ask his opinion—
“Rocky Top Double,” Lindee blurts out.
“Say what?”
“Rocky Top Double. Because it features both Tennessee Trouble and Ol’ Reverend, and it’s a taste of Tennessee, and…”
“Rocky Top Double.” I push to my feet and pull her in close. “I love it.”
I love…no, we’re not going there…not here…not now…
“We did it,” Lindee giggles.
“You did it. I sat here.”
Lindee kisses me, letting her lips linger like she’s trying to savor the taste of the Rocky Top Double off me. Zero complaint here.
“I hope you remember your specs,” I tell her. “Because we have paperwork to fill out.”
“Paperwork?”
“The submission form for the SLOSH awards at CocktailCon?”
Rocking back, worry takes over Lindee’s expression. Her whole body actually, her muscles tightening under my fingers.
“I know you said it’s not too late, but…do you think we have a chance?”
Now. I need to tell her now. This is my chance.
Instead, I simply nod. “I do. I really think you have something here. Something that is going to blow everyone’s minds.”
“I just…” she trails off, biting down on her lip. I can see the hesitation surfacing and wish I could do something to squash it. “That’s not why I was doing this. I was only after something that could highlight Wink I know that. But I don’t want to take the focus off of her. I don’t want to ruin this moment. I really don’t want to make this feel like a competition. Because it’s not. Hers blows mine out of the water.
It’s not even close.
“You’re right. Let’s do it.”
She smiles, lighting up the room and my insides. I grab my laptop and pull up the website, navigating to the submission form as Lindee jitters next to me. Sliding the laptop toward her, I take her hand, kissing her knuckles.
Letting out a sigh, she returns the gesture. My heart squeezes and there is no denying that I’m a goner. This woman has stolen my heart.
“Here goes nothing.”