26. Lindee #2
“Me either. But that’s a me problem, not a you problem. It’s my shortcoming. And I hope you know how sorry I am. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
A tear slides down his cheek, distracting me from the pain in his eyes for a second. But only a second. Because there is no missing the hurt and regret I see on his face, letting me know he means it. That he’s in just as much pain as I am over this.
So there is just one thing left to do.
The one thing I really thought I’d never do.
Forgive him.
“Know what I want?” I ask, placing my hand on top of his. I give it a squeeze, my heart pausing, waiting for his answer.
“What?”
“I want a partner who tells me things. Everything. Even if he thinks they’re trivial or is afraid of how I’m going to react. Because that’s what a partner does.”
“That’s more than fair.”
“Because what if I have a really bad idea? I need someone who is going to tell me that.”
“Pretty sure your sister would have no problem taking on that role.”
I throw my head back, laughing. He’s not wrong.
“I need someone who isn’t Mikayla to do it. She has no problem being mean.”
“She wants the best for you. It’s clear that all that snark and venom is simply her way of protecting the family and showing she cares.”
I reel backward. When did he become a Mikayla fan? I know what is underneath her outer, calloused layer. But I’m her sister. I’ve been around for all of it, and I know how she ended up this way. Brandt only knows the version of her that wants to fight the world.
Brandt chuckles, squeezing my knee. “It’s an oldest sibling thing.”
“Must be.”
We’re silent for a moment, letting the rustle of the trees fill the space. My heart continues to race, not letting up even though we’ve found a peace. At least, I think we have. Maybe we haven’t—not completely. I haven’t actually said the words you’re forgiven.
Or those other three words I really want to say.
“Thank you for the Fire Lights sponsorship,” I say, and my voice cracks, betraying me. “It means a lot.”
“I told you I’d get you in there.”
“I know. I just…I didn’t realize that Southern Brothers legally held the sole sponsorship of the tour and the bar.
I thought when you said you talked to Dustin about it, that you meant like…
you were calling in a favor, not actually transferring rights.
Mikayla was beside herself when she got the paperwork. ”
“It was the least I could do after my fuckup. Both of them.”
“I won’t hold them against you.”
Brandt perks up, twisting to face me. His hand slides off my leg, a coolness rushing over that spot.
“You mean it? Both of them?”
“Yeah, I do. Both of them.” I nod. “Actually, I never really held the first one against you. The second…”
“Pinky promise to never talk about it?” He holds out his hand, little finger extended and ready to shake.
“I won’t promise never. I feel that I should be able to reserve the right to tease you about it.” I link my pinky with his. “But I won’t do it maliciously. Promise.”
We squeeze our fingers together, sealing the deal.
“I can live with that.”
Good…
Pushing up to my feet, I walk back over to the cider press, giving it another once-over. It really is beautiful.
“You like that?”
I glare at him. “You know I do. She’s very pretty.”
“I built her. For you.”
He what?!
“Come again?”
Brandt stands up, padding over toward me like he has all the time in the world and he didn’t just drop a massive information bomb.
“I made it for you,” he repeats. “You said you wanted to play around with cider, and that requires a press. You can buy pre-made ones, but…you and I both know those things are never as good as something handmade. So, I looked up a design on the Internet and built it.”
“For me…” I say, still trying to make it make sense. “Even though…”
“Yeah…” Brandt rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Admittedly, I was thinking I could maybe bribe you with it. At least into talking to me. But she’s yours. No strings attached.”
Holy shit.
My mind runs wild, wondering what to make first. Or if I have to wait until the fall to get the best apples. Probably. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t play with some summer fruits. Although, if we’re being purists…
“There’s also a bag of hops inside the barrel. I know you said you were undecided about adding them, but I thought if you changed your mind, then you need to use the good stuff. I grew these.”
Brandt made me a cider press. And gave me his own, homegrown hops. For someone who wasn’t sure I would even talk to him, he certainly came prepared. With things he knew would mean something to me. Because they are what we talked about for our future. It makes me fall even harder for him.
“Yeah, I’m just not sure about hops in our cider. I get it, you’re a beer guy, but people drink cider because they don’t like beer. But I guess we can try it. Since we will absolutely be aging some in a bourbon barrel.”
Brandt looks at me, his smirk firmly in place, brown eyes darkening. “We?”
Smiling, I close the gap between us, resting my hands on his hips. “Yes, we. Don’t think that I’m going to do all the work on our cider.”
“I wouldn’t let you if you tried.”
Wrapping his arms around me, he yanks me into him, our bodies colliding with a soft thud. One that disappears into the cool spring breeze, completely forgotten about the second his lips touch mine.
I melt into the soft and strong touch of his mouth on mine, instantly trying to get my fill of him. To get my fix of the taste that I’ve craved. The one that I know will keep me going for the rest of time. His tongue swipes against mine, sending me reeling. That’s all I need. He is all I need.
This man, his love of life, and the strength of his love.
Oh yeah, and these addictive kisses.
“Lindee…” The way he whispers my name against my lips rips through me like rockets, leaving a hot trail in their wake. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you. Something else I’ve been holding back.”
My heart leaps into my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe. My stomach lurches, time slowing down as I wait for the other shoe to drop. What else could he have been keeping from me?
“I love you, Lindee. More than I ever thought it was possible to love another person. And I want a life of playing around and experimenting with you. I have no idea what the next project will be after cider, but it doesn’t matter. You are the only adventure I want.”
The whole world stops.
My lungs constrict, stealing the last bit of air I thought I had. The earth moves under my feet, my knees wobbling in the process. There’s only one thing I can think to do.
I kiss Brandt. Hard.
So hard that he loses his balance, taking a step backward to keep us from tumbling over. I don’t care though. I’d roll all the way down this mountain over and over again to hear him say those words again. To feel the sheer bliss of those three words.
“Say it again,” I demand.
“I love you, Lindee.”
“I love you too, Brandt.”
Kissing me again, Brandt slides his hands to my ass, picking me up. I wrap my legs around him, losing myself in him. In us.
A moment later we’re on the move, Brandt climbing the stairs into the hut, shifting me as he tries to open the door.
“Need some help?” I ask, giggling into his kiss.
“I got it. I’m quite talented with my hands, you know.”
“Oh, is that right?” I tease, wiggling my core against him.
Brandt groans, kissing me hard to try and distract me. It doesn’t work, only serving to fuel my need even more.
“Almost as good as I am with my tongue.”
“I think you might just have to show me both and let me be the judge of that.”
Kicking the door closed behind him, Brandt walks into the hut, laying me down onto the bed gently.
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yup.”
“And here I thought Tennessee Trouble was just the brand. Turns out it’s the girl too. And you know what?”
“What?” I ask, pulling him down to me. I kiss him, softly at first, then up the ante a moment later.
“I’m here for it.”