Epilogue
LINDEE
“Ohhhh, I like that.”
The surprised smile coming from the curvy, auburn-haired woman across the bar sends a wave of pride through me. Something tells me she’s hard to please in this area, and I seem to have passed with flying colors. Go me. “I like that a lot.”
She turns to the brunette next to her, holding it out for her to try. The woman—who I just learned to be Kenzie Wilder, wife of the Dustin Wild—takes it from her, lifting it to take a sip.
“That is good. I’ll take one of those!” Kenzie says.
“Coming right up!” I answer.
Turning back to the tap, I pull on the handle, reveling in the fresh smell of the cider pouring out. I don’t know that I will ever get over this feeling.
“If Sylvie likes it, that’s saying something,” Brandt comments, sliding up behind me.
He places his hands on my hips, like he’s trying to hold me steady.
In reality, I know that it’s just because he wants to hold on to me.
He’s been doing it all night. Not that I’m complaining.
“She’s the one we created the Shandy for. Because she doesn’t like beer.”
I slide the pint glass toward Kenzie, then turn as best I can in Brandt’s grasp, trying to face him. “You really created it because one customer doesn’t like beer?”
“To be fair,” Milo interjects. “That one customer is my baby sister’s best friend, so…”
If there is one thing I’ve learned this last year, it’s that both Brandt and Milo are wrapped around their sisters’ fingers. If those women want something, those boys jump. It’s endearing and sweet to see how dedicated they are to their families. Even more so now that I’m counted as part of that.
“Plus, it was a fun challenge. Turns out that getting the ratio right for such a simple drink took a couple of tries.”
“Only a couple?” I taunt.
Knowing Brandt, he fiddled with that drink for much longer than he should have. Much like he did with our cider. But, lucky combination number forty-two was the winner.
“Okay, more than a couple,” he mutters, tickling my sides.
Grabbing ahold of his shirt, I pull in him, stealing a kiss. There’s a few hoots and hollers from people who caught us, but I don’t care. I love this little life we’ve created way too much to let it get to me.
Brandt, on the other hand, relishes it and gives them more.
Wrapping his arm around me, he plants one on me that makes me thankful that he’s holding on.
It’s hot, powerful, and steals all my senses, almost making me forget where we are.
If not for the peanut gallery, I’d be tempted to climb him like a tree and show him exactly what kind of trouble he’s asking for.
No, I take that back. I’m still tempted. If we were alone—instead of behind the bar at Pour Decisions—I’d actually do it.
We’ll have to save that for later.
“Hey now, no hanky-panky on the bar,” Brenna mockingly scolds, bellying up to the bar. Brewer, our seven-month-old chocolate lab, is hot on her heels, sitting down nicely next to her. “At least that was the rule this one established.”
Brandt holds up his hands in surrender. “We weren’t on the bar…”
“Right.” Brenna winks. “You ready to do your little reveal?”
Clapping his hands, Brandt lights up like a slot machine that just struck the jackpot. He’s been waiting for this moment for weeks—practicing what he’d say in the mirror and the car—ready to introduce the world to our newest creation.
I follow him out from behind the bar and over to the large speakers set up in the corner by the stockroom door. The crowd turns to face us, the din of conversation starting to die down, and I look out among the many familiar faces.
The very first time I visited Hickory Hills with Brandt, I was worried about what to expect.
If the town would accept me. I know how small towns can be—I live in one, after all—and was more than a little aware that Brandt bringing in an outsider might not go over well.
His moving to Trouble certainly caused a few waves.
Turns out, I had nothing to worry about.
Sure, there were some people who were wary of me, just as some were of him back home, but they quickly realized that I wasn’t trying to step on anyone’s turf.
Soon enough, Hickory Hills became a second home, and I love splitting my time between here and Trouble.
“Thank—” Feedback cuts Brandt off, causing everyone in the room to bristle.
He takes a step away from the speakers, hoping that will help, and tries again.
“Big thanks to y’all for being here today.
Especially those of you who drove in from Trouble.
It means everything to Lindee and me that you’re here. ”
Whoops and whistles ring out, a few people raising their glasses full of Southern Brothers and our newest drink.
Including Jerome and Brenda Cochran. Two people I never, ever would have thought would be excited about something like this.
But, as it turns out, winning the SLOSH award made him realize that he now has something else to brag about, and that supporting me and my ideas for the brand would mean even more of that.
“It’s been a wild year trying to figure this out.
An incredible new adventure, and there is no way it ever would have happened without the brilliance of Lindee.
Really, I should have listened to her from the start, but my dumb ass really thought I had the answer.
Turns out, I didn’t and she knew it. She let me try anyway though… ”
The crowd laughs and heat singes my cheeks.
Both because the focus is now on me and because I’m not looking to relive the whole hops debacle.
Every batch he tried with the hops was just…
bad, for lack of a better word. It wasn’t the flavor profile we were looking for.
Finally, he agreed, and we turned our focus to something more agreeable to cider. Bourbon-soaked cherries.
“Anyway, enough of my rambling. I know y’all are really here to find out what we’re calling this goodness that you’re drinking, and when it will be available. So, without further ado…”
Rylan bangs on his table, trying to imitate a drumroll. The move inspires others to join in, the rising noise level sending Declan to his feet and heading for the door, cell phone pressed to his ear.
Turning to the covered sign behind us, I tug on the sheet, pulling it down and letting it fall to the floor.
The cardboard mock-up shows the bottle, looking crisp and cold, condensation dripping down the side, on the dark purple and magenta background, surrounded by apples and cherries, underneath the tagline in a sharp font.
It’s time to get into some Southern Trouble.
“Introducing Southern Trouble hard cider. A joint venture between Southern Brothers Brewing and Tennessee Trouble Spirits. It is currently only available at Pour Decisions, here in Hickory Hills, and at the Tennessee Trouble distillery in Trouble, Tennessee, but will soon be expanding into other restaurants and stores.”
The crowd erupts, everyone loving the name. It’s not long before we’re surrounded by people, Brewer trying to herd everyone away from us. Either that or trying to steal as much attention as possible.
I hug more people than I can count, including a number of people I don’t know, but who seem to know me through Brandt. Each one is more excited than the last, telling us all about it. The moment is a dream come true.
“Well, seems like it worked out,” Brandt says, slinging his arm around my shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of my head as I snuggle into his warmth.
“The real question is going to be the production of it,” Rylan says. “It was one thing for y’all to create it together, but figuring out the logistics of pressing, fermenting, distribution—”
“That’s why we have you, Ry,” I stop him short. “We’re just in charge of creating it.”
My older brother rolls his eyes, trying to act like he’s put out. He enjoys the challenge; we all know it. He just also likes complaining about it.
“Sorry I missed the announcement,” Declan says, joining the group. “But that was Selena Kelly.”
“Who’s Selena Kelly?”
“Office manager for Clarence Mercher,” I say, confused as to why a call from her was so important. Clarence I can understand, but his office manager…that doesn’t compute.
“It was about the inn,” Declan says.
Rylan perks up. “Did the beneficiary change her mind? It’s been a year and she still hasn’t taken possession.”
Declan shakes his head. “No, she’s still keeping it. I guess she had loose ends she needed to tie up in Little Rock first. But…Selena found out who it is. Clarence has been keeping it all hush-hush and wouldn’t let her near the paperwork until everything was officially official.”
“Probably because he knew she’d blab,” I quip. There isn’t a piece of gossip in our town that Selena Kelly isn’t all over. If I were Clarence, I wouldn’t have told her anything either.
“So, all this matters because…” Brandt prompts.
“It’s Briar Ellison.”
Holy shit…
“Briar Ellison?” Rylan repeats. “As in…my Bri… I mean, Tutu left the inn to Briar?”
Declan nods, pressing his lips into a flat, straight line. “That’s all the info I have at the moment. But yeah…Briar Ellison…”
I scoff out a laugh. Put that right at the top of the things I didn’t see coming list. Briar Ellison moving back to Trouble. Oh, this is going to be good.
“Who’s Briar Ellison?” Brandt whispers, leaning down so he’s right next to my ear.
Turning to him, I step aside, giving Rylan and Declan the space they need.
“Briar was Rylan’s high school girlfriend.
He was ass over tea kettle in love with her and was devastated when she moved away right before his senior year.
They swore they’d stay in touch and go off to college together, but after like a month, she went radio silent, and he hasn’t heard from her since. ”
“Oh, shit…”
“Yeah. Her moving back is gonna be…wild…”
“I’ll have our popcorn ready.”
Woof!
I look down, straight into Brewer’s puppy dog eyes. Without skipping a beat, Brandt scoops up the pup, cradling him in his arms. Brewer rewards him with a sloppy kiss, and I laugh.
“Oh, looks like mom feels left out,” Brandt says. “Give her a big one, buddy.”
Leaning into me, he nudges the pup, who doesn’t even need any additional encouragement.
Brewer kisses me with gusto, his oversized puppy tongue wet and rough against my skin.
I giggle uncontrollably, unintentionally goading on both my boys, taking a step back so I can take a breath without risking a French kiss from a chocolate lab.
“I love you too, Brewer.” I swipe at my face, trying to catch all the puppy drool. Looking up at Brandt, I catch his gaze, wanting to make sure he hears this. “I love our life. The two of us, Brewer, taking over the world.”
Not everything about this last year has been easy.
Figuring out how to manage both our jobs, splitting our time between Trouble and Hickory Hills, creating the new cider, and making the insane choice to adopt a puppy, has meant many long days and sleepless nights.
But I wouldn’t trade any of it. Brandt is everything I could ask for in a partner and more.
“I love it too. Almost as much as I love you.” Brandt kisses me, trying to hold on as long as he can with a wiggly Brewer in between us. “What do you say we sneak away for a little bit, up to the apartment?”
I waggle my eyebrows, liking where his head is.
The loft apartment that is built into the warehouse that he and Milo converted into the bar is still very much a bachelor pad, but it’s getting there.
I can only do so much so fast. Regardless of the two-bedroom space screaming MAN!
, it is very comfortable and most of all convenient when we’re in town.
“I’d say that I’m always down to cause a little trouble.”
“You are trouble. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”