For Love & Bourbon (12 page)

“How do I shut you—”

“I was the last to find out about the FBI investigating Dad,” he argued, approaching the bar cagily. “You didn’t see fit to tell me you went to the office two days ago to get answers from those agents. I have to learn all this shit secondhand, usually from Beau, which pisses me off in itself.”

“I don’t know anything more than you do—” Ava began, only to be cut off by him.

“With the way you and Dad have been acting lately, it’s clear y’all are keeping secrets from me. You think I’m too stupid to see it?”

Ava’s brows rose. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re off having private little meetings with the FBI, and Dad’s been shut up in his office for two days and has barely said a word to anybody.”

“First off, I’m not having ‘private’ meetings with the FBI. I went over there to get some paperwork. That’s it. And of course Dad’s in his office all day. He’s having to run the company from home while the main office is shut down.”

Adam started to reply, only to turn at the sound of the door opening. Cooper stepped in, donned in a thick black coat against the icy wind. He stared at the two of them, realizing he’d interrupted something. The tension in the room was only perpetuated by the sparks flying off the both of them. He was surprised he couldn’t hear it crackling in the air.

“Sorry to bother you…I can come back later if you’re busy.” He met Ava’s gaze, watching her take in deep breaths to soothe her temper.

“No. It’s okay, Agent Lawson. Come in.” She waved him over as her brother erupted with cynical laughter.

“Not meeting with the FBI, huh?” Adam scoffed. “You really are an awful liar, Ava.”

She bristled, but ignored his comment and turned to Cooper in a businesslike manner. “What can I help you with?”

Instead of answering her, he extended his hand to Adam. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Agent Cooper Lawson. I’m heading the team that’s investigating your father.”

Adam sneered down at the offered hand, but manners had him accepting it. “I’d say I’m pleased to meet you, but under the circumstances, I’m not.”

Cooper’s mouth twitched. “I get that.” He could smell the hint of whiskey on the man’s breath, likely fueling the hostility that raged just under the surface. His resemblance to Ava was there in the angular curve of his jaw and the fire in his hazel eyes. He carried himself similarly, too. Like a man too arrogant to know his limitations. “We should be out of your hair soon.”

“You better be.” Adam angled his head to level his gaze with Cooper’s, who was taller by half a foot. “You’ve caused enough trouble for our family as it is.”

Without looking back at Ava, he stormed out of the building. The door swung shut behind him, and Ava stared at it for a moment before releasing a heavy breath.

“He’s right, you know,” she murmured, resting her elbows on the bar and staring up at Cooper. A tired smile softened her features. “You’ve really put a wrench in things, Slick.”

He approached the bar, settled onto one of the stools. “Just doing my job.”

She snorted. “What a noble job, too. Digging through innocent people’s stuff to find proof of wrongdoing. How in the world do you sleep at night?”

He only grinned. “Like a baby.”

“Mmm. So, you try that 101 yet?”

“Actually, I did.”

Ava’s eyebrows rose. “If you say it was just ‘pretty good’ I may have to punch you. And if you say it was ‘brutal’ like my last tour group, then I’ll really have to kick your ass.”

He laughed. “I enjoyed it. I toasted you with it the other night, remember?”

“I do.” She tilted her head, considering him. “I was busy trying to ease everybody’s worries about you. Not an easy task. This town relies on Lucky Fox. If the company’s in trouble, people deserve to know. I hope you didn’t force me to lie to them.”

Keeping his expression carefully blank, he pointed behind her to a shelf holding several bottles of Lucky Fox Irish Whiskey. “I’d like to try that one, if you don’t mind.”

She followed his gaze, selected one of the bottles. “Well, we’re technically closed, but I guess I can make an exception. And since it’s been a rough day, I’ll join you.” Bringing out two fresh glencairns, she poured a generous amount of Irish whiskey into each. She handed him one and lifted her own. “
Lig an fuisce a thabhairt dom ar shiúl
.”

“What does that mean?” Cooper asked, tapping his glass to hers.

A devious grin brightened her face. “It’s Celtic for ‘Let the whiskey take me away.’ It’s tradition to toast a glass of Lucky Fox Irish Whiskey that way.”

“I see.” He breathed in the scent of the drink, then sampled it. It was refreshingly light and floral compared to their selections of bourbon, with a smooth spice that caught him off guard. “Wow, that’s good.”

She sipped her own, pleased he enjoyed it. “There’s a reason our whiskey outsells the Brannon line two-to-one.”

“To be fair, I haven’t tried theirs. But I’ll take your word that this is better.”

“The original Brannon recipe has its beauty, of course,” she explained, examining her glass in the light. She brought it to her lips again, savored the spicy, flowery aroma and drank. Her eyes fluttered closed as a contented smile warmed her face. “But it just doesn’t compare to this. The vanilla in the bourbon barrels perfectly balances with the nutty spice of the barley. And that finish…smoke and honey. There’s nothing like it.”

Cooper found himself leaning closer, entranced by the scent of her and of the whiskey that coated his mouth. When she reopened her eyes and met his, he watched an awareness come into them. A kind of searching curiosity, joined by a glimmer of desire. It took all he had to remember how to breathe.

Her mouth curved to one side as she went to refill his glass. “More Irish, Slick?”

He nodded, taking a breath to refocus. There was a reason for his visit, and it had nothing to do with enjoying her company. They hadn’t gotten a response back on the email they had sent a few days earlier, which meant the next step was to question the family. Though he couldn’t deny he found her incredibly distracting. She was dynamic and explosive, smoothed with a hint of mind-blowing sex appeal. How she managed to look so comfortable and yet sizzle like a firecracker was beyond him.

“You ever been to Ireland? Met that side of the family?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t crack. He cleared his throat anyway and fixed on a casual smile.

“I have not,” she replied easily, refilling her own glass as well. She let out a relaxed sigh and rested her forearms on the bar, toying with the glencairn in her hands. “They don’t like us and we don’t like them.”

“The feud’s a big deal then, huh?”

She nodded. “My grandpa’s brother passed away a few years ago. He only found out about it when it was reported in this whiskey industry magazine he reads. His own brother was sick with cancer for five years, and the family didn’t even bother to let him know.” She raised her eyes to his, her humor gone. “You know what my grandpa said when he read the article?”

“What?”

“Good riddance.” Disapproval hardened her face as she knocked back the last of her drink. “He never let go of the hate. God, I hope I’m not like that with Adam.”

Cooper set his glass down, turned it in his hand as he processed her sudden change of mood. “Do you two not get along?”

“He frustrates me, is all,” she admitted, shaking her head. “He’s been given everything in the world and yet he still pisses it away on women and booze.”

“But you think he’s better than that?”

“Of course I do. He’s my brother.” Embarrassed by the tear that slipped from her eye, she brushed it away and tried to laugh. “Stupid bastard won’t let me help him. Hence why he frustrates me.”

Cooper smiled and reached for her hand. She stared down at it, her breath caught in her throat. When he spoke, his voice was kind, patient. Understanding. “I don’t know him, but I get the impression he wants your approval. He needs to know you’re on his side and that you don’t think you’re better than him.”

“Well, I am at some things…” she began, though she felt childish for saying it. “I contribute to the family business. He goes out and drinks himself to death.”

“It’s not my business, but maybe you should have a heart-to-heart with him, remind him that you need him around,” Cooper began. In his head, all he could think of was how easily Adam could be persuaded by Ned to fill Ty’s shoes, if the need arose. He needed to do all he could to ensure that didn’t happen. Squeezing her hand, he released it and got to his feet. “I should go. Want me to walk you out?”

A little bit dazed, she looked at him, still feeling the warmth from his hand tingling over her skin. “No. I’ll be fine. I still have a bit to do before I leave, anyway.”

He nodded, adjusted his coat. “All right. Thanks for the drink.”

“Thanks for the conversation.” In the soft light, the cobalt of his eyes seemed darker, deeper. Mysterious and undeniably protected. The urge to know what made him tick had her speaking freely. “Next time you’ll have to tell me all your secrets. It’s only fair, you know.”

With a playful grin, he raised his hand in a salute. “It’s a date.”

He turned and left, whistling to himself. Once the door closed behind him, she let her head fall forward and shut her eyes, damning herself for a fool.

She’d always been a sucker for friendly blue eyes. But this particularly nice pair belonged to, of all things, a federal agent. An agent whose motive was to investigate her father.

She couldn’t let herself get carried away where he was concerned, no matter how appealing that goofy grin of his was. Or how nice it was that he actually
listened
when she spoke. He looked her in the eye as an equal. As a person. And though he had no reason to be, he was kind to her. Kind in a way so few people were, with pure honesty.

With a frustrated groan, she poured herself another shot of whiskey and downed it. She’d be ridiculously stupid if she thought anymore about him, she decided. And even more stupid if she let him get her tipsy and talking again, revealing family business he had no right to know.

That was just a recipe for disaster.

ADAM DROVE
down Main Street, a half empty bottle of whiskey beside him on the passenger seat. He considered going to the bar, but felt more like being alone. Rolling down the window, he let the night air pour over his face and caress his hair. Yes, alone was better.

On the radio, Johnny Cash’s deep, throaty voice belted out the
Folsom Prison Blues
. Adam sang along, tapping his hand on the door frame of his truck.

He leaned over to grab the whiskey, only to slam on the brakes as a stray cat bounded across the road. The bottle shot forward and bounced onto the floor of his truck, out of reach. He cursed under his breath, then spotted a flash of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror.

“Oh, great,” he grunted, stashing the bottle underneath the seat. He drifted his truck to the side of the road, flipped off the radio. When he saw it was Beau, he broke out laughing.

Beau came up to the driver’s side window, aimed a flashlight in his eyes. “What’s so funny, Brannon?”

Adam shook his head, gasping in between laughs. “I just can’t get over my shit luck.”

“You been drinkin’?”

“According to Ava, I never
stop
drinking,” he replied, his humor fading under the heavier weight of bitterness.

“Damn it, Adam, you need to stop this,” Beau demanded, his voice clipped with frustrated anger. “I can’t have you driving around drunk all the time. You’re liable to kill somebody.”

“I’m not drunk,” Adam retorted, though he tried to focus intently on Beau’s flashlight. “What’re you doin’ carrying around two flashlights like that, Beau?”

“All right. That’s it. I’m takin’ you in.” Beau opened the door of the truck and yanked Adam out by the collar of his white T-shirt. He turned him around to face the vehicle and pinned him against it, digging out his handcuffs as Adam burst into another laughing fit.

Across the street, Brandy saw what was happening and rushed over. “Beau! Beau, wait. Please. Don’t arrest him.”

“Why not?” When Adam struggled, Beau slammed him roughly against the truck. “Stop moving.”