For Love & Bourbon (6 page)

“He’s off somewhere.” Ava’s brows lifted. “Look at you, Mr. Nice Guy. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to drop by and see how y’all are doing.”

She snorted. “Uh huh. You don’t do something this charitable unless you want something.”

Temper sparked in his eyes. “That’s not true.”

Through a bite of pastrami, she smiled. “Sure it is. But I appreciate the offer, anyway.”

He opened up his own sandwich, a scowl tightening his face. “If you must know, I’m avoiding Brandy.”

“What’d you do this time?”

His shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug. “Nothing I should be sorry for.”

Concern for her friend warred with amusement at seeing her brother so irritable. “I’ll be the judge of that. What happened?”

“The girl I was hittin’ on the other night at the bar, the brunette? Well, that was Brandy’s cousin. She was visiting from out of town.”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, good job, Casanova.”

“I know.” He frowned, and she could see from his guilty look that he felt worse about it than he let on. “But hell, how was I supposed to know? And honestly, why should Brandy care? We’re just friends.”

“You know she’s always wanted more than that from you,” Ava reminded him.

“Yeah, well, it takes two.”

Ava pursed her lips, hackles rising in defense of her friend. She hated being in the middle, but this time he was wrong and she had no qualms letting him know it. “You know what your problem is?”

He gave her a steely look. “What?”

Setting aside her sandwich, she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You tell the world—and most importantly you tell yourself—that you don’t give a shit about Brandy. But then you go out of your way to avoid her when she’s pissed at you because underneath it all, you feel bad. If you really didn’t care, you would have no problem setting foot in that bar and flirting with the rest of Brandy’s cousins if they decided to show up.”

He avoided her eyes. “I didn’t know the girl was her cousin—”

“Exactly. You admit that if you did know, you wouldn’t have done what you did.” Ava threw up her hands, exasperated. “Adam, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you’re being a jackass?”

He sucked on his teeth and shook his head. Bolts of anger sparked from him as he rose to his feet. “Right. I’m the jackass. I ain’t ever led her on, Ava. Never. If Brandy wants to assume there’s something more between us, then that’s her problem.”

“Then be honest with me, right here, right now. Why don’t you like her?”

A flicker of something akin to pain flashed in his eyes, but was quickly buried. “I don’t have to explain it to you, or to anybody. Tell grandpa I said hello.”

He tore out of the room, leaving the door wide open. She chewed on her lip, annoyed at both herself and at him for being so pigheaded.

Joe popped his head into the office. “Was that Adam I just saw leavin’?”

She sighed, held up his sandwich. “Yeah. He brought you this.”

He came into the room and accepted the roast beef on sourdough. “Ah, the boy knows what I like. What’s he doin’ takin’ off without sayin’ hello?”

“I pissed him off.” She motioned for him to sit down. “He’s very frustrating.”

Joe chuckled as he lowered into the same chair Adam had occupied moments earlier. “Aye, siblings often are. What’d he do this time?”

“Hurt Brandy’s feelings. But then, what else is new?”

Considering, Joe took a bite of his sandwich, chewed. “She’s a sweet girl. He’ll open those eyes of his someday.”

“I hope for her sake she’s happily married with five kids by the time that happens. She can do better.”

“She keeps our boy in check. She’s good for him.”

“Yeah, but clearly he’s not good for her,” Ava grumbled, rubbing her face with her hands. “How the hell am I supposed to sit here and simultaneously defend my best friend and my brother? I just can’t do it.”

“Then don’t.” He grinned, wiping a smear of mustard off his chin. “This is just one of those things that work themselves out in time, dearie. No reason to get all up in a fuss about it.”

A small smile crept over her lips. She stood and kissed his forehead. “All right. I gotta go get ready for the next tour. Enjoy that sandwich. Adam probably won’t be by again for a while.”

“He never strays too far,” Joe mused. “It’s hard to resist the pull of family. No matter how hard the boy tries.”

W
ith the raid planned for the following day, Cooper was left with the afternoon to explore. His curiosity took him to the streets of Fox Hills, hands buried in the pockets of his slacks and the hazy autumn sun teasing the gold out of his hair. He smiled at the people he passed on the sidewalk, noting the tourist season was in full swing.

The town buzzed with the discussion of whiskey. From the making of it to the drinking of it, everywhere he went someone was on the topic. From snatches of conversation, he discovered Fox Hills to be along the famous Kentucky Bourbon Trail, a long line of age-old distilleries known for the crafting of world-renowned whiskey. Something about limestone in the water and a lack of iron in the soil made the area ideal. Interest piqued, he vowed to look into it the second he got back to his hotel.

Until then, he was content to simply wander. Marco had latched himself onto the television to watch the Giants game, but he didn’t mind being alone. It gave him time to observe and process this little speck on the map before diving into the investigation that had brought him there.

Before he realized where he was, he stopped before a sign that pointed up a gravel road and read,
Lucky Fox Whiskey Distillery—Tours and Tastings
. He stared at it for a moment, weighing his curiosity against protocol. What harm would it cause to take a peek inside the distillery? he wondered, eyeing the oversized metal building up the road. The soft glow of the sun gave it a luminescent quality, while the surrounding wild grass danced in the breeze.

Something about it pulled on him. He couldn’t say what it was—the intrigue of the case he was on, the eagerness to learn more about the Brannons, or maybe the faint scent of oak on the brisk Fall air—but before he could tell himself no, his feet began to move.

He bent his head and hiked up the road, smiling at cars as they drove to and from. Checking his watch, he noted it was nearly four o’clock. If he was lucky, they’d have a late afternoon tour.

Eagerness filled him as he approached the building, admiring the running fox logo at the top that he remembered from the company’s website. It was clever, he thought. The fox on the run from its own past, out to make its fortune in a brave new world. Joe Brannon had spawned his own little empire in Fox Hills. An empire that was slowly but surely being sent away to the very same people Joe had run from.

Time would tell if Joe had any idea what his son was up to. Cooper’s gut told him he didn’t, which made the decision to check out the distillery all the more acceptable in his mind. This was Joe’s territory. Whatever mess Ty was wrapped up in didn’t change that fact.

A pretty brunette greeted him as he entered the building, all dimples and Southern charm. “Welcome to Lucky Fox! What brings you here today?”

Cooper returned her smile before glancing around at the high-ceilinged room. It was as warm and inviting as a log cabin, with an oversized stone fireplace against one wall framed by scarlet leather armchairs that invited one to sink into them and enjoy a drink. A long tasting bar lined the wall straight ahead on the left, where even now a bartender was busy pouring samples for a group of tittering guests. A gift shop filled with Lucky Fox paraphernalia was on the right, packed with everything from shot glasses to fox stuffed animals to post cards.

Directly ahead of him were two handcrafted iron doors with a sign above that said the room beyond was the distillery.

He nodded to the doors. “There a tour coming up soon?”

“You’re in luck! Our last tour for the day is at four o’clock. Is this your first time here?”

“Yep.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m in town on business. Thought I’d pop by and see what all the fuss was about.”

“Wonderful. Here.” She whipped out a clipboard and a pen, made a notation and then handed him a business card sized ticket. “We offer three different tours, but your first is complimentary. Just hand this over at the double doors there and enjoy.”

“Hey, thanks.” He accepted the ticket and walked around, mentally taking notes. It wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as he had expected, but instead homely and inviting. The employees were bubbly and sincere, the guests relaxed and cheerful. Without realizing it, he soon forgot the reason for his visit and instead began to enjoy himself.

At four o’clock, the double doors swung open and a balding, middle-aged man called for the tour guests to gather around. Cooper shuffled forward along with a dozen other people, all eager for a look inside the distillery. With his height, Cooper towered above most of them and took advantage of the view to peek beyond the doors. He caught a flash of red, gone before he could decipher its origin.

The man led the group through the doors, welcoming them into a room with high stone walls and three enormous copper stills. As he began a brief introduction, a woman appeared at his side. The sight of her caught Cooper off guard as recognition hit him.

Ava Brannon. Her name came to him as swiftly as if he’d been punched in the gut. And really, the sight of her was a blow to the senses all in itself.

She was taller than he’d expected, with a cascade of vibrant red hair that spilled over her shoulders. The jeans she wore were skintight and faded, paired with a denim shirt and scuffed cowboy boots. Beside her, he felt ridiculously overdressed in his business suit and tie. The fact that she looked so comfortable in her own skin made him feel itchy in his.

“Welcome to Lucky Fox Whiskey, y’all.” Ava beamed, fixing her hands on her hips. “My name is Ava Brannon, and I am the granddaughter of our master distiller, Lucky Joe. I’ll be your guide today. Feel free to ask any questions you have while we go. This ain’t one of those high-brow, keep-your-mouth-shut tours. We invite you to enjoy your stay here as if you’re one of the family. Because today, you are.”

The group buzzed with anticipation, but Cooper couldn’t focus. He couldn’t stop staring at the Lucky Fox heiress with her smoky southern voice and electric smile.

When they locked eyes, he saw a spark there that might as well of set his insides on fire.

AVA’S MOUTH
curved to one side, a natural reaction to the sight before her. Just where did that tall, cool drink of water come from? she asked herself. It wasn’t often some golden haired Adonis strolled into one of her tours, looking delightfully nerdy in a tailored business suit. When he adjusted his tie, clearly uneasy, she had to bite back a laugh and refocus her attention on the group.

“Let’s begin with a little bit of history. Grandpa Joe may not have been born in Kentucky, but he sure fell in love with it the second he arrived here from Ireland back in 1961. Whiskey is in his blood, you see, as the Brannons have been making Irish Whiskey in Ireland going back two hundred years. But Joe had a vision the rest of the family couldn’t see. While the Brannons had always created pure pot still whiskey, a blend of both malted and unmalted barley distilled in a pot still, Joe knew that by adding a blend of grain whiskey it would cut the aging time by a third
and
improve the flavor profile. The blend would create a softer, brighter whiskey less harsh on the tongue and more palatable to the increasing market of whiskey drinkers. His father and brother, of course, disagreed. So Joe said boo to tradition, packed his bags, and headed west to America. Whiskey recipe in hand, he landed in New York and asked anyone who would listen where he could go to make whiskey. As fate would have it, he stumbled upon a beautiful young nurse named Vivian “Vivi” Wallace at a local Irish pub, and learned his destiny lay several hundred miles to the south in her hometown of Fox Hills, Kentucky.