Page 37 of Bourbon and Lies

“I like it,” he says in a rasped voice behind me. Like morning came too soon for him. “It was the original house on the property. Griz and my nana’s house.” Turning around, I watch as he pulls plates from open shelves.

Why was it cute to hear him say “my nana?”

“It looks much different now, but when Ace wanted to build his own spot, I asked Griz if he wouldn’t mind selling it to me when he was ready. That was just over five years ago.” He smiles. He’s handsome when he smiles, that’s for sure. “It's been an ongoing project, but it’s kept me busy. Built out the garage into a workspace. It was a massive amount of updating.”

“You did all of this yourself?”

“Most of it. Had some help with the electrical and plumbing, but the rest was me.”

It’s not something I’ve thought of as a turn-on before, but that’s attractive to me, someone who can fix up their own home.

As we both look at each other for a moment, I remember why I’m here. “Shower?”

“Just down there, the first door on the left is the guest bathroom. Towels are in the closet behind the door.”

“I’ll be fast. It’s just a rinse.”

His eyes pull up from my legs as he clears his throat. “Take your time.”

The bathroom is just as well-curated as the rest of the house. Simple white walls and matte black fixtures. A clean white tileshower and a half-glass wall instead of a door. It’s a no-frills space, but that feels very on-brand for him. Grant doesn’t strike me as a guy who likes too much extra of anything. It only takes me a few minutes to rinse out my hair and towel dry off.

When I come out from the bathroom, Grant is sitting at his small kitchen counter on one of the two stools. He managed to throw on shorts that look like swim trunks and a t-shirt that readsFiasco PDalong the back.

“When did you retire from the police department?” I ask as Julep sees me and stands, trotting over to my side. I give her a scratch along the top of her head as I meet him at the counter. “We both retired around five years ago now.”

I smile at that, and then look down at Julep’s panting face. “You’re such a smart girl, aren’t you?”

He gets up, rounding the counter. “She likes you.”

“The feeling is mutual. I always wanted to get a dog, but I didn’t have the kind of lifestyle that allowed it. I didn’t want them to just be alone all day or night while I worked.”

I look at his empty coffee pot on the counter. “Any chance that thing works?”

“I’m sure it does, but I usually grab a cup at the main house. Gives me an excuse to see Griz for a few minutes in the morning before I head into the distillery.”

“It’s nice that you’re so close with your family.”

His eyes flick up to meet mine for a second, and then back down to cutting a piece of the baked French toast. There’s already a decent-sized square missing. “What about you? You close with yours?”

I swallow and think about how to answer that. There’s no lie needed here. “I don’t really have one. My dad passed away right after I graduated. He hadn’t kept a great relationship with his family, so it was always just the two of us.”

“Must have been hard. I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” Bringing both plates over, he reaches back to grab another fork for me.

I give him a small nod and a placated smile. I never knew how to respond when people said they were sorry about my dad. I didn’t want to say it was okay, because really, there wasn’t anything okay about someone dying. He wasn’t sick and hadn’t suffered. He was honored for the way he died, in the line of duty. A negotiation that had resulted in a stray bullet that hit him just above his bulletproof vest. I could never tell anyone that it was okay that I had lost my only family. My favorite person in the world. So I just accepted their condolences and tried to remember that he died trying to save someone. If there was any way to go, that would have been his pick. And until recently, I never understood it.

I look up from my plate, trying not to get sucked into my memories. A magnet on the side of his refrigerator snags my attention–a Princess Crown Pez dispenser.

He follows my line of sight. “Lily had really bad nightmares right after her mom passed. Lincoln told her that Pez have superpowers. We kept them just about everywhere after that. She really believed it.” His eyes meet mine. “We could all use some of that superpower sometimes. So that one is still where she left it. In case of emergencies.”

How am I not supposed to melt after hearing that? “My dad took me to the Pez factory when I was a kid. I had thought it would be this massive place like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but it was more museum-like than a candy factory. Bit of a letdown, now that I think about it. It was a good day, though, and I got a Star Wars dispenser. Saved it in our memory box.”

“You should show it to Lily. Maybe she’ll believe me now that they don’t just automatically refill themselves.”

I clear my throat, my chest tightening. “Don’t have it anymore.” I hate that I had to leave it behind, along with other items that helped me remember my dad when I touched them. Releasing a breath, I take a bite of the bourbon-soaked peach, coated in a cinnamon sugar syrup, and hum at the flavors. “This came out better than I thought it would.”

Turning to Grant, I find him staring back at me. I’ve never been brave about eye contact. Except when it comes to him. A simple studying of the shade of hazel green his eyes are. The way the thicker scruff around his mouth leaves enough of an outline around his lips that has me wondering if I’d feel the bristle of it if I kissed them. Maybe it’s the proximity of where he’s sitting and staring back, or the fact that I haven’t felt confident enough around anyone before him to keep from looking away.

He swallows, and I follow the movement of his Adam’s apple. When I look back up again, he’s staring at his forkful of drippy bread and peach just before he shovels it into his mouth. I try to ignore the bourbon glaze that’s dripped onto his lower lip or the way his tongue peeks out to snag it. “So you don’t have any family, but how about friends?”

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