Page 44 of Bourbon and Lies

Griz hands me the burlap bag. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

With her arm looped around Griz and a big smile on his face about something she said quietly to him, he says, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Don’t forget to shut the lights before you lock up.”

I watch as he walks down the small path to his golf cart, helping her inside, just as the burlap sack hisses. She doesn’t look back, already laughing at something he’s telling her. It’s the second time today I’m jealous of another man taking her attention away. Only this time, my lips are still buzzing from hers.

It’s the most reckless I’ve been in a long time, which isn’t good for anyone. Mostly, me.

Chapter 21

Laney

I look forward to caffeine,bright and early. And, if I want a good flat white, then I walk a few miles to the bakery. It’s been one of my favorite things to do. A simple way to get me out and about, opening myself up to exploring my new home with a coffee in hand.

As I stop to look around my new town, it feels like a movie. A big-city girl plopped into a small town, trying to find her footing. I walked thousands of miles in New York. There was plenty to see. New restaurants, massive billboards, and hustling crowds, but there were also quiet parts. Never as quiet as the field outside of my new little cottage here in Fiasco, but there were parts of New York I loved stumbling across. There’s less here. More space and far less to discover, but it’s my way of finding something familiar in a brand-new place.

The mint green awning overhanging the little pink building smack dab in the middle of Fiasco’s downtown should have been gaudy. With a neon yellow open sign and the shop'sname painted in black block letters across the front, Loni’s was charming from the second I opened the front door during my first shopping trip. The front table displays have clothing arranged by color, from red tops to pink shorts that lead to racks of dresses that aren’t the conservative styles I had expected of a small southern town. They’re trendy, even a bit edgy. I recognized some designer labels from storefronts in SoHo and other nameless styles that I wouldn’t mind adding to my currently limited wardrobe.

As I walk past, the same black dress that I had borrowed from Hadley hangs on a headless mannequin. And then next to it is the prettiest floral dress that I had to find a reason to wear and come back for.

“You’re the girl everyone in town can’t seem to stop talking about,” the woman behind the counter said as I tried to find my size in the bathing suit bottoms. I smiled at her, internally groaning at the idea of people talking about me. “Might as well lean into the rumors.” She stepped over to help me. “Most gossip around here is based on a form of the truth and embellished because of boredom.” I’m sure I looked uneasy at that, but she gave me a comforting smile. “We like our bourbon. We don’t spill tea in Fiasco, we pour three fingers with intention.”

It was just the right reminder as I cross the street and step into Griz’s book club on Sunday morning.

I thought it was a pity invite for awkwardly interrupting the kiss between Grant and me. I can still feel the way his hand tilted my neck and how his thumb brushed so sweetly along my skin as his mouth devoured me wholly. I felt that kiss along every inch of my body. So when I was rambling and asking about Griz’s weekend plans as he drove me back from the rickhouse, he told me all about his girls and his book club.

“You must be Laney. I’m Prue. Welcome to our book club!” The unexpected excitement in her voice has a smile curling my lips. “The only thing Griz keeps talking about is how the prettiest girl landed in our small town at his distillery.” She taps my hand. “And that she was going to be the one to break the curse.”

I know what she’s referring to, but I didn’t think much of it or that I’d in any way factor into it. “The curse?”

She opens the door wider, taking the baked goods from my hands and smelling it. “Oh yes. There’s so much to talk about. Is this a buckle? You baked a buckle?”

I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not, but I’ll keep smiling anyway. “Peach. I hope that’s okay.”

The large and bright sitting room is packed as I walk inside. If it wasn’t for the number of women that sat and mingled, I would have taken in more of the details. I only catch a glimpse of the pink paisley wallpaper and bookshelves overflowing with paperbacks.

“Laney is here,” she sing-songs. “And she baked a peach buckle. Romey, come take this, and I’ll grab a knife to cut it.”

I slow my pace, smiling at the room, where their full attention is now on me. As quietly as possible, I say to Griz, who stands and greets me with a big bear hug, “You said book club. I thought you meant, like, five people.”

His thick mustache tips up in the right corner, amusement dancing around his face. “Looks like everyone wanted to talk about this week's book.”

“Or the new girl.”

He laughs, lips pursing. “Yeah, probably the new girl. Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

Every single person is a woman other than Griz and ranges in age from early twenties to somewhere near Griz’s age. “I’m sorry if I didn’t read the book, but I would love to be a part of the next one, whichever you choose.”

A woman close to my age, flanked by two Golden Girls, waves and smiles. “This was just a short romance novella. It was quick and dirty?—”

“Just how I like it,” another woman, crouched around a drink table on the far side of the room, chimes in. It makes everyone laugh and agree. I don’t interject, but if I were more comfortable with this group, I would have joked right alongside them.Maybe someday.

“There’s a brunch buffet back here,” Prue says as she grabs my hand and loops it around her arm. “Darla brought her fabulous huevos rancheros, Tonya’s deviled eggs, there’s a French toast thing.” She leans in and whispers, “That was Mary’s, and it’s always a toss-up whether she’ll bring something edible.” Then she mouths out, “Skip it.” Leaning back, she speaks up louder with a playful smirk. “Griz, I see you weaseled your way out of bringing a treat this week.”

“Brought myself and a new attendee.” He winks. In his low voice, he flirts with her, “That’ll have to be sweet enough this time, Prudence.”

I don’t miss the way she smiles back at him. Making assumptions, Prue is younger than Griz by at least ten years, putting her somewhere in her seventies. Silver strands streak her light brown hair reaching just to her shoulders. There’s something warm about her that I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it’s the flowy green pants and floral pink blouse with a cream-colored cardigan pinned just at the top, but she looks and feels like a kind librarian.

“And Marla is behind the mimosa and Bloody Mary bar.”

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