Page 48 of Bourbon and Lies

“Laney said it would be a great way to involve people in the process. The exclusivity of that makes them feel like they’re a part of this,” Lincoln claps back.

The mention of her name has me thinking about those pretty lips and how much I royally fucked myself by kissing her. It won’t be enough.

“Are you that hard up already?” Ace says to Lincoln. He shifts his eyes to me, maybe thinking I’d find that amusing,but he’s only met with a glare. The wordless exchange is all my big brother needs to know that he just started splashing in dangerous territory.

“Remember that time you said, when you start sounding more like a businessman and less like a bourbon boy to tell you?” Lincoln asks with his chin resting on his fist.

Ace leans back farther in his chair and raises his hands behind his head. “Yeah, is this where you’re telling me that’s happening now?”

It’s my turn to chime in. “No, you’ve been more business than bourbon for a long time now. Almost as long as I’ve been on the team.”

Ace narrows his eyes at me, and that’s when I know it’s coming. He’s pissed at that remark. I always know when I’ve struck a chord with him. He’s going to get nasty. “Is that what you’re calling it now, Grant? A team? Because from where I sit, you clock in, do your shit, and then clock out. You haven’t been in a board meeting, distribution meeting...Hell, I don’t even think you’ve tapped a barrel in damn near a decade.”

Not any of your barrels.But he doesn’t know that. And neither does Linc.

“The fact that those are the things you think I need to do in order to be considered a part of the team is the fucking case in point, big brother.”

Lincoln, the ever peacekeeper, stands a second after I do. Ace just smirks at me like an asshole, so I aim low. “No suit today?”

“Fuck off, Grant.”

“Happily,” I say as I move out of the office and into the main hall.

I hear Lincoln ask, “Was that really necessary?”

But it’s Ace’s response that has me turning on my heel and charging back into the room. “Those rumors are what’s pissing him off. He thinks I slept with his new little friend.” He watchesme stalk toward him. “Go ahead, what are you going to say now that I know I’ve struck a nerve? Stings, doesn’t it?”

That’s what has me stopping from clocking him in his face. My big brother is only saying it because he didn’t like that I was honest. He’s baiting me. I can always tell because, while Ace can be a real motherfucker to other people, he’s never said shit that’s crossed a line. And right now, he’s damn close.

Nostrils flaring, I point my finger at him. “You’re not thinking like someone who loves this anymore. You’re thinking like someone who wants a higher profit and a better bottom line.”

“So what? This is a business.” He raises his arms. “Look around, you asshats. How do you think we’re able to live? How do you think the taxes for land get paid or that neither of you have to worry about budgeting? You’re overpaid. You know that, right?” He drags his fingers in his hair. “Linc at least went to school and has his masters. If he went to another distillery, he could pull in something close to what he’s making now. But you”—he points at me—“your salary is severely inflated, Grant.”

I flip him off. “Should have done a better job negotiating, shithead.”

He cracks a smile and looks down.Got him.

I look over at Linc, who’s also smiling now. “He has a point.”

“Fine. Then help me make this big ass 100-year celebration as big of a deal as I’ve been planning, and I’ll ease up on the business side of things. It’s going to boost us this year, and if we can keep the hype up, we may be able to utilize some bottles as barter for partnerships with other brands.”

I send a look to Lincoln, eyebrow quirked. “You understood that? I’m just a retired cop who makes oak barrels in my spare time.”

“Okay, fucker. I’m sorry. I know you’re working your ass off.”

Maybe now’s a good time to tell them. But just as I open my mouth to share what I’ve been doing and where I’ve been aging those barrels, Julep comes charging in. Barking and nudging my leg.

“Hey, Jules, what’s going on?” I ask, like she’s going to articulate exactly what’s up. I know my girl, though. Something has her riled up enough to come find me. She barks again and moves back out the door, waiting for me to follow her.

I look up at my brothers, waving as I’m already almost out the door. “Let me see what’s going on.”

Lincoln shouts, “Go. I gotta go get the girls anyway.”

I pick up the pace, walking after Julep. She was back at the house after I finished up at the distillery today, but she has dog door access to our house and Ace’s place. It’s nearly eight at night, but it looks more like golden hour with the sun moving down to the horizon line.

Julep stops to wait for me, barking again. She’s a smart dog. Even beyond her K9 training for the department, she has a way of reading people that I always felt gave me a leg up when she was around. It’s more than just being hungry or wanting an extra greenie before bed tonight. Something’s up. I jog to catch up to her and move down the paved pathway that connects the main house with mine. And the cottage. I don’t see any doors or windows open at Laney’s place, but I stop there first.

As soon as my foot hits the front porch stairs, Julep starts barking behind me, and I hear the music. Fleetwood Mac playing low and Laney singing loudly about someone going their own way. It’s impossible not to smile at her when I turn. But it’s when I see her that the smile falls away. I take in the full scene as Julep now lies next to the horse trough, where Laney sits in the water-filled galvanized tub, her strawberry blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, and her arms draped over either side. One hand holds a long rope of red licorice and theother a slice of pizza, her head tilted up as she pulverizes the actual words to the song. But that’s not even the most distracting part. No, that would be her bare shoulders and back that sit tall and lean against the back of the tub. Is she drunk? She’s skinny dipping in my backyard.

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