Page 2 of Rough Mountain Man

That threw me for a second. He needed to see my friend’s ID? Or my ID? Was he also a police officer? Would showing my ID be part of questioning?

But then it hit me. He was asking for an ID for the moonshine tasting. I hadn’t broken the news that I was only here to ask about my friend. And worse, the couple that had followed me in hadn’t come to the tasting counter. They’d snatched up a bottle and headed straight to the checkout, where the woman who’d greeted me was now ringing up their purchase. That meant I was the only taster this guy had.

There was an easy way out of this. I could just say I had to go look for my friend. Or that I didn’t drink. Or that I had no way to get back to the hotel where I was staying if I was drunk. When it came to alcohol, I was a lightweight. Moonshine was pretty strong, from what I knew. It also tasted like kerosene—or so I’d heard. But I hadn’t expected the array of bottles in varying colors that lined the walls. Clearly, there was more to moonshine than what I thought I knew.

It would be easy enough to get out of this, but I didn’t do that. In fact, I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet, flashing my driver’s license as requested. I winced at the realization that he was taking a look at my ugly-ass photo. Probably the worst picture ever taken of me, and I never liked pictures of myself.

“Twenty-three,” he said. “That’ll do.”

I didn’t know what that meant, because he didn’t even look at me. He went straight from checking my ID to setting tiny glassesin front of me. Ten of them. Even those thimble-sized glasses would be too much for me. Ten, and I’d be on my ass.

“Do you have a ride share in this town?” I asked.

It wasn’t even close to being a joke. I had probably a three-minute drive back to the hotel. Pretty darn close, but too far to walk, especially if I had a hard time standing.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Probably.”

“If I drink this much liquor, I can’t get behind the wheel.”

“You don’t have to drink all of them.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. Was that a sigh? Yeah, this guy definitely wasn’t good with the public. But as much as I wanted to dislike him, I couldn’t. Every time he looked at me, I felt something stir. There was a heat in his stare that cut straight to my core.

“This will be the strongest,” he said. “We start out there and go all the way to the end, which are more dessert options. Peaches, cherries, that sort of thing.”

Cherries. I was in.

“Just tell me which ones you want to skip,” he said. “Since you’re the only one here, I won’t open those. It’s five dollars, no matter how much you drink. But you’ll get a five-dollar credit if you buy anything here.

He hadn’t taken payment yet. Should I point that out? But looking around, it was clear they hoped to make tasters fall so much in love with one of the flavors that they bought a bunch at the end. That wouldn’t be me.

“That’s fine,” I said.

“Good.” He clapped his hands and wiped them together, then grabbed a bottle filled with a clear liquid. “This is Thunderbolt. It’s the purest form of moonshine. This one’s best when you can mix it with other things or drink it straight with a chaser.”

The guy was no salesman. His delivery was pretty flat. He definitely needed to train his employee to take over this part.But it didn’t really matter. As he spoke, his eyes blazed through me, going straight to my soul. It was like he could see straight through me. When he looked at me, it felt like I was the only woman in the world. The only one who mattered, anyway.

He probably did that with every woman he met. That was what I told myself to keep from falling under his spell. I was even able to lie to myself and say it wouldn’t work on me.

I wasn’t comfortable taking a drink until he reached the halfway mark, and that was mostly guilt over wasting his time. But things got sweeter from there. Peach, cherry, apple pie—all the later flavors sounded delicious.

I wish I could say they tasted like they sounded. The alcohol overpowered everything. But by then, I didn’t mind as much. I was starting to feel that subtle tingle that loosened me up and helped me relax. I’d always been one of those people who was wound a little too tightly, so a little alcohol never hurt.

“So you’re looking for someone,” he said.

I was still sipping the final shot. Was this one delicious, or had the previous shots just numbed my tastebuds so I couldn’t tell?

“I can help you find her,” he said.

His words nearly had me spitting out my most recent sip. I swallowed and stared at him, trying to make sure I’d actually heard him correctly.

“You can?” I asked.

He nodded. That was a good sign that I hadn’t imagined it. But his expression hadn’t changed one bit, and that confused me. He looked far from helpful. If anything, he looked bored.

But there was still that underlying heat that had me thinking—delusional or not—he might actually be interested in me. I sure as hell was interested in him.

I didn’t have time for that right now. No, I needed to find my friend—the one who’d been kidnapped by a guy who wasprobably not all that much different from the one standing in front of me.

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