Page 38 of Sipping Seduction
“That’s great. I told you it would all work out if you just kept up your physical therapy. Now there’s nothing to stop you from pulling out all your moves on the dance floor.” She bumped hips with me.
I’d missed this… the joking around that felt just as natural as breathing whenever I was with her. “You’ll save me a dance, right?”
“Of course.”
This close, even in the dim light from the lamp behind her, I could see the familiar curve of her lips and the affection in her eyes. I didn’t want to push my luck, especially after reaching this fragile familiar territory, so instead of pulling her in tight, I held out my arms and asked if I could have a hug goodnight.
“I’ll always have a hug for you.” She wrapped her arms around me, snuggling into my chest.
If I could have stopped time right then and there, that’s exactly how I would have liked to spend the rest of eternity.
“I suppose you’re ditching me for our regular Friday night burger at Pappy’s tomorrow night, huh?” Her voice muffled against my t-shirt, but I could tell she was just giving me crap.
“Yeah, big brother’s rehearsal dinner trumps our Friday night routine. Sorry.” If it were up to me, I’d much rather hang with Frannie at Pappy’s than be trapped with relatives from out of town I hadn’t seen in years. The only good thing about the rehearsal dinner was they were having it at Jackie Jay’s. “As my official plus-one, you’re invited to the rehearsal dinner, though. Want to come?”
Frannie backed away, her head slowly shaking from side to side. “Absolutely not. But bring me a piece of pie, will you? They always serve the best desserts.”
“You got it.” I waited until she’d closed the bedroom door behind her before I went into my own bedroom. With Andrew out of the picture, Operation Woo Frannie Masterson was back on track. And thanks to the doc in Knoxville, I felt more like myself than I had since the day I’d been airlifted out of Afghanistan.
My luck was changing, and it was time to take advantage of it.
Frannie had already leftfor work the next day by the time I rolled out of bed. Since most of the folks at the distillery were going to be attending the wedding, Vaughn had slowed operations down to operate on a skeleton crew through the weekend. I took my time getting going, so I didn’t see the diary Frannie left on the kitchen table until I finally dragged myself into the kitchen to make coffee.
She’d marked a few places with sticky tabs and jotted down a couple of notes in her curly handwriting. I couldn’t wait to dig in to what she’d learned about Cornelia Bishop so far, so I carefully flipped open to the first page she’d marked while the coffee pot belched out the first drips of coffee.
The handwriting had faded over the years and the pages were stained with old age and who knew what else. Frannie definitely had an easier time deciphering the old-fashioned script, but I was mostly able to follow along.
I tried to remember a woman named Cornelia in my family’s long line of ancestors. There was a Helen, a Roberta, and a couple of Rubys—including the great-grandmother my sister had been named after—but no Cornelias came to mind. She’d noted her birthday on the very first page, which would make it easier to look her up, and also her age of sixteen at her first entry.
The morning flew by as I got lost in a Beaver Bluff that existed over a hundred and fifty years ago. Beyond the difference in daily routine, like getting up early to start the fire and her complaining about having to use the outhouse, especially on those cold winter mornings, Cornelia sounded like the girls I’d gone to middle school and then on to high school with.
I went through the whole pot of coffee while I skimmed through pages full of her daydreams. She was sweet on some boy and went on and on about the plans they’d made for their future. I finally reached another page Frannie had marked. At first, I wasn’t sure what she thought was so significant. Then I read a few lines about Cornelia talking about her dad reaching an agreement with two neighboring families to start up a whiskey distillery.
The business had been formed over homemade stills in the hills of Beaver Bluff, long before the founders had gone legit and built a real factory. My grandfather used to tell us stories that had been passed down through generations about the hype surrounding the opening of the distillery. People came from hundreds of miles away to stare at the big copper distilling pots. Having a firsthand account in Cornelia’s diary made it feel real. Cole was such a history buff, especially about anything involving the distillery, that he was going to love getting his hands on this.
I thought about wrapping it up and giving it to him as a wedding gift. Technically, I’d paid for the diary, even if Frannie had been the one to find it. But I had a feeling there was more to Cornelia’s story than her dad’s business and her childhood crush. He’d be just as happy to have it after Frannie and I had a chance to read through.
Reluctantly, I left it sitting on the table and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. Cole hadn’t wanted a bachelor party, but my brothers and I had decided we were taking him out after the rehearsal dinner. It was going to be a long night, and I didn’t want to be late and give anyone in my family another reason to be pissed at me.
CHAPTER20
Frannie
Since Evan wasa groomsman and part of the wedding party, I told him I’d meet him there instead of catching a ride with him a few hours before the event. He’d looked like shit after staying out until the middle of the night with his brothers. I’d even made him a latte with a triple shot of espresso to help him wake up this morning. Then he’d stumbled out of the house to go pick up the tuxes for the wedding party.
I was eager for a couple of hours of free time so I could dive back into the diary we’d discovered. The last page I’d read had row after row of Cornelia’s script, talking about a boy she had a crush on who’d recently started attending the same school in the one-room schoolhouse.
She sounded so in love, even at the tender age of sixteen years old. As I tore myself away from the diary so I could get ready for the wedding, I couldn’t help but think about how much times had changed. She was almost half my age and had already found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. I’d been waiting for twenty-seven years and still had no idea what I was looking for in a man. I’d thought Andrew Stewart might be the one, but both of us agreed we made better friends than anything else.
A knock sounded at the front door. Charice had volunteered to come over and help me get ready. She had mastered the art of makeup application and wanted to do my eyes in some smoky, sexy, after-dark look. I didn’t care what she did since the majority of the time I avoided make up altogether.
“Oh good. You haven’t messed yourself up yet,” she said as I opened the door.
“Thanks for your faith in me,” I teased.
“You can relax. I’ll take care of everything from here on out. All you need to do is sit back and let me work my magic.” She brushed past me into the front room. “Point me in the direction of the bathroom, please?”
I nudged my chin toward the hall. “Second door on the left. Make yourself at home.”
