Page 49 of The Forbidden

“Oh please,” she drawls, crossing her arms over her chest. “You came for a booty call but you already had one last night.”

I grin up at her. “There’s no lie in the fact I’d consider it a perfect evening if I were to end up in your bed, but I really do want you to go somewhere with me.”

“Why?” she asks suspiciously.

I throw my arms out and mock her. “Oh come on, Kat. Live a little. Be adventurous. Come with me.”

The indecision wars on her face. She’s not in her pajamas but I’ll bet she wasn’t too far off from going to bed as I know she’s an early riser. But tonight is too beautiful to let it go to waste.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“That would be no fun if I told you,” I reply, refusing to give her any assurances. She needs to want this or else she’ll never get to where I want her to go.

Glancing down at her watch, back inside her apartment, and then back down to her watch, she huffs in frustration. “How long will we be gone?”

“An hour max,” I promise.

“Fine,” she mutters, grabbing her purse and a jacket. I wait for her to lock up and when she reaches me at the bottom of the stairs, she mutters, “You could have just texted or called rather than sneaking here to throw rocks at my window.”

Laughing, I grab her hand to lead her into the darkness and I’m surprised she doesn’t pull away. “You haven’t responded to any of the texts I’ve sent today and besides… I thought you would find this charming.”

“I find it foolish,” she replies primly, but I hear a lightness in her tone that wasn’t there when she was glaring down at me from her porch a minute ago.

We traverse through well-known paths back to my G Wagon and I open the door for her. She makes no comment about the vehicle, but then again, I didn’t expect her to. That’s not her thing… buying expensive stuff just because she can.

I put music on low and head away from Blackburn Farms. It only takes about five minutes of driving before I’m turning down a road that causes her head to turn my way. “We’re going to the distillery?”

“Yup,” I reply, shooting her a wink.

“It’s a little late for a tour,” she says.

“That it is and you really need to see it while it’s operating, but I’m going to show you something else. Just be patient.” She harrumphs and I ask, “How was Sylvie’s day? I texted her and she said it was great but she was exhausted.”

That keeps Kat occupied, telling me about horse camp, and by the time we’re pulling into Mardraggon Distillery, the first manufacturing plant where our bourbon was created back in 1842, Kat seems more at ease.

We exit the vehicle and I take Kat’s hand again. The parking lot is well lit, and surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away. A security guard stands at the glass side-office door and moves to greet me as I use my keys to open it.

“Mr. Mardraggon, this is a nice surprise,” he says.

“Hi, Marshall. I’m here to show my guest the tank.”

“It’s a beautiful night for that,” the man says, bobbing his head.

“Indeed.” Kat smiles at the guard and we move past him. I lead her down a maze of halls and then through an exit door at the back of the building.

We’re immediately hit with the sound of gurgling water, compliments of a fresh water stream that meanders through the property. To the left is a large cylindrical metal tank with a steel ladder attached to the outside that extends all the way up. The roof is conical but not steeply pitched. A walkway fashioned around the top is bordered by safety railing.

“I seem to remember you’re not afraid of heights,” I say, sweeping my hand toward the ladder.

“No, I’m not, but that thing is tall enough you could throw me off the top and kill me,” she replies tartly.

“Then I guess we’ll see how much you trust me,” I say, moving to the ladder and starting the climb. The tank is not overly tall, about eighteen feet high and twenty-five feet wide. “This was Mardraggon’s first fermentation tank once we refined our process. It’s no longer in use and just ornamentation now.”

“Is it safe?” I hear from behind me and I can tell she’s begun the climb.

“Very safe,” I assure her.

I arrive at the top and step to the side on the walkway to give her room. I take her elbow to steady her as she moves from the top rung of the ladder. She ignores the railing, apparently secure in the belief I won’t toss her over.

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