Page 16 of Sweet Like Whiskey

Clearing my throat, I look toward the west. The sun is nearly to the mountains now. “Do you have any questions? Like you said, I kinda threw you to the wolves today. But you did well.”

Ash hums, precipitating me to look back his way. “You’re a good boss, aren’t you?”

“I try to be,” I admit, although I don’t particularly like the praise. Nor the way he’s looking at me. “No questions?”

“Not yet,” he says, rubbing absently below his lip. “Can I do the shopping once I get my feet under me?”

“Of course.”

“Who cooks on the weekends?”

“We do,” I answer. “You’re welcome to join us for meals.”

He nods, his chair rocking softly, squeaking against the wooden deck. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

With my heart beating a little too fast for reasons I’d rather not identify, I stand.

“Jack,” Ash says, causing me to come to a halt. “Where do you live? If everyone else is here, where are you?”

“Just down that way,” I say, pointing without meeting his eye. “At the end of that unmarked lane.”

“You’re still on the property?” he asks.

“I am.”

“But alone,” he adds.

A pause. “Mm.”

He hums softly. “That tracks. Night, then, Jackson Darling.”

I pull in a breath. Expel it. My chest barely moves an inch. “Night.”

I walk away without looking back at Ashley Alcott, trying to convince myself it has nothing whatsoever to do with what I might see on his face.

I almost believe it.

Chapter 5

Ash

Waking at three in the morning is nearly my undoing.Nearly.

But I buck up, get my feet out of bed, and work the kinks out of my body as I head down to the kitchen. I can hear others stirring before long, the house coming alive as I cook bacon, eggs, and French toast, including a gluten-free option for Ira from bread I baked last night.

At four o’clock on the dot, the early shift ranchers start to arrive, a flood of sound coming in from the dining room at the back of the house. There’s some laughter, feet stomping, chairs screeching across the floor.

The sun is still asleep, but the animal folk are wide awake and ready to work.

People are well into their food by the time I bring the last of the eggs to the table. Ira, I see, found the smaller plate of French toast I left with a little toothpick on top labeled “GF.” He shootsme a quick grin, pouring maple syrup over his entire breakfast plate, eggs included.

“Morning,” Jackson grumbles, coming into the room. A fewmorningsare tossed back his way. His eyes meet mine briefly before he takes a seat.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and snag a piece of bacon, not yet hungry enough for more. That doesn’t seem to be a problem for the ranchers who are blazing through hearty portions. Colton comes into the room before long, seemingly half asleep. Remi, too, although he’s more awake. He waves a quick hello before grabbing three bacon strips and heading off. I saw Marigold’s light turn on from the kitchen window, but neither she nor the elder Mr. Darling are here for breakfast.

It took me a minute to get everyone straight, but I think I have it now.

Marigold and Hank Darling are divorced for the second time but are—I’m pretty sure—still madly in love, considering they live mere footsteps away from each other. They’re both in their mid-sixties, and while Hank is a subtly handsome man who’s aged finely, Marigold is plain stunning. There’s a grace about her that’s mesmerizing and a bluntness I appreciate. I adored her immediately. And Hank, well… He’s endearing in the way a child who doesn’t know better is.

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