Page 20 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“You’re gonna be a mess if you stay down there,” he points out.

“I don’t mind,” I reply, letting one of the goats snag a carrot. “Getting dirty can be fun.”

I don’t look up to see what Jackson’s expression is doing this time, but I swear he tenses just the tiniest bit. I give another carrot away as a voice inside my head questions what it is I think I’m doing, flirting with my new boss. I ignore it.

I came here looking for something new, didn’t I? A fresh start. An adventure.

Well, Jackson Darling could certainly be all that.

When the carrots are gone and some of the goats have left my side to beg other, newly arrived guests for treats, Jackson holds out his hand. “Ready?” he asks.

I clasp his palm, sun-warmed and steady, and let him tug me to my feet. “Ready,” I say, immediately pulling in a breath when a muscle in my back protests the sudden movement. I roll my shoulder as I drop Jackson’s hand. “Thanks for showing me around.”

He frowns at me. “All right?”

“Fine,” I tell him. “Let me ask you this. The whiskey we’ll be having tonight. I don’t suppose it’s Darling Whiskey?”

“You’ve had it?” he asks, walking with me back toward the gate. A few chickens scatter as we pass, their feathers ruffling.

“Oh, I’ve had it,” I answer. “It’s good. Potent.”

“Dangerous,” Jackson adds at a mumble.

I try to keep my amusement hidden. “Does that mean we’ll be seeing a full moon tonight?”

Jackson scowls. “Not a fucking chance,” he grumbles, pushing through the petting farm gate. It slams behind him, and he stalks off, heading in the direction of his horse.

“Oh, we’re in trouble all right, aren’t we?” I ask the goat that’s trying to escape. I give him or her a gentle nudge back before exiting the corral and following after Jackson. “Yes, we are.”

Chapter 6

Jackson

I don’t know why I thought this bonfire would be a good idea.

Actually, correction. Ididn’tthink it sounded like a good idea. But I went along with it anyway.

Ash has a beaming smile on his face as he reclines in his Adirondack chair, another of my dad’s projects from years back. He’s laughing at whatever story Colton is telling, but I don’t hear a word of it.

I’m too caught up inhim.

Bad fucking idea, that’s what this is. The whiskey sure isn’t helping, even though I’m sipping slow. I need to keep my distance and my head. I need…

“Wait, wait,” Ash says, his tone capturing my attention. “The Darling Donkey, as in he belongs to the town?”

“That’s right,” Colton says.

“And he just…wanders?” Ash asks. “Like, he goes wherever he wants?”

“No one’s gonna tell him no,” Colton says. “But he’s got a bell to warn you when he’s coming.”

Ash lets out a laugh that sounds incredulous. “Jesus. Is he really that bad?”

“Worse,” Lawson answers, looking more aware than he did earlier. More like his usual self. I’m glad to see it. “He bit my arm when I was sixteen. Still have a mark.”

Lawson tugs up his sleeve to show Ash in the low light of the fire. A crescent-shaped scar mars the outside of his forearm.

“Holy shit,” Ash says. “Wait, sixteen? How old is this donkey?”

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