Page 12 of Sweet Like Whiskey

Which brother?

And good grief, are all the Darling men gifted with damn fine genes?

Shaking my head, I get back to work. It’s only a moment later when I hear, “Ah hell, this is good.” I smile, glad Colton is enjoying his food.

Once the kitchen has been put back to rights, I head upstairs to unpack. My bedroom overlooks the west end of the property, where the mountains sit in the distance. I can see a few cowboys—or ranchers, whatever the difference is—riding amongst the cattle. It’s picturesque, almost too stunning for words.

After unpacking my measly bags, I plunk onto the edge of my bed and pick up my phone. Virginia answers quickly, the background of the call quiet, telling me she’s likely not at work yet.

“Hey, baby boy,” she greets. “How was your first day at the new job?”

“Ginnie,” I say slowly, standing back up and heading over to the window. I crank it open, inhaling deeply and feeling the breeze dance across my cheeks. “Have I got a story to tell you.”

Chapter 4

Jackson

“Ma.”

“Oh boy,” my mother says, standing up and brushing the dust off her jeans. “Here we go.”

I stop at the edge of the goat pen. My mom is inside, a few kids of the goat variety dancing around her feet and bleating. It’s late afternoon, the petting farm having just closed and the last of the visitors driving off behind my back.

“You invited him to stay,” I bite out.

“Mhm.”

“That man,” I add, having no idea how else to describe him.

My mom gazes at me impassionately. “Well, I sure wasn’t going to make him walk to work every day, now was I?”

“We have company vehicles,” I point out. And she damn well knows it.

She simply hums, bending down to pet one of the goats vying for her attention.

“It won’t work,” I say.

“What’s that, dear?”

“Whatever you’re trying to do,” I answer a touch hotly.

“And what’s that?”

I huff a breath. “I understand why Dad divorced you,” I tell her, walking past toward the barn.

She laughs loudly. “I divorced him!” she calls after me. “Bothtimes.”

I find Remi inside the shade of the barn, laying out fresh hay for the animals. They get plenty of pellets and treats throughout the afternoon, so their evening meal is light. I wave, getting my brother’s attention when I notice he’s still not wearing his processor.

‘Did Mom tell you Ash will be staying in the house?’I sign, using a distinct name sign for Ash instead of spelling out the letters.

He nods. ‘He makes good biscuits,’he signs back.

I snort, and my brother grins.

‘He’s cute,’he signs coyly, to which I scowl. Remi laughs.

“The lot of you,” I say, shaking my head. I add a signed,‘Pests.’

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