Page 21 of The Bourbon Bargain

It’s him. The man I saw at dinner at Rare, and in the park back in Savannah. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I’ve completely blocked out that Mama is on the line until I hear her repeating my name. I step on the gas and pass the man before I can think twice about it. Three times I’ve seen this very same man. It can’t be a coincidence.Can it?

“Paige, what’s wrong, for heaven’s sake! You can’t worry my nerves like this. Are you okay?”

I drive a little too fast down the road away from Underworld Spirits, signaling to get onto the highway and away from my fright. When my breathing slows and I can talk over my innate fear, I respond to Mama. But seriously, why does he freak me out so much, and more importantly, why am I seeing him again?

“It’s nothing, I was just surprised by something in the road. It’s fine and I’m on my way home now.”

Another white lie.It’s not like the man could be dangerous, right? He hasn’t done anything other than show up in the same place I’ve been a few times. It could be a coincidence, though it seems unlikely after the third time. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, so I won’t make anyone else worry, either.

“Home,” she sneers, and I bristle. “I do not know what has gotten into you. You used to be such a reasonable girl, understanding your duty and place in this world. Now, I hardly recognize who you’ve become. I’m worried for you, Paige.”

“Mama, for the last time, I am a grown woman, so you can stop dictating every aspect of my life now. I get to decide what is best for me, even if it goes against your wishes.”

That was a little harsh for Mama, but maybe it’s about time we put some distance between us. I can’t be her little doll to dress up and parade around forever. My hands shake and I tighten them on the steering wheel. I don’t know if it’s from the encounter with the strange man, or from being direct and confrontational with Mama, but the adrenaline pumping through my system has me jittery.

The line stays quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s hung up on me, or if our connection was lost. I check the screen on my dash. Nope, the call is still connected.

“Very well. I need to discuss a few matters with you. Is this a good time?” Her voice is glacial and so formal it makes me cringe. She is ferociously angry, yet she’s moving forward with a conversation, which is a change from her usual dismissal and the hang up I would have expected any other time I sassed her.

“Of course, Mama. I wouldn’t have answered the call had it been a bad time.” I try to keep the crossness out of my tone, as I would like to repair our relationship eventually, and sandbagging it now won’t help.

“Christmas is coming up quickly and it will be the very last time we get to celebrate at The Mansion. Will you… and that man… be attending Christmas Eve dinner?” Two steps forward, one step back.

I pause, not sure how to answer. Had she asked me a month ago, I would have predictably said yes, because of course we spend every Christmas Eve at the fancy black-tie dinner that caters to the top of the Savannah social elite. Now, I have my own family to think about, and it may not be in the cards.

“I just started a new job and don’t have all of the details for it, or what Hayes’s schedule will allow. I will speak with him about it and get back to you no later than tomorrow,” I finally say, hoping that appeases her. I don’t know what Hayes does for Christmas, so I can’t make plans for us without at least consulting him on the matter.

“It’s really bad form to respond so late to an invitation,” Mama replies, her words cutting with a cold inflection.

“Seeing as how I didn’t receive a formal invitation in the mail, and you are asking me the week before the event, it would seem you are on the wrong side of Emily Post when it comes to etiquette, not me,” I retort, not wanting to feel bad when it’s her faux pas.

She sputters and I swear she may have dropped the phone at my disrespect to call out her manners. “Fine. Please reply at your earliest convenience,” she drawls, her voice syrupy sweet yet crackling with her anger before the line clicks off.

Well, that’s one way to really irritate Mama.

I’m flooded with relief when I reach the gates of the Buckhead mansion I’m calling home with Hayes. I press an automatic opener and drive through, winding through loblolly pines, towering oaks, leafless hickories, and a few spreading magnolias on the way to the house itself.

Hayes’s Mercedes sports car is in the garage as I pull into an empty bay of the large and packed space. I scan the cars, noting a few exotics I can’t begin to name, and a few that are more familiar, but likely rare models that very few would actually be able to attain. Hayes really has a thing for cars, expensive ones at that. Should I try to find a rare or vintage car for him as a Christmas present? It’s the kind of thing he would do for me without batting an eye, but I don’t know what kinds of cars he hasn’t already bought himself that he could still want.

“It’s about time you got home.”

I look up with a smile as I step out of the car and gratefully slide into the open and welcoming arms Hayes holds out to me.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I tell him, my voice muffled where I’ve pressed my face into his chest.

“Tough day at work?” he asks, taking my bag from me and turning us both for the door to the house, his arm slung around my shoulders.

I kiss his hand where it rests on my shoulder and hum a noncommittal noise. “Not so bad, just a lot all at once. I realized how truly little I know about the liquor industry—how anything is made, any best practices, procedures, or even how to market the stuff. I spent hours with Sierra learning about how the liquors are distilled and the chemistry that goes into the process. Thank you, by the way, for calling her in to help me. She was incredible and the company is absolutely fascinating.”

Hayes chuckles. “Oh course, angel. Sierra knows her stuff, but it sounds like you took to it like a fish to water. You’ll have the lay of the land soon enough. Don’t think you need to be the foremost expert in anything the company does. Your role is to lead. Let them bring the information to you. You’ll know what to do with it.” He kisses my hair and leads me into the kitchen, where Cerberus is waiting patiently on the floor mat he knows as his place when commanded.

“Well, hey, big guy,” I say, kicking off my heels in the doorway and bending down to give him plenty of pets and kisses. He shimmies in intense excitement until I release him from his perfect obedience with my attention. “Let’s get you some treats for being such a good boy,” I say, feeling particularly indulgent.

Hayes is so stingy with the treats, and I’m happy to be the favorite human for giving the dog every last morsel.

Cerberus follows me into the pantry as Hayes laughs and pulls a few things out of the refrigerator. I poke my head out of the large pantry, wondering at his ruckus.

“What are you doing?” I throw a treat to Cerberus and pad barefoot back into the kitchen to lean against the island where Hayes has deposited a few containers. I pick up a bell pepper and eye the onion wondering how I will keep the tears away once it’s cut. He’s laid out corn tortillas and containers of rice and beans, so it’s Mexican food he has planned. But… is he actually… going to cook?

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