Page 42 of Whiskey Kisses

“How did you not know that?” She cackles, eyes dancing with glee. “She was completely in love with you! For years!”

Every part of me wants to deny what Maribelle is saying because if it’s true, then I really am an asshole. Marriage was the most efficient way to kill two birds with one stone: save Evie from Cole and get legal access to the distillery, making the path to total ownership significantly smoother. Had I’d known that Evie’s emotions were involved, though, I’d have been a little less hasty to suggest it. Maybe.

But I can’t totally deny it, not when a highlight reel of Evie’s blushes starts flashing through my mind.

Maribelle sighs loudly. “I’m sure she’s over it now, Casanova. And even if she’s not, well, she’s a big girl. She knew what she was getting into when y’all made this deal.” Her fingers brush against my forearm, her signature move from way back when. I’m not the horny, impulsive teenager I once was, but I hold still, letting her touch me. Letting her think she’s in control. “Remember when we used to play Kameloot?”

I nod. Kameloot was a quirky, obscure card game about medieval magic that Maribelle and Evie introduced to Lucky, Maeve, and me one summer. It quickly became a favorite, and we’d battle it out every time we got together, even when we’d far outgrown the game.

“Players could either work together or against each other, but we realized pretty quickly that the winners were usually the ones who banded together.” Her dark eyes search mine as her hand falls away. “We were good partners, weren’t we?”

I give another slow nod, remembering. We did work well together, probably because of all that adolescent sexual tension. An echo of that tension still exists, only it’s off now. Like fruit that’s gone bad.

“I know you understand the value of strategic alliances,” she says.

“Where exactly are you going with this?” I ask quietly, glancing at my watch. Evie’s going to be calling soon, and I haven’t even made it into the building.

“You know exactly where I’m going,” she says, just as quietly.

“You want to be partners?” I let incredulousness flavor my chuckle, keeping things light.

She folds her arms, the position pushing up her tits. “Something tells me that you might just win this battle against my father, and when you do, you’re going to need someone who knows what they’re doing. If you want the distillery to make it, anyway.”

“Sure.” I shrug, knowing she won’t like what I’m about to say next. “Evie and I would appreciate your expertise.”

Maribelle's eyes flash with irritation for the briefest moment before her expression smooths back into cool indifference. “Evie? Are you being purposely obtuse right now?”

“Nope.” I grab my briefcase, my patience starting to run low. “Evie and I aremarried. You can either work with us or against us.”

“Evie, bless her heart, is weak. And clueless—she has no idea what it takes to run the distillery and I think you know that. In fact, you’re betting on it because you know she won’t interfere.” Maribelle’s eyes narrow, the sensuality she wielded just moments ago replaced by cold calculation. “You're in this for the same reasons I am—power.”

Her business acumenwouldprove invaluable in running the distillery, but I don’t trust this woman as far as I could throw her. Besides, her words rub me the wrong way. Evie isn’t fucking weak. Maribelle’s always written her off, always treated her like shit.

A memory of a hot summer afternoon, long ago, surfaces. We’d been walking around for hours, and when Evie started falling behind Maribelle told her to go home and eat more cake. I remember Maeve giving Maribelle the finger before grabbing a teary-eyed Evie and leaving. Lucky kept walking, not about to get wrapped up in sibling drama, and my dumb ass was too distracted by Maribelle’s T&A to stop and think about the type of person she was underneath.

An unexpected wave of remorse rolls through me, over a decade late. I knew better, at least I should have. Lucky, Maeve, and I weren’t like that. We bickered, sure, but at the end of the day, we were tight. We loved each other and stuck up for each other.

Evie didn’t deserve that shit then and she doesn’t deserve it now.

My visit to la-la land must seem like thoughtful consideration of what Maribelle’s offering because she touches my arm again, snapping me back to the present. “What y’all have is not a marriage, handsome,” she says. “It’s an arrangement.”

“Yeah, but it’s my arrangement.” Grabbing my briefcase, I lock the doors with a click of my fob and step around her. “And I’m not gonna fuck it up by fucking with you.”

“You’resure you don’t mind?” Evie asks, practically vibrating with excitement. The leather portfolio sits on her lap now, along with a ring of about twenty keys.

“It’s not like we have anything else to do. Besides, I want to see this place, too,” I assure her, pausing at a stop sign. Even if I didn’t want to visit Great Aunt Myrtle’s estate, we’d still be going. I haven’t seen Evie look this happy and excited in a while, and I want to keep her smiling for as long as possible. “You know, since we’re gonna be raising a brood of kids there.”

“Ugh, shut up,” she groans, covering her face.

Laughing, I squeeze her thigh. She’s wearing a long, flowy black skirt today, with a black tank top that shows a strip of her belly. Her hair is loose and wavy, and she’s wearing all sorts of bracelets and rings. She looks like a sexy hippie, or maybe a sexy witch. Like she could cast a spell if she wanted to. “I wanna grab something to eat first, though. I’m starving.”

“Of course you are.” She shoots me a sheepish grin. “Sorry about the pancakes.”

Evie was making me breakfast? Onherbirthday? “If I’d known you were making them for me, I’d have eaten them all, burnt or not.”

“Yeah, okay.” Snorting, she shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m hungry, too. How about JonJon’s?”

“Anything for the birthday girl,” I say pointedly. Evie glances away, a small smile playing on her lips, but I poke her arm until she looks at me again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

---