Page 62 of Whiskey Kisses

“All the things you think belong to you, Boston?” He shakes his head. “They don’t.”

He could be talking about Evie or the distillery. I’m guessing it’s both.

My phone vibrates. It’s Evie, asking me to bring back a salad mix from Publix. “Listen, I gotta go,” I say. “But you might want to stop creepin’ around my house. You never know what could be hiding in the dark.”

“How’s Evie?” he asks suddenly, looking at my phone even though there’s no way he saw the screen. I just know this is what keeps him up at night, trying to suss out the kind of relationship she and I have.

“She’s great.”

“Yeah.” He nods, running his hand over his chin. “She is great, isn’t she? Hard to get over a girl like that.”

“You might want to try,” I say dryly.

“Evie used to be so sweet,” he says conversationally, like he didn’t hear me. “And I meansweet. You know, I was the first one to taste that pussy.”

It’s an obvious attempt to work me up and knowing it’s probably true makes it hard not to drive my fist through his smug face. His comment would’ve pissed me off even if Evie were just a friend. But she’s a lot more than just a friend, isn’t she?

“Still can’t look at my back seat without thinking of her,” he adds, a faraway look in his eyes. “Fuck, she was feisty. Redheads, right?”

I must not be doing a very good job of keeping the rage off my facebecause he holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “Just making conversation.”

“That’s not polite conversation where I come from, Cole,” I reply. “But I’ll let it go because not everyone’s raised right.”

His eyes harden, but his smile lingers.

I give him a creepy smile of my own, leaning back against the windows. “You’re right about one thing, though. Evie is sweet. She’s also mine. Her pussy, her heart, her future. So, do me a favor and stop looking for her, stop talking to her, and stop thinking about her. Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

“You think Evie’s yours.” He chuckles. “But like I said, she ain’t. None of this is. You’ll realize that soon enough, and it’ll be a pleasure watching you run your ass back up north.”

I wasn’t going to do this, because we’ve been choosy with who we tell, but some people need the more direct approach. “Hate to break it to you, but Evie’s my wife. If I run back up north, she’s coming with me.”

In a heartbeat, the amusement on Cole’s face vanishes. He steps to me, jaw clenched, flaring nostrils nearly touching mine. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Is everything all right, Cole?” the hostess asks in a small voice. She’s frozen at her stand, staring at us like we’re rabid dogs about to tear each other’s throats out.

“Everything’s peachy,” growls Cole, and she jumps a little, scurrying away from her post. I doubt this is the first time his antics have freaked out the employees. “You listen to me, fucker. You’re in over your head. I don’t know what you got going with Randall Doyle but consider this your cease and desist. It ain’t for you.”

“Your concerns are noted.” Shoving by, I swing open the heavy door, letting in the sunlight. “Good talk.”

18.Evie

“Ihate this,” grumbles Opal, wrapping her smooth, brown arms around me. “But I love you, so I guess it’s worth it.”

It’s her first time at the new house and she’s salty because Tristan sent Malachi and Finn to pick her up. He doesn’t want people knowing this address, and because he’s convinced that Cole and his minions are watching our every move, he wouldn’t let me go pick her up myself. I told him he was paranoid. He told me I was careless.

“We’ll see how things look after my meeting tomorrow,” he’d promised, running his hand down the length of my hair. Tomorrow is the moment of truth, when Tristan goes back to Daddy for the final time. He’ll leave as the new owner of Doyle Whiskey, though how that goes down will be up to my father.

But something else must’ve happened today because Tristan came home from the store in a mood. He locked himself in the study, which he’s taken over as his office, and proceeded to have a long conversation with his brother. I know, because I heard Lucky’s name a few times, but he kept his voice real low so who knows what they were talking about.

After that, he started fixing all the broken things in the house. It felt like he was staying busy to avoid me, but who knows? Maybe I’m the paranoid one.

Opal and I set up in the kitchen, where I pour us each a glass ofwine while she unloads her dinner supplies. “This is nice, Evie,” she says approvingly, nodding as she glances around. “Can’t think of anybody who deserves it more.”

Tears prick the back of my eyes, something that’s been happening a lot lately. It’s a combination of gratitude to my great aunt and sadness that she’s not here to help me make this house my own. She was always a source of comfort to both Mama and me. She would have helped me navigate this strange time, for sure. “Thanks, honey. I still can’t believe it’s mine.”

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do with this big ol’ kitchen, though,” she teases. “Seeing you can’t cook a lick.”

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