Page 1 of Smooth As Whiskey

Prologue

Sutton

With my butt at the base of the tree, I hunkered in for a long-ass night.

The fourth long-ass night I would be spending with animals that made the forest their home.

Normally, I would try to find somewhere that would offer me adequate coverage. But there was no way I was going to be able to walk another couple of miles.

Much less another couple of feet.

Not after everything I had endured and not after I had pushed my body well past its limits.

Luckily, this tree had some thick leaves and low-hanging branches, so it offered a dry spot.

Just as I settled in and thanked the heavens for the dry spot, that was when the rain that everyone had been talking about for the past week hit.

Big fat raindrops poured down.

The sounds of them hitting the leaves.

Little critters doing the same thing I was, trying to get to a dry place.

I knew I was safe, at least for tonight.

Because no way was that man going to be caught out in this and risk getting his shoes ruined.

Oh no. Not Raymond Frederick Stanton IV.

Him and his Italian loafers.

His pants that had to be dry-cleaned.

His shirt that was never allowed to bore a single wrinkle.

The vest he wore always had to be pressed.

And don’t even get me started on the cufflinks.

Oh, what the hell.

I needed something to keep my mind off the cold that was going to hit my bones here in just a few short hours.

His cufflinks? I had to clean them all every morning and wear white gloves when I held them.

Because heaven forbid, I leave a single fingerprint on them or even a little speck of dust.

Trust me, I made sure I cleaned those bad boys within an inch of their lives.

Feeling the back of someone’s hand, well, you learned quickly to make things work so you don’t ever have to feel that again.

Or, at the very least, you freaking tried to.

Now, are you asking why I have put up with his stuff for so long?

Simple.

He held the one thing I treasured most in this world in the palm of his hand.

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