Page 42 of Bourbon and Lies

“Are all the rickhouses on this property?” While it’s weathered and worn, she sees it for exactly what it is. “It’s incredible. There’s so much I had no idea about.”

“We make a lot of bourbon. So there’s another few dozen in the next county that house barrels that we’re only aging four to five years.” I look around the weathered space. “This might seem like the most boring part of the process, but it’s where the most action happens.”

She laughs. “You’re almost too easy, Grant. How am I not supposed to make a comment after that?Wherethe most action happens…”

I can’t help but smile. Hell, I’ve done a lot of that with her. I know there’s more to her, somewhere underneath the part she’s trying to keep to herself, but this is the light and playful version. I’m just as drawn to it.

I holler, “Anyone still working? Dave?” Pausing, I wait for a mumbled response. “Tim? Carter? You guys still here?”

I let Laney slide down my back, her feet hitting the cement floor.

She lifts her shoeless foot and looks at the slice that’s bleeding a bit more than I originally thought. “Any chance you have band-aids in here?”

“Left them at home.” Chuckling, I grab her around the waist and hoist her onto a bourbon barrel.

“That right there,” she says, nodding to my chest. “You just walked at least a mile or two with me koala’ed on your back, and then picked me up like it was no big deal.”

I smirk. She’s giving me far too much appreciation for manhandling her. But I’ll take it. “Wasn’t a big deal, honey.”

Her eyes track down the front of my chest and back up at a pace that feels really fucking good. She zeroes in on my lips as she says, “It was a sexy flex, Grant.” That comment knocks me right in the gut and swoops around my body, landing right in my dick. “I can’t figure out if this is just how you are or if you’re showing off for me.”

Jesus Christ, I want this woman. I grab the collar of my t-shirt from behind my neck and take it off, ripping one of the short sleeves.

She barks out a laugh. “Yeah. Okay, show-off.”

I can’t fight back the grin that pulls from me as I lift her ankle. “Here, let me see.”

She sits there with a coy smile on her face, biting at her thumbnail as she leans forward.

With her foot perched on my thigh, I tie the torn strip of navy-blue cotton around the ball of her foot, bandaging up the cut and her toes.

“You didn’t tell me why.”

“Why what?” I ask as I focus on knotting the material around her foot once more to make sure it’s tight.

She hesitates for a second. “Why ‘friends’ wouldn’t be enough for you.”

I keep my gaze on the tops of her thighs and think about every single reason as my hands move up her smooth skin and around her ankle. It feels like touching her right now isn’t a decision I’ve made or a thoughtless choice, but a necessity. I stare at the way her skin feels under the pads of my fingers as they brush up the side of her leg.

“I don’t think it would be enough for me either,” she admits breathily. Without conviction. In fact, the way she says it seems like it’s more for herself to hear than for me.

My fingers keep traveling up the side of her leg as I stand. The proximity reminds me of the kind of man I used to be—one who took chances, flirted with who I wanted, and then acted on it.

“Thisisn’thow friends feel,” she says. Her eyes watch my hands move as I watch her lips.

“Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

Her fingers brush over my hands, following the movement as they inch higher.

“Yes . . . I’ve said a lot of things since I’ve been here.”

I’m so close to her that I can study the details of her lips, where the bow dips and how they're slicked pink and ready. All she would need to do is widen the space between her knees so I could slide closer. Press my lips against hers and taste what I’ve been wanting all day.

“I don’t want complicated. I don’t chase women. I don’t like people who show up and crash into my life. I don’t fall for strangers that are a pain in my ass.”

As my hands continue up to her waist, my fingers pulse as I grip onto her. Slipping under the hem of her shirt, I feel the warmth of her skin again.

“Sounds like you might have a problem then, cowboy.”

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