Page 69 of The Bourbon Bet
“Your bag reminded me I’d packed us a lunch and left everything in my fridge. Caprese sandwiches and a strawberry salad, the ultimate picnic combination.”
I pat my stomach. “That does sound delicious.”
“I know you have a work thing after this, but when you drop me off, I’ll run up and get you some of the food.”
I nod. “There’s no rush. I’m just swinging by the warehouse to make sure the company’s balloon is ready for tomorrow’s races.”
“Did you change your mind? Will you be riding in Blackstone’s balloon?”
I give an inward shudder. “No.” Pointing to the trail, I ask, “Ready?”
“Yes.” She starts toward the packed earth trail that winds between towering sandstone walls. The air is cooler here in the gorge, carrying the green scent of new growth and the mineral smell of damp rock. Redbud trees dot the landscape with brilliant purple blooms, and there’s the distant sound of water trickling over stone.
“How did your meeting go this morning?” she asks.
“Fine. It was just a quick update with a taster from my Tennessee distillery. He was in town for the fireworks.”
“Is that job what the title sounds like? This person gets to drink for a living?”
I chuckle. “Basically, yes.”
“Hmm, why wasn’t that job ever mentioned during my high school career day?” she jokes.
I grin, something I do a lot around her. “Because you didn’t go to school in Kentucky.”
“Fair enough,” she says, stepping around a larger boulder. “So, what’s your title? Bourbon baron?”
I chuckle. “That does have a nice ring, but no, master distiller.”
“What kind of degree do you get in college to become a master distiller? Did you have to major in drinking and minor in frat parties?” she teases.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not quite. Chemistry, actually. With a lot of hands-on experience at the distillery.”
“Ah, so you were a nerd.” She bumps my shoulder playfully. “A nerd who knows his way around a bottle.”
“Guilty.” I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “I love the science behind crafting bourbon. And I’ve been working at the distillery since I was twelve, working my way from the bottom to the top of our company.”
“So did my brother and sister, with our father observing us the entire time. He even told us what to study in college.” I pause, then add, “Well, he tried to. Lillianna had a huge fight with our dad over his choice for her, but Mom stepped in and convinced him to let her study education instead.”
I don’t want to talk about Thorne and his bid for my job and the wedge it drove between us. Instead, I tell her, “My father and I don’t agree on much, but if a kid of mine wanted to join the family business, I’d also have them work their way up from entry-level positions.”
“You want children?” Rosalia asks.
I glance over my shoulder, where we’d recently passed a family with toddlers. “I’m not against it. But having kids isn’t my deal breaker.”
“What is?” she asks.
“Trust.”
If I have my own family, I don’t want it to look like my childhood. More than bourbon would hold us together. I wouldn’t pit my kids against each other. And I’d marry a woman who wants to grow old with me, who loves me more than my last name and power.
“That is the most important,” Rosalia agrees. “Along with laughter. I think trust and laughter are needed for love to last.”
My good mood dips a little, knowing we’ll never have trust. That unhappy thought walks with me until we step through a narrow tunnel carved by centuries of water through red sandstone, our footsteps echoing off the walls. The air is cool and damp here, thick with the earthy scent of moss. When we emerge back into the open sky, the contrast is striking. Warm April sunshine greets us again, alongside the sweet fragrance of wild dogwood blossoms.
I look at Rosalia and my heart expands. Her face is tipped toward the warm sun, a slight smile on her lips as she basks in the tranquility of the moment.
“I miss this,” she sighs, sounding wistful. She runs her fingers over a nearby blooming bush. “Being out in nature, surrounded by all this beauty.”
