Page 1 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
CHAPTER ONE
OWEN
I'm halfway through bottling our small-batch bourbon when I hear Ezra's boots on the distillery floor. The sound's familiar enough, I don't even look up. After ten years of friendship, I know his footsteps like I know the burn of good whiskey.
"Need something?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the amber liquid flowing through the bottling line. This particular batch has hints of caramel and vanilla with a smooth oak finish that's going to make some whiskey snob very happy come Christmas.
Christmas.The word alone makes my jaw clench.
"Got a minute to talk?" Ezra asks, leaning against one of the copper stills. He's got that look on his face. The one that says he's about to ask for something I won't like.
I stop what I'm doing and wipe my hands on a rag. "Talk about what?"
He gestures toward his office. "Private."
That's never good. I follow him past rows of aging barrels, the rich scent of fermenting mash and oak filling the air. It's the smell of home, or the closest thing I've had to one in years.
Ezra shuts the door behind us and takes a seat behind his desk. I remain standing, arms crossed over my chest. The office is warm from the small space heater in the corner, fighting against the December chill that's settled over Eden Ridge.
"How's production going?" he asks.
"Fine. We're ahead on the winter release. Stop stalling."
Ezra sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. At thirty-eight, he looks younger than me despite the shit life's thrown at him. Losing his wife a few years back nearly broke him, but finding Zoe has brought him back to life. I'd never admit it out loud, but seeing my best friend happy again is the only good thing about coming back to this town.
"Hunter Distillery is sponsoring the Eden Ridge Christmas Festival this year," he says, watching me carefully.
My body goes rigid. "Okay?"
"I was planning to handle all the coordination myself, but something's come up. Zoe's got an opportunity in Portland, and I'm going with her. We'll be gone until after New Year's."
I already know where this is headed, and a cold dread settles in my gut. "No."
"Owen—"
"Find someone else." I turn toward the door.
"There is no one else," Ezra says, his voice firm. "Nash is helping Ivy with her part of the festival, Alex is out on leave for the holidays, and Asher's busy with Sierra and the kid. I wouldn't ask if I had another option."
I stop, my hand on the doorknob. "You know what Christmas is for me."
His voice softens. "I do."
Twenty seconds pass in silence, the only sound the distant hum of machinery from the production floor.
"The festival starts with the tree lighting in three weeks," he continues. "We've already committed fifteen thousand dollars in sponsorship. Backing out now would look bad for the distillery."
I turn back to face him, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. "I can’t believe you, of all people, would do this.” I shake my head. “You did this on purpose."
"I didn't plan on leaving town. This thing with Zoe just came up."
"Bullshit. You're trying to force me to participate in some fucking Hallmark movie Christmas."
Ezra stands, meeting my eyes. "I'm not trying to fix you, if that's what you're thinking. I need someone I trust to represent Hunter Distillery, and you're it. That's all."
"That's all," I repeat flatly.
"Yes."
