Page 27 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“Bullet.” She laughed. “That explains why he said tensions were running hot.”
“It’s all media hype, lollipop. The article is bullshit put out there to sell papers.”
She took the knife from his hand and wound her arms around his middle, gazing up at him with a sugary-sweet smile. “Or maybe it’s community reporting to keep residents in-the-know about local happenings so they can come together and help. Like we are.”
“Did you see other people rallying around Sarah today?”
“No, but at least we are.” She went up on her toes, and he met her halfway in a startlingly quick kiss, because she turned around mumbling something about needing to get everything in the ovens at the same time.
“She’s allergic to so much. Are you sure this is all okay? You’ve got so many platters out.”
“I’m going to freeze some for other nights, but I’m sure. I triple-checked to make certain everything would be gluten-, soy-, dairy-, and nut-free.” She pointed to the chicken he was cutting up. “That’s for creamy Tuscan chicken. I even found a great recipe for mac and cheese that’s allergen free. Most kids love mac and cheese, so I’m hoping Bradley will like it. And this”—she pointed to the mashed bananas—“is for banana bread, because banana bread is one of the best comfort foods around.”
“How did you get into cooking?” he asked as he cut the chicken and vegetables.
“My mom is an amazing cook, and she was always making something delicious. Our house smelled like fresh-baked hugs all the time. That’s where Penny learned to make homemade ice cream. She was the dessert girl, but I’ve always loved cooking and baking and seeing smiles on people’s faces when they take that first bite. This is going to sound really bad, but one of my favorite events to cater is funerals. They’re the hardest events to attend, because people are hurting so deeply they don’t know how they’ll ever breathe right again, and that’s difficult to take in. But then, when they get a nice, warm dollop of mashed potatoes, or hearty chicken soup with dumplings, or rich, flaky biscuits, it’s like a hug from the inside, and you can see their spirits lift—even if only for a moment. The warmth and scent of a creamy casserole, fresh-baked cake, or the memory-inducing aroma of brisket or stew can make all the difference in the world for someone who has suffered a great loss. It can transport them back to a happier time and help them get through a few hours or days.”
“That’s…” He didn’t know the word he was looking for, and “beautiful” just came out.
“Thanks. I think it is, too.”
“So, you went to school for cooking?”
She nodded. “College first, because my father insisted, and then I went to a culinary school, first to become a professional chef and then as a pastry chef, because I wanted to know it all. I worked for a restaurant for a while and then started Finlay’s Catering. My friend Izzy, back in Boston, helped me run it.”
She finished mixing the banana bread and set it by the other trays beside the oven. Then she collected the vegetables and chicken he’d cut up and worked her magic on those, too. They cut up potatoes and sausage and put them in a second slow cooker with a host of other ingredients for some sort of soup. He’d never seen anyone cook so many things at once.
“Would you mind draining the pasta for me?” she asked, and set a large colander in the sink. As he poured the spiral pasta into it, she said, “What about you? When did you join the military?”
“Right before my twentieth birthday.”
She retrieved a large bowl from beneath the counter, and he helped her transfer the pasta into it. As she added other ingredients, she said, “Did you always know you wanted to join the military?”
“Definitely. Special Forces was the ultimate show of power and loyalty to our country. I wanted to make my mark.”
“Then why did you wait to enlist?” She handed him a big wooden spoon and said, “Can you please mix that up while I get the chicken ready for the oven?”
“I stuck around to help my parents, to be with my family,” he said as he mixed. “It was a confusing time.” Bullet had a great deal of respect for his father, but when he was younger, he’d harbored a good amount of resentment, too. Although Bullet knew it wasn’t his father’s fault he hadn’t known how to fill out the armor his father wore so easily.
Finlay dipped the chicken into a marinade she’d whipped up, then coated them with a seasoning mixture. “How so?”
“For as long as I can remember, there was a lot of pressure on me to protect my brothers and Dixie, to prepare to be the man of the family in case anything happened to our father. I watched over them, taught them all how to defend themselves, manned up Bones and Bear and toughened up Dixie, because in my head, if something could happen to my old man, something could happen to me. Then what? Bones graduated high school early and went off to college, as he should have. He’s the smartest guy I know. But all I could think about was how Bear and Dixie needed me. There was this thin line I felt like I was always toeing. On the one hand, we were taught not to take shit from anyone, and on the other, we were taught not to cause trouble, start fights, or go out carousing. As a kid full of piss and vinegar, it was hard to understand why we didn’t just pound the hell out of anyone who caused trouble.”
“I can see how that would be confusing.” She set the chicken on a tray, then placed the tray in the oven.
“I’ve never been good at communicating. I’m not like you, Fins. Even back then I couldn’t voice what was going on in my head. I went out looking for trouble so I could shut it down before it found my family. The problem was, I couldn’t get my arms around it all, and I became trouble.”
“That kind of makes sense. You were under so much pressure you didn’t know how to handle it.”
She put the rest of the trays in the ovens and turned on the cock-blocking timer. He realized with a start that he was more interested in sharing his past with Finlay than in sex.
“I was always locked and loaded, ready to fire. I was a bullet looking for a target. Bones is the one who finally said to get the hell out of here and enlist. He pushed me so hard, I remember fighting with him over it. He was off at college, and I was blinded by loyalty but heading down a shit path. He finally laid it all out on the line for me. He said if I didn’t get out of there, I’d fuck up our family or my life. I owe him a hell of a lot.”
“It sounds to me like your siblings owe a heck of a lot to you, too.”
She washed her hands, and he pulled her into his arms. “I’ve never told anyone this stuff before. Why does it seem so easy to share with you?”
“Because you know I care about you. Or maybe you’re just tired of holding it in? Everyone needs an outlet sometime. And for the record, you may not usually be a man of many words, but you get your point across quite clearly.”
“You’ve got me under your spell, lollipop, and I hope like hell you never break it, because I sure do like you, and it’s not just physical anymore. Although…” He felt himself grinning as he pressed his lips to hers and slipped his hand beneath her dress, groping her ass and earning a surprised squeak.
“What is it about my butt that you love so much?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he lowered his mouth to her neck and nipped at it. “Why don’t you turn around and let me explore. Maybe I can come up with an answer.”
Her skin flamed against his mouth.
“You talk very dirty,” she whispered as he dragged his tongue up to her ear. She wound her arms around his neck and said, “Why don’t you show me what that dirty mouth is capable of?”
“Mm, baby, get ready for a wild ride.” He swept her into his arms.
As he lowered his mouth to hers, she said, “Timer! Get the timer from that counter. We can’t burn all the food.”
Timer in hand, he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. He set the timer on her dresser and said, “We need to have a talk about you and timers.” He tore down her pretty blankets and laid her in the center of the bed.
She laughed and pulled him down over her. “We have forty minutes. Do you want to talk, or do you want to—”
FINLAY’S WORDS WERE smothered by the hard press of Bullet’s lips, the delving of his tongue, and the thrusting of his powerful hips against her. All day long she’d been thinking of the way he’d kissed her when she was on the counter that morning, when he’d been ready to take her and she’d been ready to surrender to him. All afternoon she’d fought the overwhelming urge to be closer to him, his rugged scent and the slow caress of his hands over her hips each time he walked by taunted her. She felt like a boiling pot ready to blow, and it had taken all her concentration to focus on cooking, but now, with his glorious mouth wreaking havoc with her senses and his hard body grinding in a dizzying rhythm, she was done holding back.
He moved straight down her body, his big hands sliding along the length of her legs to the edge of her high-heeled boot. His mouth curved up in a wicked grin. “We’re leaving those on, but this has got to go.”
