Drunk on You Page 2

  “If she’d get her head out of the seventies, she might appreciate what I’m trying to tell her about Blue Mountain and white dog.”

  “Not tonight, Allie, please?”

  “Fine.” But she’d find a way to get her baby whiskey to market with or without the support of Blue Mountain.

  “I think Justin’s dad’s about to make his toast,” Eve said, pulling Allie toward their table near the dance floor. Lorena pursed her lips when her daughters approached. As they took their seats and apologized to their mother for their tardiness, Justin’s father, the current CEO of Blue Mountain Bourbon , stood and tapped the microphone.

  Damn. She’d known this was coming, and she appreciated it—her whole family did—but… Allie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping her eyes wide so that any tears might pool in her lower lids but not spill.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate the love my parents have for each other. We’ve already toasted their anniversary, and we’re going to get to the dancing here in just a minute, but I’d like to take a minute to honor another family member who isn’t with us tonight.”

  The crowd, seated at banquet tables around the room, quieted. They knew what was coming, too.

  From the corner of her eye, Allie saw Justin make his way to the back of the room, toward the bar. She couldn’t have missed him, even though she might have pretended to try. She turned to look at him fully. He was, impossibly, more handsome than he’d ever been. Still tall, still muscular, light brown hair a little longer than he’d worn it before. Tonight, his broad shoulders seemed more rigid than straight. Even through the mud-colored glasses of her own hurt feelings, she recognized that his carefree flirting in the coatroom hadn’t been the natural reflex she remembered. War had changed him. As she stared, he looked straight at her.

  She smiled, saucily. Or at least, that’s what she tried for.

  He held her eyes for a long moment, and though she knew he’d always been a player, that he didn’t really see her any differently from any other woman he’d ever known, her blood heated when he carried that gaze to body parts her dress was supposed to keep hidden.

  Then he gave the briefest of nods and turned away.

  His father continued, “Ten years ago, my son Brandon graduated from Crockett County High School. He was followed a year later by his brother, Justin, and their best friend, David McGrath. As you know, Brandon went to UK and then came home to take his place at Blue Mountain, right at a time we needed him most.”

  Lorena stiffened at the reminder of how Eve and Allie’s dad had died and left the BMB’s finances in precarious shape.

  But Clyde had never blamed Lorena for what was in the past, the business was recovering, and he went on with his speech. “Justin and David took another path.”

  Everyone turned to look at Justin, who, shoulders tense, kept his gaze fixed on the parquet floor, waiting for his drink.

  “The Morgans and McGraths have a long tradition, of not only making the finest bourbon in Kentucky, but of serving our country with honor. Our boys always came home, usually with a chest full of medals and a wealth of stories.”

  Allie gave up, relaxed her face, and accepted the Kleenex that Eve handed to her. She resisted the urge to turn and see if Justin was still there or if he’d escaped. Waiters were making their way through the room, putting small red, white, and blue gift bags on every table.

  “Two years ago, however, we learned that United States Marine Corps Sergeant David Sean McGrath had been killed in Afghanistan.”

  Next to her, Eve sniffled. Allie reached out a hand, which her sister took. A gentle touch sent a warm shiver through her. She jerked to see Justin brush past. Had that been on purpose? He didn’t look back at her as he sat down two tables away.

  “So in honor of the life of Sergeant Dave McGrath, I’d like to introduce our newest bourbon, Dangerous Dave’s 8-Ball, which is from the last batch David was home to distill, from a small pot still that he and Justin set up and ran while they were both here on leave. We’re incredibly grateful to have Justin home to keep the brand alive, and look forward to his future contributions to Blue Mountain Bourbon.”

  Allie turned her head in time to see Justin straighten, reaching for the bag at the table next to him. He pulled out the half-pint bottle that all the guests would take home, a miniature of the fifth that his father held up at the front of the room.

  “So without further ado, here’s to you, Sergeant McGrath!” Clyde held up his glass, and everyone else in the room did the same.

  Except Justin. Allie watched as Justin unscrewed the top of the little bottle and poured half of it straight down his throat.

  Then he lowered the bottle, watching Allie, and put the lid back on. She felt the heat in her belly spreading through her limbs, as though she’d downed her own shot. He didn’t look away until Clara Horvath stopped next to his chair and groped his arm, clearly admiring his impressive muscles. He grinned at the over-perfumed old lady and opened up a can of the famous Morgan family charm, complete with that grin. He said something that Allie couldn’t hear, but it made the old woman purse her lips, then smile and smack him on the shoulder.

  As Allie’s mother claimed her attention, she thought she saw Justin look over at her again.

  Allie poured her own generous slug of Dangerous Dave into a glass before she drank it.

  …

  “You could just ask her to dance,” Brandon said, dropping into a chair at the big round table.

  Justin leaned back and drained his third—or maybe it was his fourth, it didn’t really matter, it wouldn’t be his last—shot of Blue Mountain bourbon of the night. Not counting the two or three ounces of 8-Ball he’d chugged. He watched the “her” in question—or rather, he watched her hips—doing some sort of intricate sway and wiggle as she danced with his second cousin’s boyfriend’s four-year-old. “I don’t think so,” he finally said.

  He was considering it, an hour ago, before he realized she was Dave’s little sister. Allie Fucking McGrath? No way.

  “What’s the problem?” Brandon asked. “It’s just Allie. She doesn’t bite.”

  The legs of his chair hit the ground with a thud. “Oh, hell no.”

  “Why not? She’s single.”

  “She’s…hot.”

  Brandon looked at Justin like he’d sprouted an extra pair of eyes. “Why is that a problem? You knew this, right?”

  “I never… I mean, I saw pictures on Facebook a few years ago, but after Dave died, I just didn’t…” He couldn’t bear to see what was going on at home. So he never looked. He figured he’d see sorrow and accusation staring back at him.

  But he couldn’t ignore her anymore, because he’d made a promise. He was home now, so he had to man up and follow through.

  They ignore her, treat her like she’s a little kid, Dave had said. Make sure she’s gonna be okay.

  From where Justin was sitting, she was more than okay. And she certainly wasn’t the little kid he remembered. Little Allie McGrath had followed Dave and him around, complaining that all Eve wanted to do was play Barbies. Allie wanted in on their football, video, or God help him, war games. Or she needed help with her latest scheme to earn a million dollars. He’d somehow always gotten suckered into playing along with those—but who wouldn’t have agreed to help hold a car wash for horses? It’s not like anyone ever showed up to get their horse washed, and he’d get to sit in a lawn chair and avoid yard work while he “helped” Allie.

  When the hell had she grown up? She’d been sweet when she was in high school, writing to him and sending him packages. But then she must have gotten interested in some boy here in Crockett County, because the mail dried up. By then, the war had taken all of his attention and energy. And then it had taken his soul.

  And now, here he was. Nothing to offer but his own nightmares, so maybe if he fulfilled his promise to Dave…maybe he could get some sleep. He hoped she needed something eas
y…wallpaper, paint, hell—he’d even donate a kidney. As long as he could do it and get the hell out of Crockett County before he lost his shit.

  But there she was, just a few feet away on the dance floor, distracting him from the ever-present rumble of military vehicles and explosions that lived behind his eyes.

  Damn. Curves dipping, swaying—and occasionally jiggling—setting a kid down, laughing when he kissed her cheek and ran back to his mom.

  He nodded to another family friend, here to drink a toast or three for Gran and Grandpa Morgan’s anniversary. What could have been a pleasant evening, with flowing booze and a decent band, had been wrecked with the kick in the balls that was the introduction of Dave’s memorial bourbon brand—and gee, Dad, thanks for adding on the little dig about how he was expected to stick around and work at the fucking miserable booze factory.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d stay in Crockett County long enough to help bottle a case of bourbon, much less run an entire division, which was what his father wanted—had wanted for him since he was old enough to walk. Nope, he was out of here and on the next flight to smoke-jumper school as soon as the rest of the family left for Grandma and Gramps’s anniversary cruise.

  Until the band started playing Macklemore’s “Can’t Hold Us,” and Allie danced. Then the previously sedate evening went from party to par-tay, and Justin’s night got a lot more complicated. How the hell was he supposed to look out for this girl? She was supposed to still be an awkward teenager. Not this…this poster girl for dirty thoughts. He had to get out of town. Sooner rather than later. He ordered another drink from a passing waiter, but it didn’t cool him off or in any other way stop him from wanting to pick Allie up and drag her out of the reception hall to see if she wore a thong under that dress, as he suspected. There was no panty line at the leg, but maybe something at her waist… He groaned when she turned toward him, and he was able to confirm that whatever she had on the bottom, she couldn’t possibly be wearing a bra.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” Justin asked Brandon, trying to divert his attention elsewhere.

  “Ah, that’s over,” Brandon said, pulling his phone out and tapping the screen in an obvious attempt to close the subject.

  “Whoa, what happened? I thought you were hot and heavy with…um…Cheryl?”

  “Charlene. And I thought we were, too. But apparently my idea of hot and heavy and hers don’t mesh. It seems I’m boring.”

  Justin looked at his older brother. They shared the same parents, the same basic genes, but where Justin was the meathead, muscle-bound oaf, Brandon was the long, lean brainiac. From his medium-short brown hair to his tidy but not obsessively neat attire, Brandon was…pretty average.

  “Buddy,” Justin finally said, “you’re not boring, you just haven’t met the perfect woman yet.”

  “You mean the perfectly dull girl?” Brandon gestured at Allie. “I’m not seeing someone like Allie for me. Now, you, on the other hand—you could handle all that energy.”

  “Not in a million years.” Although it might just happen in his fantasies, if he wasn’t careful.

  A couple stopped by his chair to shake his hand and welcome him home. He managed to “Hey-how-ya-doin’-good-ta-see-ya” them without getting stuck hearing about the man’s own Semper Fi memories.

  Then Grandpa attempted something that might have been a geriatric version of twerking and backed into Allie, whose four-inch heels went out from under her. Her legs flew into the air, and she landed on her luscious backside, sprawled in front of Justin.

  Laughing, she looked up. Her green eyes sparkled in the light from the disco ball, wild strawberry-blond hair winning the battle against whatever hairdo thing she’d used to hold it all twisted up on her head. She was, indeed, wearing a thong. A red one. “Um, oops.” She tugged her skirt down, but not quite far enough.

  Justin’s bourbon-marinated reflexes were a little slow, but he still beat Brandon to the punch and helped Allie to her feet. He ignored his brother’s smirk.

  And Allie’s smile. He understood that it had been too sad at Blue Mountain for too long. But he had no business being on the receiving end of that sweet, hot gaze.

  Once she was steady on her feet, he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and escaped through a nearby door onto the patio.

  The cool April night allowed his presence. Not welcoming, but not a cold tolerance, either. Justin stared out over the gently rolling hills of the golf course to the McMansions beyond, at warm, lighted windows protecting the families inside from weather and reality. Through the picture window of the nearest house, lights of a giant flat screen TV flickered. From where he stood, it looked like a video game with a lot of explosions was in progress.

  He thought of his brothers-in-arms who would be freezing their asses off somewhere on patrol, if it was night in Afghanistan—or sweating their balls off if it wasn’t—so those kids could play World of Warcraft on leather couches while their Botoxed, siliconed soccer moms fed them healthy snacks and Ritalin.

  He thought of Dave, who wasn’t sweating or freezing anywhere anymore.

  The door behind Justin opened, letting out a wedge of light chased with music and conversation. He didn’t turn to see who it was, but a faint herbal scent preceded the appearance of Allie a few feet away. Think of the devil, and his sister appears.

  The clip of her footsteps slowed, as though she was uncertain about the wisdom of speaking to him. He didn’t blame her.

  Warmth seeped through his suit coat and shirtsleeve as she neared. “Are you okay?” She entered his field of view, and the visions of Afghanistan faded from his memory.

  She wasn’t wearing anything over that curve-hugging dress, and she shivered a little, making him want to put an arm around her shoulder. Just to keep her warm.

  “Sure, Sneezy, just thinking about finding a cigar.” He used the nickname they’d saddled Allegra with when she was a kid on purpose, to remind himself that this was his dead best friend’s baby sister and not his own personal siren.

  Her vaguely husky laugh wound through his buzz, stirring his blood. “You’ll have to sneak farther than the patio for a smoke. The Ladies Who Lunch have forbidden tobacco products within a hundred yards of the clubhouse.”

  “You’re kidding. Half their membership dues have been paid by tobacco money.”

  Allie shrugged, a move that drew his eye to her cleavage. He couldn’t help himself—he was conditioned to pay attention to danger, and those breasts were a hazard to his sanity.

  She caught his glance and blushed as she tugged self-consciously at the neckline.

  “Are you okay after that fall inside?” he asked. To have something to do besides ogle her, he pulled a flask from his jacket pocket.

  “More or less.” She took the flask from his hand and tipped it to soft pink lips. Her nipples would be the same color, he realized. She poured a healthy shot of bourbon down her throat and swallowed without a grimace.

  Atta girl.

  “That toast your dad made was nice,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “David would have thought it was wack, but I bet he would have liked the name of the bourbon.”

  “Yeah.” He should say something more, but his tongue felt thick. The subject of Dave paralyzed his vocal cords.

  “Brandon said you’re leaving in a few days to start training as a smoke jumper or something out West?”

  “Yep.” That was a better subject. Almost. “One of my buddies has a cousin who contracts with the Forest Service.”

  One perfect eyebrow rose. “It’s gonna be hard to be the brand manager for Dangerous Dave’s if you’re putting out forest fires, isn’t it?”

  He took the flask back and capped it, sliding it into his jacket. “My dad’s making assumptions I’m going to work here. I didn’t agree to that.” Which was an understatement, but that was a battle for another day.

  She put her hands on her hips. “No one bothered to ask me if I was in
terested in the job, but I guess that’s ’cause they were saving it for you.”

  “Maybe they will now.” Maybe he could make that happen for her, get her the job, and then his “look out for Allie” promise would be fulfilled. “Anyway, I have the job out West all lined up, so…”

  “Why?” Her sweet nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why would you get out of one war just to go back into another crazy, dangerous job?”

  He thought about telling her the truth. That it was all he was good at. That everything here—all this quiet comfort and normality—would strangle him if he stayed. Or he would explode all over and tarnish it. Instead, he said, “Eh, I guess I’ve developed a taste for adrenaline. Big money, big adventure…” Her soft green eyes told him she wasn’t buying it.

  They were both quiet then, glances meeting and then caroming away. Awkwardness began to settle through the night air. Justin shuffled his foot, and a loose pebble rolled down the steps. He cleared his throat, wanting to ask what she needed, what he had to do to fulfill his promise to Dave to look out for her. The strains of some old Barry Manilow song drifted from the dance floor. Instead of turning to go back inside, she stepped closer and twined long, slender arms around his neck.

  Chapter Three

  Allie wasn’t sure what had made her follow Justin outside. Testing herself, she supposed. The extra shot of bourbon after his father’s toast might have something to do with her compulsion to make a fool of herself, too. And the slug from the flask was definitely responsible for her current position, pressed against the hard planes of his chest.

  His hands came up to curve around her waist.

  This was crazy. But… “I believe you invited me to dance.”

  “Probably not a good idea,” he murmured, as he pulled her closer and slid his hands farther over her hips, up her back. He didn’t sway to the music, but his body was a solid column of heat, and somehow their feet moved them in a slow circle.

  The sound of the party inside was faint against the sound of her own sigh. She was slow dancing with Justin Morgan. His shoulders were hard curves beneath her hands, shifting slightly as he moved. “I should have recognized you earlier,” he said.