A Taste of You (Bourbon Brothers) Page 3

  That wasn’t his problem. His problem was that he had a woman at a distillery relying on him to save her day.

  A beer commercial came on, smiling, happy people enjoying life so much more than everyone else because they had the right brewski in their coolers.

  He picked up his phone and called his mother.

  “Hi, sweetie.” As always, she sounded glad to hear from him. That was his mom. Even back when she was here living with Dad, and their lives had been completely chaotic, she was a port in Nick’s storm. Then she’d left, and everything changed. Nick now did everything he could to be her safety net.

  “Hi, Ma. Just thought I’d give you an update on Kentucky.”

  “How’s your dad?”

  “Same as ever. Pain in the ass, and trying to get away with it by charming everybody in sight.”

  Mom laughed. Laughed. It hadn’t been so funny when they were living with it all those years ago. “At least he’s not a mean drunk,” she said.

  “Right,” Nick said. His dad’s fast talking and good intentions were what had kept his mother around for as long as she’d stayed, but she’d finally had enough and left, thank God.

  “I’m sorry you’ve got to deal with this,” she said. “If you want, I can reschedule some appointments and come up—”

  “No.” Not even going to consider that. “He’s not your problem anymore.”

  “He shouldn’t be yours, either.”

  True. But Nick was equipped to handle him, even if he didn’t want to. Mom would get up here and get sucked back into taking care of them both, instead of helping out for just a couple of weeks. And it had taken some seriously hard times for her to decide to break free in the first place. She did not need to come back. “I’ll be fine,” Nick told her.

  “I’d be fine, too,” she said. “I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know.” And she was. She’d carried their little family for years, and then when she’d managed to break free of Raleigh, held Nick’s weight through some tough times, in spite of the tragedy that nearly took her away from him forever. “But I got this.”

  “Okay.” There was a beat, then, “So what else is going on?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “Uh-huh.” He never had been able to pull one over on her.

  Might as well fess up. “I ah…I made a mistake. And it’s going to be a little expensive to fix, I’m afraid.”

  “How so?”

  “You know how I told you that I was messing around in Dad’s workshop and decided to use up a bunch of his scrap wood to make some furniture?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, it turns out that was reclaimed lumber for a job.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “‘Oh dear’ is right.”

  “How much will it cost to replace? Do you need money?”

  “No, I don’t need money. It’s barn wood. I’m going to call Mason and see what’s available.”

  “How long has it been since you last talked to him?”

  Years. “It’s been a while. But I know where to find him, and if he can’t help me out, he can point me in the right direction.”

  “Are you ready for that?” she asked. Ready to go to the places he’d need to go to see his former best friend, she meant.

  “Yeah. It’ll be fine.” He hoped. “Thing is, the girl who hired Dad to do the work needs it finished before Raleigh’s going to be on his feet, and she asked me to step in.”

  “That’s a lovely idea! You’ll have something to do between visits to the hospital. It will keep you out of trouble.” Out of slippery places, she meant. It rubbed a little the wrong way to know she worried about him, but he couldn’t blame her.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You guess? What’s the problem?”

  “It’s at Blue Mountain Distilling.”

  There was a long silence, then Mom chuckled.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny in an ironic, karmic way, don’t you think?”

  “You’re not helping me here, Ma.”

  “Yeah, I am. I’m reminding you not to take yourself too seriously. You gonna do it?”

  “I told her I’d come out and see what I could do. No promises.”

  “So you’d be working for a woman?”

  Figures she’d pick up on the pronoun. And for no reason at all, Nick’s neck felt warm.

  “Yeah, the person in charge of the project is Eve McGrath.”

  “Eve, huh? Is she close to your age?” Well, at least she didn’t razz him for calling an adult woman “girl.”

  “I guess.” Yes. Nick flashed on a memory of blue eyes, bitable lips, slender curves. The desperate need for help barely masked beneath an organized, businesslike exterior.

  “So?”

  “For crying out loud. What difference does it make whether it’s an Eve or a Steve?”

  “No difference to me. Just something about the way you said her name.”

  “You know, I think I left something on the stove. I should probably—”

  “I think this will be good for you. Step out of your comfort zone. Meet some new people.”

  “I dunno. You’re going to need me back in Knoxville in a couple of weeks.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t sound like she was as desperate for his return as he wanted her to be.

  He thought of Eve. She needed his help. And he was in a position to help her—was obligated to help her, now that he knew he’d used up her supplies.

  All of which made him want to run fast and hard the other direction.

  “Okay, listen.” Mom’s voice dropped, finally into a serious mode. “You’re good. You can do this. They’re not asking you to be the master distiller and professional taste-tester. You’re a carpenter, and a damned fine one. You’ve got a valid reason to be there. If you get into trouble, call me.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He knew this shit.

  “Just take it one day at a time.”

  He was good at that. Nick had arranged his life to the point that he never worried about anything farther out than the next day, except when his mom wanted him to put something on the calendar. But Eve McGrath wanted him to promise to finish an entire freaking building by the end of the summer.

  Nick hung up and called Franklin to him.

  The dog leaped to his feet and padded to the couch. He pressed his side into Nick’s ankle. Nick scratched and tugged Franklin’s ears to much panting and sighing.

  He thought about the dregs of the wood remaining in Raleigh’s shed. Well, what the hell. He was already in for a pound as far as replacing the stuff he’d used. Might as well build something else. He had a few hours before he had to see Eve and her pretty eyes and plea for help.

  Eve pulled on her good Victoria’s Secret bra and panty set. The bra that made her look like she had boobs, and the panties that were cut high on the booty so she looked like she had curves instead of a teenaged boy butt.

  She turned in front of the mirror.

  “Damn it, what am I doing?” She yanked off the underwear and shoved it back into the drawer, dragging out her good old Target stuff. She wasn’t going to be taking off her pants to show anyone how great her ass looked in the expensive stuff.

  Her renegade mind took a quick trip to la-la land and imagined doing a strip tease in front of a hot, sweaty carpenter. There would be frosty glasses of iced tea involved and some sawdust…

  Oh, for crying out loud. She was remembering him as more interesting than he’d really been. He’d surprised her, was all. Him and his barely on jeans and naked torso. The one with the pecs and the hair and the little grooves going down below his waistband, and…

  The rumble of a diesel engine sounded outside, coming toward Blue Mountain property from the main road. Eve tugged a T-shirt over the serviceable bra she’d finally strapped on and zipped her pants as she shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers without bothering to untie them. She wasn�
��t rushing because she was anxious to see the guy; she was rushing because it was the polite thing to do. As the employer. Because she was in charge of this project.

  She opened her front door and scrambled down to the landing with just enough time to take the shortcut and beat him there, so he wouldn’t know she’d nearly ruined her lifetime perfect punctuality record because she was too busy trying on underwear.

  She skidded around the side of the house and—the golf cart was missing. Her enormously pregnant sister had driven it home last night after supper because Allie’s enormously busy husband had left early to attend to some business at their new company.

  Well, crap.

  “Hey, do you want a ride?”

  Eve spun around to see Nick leaning against the side of his truck. She hadn’t even heard it stop. Or the door shut. Or the air sizzle and crackle, because Oh. My. God. Her imagination hadn’t embellished those arms straining the sleeves of that black T-shirt. Or the thighs filling that worn denim. Or the boots. As far as she could tell, he had on regular old, run-of-the-mill work boots. But there was something about the laces on that right one, the way the end fell—

  “Is there something wrong with my feet?” The boots in question moved as he straightened.

  She looked up into his face, which was shaded by the brim of a ball cap bearing the logo for a tractor company. His mouth was quirked up at the side, and she had the feeling that he was laughing at her. Again.

  “No, nothing wrong. I just was thinking that—that it’s good you’re wearing boots. For safety. You know. That’s important. In case you drop a saw or a hammer or something.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled the ball cap off to scratch his head, sunlight glinting in the multi-colored strands of his hair, then shrugged. His T-shirt rose above his waistband a fraction before falling back into place. “Ride? You want?” He waved toward his truck.

  “Sure. Yes. Sure.”

  She was totally capable of doing this. She’d been working with contractors and tradesmen for months on this project, and Nick Baker was just one more on the list. His striking similarity to that guy who played the cop on that show her sister liked was not an issue in her inability to make a coherent thought in his presence. Even if he looked at her from under the brim of his ball cap like it was a white ten-gallon hat. She made her way to the passenger side where Nick held the door for her. He put his hand out to help her in, then closed it with a wink.

  A wink.

  Completely unprofessional. She should give him a verbal smack down. The problem was, her brain was still somewhat frozen with the image of how freaking cute he was.

  “So!” She buckled her seat belt, put her shoulders back, and pulled her bullet journal from her bag. “Let’s see.” She flipped to the page with the blue and green decorative tape on the edge. “This morning, I thought I’d show you the job site, spend a few minutes going over the plans for the facility. Then we should make an inventory of materials that Mr. Baker listed, the ones he ordered, and what he still needed. Then we can go through your list of what you think you’ll need that might be different.”

  The truck wasn’t moving.

  Eve looked up from her notes to see Nick staring at her with a faint possum-in-the-headlights expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Darlin’, I’m just comin’ to check out the job. I haven’t agreed to do this thing yet.”

  “Oh. You haven’t. I know that.”

  “Right.” He put the truck in gear and began to drive toward the site.

  After grabbing the purple pen from her purse, she drew a neat line between “Review Job Plans” and “Review Inventory.” Adding an arrowhead to indicate an addition, she wrote “Confirm Carpenter’s Job Acceptance” and underlined it.

  “Okay.” She nodded firmly. “Then let’s go see the site, go over the plans, and decide how this will work. Assuming you agree, would you like to be listed as a subcontractor on your dad’s existing contract? I guess that a new contract would probably be the best thing, just for my own peace of mind, but—”

  He laughed softly, not looking at her, but watching the road. “Miss Eve, if I agree to do this job—and it’s a big ‘if,’ it will be on a handshake and the understanding that I’m only here until Raleigh is back on his feet or we find someone else to take over.”

  Right. Unless she convinced him to change his mind.

  Heaving a sigh, she glanced at her manicure. She’d have to touch it up and hope it lasted another week now. She wrote “Contingencies” at the top of the page. Below it, she put “manicure,” and added “reschedule with Mai,” and on the other side, “restart contractor search—Gallatin and Boone Counties?”

  “What you writin’ there?”

  “It’s my planner. Just making some notes about what we have to do.”

  “We?”

  “Mostly me. But you’re in here, too.”

  “I gotta tell you, that makes me really nervous.”

  “It makes you nervous to have a to-do list?”

  He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “I’m not much for schedules.”

  Eve felt her eyes cross. “Then how do you know what you have to do and when you have to do it?”

  He appeared to think this over. “Well,” he said, turning the steering wheel in the direction she pointed, “my to-do list is pretty simple. For instance, today it’s got ‘Go check out Blue Mountain job’ and ‘feed Franklin’ on it. I can usually keep that much in my head.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have on your list.” She couldn’t imagine. “What about what you’re going to do after you leave here? Don’t you have plans?”

  “Nope,” he told her, reaching above him to tuck in a piece of paper that was threatening to come loose from a clip on the visor. “No plans. The evening will take care of itself.”

  “Wow.” She wondered if she’d ever not had something in her planner. The thought made her nervous. Very nervous.

  Nick saw Eve scribbling something else in that notebook of hers. It wasn’t anything fancy, just one of those black composition notebooks they’d used in high school chemistry class to write their experiments in, but she cradled it to her chest like it was an infant.

  He hadn’t been kidding when he told her he never made a to-do list. The rare doctor appointments he had were scheduled on an appointment card and tucked into the bathroom mirror. He ate when he was hungry and slept when he was tired.

  He wasn’t completely irresponsible. When he had a job, he went on time and did everything that was required of him. Beyond that, he didn’t make plans. No promises, no commitments. Even having Franklin at the house depending on him to show up and dump some food in the bowl made him nervous.

  She flicked the pages of her notebook with a thumbnail. “What about your dad? Aren’t you going to see him?”

  He sighed and scratched his neck. “I suppose so.” Not his idea of a good time. But as next of kin, it was his responsibility to make sure the man wasn’t abusing the nurses.

  “What does the doctor say?”

  “He’s doing better than they expected, and will be ready to move out of the hospital in a few days.” The itch at the base of his neck continued around his right shoulder, and he wiggled against the seat back to try to rub it out.

  Without comment, Eve reached behind him and dug her nails into his back, sending tingles of relief down his spine.

  “Oh, man, thanks,” he told her. “The mosquitoes are terrible right now, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed. You have a lot of standing water around your place?”

  He thought about it. “Nope.”

  “Maybe it’s poison ivy or something.”

  He felt the absence of her hand when she stopped scratching his back, but then her cool fingers were on his neck, pulling the collar of his T-shirt out.

  “You don’t have a rash.”

  “Huh. I’ve been itching like crazy.”

  “Maybe y
ou’re allergic to Kentucky.”

  She had no idea how close to the truth she was with that suggestion. There were a lot of people, places, and things here that caused adverse reactions when he mixed with them.

  “Is this the place?”

  “Yep, this is it.” Her voice went up a little when she said that, and he noted the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

  To Nick, the job site loomed in front of the truck like an embryonic Imperial Death Star. It both called to him and repelled him. He loved working. Cutting up wood, nailing it back together again into something new and beautiful and useful grounded him. But the commitment this job was going to take went right along with promising to stay and take care of Dad. He thought about calling Mason and seeing if he wanted this job, and maybe his cousin Carolyn would take on Raleigh as a part-time visiting nurse thing or something.

  But right now, he had to listen to Tinkerbell’s pitch. “Well, let’s take a look.”

  Eve was out of the truck and halfway to the small shed next to the foundation before he even had the engine turned off. She turned to see if he was following her. The morning sun gave her dark hair red highlights, which made her fair complexion glow.

  “I’m coming,” he assured her. Moving more slowly, he took in the job site. The bulk of the structure was in place—there were walls and a roof, makeshift wooden doors, and plastic-covered window holes. “What did you say your completion date goal is?”

  She winced and told him.

  “And today’s August fifth.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Let’s see the plans.”

  Her relieved smile hit him in the gut.

  “No promises,” he reminded her.

  “Of course not.”

  She led him to a side door and inside, where there was, thank you Jesus, drywall. Hanging sheetrock was his least favorite job. Next to painting. He wasn’t much for painting. Or laying carpet.

  “We’re building a combination tasting room and visitor center with a gift shop. The tasting room will be spacious enough to hold big events, and we hope to rent it out for parties and things. Part of our grand opening is to showcase this.