Whiskey and Country

* * *

On Friday morning, I woke up at seven and repaired the banister leading to the back deck of the farmhouse. I used the time I had left before meeting with Mike to weed the flower beds.

Buddy joined me mid-task and, bunting my hand, waited for me to pat his head.

“You like that?” I asked more to myself. “Wish you could talk back, but hey, that’s not how this relationship goes. I get it.”

The sun was hot and high for a spring day, so I showered and changed before my meeting.

“White or black shirt?” I asked Buddy as I dug clothes from my wardrobe. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles around my eyes had receded. And the days spent working under the sun in the last few weeks had brought back some color to my skin. I looked rested. And I had no idea how to describe it, but the shadows of grief had left my face. Most of them, at least.

This new life suited me. Even my body agreed.

Buddy butted the black shirt hanging from my fingers.

“This one? Okay then.”

I walked Buddy back to his home before getting into my truck. My pulse quickened. This new adventure had got me excited and energized all at the same time. Part of me couldn’t wait to do the job I loved the most. But part of me also wondered if it was the right move.

So far, all the pieces of my life had fallen into place, so I trusted life to push me in the right direction once again.

To make sure I’d find a parking spot near Hilton and Sons and because I hadn’t ventured to the town center yet, I left a bit early. Not used to small towns, my eyes flared as I realized there was no shortage of parking around here, and they were all free. I checked twice to make sure there was no meter hiding somewhere. Nope. All good. Chicago could use a tip or two.

To settle my nerves, I people-watched from the comfort of my truck.

Town Square seemed like the place where everyone in Green Mountain gathered. The café terraces were full. People looked joyful here. Relaxed. And friendly.

A mother, pushing a stroller with one hand, kissed the head of a boy with long blond hair, tugging his hand.

A man, in his late eighties, walked hand in hand with a woman about his age, exchanging grins.

A group of women, dressed in yoga gear, attended a class on the patch of grass next to the gazebo in the middle of the square. Tucker would like it here. Or rather, he’d like the view. I chuckled into my fist.

Had I landed in Happy Town?

I’d never seen so many people smiling for no apparent reason.

It fascinated me. How could those people seem so easygoing?

My gaze followed two teens on skateboards and halted on a redhead standing on the sidewalk. She had the most magnificent smile as she waved at a little boy with dark hair. She tilted her head back as if to embrace the sunrays on her pale skin.

From the cab of my truck, I studied her. She looked like a mythical princess, her hair bright and shiny in the light. A halo of fire.

She scanned the street around her before walking inside. The number on the door she held open caught my attention. Forty-six. I grabbed the piece of paper in the center console to double-check the address where I was supposed to meet Mike. Forty-six. Working for Hilton and Sons now seemed even more enjoyable, knowing I’d see this woman every time I came to the office.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I exited my truck and strolled in the direction of the building, my eyes trained on where her silhouette had just disappeared inside.

My attention stayed on the civic number on the door, my field of vision confined to the two digits painted in black on the door. With a deep inhale, I straightened my back. My insides clenched. I wasn’t sure if I was desperate to meet with the woman or if I hoped she wouldn’t be around once I entered.

A bell chimed over my head as I stepped in.

“Hey Cart. Did you forget something?” the woman asked, hanging the gown in her hands before turning around to face me.

We stared at each other for a beat.

Her gaze burned my skin. The air lodged in my lungs couldn’t get out.

The woman’s floral scent enveloped me. It held all my senses hostage.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between us.

The woman’s tongue swept over her lips. I wasn’t at Hilton and Sons, but I was stapled to the floor, unable to move.

“Hey,” she echoed in a silken voice. One I could listen to every night before going to sleep. One that could soothe all my worries away.

Our eyes locked.

Fireworks erupted inside me.

This woman had cast a spell on me. One I refused to break.

She could’ve asked me anything right now, and I would’ve agreed.

My heart drummed in my chest.

I blinked.

What was going on with me? What was I doing here? Oh, yeah. Hilton and Sons.

I cleared my throat and found my voice. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just moved here, and I’m not really familiar with the town yet.” I scanned the room—it looked like a bridal shop, gowns hung in every corner and a pile of glitter shoes on display—and brought my attention to the piece of paper in my hand, trying to escape the woman’s probing glance. “So, I guess you’re not Hilton and Sons, the construction business?” I raised one eyebrow. I wasn’t used to being speechless in front of a woman. Or anyone else, for that matter. I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. Why was I so nervous? It made no sense. I raked my fingers through my hair, unable to decide what to do with my hands.

I must’ve looked stupid right now.

The column of the woman’s sensuous throat worked, and my eyes followed the movement. Did I just tell myself her throat was sensuous? Damn it. I was way deeper into her than I thought.

“Hilton is on Elk Road, not Main Street,” she said, her southern drawl now clear in her voice.

I scratched the side of my head. “And where is Elk Road? I’m a bit lost.”

She smiled at me, and I almost melted into a puddle right there on the floor of the store.

“Give me a minute. I’ll lock the shop and walk you down. It’s not that far.”

My pulse raced. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” Please let me be a bother.

She shrugged, and now I found even her shoulders sensuous.

“I insist. Fresh air will do me good. And it’s a shame to be stuck inside when the weather is that great outside. I’ve been in the store fifteen hours a day for the last month. I’m in dire need of some vitamin C.” She laughed, the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

I snickered behind my hand. “I think you mean vitamin D.” She flustered, and her level of beauty multiplied. A strand of her hair fell over her forehead, and I would’ve given anything to be able to tuck it away.

“Yeah. Vitamin D. You’re right.”

We walked for about a minute before I broke the silence.

I cocked my head to the side to watch her.