Whiskey and Country

“I’m Nick, by the way.”

“I’m Dahlia.” Even her name sounded divine. “We’re here,” she said, stopping in front of a two-story building. Already? I wasn’t ready to let her go. I hadn’t felt an instant connection with anyone in—in forever.

Dahlia smiled at me, and I knew right at this moment, I would draw the curve of her lips into my dreams for a long time.

My entire body reacted to her closeness. As if her warmth could spread to my skin even as we stood three feet apart.

I shut my eyes and breathed out. I only had one chance at this.

My pulse raced, and before she could walk away, I spoke the words on the tip of my tongue.

“I just have to sign a few documents. I’m starting here as a carpenter next week. It’ll only take a couple of minutes. Would you care to wait for me? We could grab a coffee or something. I’m starving, and the sights and smells of all those restaurants on Main Street did nothing to tame my hunger.” I smiled, pretty sure I looked like a fool. “Unless you’re too busy at the store and having lunch with me would make you late.”

Please say no. Please say yes. No. Yes. No.I was bad at this.

Dahlia tipped her head up until she stared me in the eyes. “I’d like that.”

I blew out a breath.

Did I really ask the first woman I met on a date? My heart thundered in my chest, the pummeling of my organ vibrating even through my toes. Dahlia wasn’t any woman. She had the power to capture my heart. I had no idea how she could do this, but I knew I was right. It was in the moss-green of her irises, in her smile, in her voice. Next to her, my body pulsed in a way it had never done before.

It tensed and relaxed in the right places.

Even her energy field enticed me.

“Great.” I touched her arm, and something shifted. A wave of heat washed over me. A million tingles lined my spine. I jerked my hand away, trying to keep my composure intact. “Wait for me. I won’t be long.” Our eyes met again, as if unable to look elsewhere. As if everything around us had vanished and only we existed.

I sucked in a breath that reverberated through me and walked in, my mind on the woman waiting for me on the sidewalk.

“Can I help you, sir?” a woman with cat-eyeglasses and red lipstick asked me from behind a chestnut counter. She could have been twenty-five or fifty, naked or sporting a snowsuit, I had no clue. All I could see was Dahlia.

It took me a few seconds to snap out of my daze.

I cleared my throat. “Sure. I’m Nick Peterson. I’m starting next week, and I’m here to sign some papers.”

Linda, according to her nameplate, grinned. “Sure. We were waiting for you.” She stood and beckoned me to follow her. “Everything you gotta fill out is in the conference room.” She led me to a small room with a large black table taking most of the space, a stack of papers kept on one end. “Take your time. If you have any questions, come to get me. You should be done within five minutes.”

I nodded and thanked her as I got to work.

I was signing the last form when Mike joined me.

“Ready to start on Monday?” he asked in his rough voice.

“Yes, I am.”

“Great. Meet me here at six-thirty, and we’ll go over everything. See you then,” he said, turning on his heels. I capped the pen and took the stack to Linda, ready to get the hell out of there.

Dahlia grinned at me as I joined her outside, the loose tendrils of her hair framing her porcelain face, like flames in the sunlight.

Her looks stole my breath away.

Side by side, we strolled on the sidewalk in comfortable silence. I used the time to peruse my surrounding. Main Street looked like it came straight from a Christmas movie, minus the snow. A hairdresser, a little library, a baby gear store, and a bakery—amongst other businesses—had taken residency on one side of the convivial main shopping street in town.

“Follow me,” Dahlia said as we reached the crosswalk, two vehicles stopping when we stepped onto the pavement.

My eyes traveled between them.

Dahlia must have sensed my silent hesitation because she rested her palm on my forearm—jolts of current shooting from where we touched—and said with a smile, “You’ll get used to this. It’s surprising at first, but cars in small towns usually yield the road to pedestrians. They’d even get into a fender-bender to let you go first.”

I blinked. My breathing idled, the heat from her hand messing with my composure. “You joking, right?”

“Fairly. They always insist you go first.”

Dahlia removed her hand, and the tenseness inside me decreased.

My breathing returned to normal.

What just happened?

If someone told me I went under hypnosis right about now, I would believe them.

“Okay”—her voice brought me out of my trance, or whatever it was—“over there is the best place to grab breakfast on the weekend.”

I followed her finger as she pointed to a small restaurant on the opposite side of the town square.

“And next to it is the movie theater. It only has two screens, so you gotta get there early if you want a good seat. Behind the red building is—”

And just like that, Dahlia gave me my first express tour of Green Mountain.

A minute later, we stopped in front of a café. Whitewashed walls, white shutters, and a matching canopy over the entrance. A wooden deck full of people on the left side.

“Here we are,” Dahlia announced. “My favorite lunch place in town. Still hungry?”

“Famished.” I cleared my throat, my voice sounding rough.

My hand skimmed her back as I gestured to Dahlia to go first, and the new surge of electricity startled me. The woman watched me over her shoulder, her smile disarming. Did she feel it too?

I had no rational reason to explain the new set of jitters taking root inside me.

With an exhale, I retracted my hand and scratched the side of my head to busy my fingers.

Guess I should be careful around Dahlia and avoid touching her, or I’d be in big trouble.

Soon.