Bennett (Bourbon & Blood #1) Read online

  “Mind your own business, Carter,” Bennett said without turning around.

  “I figured I was allowed to have an opinion,” Carter groused. “Or at the very least a good reason to bust your balls.”

  “You figured wrong,” Bennett said pouring another finger of the bourbon in his glass. “I can handle this.”

  Carter laughed—hard. He bent over double with his hands on his knees and laughed until he couldn’t breathe. Bennett just glared at him as he sipped the amber liquid.

  Finally, breathless and wiping tears from his eyes, Carter rose to his full height and shook his head. “You’re so damn dumb, I almost feel sorry for you.”

  Bennett poured another glass of bourbon and handed it to his overly opinionated cousin. “I get that you don’t have more than a passing acquaintance with sympathy, Carter, but in general, people don’t express it by laughing so hard they damn near piss themselves.”

  “Can’t help it,” Carter replied taking the glass and slamming the bourbon before handing it back for a refill. “You do realize this is the gust of wind that stirs the shit storm, right?”

  Truer words had never been spoken. The feud between their families had gone on for almost a century. Once upon a time, his great-grandfather had been a business partner to Mia’s. They’d started Fire Creek Distillery together but when William Hayes died, his heirs had been unable to produce the documents to show that he’d had part ownership and Thomas Allen Darcy had been less than forthcoming. He’d denied any claim the Hayes family had on the distillery and had instead claimed that William had been nothing more than a trusted employee and friend.

  The whole town of Fontaine had known it was a lie, but no one was willing to speak out against Darcy, just like no one in the present day was willing to speak out against Samuel. With Mia and her mother being the only exceptions, there wasn’t a single Darcy that he would piss on if they were on fire.

  “You’ve made your point. Why are you here?” Bennett demanded.

  Carter shrugged. “Emmitt’s tearing down that old barn today… figured a little destruction might improve your mood.”

  “You’re driving,” Bennett said as he moved toward the door. “You’ve had less bourbon.”

  He climbed into the passenger seat of Carter’s beat up truck. Something was jabbing his hip and he fished around in the seat until he produced a high heeled shoe. He held it up just as Carter climbed behind the wheel. “Changing up your wardrobe a little?”

  Carter laughed. “She said she lost that in here. I thought she made it up to have an excuse to come back!”

  “Who?”

  Carter raised an eyebrow. “Like I’m gonna tell!”

  Bennett knew that Carter was a player, but to his knowledge, Carter never promised any woman more than a good time. “So you can butt your big ass nose into my business but I’m not allowed to know yours?”

  Carter took the shoe and tossed it behind the seat. “That’s not ‘business’. That was one wild, crazy and fantastic night that will never be repeated. No harm, no foul… This thing with you and Mia is going to bring hell down on all of us. You know that, right?”

  Bennett sighed. “I know.”

  For the longest time they sat there in silence until Carter finally turned the key in the ignition. “Is she worth it?”

  “A million times over,” Bennett admitted.

  “Then do what you gotta do and we’ll sort out the mess later.”

  *~*~*

  Mia made the climb back up the hill a lot slower than the trip down had been. Part of that was physical. Her body hurt and fighting gravity wasn’t exactly a good option for her at the moment. The second was a little more complicated. She didn’t want to go home. Part of her was still lingering in Bennett’s kitchen, savoring the slow-building heat that flared between them, the hard press of his body against hers.

  When she walked back into her house, she wouldn’t be hot, sexy Mia anymore. She’d be Mia the caregiver. It would be conversations about her mother's feeding, about her intake and output, about seizures and repositioning her and any signs of bedsores or skin breakdowns. Sometimes, Mia felt lost in it, like the pieces that made her a person in her own right just vanished into all those details. .

  She wanted to hang onto that for just a little bit longer, that feeling of being a wanted, of being desired, of being something more.

  “You cannot get sucked back into this,” she whispered aloud. “There’s no good way for it to end.”

  At the sharp snap of a twig, Mia’s head swung around. She winced in pain, but managed to keep quiet as she listened for any indication of movement.

  Coyotes had become a menace and if it was just one, it would probably be more terrified of her than she of it, but if there was more than one she could be in a lot of trouble.

  Another snap and her breath caught. But then the woods went completely still. No birds, no rustling of leaves, nothing. It was dead quiet. Fear hit her then, hard. It settled in her gut and set her heart pounding.

  Mia didn’t wait to see who was there, she didn’t wait to see who might come through the trees. She just ran. Turning on her heels, she moved as fast as her battered body would allow.

  She was nearing the edge of the woods when she became aware of thrashing sounds behind her. Looking back wasn’t an option. It would slow her down and she couldn’t afford that.

  As she broke through the trees into her own backyard, she saw Annalee sitting on the porch. The woods behind her had gone quiet again. Risking it, she glanced over her shoulder. The foliage was so dense it was almost impossible to see anything. Even as the thought occurred, she saw something; a dark, hulking shape moved, slinking deeper into the woods.

  “What the hell spooked you so bad?” Annalee demanded.

  Mia turned and faced her former sister-in-aw. It was the strangest thing that she was the one Clayton had turned to for help, but it all made sense. She knew Patricia, her moods, her needs, and for whatever reason, in spite of their very acrimonious split, she’d agreed to help out.

  “I’m just jumpy, I think,” Mia offered.

  “I know what’s at the bottom of that path, Mia. It’s your own guilty conscience that’s got you on the run,” Annalee offered sagely.

  “I’ve nothing to feel guilty about. Who I see and when I see them is nobody’s business but mine,” Mia shot back angrily.

  Annalee cocked an eyebrow. “Ooh! Rebellion! I’ve never seen this side of you, Mia. You ought to let it out more often… You see who you want, you do what you want. You’ve been doing for everyone else far too long anyway.”

  Mia shook her head as she moved past Annalee toward the door. “I’m gonna take a long hot bath. I was sore enough to begin with but running through the woods like a fool sure can’t help.”

  “You do that, honey. I told Clay that I’d stay the night and look after Patricia.”

  Mia had to ask, “Why are you two all of a sudden getting along so well? Two months ago you couldn’t be in the same room without drawing blood!”

  Annalee shook her head. “You keep your secrets, Mia. I’ll keep mine.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mia was at her desk, reviewing the handful of applications she’d received after advertising for a caregiver for her mother. The follow up visit with the orthopedist the day before had not been good news. The cast would have to stay on for at least six weeks and then there would be physical therapy afterward. There was a very real possibility that it could be months before she could do all the necessary tasks related to her mother’s care.

  It was not what she had wanted to hear. If there was one bright spot, the applicants did at least look promising. Hiring a second caregiver to work in the evenings, in addition to the one that worked days while she was at the distillery, would cut into her savings. It was useless asking her father for money. He would offer all sorts of helpful solutions about how she could economize while he was making dinner reservations for his Barbie du jour.

 
The knock on her door pulled her back to the present and she glanced up to see Clayton hovering in the doorway. “You got a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure. What’s up?” she asked as she set aside the folder.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I’ve got to hire someone else to help with Mama. At least short term,” she admitted reluctantly. It bothered her that she was having to depend on others to do what she’d always done for her mother. But changing and cleaning feeding tubes, dealing with the seizures that still plagued her at times, cleaning her up, changing her, repositioning her, those were all things that required two hands and Mia just didn’t have them at the moment.

  “That’s good. You should have hired someone a long time ago.”

  “I can take care of Mama… most of the time.”

  Clayton sighed. “I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying that you don’t always take care of you. Having help, having a moment to yourself… that doesn’t make you a bad daughter. And it doesn’t mean you don’t work your ass off to take care of her.”

  Mia shrugged. “I know all that. When I need help, I ask for it.”

  “No,” he replied. “You don’t. You get quiet. You withdraw. You retreat so far into yourself that it seems like you’re going to disappear.”

  The truth of those words peeled back the layers of her day to day existence and left her feeling exposed in a way that she resented. “Seeing a therapist, Clayton, doesn’t make you one. I can handle things on my own.”

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t come to fight. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve had a talk with Erica… the proposal is dead in the water. Not happening. Will never happen. She knows that.”

  Mia settled back in her chair. “That’s good. Thank you… How solvent are we, Clay? Be honest.”

  “We’re okay. Assuming Samuel doesn’t buy new boobs for his latest girlfriend, or a house, or a car.”

  “He'd better not buy that bitch a car,” Mia said.

  “That bitch is apparently no longer dating our father... or if she is, she's not the only one. He's moved out of her condo for greener and probably younger pastures.”

  Mia grimaced. “Of course, he did... Okay, so the money. Tell me.”

  Settling onto the edge of the desk, he answered carefully, each word well considered. “The distillery is making money. The proceeds from the orders we were able to fill have begun to roll in. Doing a limited number of preorders for the next batch has kept our cash trickling, if not flowing. With the scaled back salaries for all of us, the next quarter will be good. Why?”

  “Because we need to do something big. If we want to be competitive with the larger, and more well-known and better branded distilleries, then we need to put ourselves out there… I think we should do a sponsorship with Keenland. The world of thoroughbred racing is synonymous with luxury and that's what we need to be. There are a few spots in April that could work for us.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “The Spring meet?”

  “Yes. They’ve sent me the information I requested and I’ve looked at the numbers. It’s a big chunk of our marketing budget for the year, but I think the potential benefits would make it worthwhile. A corporate sponsorship this year and next, building to sponsoring a small stakes race in the next five… Who knows? Eventually the name Fire Creek could be attached to a Derby, or heaven help us, a Triple Crown winner.” Establishing an affiliation between Fire Creek and what was essentially the debutante ball for any horse worth knowing about in the racing world could be huge for them.

  Mia was in her comfort zone talking about the distillery, about how to make it bigger, better, more successful. That and her mother were the extent of her life. If that thought made her a little sad, so be it. “I’ve also made the arrangements for our spot at the Bourbon Festival. We’ll have a booth at the Equestrian Games, as well. Branding Fire Creek as a luxury item and targeting that market is a big step in the right direction.”

  “Send me the proposal and if we can make it work, and if Quentin is in agreement, we’ll make it happen,” he offered. Changing the subject, he tapped on the applications. “Have you talked to anyone yet?”

  “I had one interview earlier this morning. She was a no. I’ve got someone else coming in at three. On paper, she’s perfect. I checked her references already and they’re solid. Was a nurse before, though her license has expired. Married a doctor. Divorced said doctor… and I can’t help but feel like I know her. The name is very familiar. If her personality clicks, I’ll probably hire her immediately. I don’t have a lot of time to spare. Annalee has been incredibly helpful, but it can’t be easy on her… or you.”

  “Annalee and I have an understanding,” he said. “We’re good.”

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. But so do lots of things. It won’t kill me.”

  Mia looked at her brother, really looked at him. He was working himself to the bone, and it wasn’t just the distillery. Clayton always played things close to the vest and she knew there was more going on. “What’s really going on in your head, Clay? If you’d tell me, I’d help you.”

  “I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to or that I don’t trust you… I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, Mia, but when I find it, it will change everything.”

  “This is about Samuel, isn’t it?”

  Clayton sighed. “I’ve got to find a way to get his hands out of the pot, Mia. If we don’t, we’re always going to be struggling to keep the business afloat.”

  “And Annalee… does she know?” Mia asked.

  “Yes. Of course,” he said sarcastically. “Why on earth would I put this ugliness on her, after everything else?”

  Mia shook her head. “Lord, you are dumb… I love you so much, Clay, but sometimes I forget that you are a man and prone to masculine idiocy. She loves you! Still. And you’re pissing it away!”

  Staring out the window of her office that overlooked the storehouse where every precious barrel was aging and waiting its turn, he said, “The distillery, the constant fighting with Samuel for control, of trying to curb his insane spending… it took a toll. She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”

  Wouldn’t. The word was in her mind, but she didn’t utter it. Clayton, under his typically mild mannered exterior, could be as proud and stubborn as the rest of them. “I’m sorry.”

  “What about you and Hayes? He’s still got it bad for you. And it’s pretty clear you’re in the same boat… This—hiring someone to help with Mama—Mia, this is your chance to live a little.”

  Her heart literally skipped a beat at the thought. But she quickly squashed that little flare of hope. There were things Clayton didn’t know, and she could never tell him. If she did, it would tear the whole family apart. “You’re not suggesting that I attempt to rekindle my relationship with Bennett? Do I need to tell you how much of a disaster that would be?”

  “I didn’t say you had to walk down Main Street holding his hand. You’re a goddamn adult, Mia.”

  “My big brother is encouraging me to have a scandalous affair… As if our father isn’t bad enough, you’ve got to bring this Jerry Springer moment to my door?” she hedged.

  “I’m just putting it out there. Live your life. Be as discreet or indiscreet about it as you choose. Self-denial is cold comfort.” Clayton rose and turned toward the door, but paused to look back at her. “If you could have anything you wanted, Mia, what would it be?”

  Bennett. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. If the world were different, if her life was something other than what it was, they’d be married, maybe even have babies. That thought cut like a knife and she pushed it back, locked it down like she always did. “I can’t. So there’s no point thinking about it.”

  “Take a risk, Mia. Before it’s too late, take a damn risk.”

  When he’d gone, Mia sank back in her chair, the weight of everything pressing in on her. The car crash, whoever had been following her through the
woods, Erica’s scheming to get into Samuel’s good graces, Samuel’s clear loss of interest in Erica, Clayton's assertion that Samuel had now thrown over the former beauty queen for another, caring for her mother, Clayton’s pending divorce and Quentin, well, she didn’t know what the hell was going on with Quentin. In the midst of all of that, she couldn’t afford the added drama of an affair with Bennett. But still, it tempted her … it tempted her strongly.

  Memories long buried stirred to life, of him sneaking into her bedroom in the dark of night, of hot, drugging kisses in the backseat of his daddy’s car. She wanted him as much as she ever had, but she’d made a deal with the devil, or in her case, a deal with her father. If he found out, everything would come crashing down around her.

  “So don’t let him find out,” she whispered to the empty room.

  A frisson of excitement burned through her at the thought. Just for a little while, she’d get to live again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bennett put down the planer and ran his hand over the wood. The doors on the old cabinet were being stubborn, but finally, after about a million small adjustments, they were closed and flush to the base.

  “There,” he said and pointed to the near perfect seam. “That, little sister, is craftsmanship.”

  “That, big brother, took you almost the whole day,” Savannah replied smartly, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Your head isn’t in the game today, Bennett.”

  That was certainly true. He’d forgotten half his tools at home and had to go back for them. Then he’d mixed up the addresses for deliveries and sent Carter to the wrong house. Sleep had been in short supply. It had been two days since the scene in his kitchen with Mia, two days and she was still wreaking havoc on him.

  Thinking about Mia, and about whether or not she really was in danger from someone, had kept him awake. A part of him wanted to dismiss the accident as just a fluke or aberration. But his gut wouldn’t let him. It didn’t feel right to him. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. Maybe, he thought, he just wanted her to need him.