Page 40 of Whiskey Proposal

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Emerson

I licked him.

I licked him, so he’s mine.

Pulling into the parking lot of Foster House Gold, I breathe through pursed lips. Calm down. Nerves tingle up and down my body. I breathe and hold.

I put my tongue on that man’s chest. I can’t believe I did that.

But damn, what a chest. He tasted refreshing. I could drink him down until he’s consumed and I finally feel whole.

Hillary holds up two crochet hooks and inspects each one. “I want to make a blanket.”

“Have you crocheted before?”

“No.”

Neither have I. “It’s going to take practice.” If I can keep Hillary interested for more than twenty minutes, I’ll consider it a win. “Did you bring your tablet?”

“Yep.” She keeps rooting through the bag of supplies I drove to Billings to buy. Otherwise, I would’ve ended up in the tasting room, hoping to catch Lane alone. I’m here for crocheting, not to see him again. “When’s Daddy coming to get me?”

“In an hour.”

Hillary heard me talking to Brooks about Hookers and Booze, and she insisted on coming with me. I have no idea if kids are allowed, but I said she could join me. That way, I have an excuse to leave.

What was I thinking agreeing to this? A crochet club for a girl who’s never touched a hook in her life? My mom hated domestic crafts. She wanted the best of the best and handmade was not the best in her eyes.

I park in the line of cars. My stomach almost throws up the last red velvet muffin I bought from Dee’s Sweets. Is he here?

I avoided him last night. I was in the guest room when I heard him arrive home. Then this morning, I worked in my room until I heard him leave after breakfast. I’m a coward.

A coward wouldn’t have licked him, but I’m also an opportunist.

When I get out, I spot his pickup parked by the rickhouse. Will I see him? Or is he going to play a card from my deck and hide in the other building? The way my butterflies are roiling, I might hide out there.

I brush the dust off my skirt. It’s new, but paired with wedge sandals and a plain top, it’s summery and sporty. I’m clean and trendy, unlike when I was in school. Will I know anyone here?

“Are there a lot of people here?” Hillary whispers loudly to me and clutches my hand.

“I don’t know. But you know me, so just stay by my side.” I grip her hand in return.

I steel myself and open the door. Here we go.

“There she is,” an unfamiliar voice says.

More cheers go up, and a lot of greetings are called out. Blinking, I struggle to focus, and when I do, my gaze lands right on the man behind the bar counter. The way Lane’s looking at me isn’t politely professional like when I first met him. His eyes are simmering. Intense. His hair is combed to the side and his shoulders are broad. I don’t notice anyone else.

Then someone appears in front of me and the trance is over. The haze that Lane causes starts to clear. The woman in front of me is stunning. Long chestnut hair is in a fishbone braid hanging over her shoulder. She’s in a sundress that brushes the top of her boots, and I don’t feel overdressed.

“Emerson!” She points at herself. “It’s Campbell. Remember?”

“Ah, yes. Campbell Hawthorne.”

The three Hawthorne girls were the daughters of a wealthy rancher outside of town, in the other direction from my dad’s place. Campbell was in Clem’s grade. Avery is the middle girl, and Jamison is the oldest. They were all nice enough, doing their own thing, and everyone knew not to mess with them. The girls were as good as royalty.

Mom kept asking why I couldn’t be friends with them. The Hawthornes weren’t aloof, but they were always involved in stuff—sports, horses, and helping their parents. Our paths rarely crossed. If they were interested in getting to know me, I didn’t realize it, but most likely, I just wasn’t on their radar. Everyone knew them, though.