Page 41 of Whiskey Proposal

She grins. “It’s Hennessy now. Both Jamison and I.”

“Oh.” Three Hennessy guys and three Hawthorne girls?

Her grin widens like she’s reading my mind. “Avery’s in Utah with her partner, Thea. I’m married to Durban, the middle Hennessy brother, but Jamison went for the oldest, Iverson. Picked him up at Bootleg when— Oh.” Her gaze finally lands on Hillary. “Oh! You must be Brooks’s girl. I’m Campbell.”

Hillary gives Campbell’s outstretched hand a little shake, then crowds against me. “I’m Hillary.”

“Lane makes the best Shirley Temples, and he’ll give you extra cherries.” Campbell gestures for us to follow her. “Can I introduce you two to everyone, and then he can get you something to drink?”

Hillary looks up at me, and I nod. We’re in this together, but Campbell’s excitement is untangling the knots lining my back. Hillary nods.

Campbell claps. “Perfect. Let me introduce you to my bossy older sister first.”

“I heard that,” Jamison calls out from a four-top table.

Hillary lets out a little giggle.

Jamison’s gorgeous too, with hair a little darker than Campbell’s, and it’s blanketed over her back. Instead of the boots and jeans she wore in school, she’s also in a loose dress. She smiles and sets whatever she’s crocheting down. She spins in her chair. “Hillary, right? You must be . . .” She narrows her eyes. “Twelve?”

“Eleven.” My niece’s grip on me loosens a little.

“My daughter is almost seven. I know you’re older, but if you like to cuddle dogs and cats, she’s got some to show you.”

“I like chickens and bunnies.” She tugs on my hand. “Auntie Em calls me Bunny, but Daddy won’t let me get a rabbit until we own the house.”

“I love bunnies as long as they stay out of my lettuce patch.” Jamison smiles up at me. “Hi, Emerson. If you need anything in town, find me. You know what, let me give you my number.”

Hillary digs my phone out of the tote with our brand-new yarn and hands it to me.

The entrance door opens, and Clem enters. “Hey, Emerson.” Her face brightens when she sees Hillary. “Are we going to corrupt another kid with the wiles of yarn?”

“Only if you don’t get her started on that thick crap,” Edna hollers from the table she’s at with two older women and a college-aged guy.

“I’m actually working on a scarf today, but you know we like thick around here,” Clem mutters and snickers, her face going red.

I chuckle and my gaze lifts to Lane and I’m back in the hallway. What was that towel hiding? He cocks an arrogant brow, and heat flushes my face. I have to be redder than Clem.

Hillary gives me a perplexed look. I shrug and exchange numbers with Jamison. Then Campbell insists I take hers. Elodie comes through the door from the main distillery wearing leggings and a loose shirt, like she was at the bakery. Beside her is a tall, curvy redhead rocking a soft-green romper.

I relax even more. Clean and trendy. I fit in.

“Emerson, hey,” Elodie says in that soft but firm demeanor she has. “Have you met Prescott yet?”

Campbell shakes her head, answering for me. “We’re still making our way through introductions, and then I promised Hillary here some refreshments.”

Elodie smiles and waves to encompass a table I didn’t notice piled with goodies. “Help yourself. Don’t let me bring all this back to the bakery. Oh, and take my number if you need anything.”

I’ve never felt so welcome somewhere, and it’s in my hometown. A lump forms in my throat, and I concentrate on punching in numbers.

“Here,” Prescott says, “take mine too. I’m Haven’s fiancée.”

“You look familiar,” Hillary says, her gaze on Prescott. The whole room goes quiet, and it’s like they know a secret I don’t. But unlike when I was younger, I don’t feel like I’m the punchline. From how thrilled Prescott looks, it can’t be a bad revelation.

“You like animals?” Prescott asks like she’s prodding Hillary.

Hillary gasps and yanks my arm, but her attention is still on Prescott. “Ohmigod. You’re that Prescott. With all the rescues!”

“You watch my stuff?” Prescott sounds delighted.