Excerpts
Chapter 11 Whiskey Taster
Evie’s trigger finger froze. Her eyebrows furrowed. She blew out her breath. “Doughnuts, not now.”
“Beg your pardon, ma’am?”
Evie glanced over her shoulder. Her eyebrows rose.
Standing in the doorway, a tall cowboy leaned against the frame. He tipped back the brim of his black Stetson. A crooked little smile appeared. He winked at her.
Evie gulped. The narrowed piercing stare she held burst open to wide-eyed baby blues with only a hint of gold flecks. “Boy howdy.” Evie licked her lips. A twinge of tightness rolled down the side of her neck. She refocused her aim on the trespasser, but he had disappeared. Only a trail of tortillas lay in his wake.
Evie let out a huff, “Oh sassafras. How’d that coon get away?” She dropped her shoulder and let the Retaliator fall to her side. She turned back toward her unexpected guest shaking her head.
The cowboy crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a little wider grin.
She growled, “Yes? What is it?”
“Howdy ma’am.”
With pursed lips, she gave him a nod.
He stepped up to her.
They were eye to eye now.
Her skin tingled.
He tilted his head toward the rifle. “Your choice of weapon isn't the right one—”
Evie put her free hand on her hip and scrunched her nose. “You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am, not for this job.”
Evie frowned. She held the shotgun with the barrel aimed toward the ceiling. “Hmm? And what type of damage do you think I wanted to do?”
The cowboy chuckled. He took the Retaliator from her hand, shook out one of the foam bullets, and held it up, “Nerf makes a great toy, but it’s not an exterminator. He’ll be back.”
Evie tilted her head. A coy little grin appeared. “Not if I get him in the eye, he won’t.” The cowboy laughed, then offered his other hand.
Evie's gaze fell to his extended left hand. No wedding band wrapped around his ring finger. No suntan mark either. The Texas sun preserved no friendship to any man who tried to hide his marriage. The suggestion of a smile peeked. She placed her smaller hand into his. “Howdy, I’m Evie Stockton.”
A slow smile grew on the cowboy’s lips, “Well Ms. Stockton, it’s my pleasure to formally meet you.”
Evie pulled back her hand slightly. Her head cocked to one side, “We’ve met?”
Chapter 12 Whiskey Lodging
He finally asked nearly touching her lips, “So Ms. Evie, I’m guessing Josiah left you the shelter, right?”
Dazed by their closeness it took Evie a few seconds to gather her thoughts.
Apparently not affected by the body contact Griff fired off another question. “So, what made you decide to reopen it?”
A little overwhelmed from the reaction his touch evoked, Evie over compensated and snarked, “You look intelligent. How about you telling me why I'm here? But first, why are you here?”
“The shelter.”
“Yes sir,” Evie rolled her eyes, “the shelter. And you?”
“But why?”
Griff curled a loose strand of Evie's hair behind her ear.
Her body tingled at the contact. She licked her lips.
The cowboy raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Evie?”
Evie said nothing. She stalled with no desire to divulge her whole history. After all, she didn't know the man from Adam. And he hadn't exactly answered her question either, therefore the obligation to divulge any history weighed little on her mind. She didn't want people thinking she could solve their money problems with free handouts. She wanted people to come to the shelter for real honest to goodness help. Help would get them back on their feet with a renewed sense of pride and determination through hard work, not by monetary handouts.
Evie cocked her head. Her concentration drifted from the topic. Butterflies flittered in her stomach. She didn’t say anything more, but her own questions rolled in like a slow-moving rain.
Who is he? His name's Griff Bryant, but why is he interested in the shelter? He doesn’t look like anyone in need.
She bent and picked up the Nerf gun. Straightening to her full five feet nine inches made it easier for a good once over. He wore fancy Western Heritage leather boots, an Armani suit, and a rich dark Stetson. And then there remained the incident of him dressed as a clown. Her eyes locked onto his once she straightened. She asked, “Why so nosey about the shelter?”
Griff chuckled. “It’s refreshing to meet a direct woman.”
Evie swung the double barrel over her shoulder, “So?”
“I’m on the city revitalization commission.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Okay?”
“To be honest, the city wants your property.”
Evie tapped her lips. “Hmm? Why?”
“They plan on tearing the place down.”
Evie stepped back and gasped. “What? They do?”
Griff stepped toward her. “They want to put in a convention center. The mayor’s trying to increase tourism to help whiskey grow.”
“And you're helping him?”
He nodded, “Yes, ma’am. I am.”
Evie slapped her free hand over her chest. “Well bless your heart.”
Griff frowned. “Let me explain—”
Her hand fell to her hip. She clenched her jaw. “Please do.”
Griff stepped even closer. They stood only a whisper apart. “I’m a land contractor. I look for prime areas to be developed for commerce, manufacturing, and—”
“And the committee?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “I’m on the revitalization committee, but I'm opposed to them tearing down the shelter.”
Evie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You are?”
“Yes, ma’am. There's no need to ruin the area with a big old cement building to host parties and festivals.”
Evie didn’t say a word. Her memory raced back to her conversation with Josiah’s lawyer. He’d mentioned something about others wanting the shelter and she'd probably meet with some resistance reopening. “So, you didn’t come to convince me to sell to the city?”
Griff smiled as his green eyes danced. “No ma’am, not the city.”
Evie cocked her head. “Then who —”
Cherishing Whiskey’s Salvation
Excerpts
Chapter 1
The herd of cattle kicked up clouds of dirt as they passed the crowd.
Charlie held onto his breath for a moment. The dust only made him thirsty along with the rising heat. He would enjoy a coffee right now to parch his thirst, but in this crowd, the chances of him finding a vendor selling some were slim to none. He scanned the skyline down toward the conference center. Just above the building stood a lit sign announcing the new hotel that would host most those who traveled to the conference — the Hilux. He licked his lips in anticipation of a good hot fresh cup of coffee once he checked in.
One of the cowboys rode by. A few of the onlookers distracted him from his thoughts of coffee when they cheered for the mystical-looking boys on horseback who kept the four-legged long-horned troublemakers from breaching the crowd.
Charlie did some of his own cheering. Well, cheering to himself that the entertainment seemed to go on without a hitch. IN all reality, he conjured up the idea half-heartedly from a time when he and his best buddy sat on a balcony in Pamplona and watched the daring Spaniards try to outrun the bulls. But not one for promoting a goring type of celebration, he thought a somewhat old-fashioned cattle roundup would help draw more people into the trade show. He smiled and pushed up on his sunglasses. Ready to pivot on his boot heel, he froze with the light touch on his forearm. Not wanting to stay and chat, as he needed to find where the voting would take place, plus, a cup of coffee.
He told himself to make it quick. Probably only someone who needed directions.
When he turned back from the area he stood, he cocked his head. One of his silver chestnut streaked eyebrow’s rose. With the sun, hitting the newcomer from behind, Charlie realized the person would not ask for directions. In fact, he had known the man for quite some years as they both owned cattle ranches and sat on some of the same committees. “Howdy Bill. I figured I’d run into you sooner or later.”
The man dressed in fancy boots and suit with a beard, which rivaled old St. Nick’s, rubbed at his whiskers. “Howdy Charlie. Haven’t seen you since the Cattleman’s Ball last December.”
Charlie flashed his white teeth at that memory. His heart gave a little kick when the image of Susan in her black evening gown and heels pressed up against him.
As if he were relaying a secret, Bill leaned closer. “In fact, never expected to see you here today.”
Charlie dropped both arms to his side with one hand curled around the itinerary. He rocked back on his boot heels. “Is that so?”
The man nodded. “Sure didn’t. Not especially after hearing about the fire.”
Charlie’s gut dropped. His eyes widen and his brows stretch up past the rim of his sunglasses. His boots rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. His empty hand shot out and grasped the other man’s arm.
“Fire? What fire?”
“Liz called me earlier to tell me she saw a post on the San Antonio Insider Facebook page that the fire department sent one of those pumper trucks, a ladder truck, and even an ambulance to your ranch.”
“My ranch? Are you sure?”
Bill cocked a bushy white eyebrow. “Unless, you soled the Stockyard in the past few days, yes, your ranch.”
Spiked tingles ran from Charlie’s neck to his heart. Not ones that might make him throw up, but ones that seemed to have wrapped themselves around his heart and dug in deep. He nodded to his friend. “How long ago were they spotted there?”
Bill rubbed his jaw. The movement of his scratch that jostled the white curls would normally make one lose their concentration, but not for Charlie, at least not for what crashed around in his head. With his experience as a Colonel and a helicopter pilot, he had experienced many trying situations and losing his cool on the outside would not make anything better. So drawing on his strength as a soldier, he decided it would be best to get more details before he made any rash decisions. But it did not mean he could stop his thoughts from going into overdrive. And at the moment, that’s exactly where they headed.
Susan? Did she go into the office today? And what about Evie? Where’s Evie? Why haven’t I heard from anyone? Need to get a hold of Susan.
Charlie raised his eyes to heaven.
Oh, Lord. Please tell me they are okay. I’ll lose the ranch over them. Just don’t let me lose them. Amen.
You know what I’m thankful for? The existence of chocolate. And also, the fact that you helped share the tour today!
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