Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3) Read online

  “Wes,” she whispers.

  Olivia leans around Maybelle. “Hey there, Wes.”

  “Olivia, hey. You gals having a nice time?”

  “Cold beer in my hand, and it’s Friday night,” Olivia says. “Doesn’t get much better than this.”

  “My husband and Jake just walked in.” Maybelle nods toward the door. “Let’s go, Liv.”

  Minka opens her mouth to say something, but they walk away before she gets the chance.

  “You need a refill.”

  “No, I really don’t,” she protests.

  “I disagree.” I pull her with me across the room toward the bar. “Luke, can I get a vodka soda and another bourbon?”

  Minka turns toward me, and her eyes search mine. Saying nothing, she sips her drink. Minka has a striking allure to her with warm olive skin and stunning hazel eyes. So much emotion floats inside them.

  “Weston, what I need is for you to walk away.”

  I smirk. “You might need me to walk away, but you don’t want me to. Do you?”

  Minka

  It doesn’t matter how much I try to deny the question. Wes sees right through me.

  Nothing calms me by being this close to him. Nothing makes this feeling go away. Everything’s right there at the surface. He’s so close, making me a frazzled ball of need.

  He leans into me, and his five o’clock shadow brushes my bare shoulder.

  That scent. Aftershave and bourbon. A heady combination, especially on Wes.

  It’s impossible to ignore what’s happening inside me. If Maybelle or anyone is watching the two of us, I’m sure how Wes makes me feel is painted all over my face.

  I need air. If I’m serious about keeping things professional, then I need to muster all the strength I have and walk away.

  “Excuse me,” I tell him and move toward the patio. I push myself forward, floating around people and their drinks. As soon as I step outside, the muggy air nearly chokes me as I struggle to breathe.

  Is it the Kentucky summer heat or Wes that’s making it hard for me to breathe?

  My feelings for him should have ended the moment I left his bed that morning. I should have turned down Brant’s offer after seeing Wes sitting across from me in that boardroom.

  I turn and amble under the awning past a small bar. A couple is sitting on a picnic table near the stage. They don’t seem to care I’m here.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  My body tightens at the sounds of his voice. Green eyes hook mine as he stands in front of me. A soft breeze kicks up and stirs strands of my hair around my face.

  Wes’ fingertips brush against the wayward pieces and he tucks them behind my ear.

  “I’m fine. Please go back inside.”

  “I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

  “As you can see, I’m just fine.”

  He smiles. It’s so damn sexy, I want to scream.

  “I’d say you’re anything but fine.”

  I sigh. “You need to say something to me, so get on with it.”

  He takes a step closer and my back hits the wood pillar. “There’s a million things I’d like to say to you. For starters, I can’t take my eyes off you. You’re beautiful.”

  “Stop.”

  “Why? Because you know I mean it? Because the blush in your cheeks isn’t from the alcohol, it’s because I make you feel something.”

  I swallow thickly as he stretches his arm over my head. His big tattooed forearm rests above me. The air kicks up, and the spice in his cologne barrels into me.

  His fingers sweep my hair back from my forehead.

  Dammit. That little touch sends my body into an uproar. A few touches from Wes send my nerves whizzing around my body like a pinball machine.

  Stay strong.

  His fingers trail up my arm, and I remember the feel of them digging into my hips. How they worked my body making me come.

  I don’t trust myself around this man.

  Not at all.

  Not my hands. Not my mouth or the words that form on the tip of my tongue.

  He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You’re thinking about the two of us, aren’t you?”

  My chest is so tight, and the pressure threatens to climb up my throat. “I should go.”

  When I try to sidestep him, his hand settles on my shoulder and he tugs me back. His mouth lands on mine. I take a breath and feel his tongue alongside mine. A moan crawls up my throat. Wes’ fingers dig into my waist, and he pulls me against him.

  All the memories of Wes kissing me rise up and slam into my body. The way he’s holding me and the feel of his body, dampness pools between my legs.

  I can’t do this.

  But my mind fights back all the reasons I should make him stop.

  The more I keep kissing him, the weaker I become.

  No, I need to make him stop.

  “Wes, please,” I beg.

  “Please what?”

  I step back. His green eyes go feral.

  My eyes shift, and I see a wooden door that leads to the street. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  He continues to stare at me, and my heart beats a wild rhythm in my chest.

  “Minka . . . let me walk you home.”

  I raise my hand. “Wes, don’t. Just tell Maybelle thanks for inviting me.”

  As I turn and walk toward the gate, I remember I hadn’t settled my bar tab yet. I walk back inside and make my way through the mass of people to the bar. The line is four deep and Luke is the only bartender.

  My eyes roam over the crowd and I don’t see Wes anywhere.

  “There you are.” Maybelle appears at my side.

  “Hey, thanks for inviting me,” I say with a happy chirp. “I’m gonna go.”

  Her face scrunches. “No way, we’re doing shots.”

  “I really shouldn’t. I have to be up early for the farmers market.”

  She laughs. “We’ve got some celebrating to do. Plus, you’re way too sober.” She studies my face and her eyes shift over my shoulder.

  Olivia bounces up to the two of us. “Luke, we need four tequila shots and three lemon drop shots.”

  “What are we celebrating?” I ask.

  Maybelle loops her arm with mine. “Weston got the call. The biggest liquor chain in the state agreed to stock Cardwell Bourbon, giving us endcap and prime display space.”

  Confusion washes over me. Wes didn’t say anything to me about it.

  That’s because I didn’t give him a chance.

  “Wow, that’s incredible news.”

  “Yeah,” she blows out a breath. “It’s party time, and I promise that you’ll be home at a decent hour.”

  “No, I really should go.”

  “No, you’re staying. This is a big win for us, and you’re part of the family now. Stay and have some fun.”

  How can I say no? This is a huge step forward for the company. The least I could do is spend time with the people who have been so warm and welcoming to me.

  A smirk tugs at my lips and I down the shot. “One more, Luke.”

  “Come on.” Maybelle gestures over her shoulder. “Fun now. Home later.”

  We weave through the crowd of people and make our way toward the table in the back. I don’t see Wes anywhere.

  Maybelle raises her shot glass and offers a toast. I swallow down the booze, and the knot in my shoulders loosens completely.

  Wes appears by my side and smiles down at me before tossing back a shot of tequila.

  I love his smile.

  “You’re still here.”

  I nod. “I heard the good news. Congrats.”

  “You stayed to congratulate me?” The words drift over the shell of my ear in a whisper.

  Every nerve in my body flares like they’re on fire. That’s all it took from him to make my body crave his touch.

  Ignoring his question, I take a step back. “Thanks for the great night, guys. I’ll see you all at work on Monday.”

  “
Minka—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wes. Have a good night.”

  The door is a few steps away, but I still need to settle my bar tab. I catch Luke’s eye to signal for my check and he nods. By the time I make my way to the bar, he’s got my bill ready.

  Looking over my shoulder, I see Wes engaged in conversation with the group. After thanking Luke, I slip out the door and rush down the sidewalk.

  To my own bed.

  Alone.

  Minka

  The first thing that throws me is that Wes is sitting at the counter at Beans and Cream. Last night, I left before him. And given the cause for celebration, I thought surely I’d make it here first.

  Sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee, he looks tired but handsome as hell. His white T-shirt hugs the muscles of his tattooed arms so tight my mouth practically waters.

  All I can think about is his mouth on mine and those strong arms around me.

  His eyes meet mine and he smiles. Then Wes says something to the barista.

  “Good morning,” he says. “Hope you’re ready for today.”

  “Um, yeah. I think so.” My heart races as I turn to settle into the next stool beside him. I take a deep breath and remind myself this is a work event.

  “I went ahead and ordered for you.” Wes places a coffee cup in front of me. “Instead of your usual black coffee, I took a chance on a cappuccino.”

  He remembers how I take my coffee. This is the second thing that surprises me. Warmth swirls low in my belly.

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you had breakfast?”

  I shake my head and blow the steam away from my mug.

  “They don’t have cupcakes here, but I do recommend the apple strudel flatbread or any of the muffins.”

  After perusing the menu, I order the flatbread as he suggests. Wes chooses a ham and white cheddar frittata. It’s quiet in the café, Wes reads the news from his phone, and I sip my cappuccino.

  The silence between us kills me. Tension hangs thick in the air. Is this what it’s like to be around professional Wes? Maybe, but I don’t like it.

  Our order arrives, and I pick up my silverware. I shovel a bite into my mouth, and a moan escapes my lips.

  Wes inclines his head in my direction. He’s looking at me the same way he did last night—like he wants to rip my clothes off.

  Don’t look him in the eyes with a fork in your mouth.

  I swallow and wash it down with my cappuccino. “This is really good. Great suggestion.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  It’s all he says to me through the rest of the meal. I should be grateful. This is what I want. I asked him to keep things strictly business between us.

  Wes clears his throat and wipes his mouth on the napkin. “Okay, while I’d much rather not work on a Saturday, we’ve got to go. Theo texted, so we’re all set and ready to go.”

  I reach for my wallet to pull out my credit card.

  Wes’ hand stretches over mine. “Your money’s no good here. I’ve got this.”

  I give him a half-smile. “Thanks.”

  “Did you drive here?”

  I shake my head as I rise from my seat at the counter.

  “Okay, well, I’ll give you a lift. Come on.”

  The sun is shining and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The breeze is perfect, just enough to provide welcome relief to a hot summer day.

  “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac pipes through the sound system in Wes’ truck as we cruise down Main Street. I bite back the smile that threatens to cross my lips. I don’t know what surprises me more that he’s coincidentally playing my favorite band of all time or that he drives a Ford pickup truck.

  “What are you smiling about,” he asks.

  “I didn’t picture you as a pickup guy.”

  “No?” A smile turns up his lips.

  “Definitely surprises me.”

  “There’s probably a lot about me that would surprise you.”

  “Hmm. I guess.”

  Twenty minutes later, we pull up to an old brick building. My eyes flick to the black and gold sign that says this is the town hall.

  “Is the market inside this building?”

  Wes opens his door. “No, some vendors will be on the front lawn. Others will be at the town square. A prime view from Main Street.”

  We walk down the main path. The soft sound of piano music drifts from the building. We cross the busy street at the crosswalk. When we reach the vendor spot for Cardwell, I take a long look at the setup.

  Impressive.

  Instead of a tent, they have a light blue mini trailer set up as a bar on wheels. One of the doors opens to reveal all their products and pricing on a chalkboard. One side has three stools where patrons can sit and sample the goods.

  The inside is just as gorgeous. A white subway tile backsplash is the focal point, with more flowers and lavender sprigs decorating the countertop.

  There are mason jars with peonies and a wooden crate filled with fresh baked cookies in the cutest cellophane wrap. A pretty bow wraps around each bag with a label that says: The Tea Room.

  “Wow, this is so pretty.”

  A guy pops up from the inside of the trailer. “Thanks, my girlfriend helped me set up.”

  Startled, a whoosh of air leaves my lungs. “You must be Theo.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He reaches across the bar and shakes my hand. “And you’re the lady who’s gonna turn everything around for Cardwell.”

  Wes frowns and I swear I hear him growl.

  Ignoring his apparent . . . jealousy, I smile at Theo. “I’m going to try my best.”

  Theo steps out of the trailer and walks toward Wes. The two of them talk, the conversation volleying between baseball and the strategy for sales.

  “How can I help?” I ask, bouncing back on my flats.

  Wes doesn’t look at me. “Not much to do except selling the hell out of our bourbon. I’m going to tell customers about our private tastings. See if I can’t book more.”

  With his tone, Wes is so matter of fact, and it’s throwing me off my game. I take a deep, cleansing breath and settle my hands in my pockets. I cut a glance to the vendor tent across the plaza.

  Sage’s Dessert Jars.

  Layers of colors in tall and small jars. It reminds me of when Mom would put the ingredients for cookies in Mason jars with the instructions attached. Mom used to give those as gifts throughout the year.

  “What do you know about the dessert jars?” I jut my head toward the booth.

  “Everyone in town is obsessed with Sage’s desserts,” Theo says. “Any flavor you can imagine—fudge brownie, Nutella, and cake batter. The cookie dough flavor is sensational. Jade, my girlfriend, and I go to The Saffron House at least once a week to stock up.”

  Wes gives me a smile as he picks up a crate from the ground. His biceps flex, and I’m thinking about him naked. “Sage is my sister’s best friend. I can introduce you if you want.”

  Yeah, I want.

  Literally, I want my cake and to eat it too.

  He carries the crate over to the bar. It hits the wood with a soft thud.

  “Just tell me what you want, Minka. I’ll help you.”

  It’s warm out, but the delivery of his words and the double entendre turn my body into a shivering mass of excitement.

  “I’m sure you will. I just want to peek at those dessert jars.”

  “Go on, we got this handled.”

  I smile. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  “You better be.”

  I jog over to the tent and check out the dessert jars.

  “Morning,” a man with light brown hair greets me. “This is my wife’s company. She’ll be back in a minute, but I can answer most questions.”

  “Thanks, I’m . . .”

  “Oh my gawd,” bellows from a voice belonging to a woman with long dark hair. “You’re Minka MacDonald! I’m a huge fan . . . sorry, I’m screaming.”


  I laugh. “It’s all good. I’m always happy to meet another baker—Sage.”

  “Honey, she’s The Preppy Baker.” Sage hops up to where I’m standing. “You have no idea, what this means to have you standing here with me. This is my husband, Reed.”

  “Nice to meet you both. Tell me about your jars.”

  She launches into her story and then shoves three different flavors into a gift bag.

  “My treat,” she says and bops up on the balls of her feet. “Make sure you put those in a cool place so they don’t melt.”

  “I will. Thank you. It was a real pleasure meeting you.”

  I cross the square, and I can still hear Sage’s excitement. I remember being that excited when I got an email from Savannah Gardner Wilde. She owns a bakery, Sweet on You. Actually, she owns two brick and mortar stores. She made a recipe of mine—Mystic Cookie Bars. Savannah told me they were a huge hit at her party. All I could think was “holy crap . . . this is real.” I’d only begun my blogging career and getting her message meant everything to me.

  “Daddy, daddy.”

  After I place my bag inside the trailer’s refrigerator, I look up to see a young boy with dark hair like Theo’s running toward us. A woman with long brown hair wearing a teal sundress is hot on the boy’s heels.

  “Sonny, slow down.” Her singsong voice whips over the bricks of the square.

  Wes lashes out one long tattooed arm and scoops up the kid. He giggles uncontrollably as Wes flips him up and over his shoulder.

  “Sonny boy, you’re getting so big.”

  The two of them laugh as Wes maneuvers Sonny onto his other shoulder.

  The woman laughs. “If he throws up his breakfast, I’m not responsible for damages.”

  My heart melts, and for a brief second, I can picture Wes as a dad. For no reasonable explanation, the thought flickers and fades.

  “Hi, I’m Jade.” She waves her hand at me.

  “Minka. Nice to meet you.”

  She gives me a sweet smile as Theo swings his arm around her waist.

  Wes put Sonny back to his feet.

  “I wanna do the airplane . . . airplane,” he shouts.

  Jade grasps her son by the shoulder and pulls him into her arms. “Later, honey. Daddy, Wes, and Minka have work to do. Say bye.”