your whiskey.”
He looked over at her. “What about it?”
“What do you like about making it?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. I guess it relaxes me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not work.”
She leaned her head back against the truck’s headrest. “I feel the same way about making wine. It’s never felt like work to me. Watching the grapes grow, caring for them, knowing the exact right time to pick them and then nurturing them as they go through the process of fermentation, aging and bottling, realizing that I’m creating something that will taste amazing . . .”
“It’s a kick, right?”
She turned her head to look at him and smiled. “Yes, it really is. It’s the same for you?”
“Yeah. It’s a science, really, and I always liked science. Finding the right grain, then heating it to release the sugar, adding in the right amount of yeast, almost as if you’re making beer, which you are, in essence, except then you distill it and age it.”
“The waiting part can’t be fun.”
“It’s not, but the longer you do this, the easier it gets because you’re doing batches, so you’ll have some that’s ready while you’re creating others. Like today, I had some five-year-old whiskey I could share.”
“Which was very good.”
“It was okay. It’ll get better the longer it ages. I have some ten-year-old that’s better. You’ll have to stop by the warehouse sometime and I’ll give you a taste. It’s smoother, more mellow.”
She loved hearing him talk about whiskey, could feel the passion in his voice as he spoke about something he loved doing. It made her feel as if she had a kindred spirit in Finn—someone passionate about what he did, like she was about her winemaking.
He parked his truck at the side of the house and they got out. Murphy bounded out and headed to the front door.
“Think he’s ready for bed?” she asked as they met at the door.
“I’m sure he’s a tired pup.”
Finn unlocked the door and Murphy headed straight down the hall toward the bedroom and disappeared.
“You want something to drink?” he asked.
“Just a glass of ice water, please.” She’d had a full day of sunshine and more than enough alcohol. She was tired, too, and felt dehydrated.
He fixed them both tall glasses of water. She took hers gratefully, taking a couple of decent swallows.
She thought he’d lead her toward the bedroom, but he surprised her by taking her hand and sitting with her on the sofa in the living room. She set her glass on the coffee table and he pulled her against him. She kicked off her sandals and drew her feet up on the sofa.
This was nice, being held by Finn, snuggling close to him.
“You wanted to talk,” he said.
“Oh, right.” She yawned and laid her head on his shoulder. “I did, didn’t I?”
She rested her hand against his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart, realizing this all felt just so perfect. Maybe too perfect, but she was too tired to analyze that right now, because her eyelids suddenly felt way too heavy to stay open and Finn was rubbing her arm and everything in her world felt too right to worry about anything right now.
So she closed her eyes and went with it.
CHAPTER
• • • • • •
seventeen
FINN SAT OUTSIDE and sipped his coffee and watched Murphy chase a bird that flew away easily. He rolled his eyes as his dog dashed into the woods at another bird. He understood that it was the dog’s nature to think he could catch it, and, hey, it was exercise if nothing else. Besides, Murph had a ton of energy and if he wanted to chase creatures he had no hope of catching, who was Finn to deny him?
The first rays of dawn were just peeking through the trees. It was Finn’s favorite part of the day, when everything was quiet, the world hadn’t started up yet and it was just him and nature and an outstanding cup of coffee. And now, his dog, too. What could be better?
The front door opened and Brenna came out, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She was barefoot and his gaze traveled up the length of her incredible legs, to where one of his shirts ended at her thighs. Her hair was a mass of wild curls around her shoulders. She walked over and took a seat on the porch swing with him.
He really liked seeing her wearing his shirts. Even though they swallowed her up, there was something in that