No Good Mitchell - Riley Hart Page 0,28
notice you’re asking for my whiskey even though I know you have some.”
Yeah, yeah I did, but as much as I wanted to make Mitchell Creek mine, I felt weird about it since reading my dad’s journal.
“What?” Brody asked, obviously reading my expression.
“Nothing. We’re gonna drink. Let’s go.”
He nodded. I opened the screen door and signaled for him to go inside. We each flopped into a chair, facing the back of the property, where the distillery could be seen in the distance.
We watched the sunset, and Brody opened a bottle, poured two glasses. We each swallowed them down in one long gulp. It burned as it slid down my throat, and I shook my head. “Wow. That was rough. What’s this one?”
“O’Ralley’s Buckridge Deluxe Scotch. It’s got a kick to it, that’s for sure. Oh, hey, what happened to your finger?”
Damned if I didn’t feel my cheeks heat. “Nothing.”
“Aw, did my city boy hurt himself?” Brody poured two more glasses.
“Your?” I looked at him over the edge of mine, then tilted it back and swallowed again.
He gave me this aw-shucks look, and I couldn’t help wondering how someone could look so innocent yet mischievous and full of trouble at the same time. “Is my country boy embarrassed?”
“Did you hit your thumb with a hammer or something?” he asked playfully, but the shock must have shown on my face because he practically shouted, “Oh my God! You did! How in the hell?”
“No comment, and drink your fucking whiskey, lightweight. I’m ready for another.”
I should have known right then and there that I was in trouble. Hell, I probably did, but I’d been known to ignore warning signs a time or ten before.
So we sat there and drank.
A lot.
Evening turned to night. I flipped the switch to turn the light and ceiling fan on, and we drank some more. We talked about stupid shit—his brothers, fishing, this one time he got caught screwing this girl in her barn, and her daddy (his word not mine) chased him naked across the lawn with a shotgun.
“I thought that shit only happened in the movies,” I said, my brain feeling fuzzy and light.
“You’re obviously not a country boy if you think that.” He gave me this playful half grin, and shit, my dick stirred.
“What’d Big Daddy do?”
Brody winked. “Told me not to get caught next time.”
We laughed as he poured us each another glass. This one we nursed more slowly.
“You’re a college boy, huh?”
“Yeah, San Francisco State. It’s where I met Isaac. You?”
“I went to college for a semester in Atlanta. Figured I’d give it a try, see what that was all about. City living, university life, along with some life stuff, but found it wasn’t my thing. I was eager to get back home and to work. Other than that, what I’ve seen of the world has been work-related. Conventions and meetings with distributors. But nothing’s ever inspired me to leave this place. It’s home…where my blood and heart is, ya know?”
The truth was, I didn’t really. “Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know. I’m drunk as shit. I grew up in the Bay Area. I liked it, thought I was happy, but I never felt tied to it like you do to Buckridge. That’s probably part of the reason it was so easy for me to come here…I think. I mean, I didn’t want to leave my family, the adoptive one. I love them, but I didn’t feel a tie to the place, and then I felt guilty about wanting to leave, but I was always curious, ya know? About where I came from—and what in the fuck? Did you slip something in my drink? It’s like I can’t stop my fucking mouth from moving. I keep telling it to, but it won’t listen.”
Brody barked out a loud laugh, and before I knew it, I was laughing too, so hard my stomach hurt, and I almost tumbled out of the damn chair.
“Fuck…I’m not drinking that shit again. What the hell did you give me? I think I might die. My heart is beating too fast.”
“What is it with people waking up from a less than sober night thinking that about their heart?” he asked.
I didn’t reply. There was this quiet voice in the back of my mind telling me I’d be embarrassed about this later, that if I weren’t so drunk, I would never say half the stuff I was, but since I was inebriated as shit, I didn’t care.
I grabbed Brody’s hand and put