Page 43 of Tennessee Trouble

“Oh, yes…” she says as we walk inside. The single room structure still feels like a church, even though most of the pews and other religious adornments have been removed. The sanctuary at the opposite end is still intact, with the altar in place and a single row of pews in front, showing off what it would have looked like at the turn of the century. Leading up to it are glass cases filled with artifacts and photos on the wall, guests milling about as they enjoy everything on display. “This is open to the public. Plus, the farm-to-table restaurant, the Common Table, in Reverend Abernathy’s old house. We average around a thousand people a day during the summer who take the train up to see the church or eat at the Common Table, if they can get a reservation. Only way to get into the archive is if you’re a member of the Ol’ Troublemakers or a special guest.”

“They let me in. Are you saying I’m special?” I tease, anticipation for her answer growing by the second.

“Something like that.” She winks at me. “Or Leland thought you were cute and wanted to show off.”

I bark out a laugh, louder than I should, drawing attention to the two of us. I hold up my hand in apology, clearing my throat and trying to lower my voice.

“Leland was a character.”

“He is. But he’s part of what makes the experience of coming to Tennessee Trouble. He’s been with guest relations for over thirty years, so he’s been around for as long as I can remember. He and Mikayla are actually really close—which sounds weird, but my grandfather died when all four of us were really little, and that’s when my parents took over the business. Leland stepped in as a grandfather of sorts, helping my parents with us, but also with Tennessee Trouble. He took that role incredibly seriously and still does. He loves people, and it shows. Did he tell you about his following?”

“Sure did. Half a million followers to see what he wears every day?”

“He and his husband, Larry, who is an accountant in town. They usually match. Plus, Leland will give advice to people.”

“Leland and Larry?”

“Can’t make it up.”

No wonder he has such a following. He was charming all on his own, but as half of a pair with names like Leland and Larry, there’s no competition. It’s exactly the kind of thing that Brenna would follow and then make Milo and me watch a video she thought was funny. Actually, I wonder if Brenna is one of those half a million followers.

I look around the room again, wandering toward one of the freestanding glass display cases. Inside is a pair of gloves, a cap, and a dirty white shirt, along with a photo of Gil Murray wearing all three. The old photo is black and white and partially faded, but it’s still more than enough to show off the resemblance to Lindee. They share a smile and a set of cheekbones, and I would bet anything that if this were in color, those same gorgeous hazel eyes would be staring back at me.

“It’s really cool that y’all have all this,” I say, turning back to the pretty girl on my left.

“It is,” she agrees. “But this isn’t why I brought you here.”

“It’s not?”

“Nope.” That devilish look returns, stirring something inside me. She is trouble, and I fucking love it. “Not even close. I promised you something you’ve never dreamed of, remember?”

How could I forget? Then again, when it comes to this woman, the list of things I haven’t dreamed of is growing smaller and smaller. She’s taken over a starring role in all my fantasies and monopolized my thoughts since I met her. The fact that she thinks she has something up her sleeve that could make me even more excited is a dream in itself.

“I do.”

Without another word, Lindee’s hand is in mine, pulling me away from the display. She weaves us through the crowd, toward the altar. The velvet rope that marks the sanctuary area as off-limits does nothing to deter Lindee, who unlinks it from the stanchion and walks right through. I don’t question, just follow along as she nods to the security guard standing off to the side, hoping that he doesn’t decide that now is the moment to spring into action. He nods back to Lindee, like some secret code, completely unbothered by her acting like she owns the place.

Oh, wait…she does.

Because that’s who she is. She’s Lindee Murray, part owner of one of the major players in the boutique liquor market.

More than that, she’s fun, spirited, and her own person. Nerdy in all the best ways. Everything about her makes me wants to know more. To experience every part of her.

Including the part of her leading to someplace unknown at the moment.

Lindee opens a side door behind the sanctuary, that from the outside looks to lead to a sacristy. Sure enough, the small room probably once held any sacred vessel the preacher used for his services, however, it has since been repurposed into a closet. Can’t blame them, as it’s the perfect spot to keep the cleaning supplies.

“Make sure that door is closed, would you?” Lindee says, nodding behind me.

I turn around, pulling the door we just walked through closed, making sure I hear the snick of the latch catching. Turning back to my guide, I indicate it’s all set.

That’s when she smirks.

Holding a finger to her lips vertically, indicating I should be quiet, she spins on her heel, walking to the far corner of the room toward a large hutch. The old, antique piece of furniture looks as heavy as it is ornate, the edges of it carved intricately into leaves and branches.

Lindee takes a look at the hutch and then leans against it, giving it a shove. The piece moves with ease, my jaw dropping at the sight before me. Either that thing isn’t as heavy as it looks, or Lindee is the She-Hulk. I’m not sure which I want to be true more.

A door is revealed as the hutch glides out of place, and suddenly, I feel like I’m in a movie. One of those old spy ones where you lift a particular book off the shelf and a whole new room appears. Only this door doesn’t lead to a room, but a staircase.