Page 77 of Tennessee Trouble

“I know. And you don’t have to enter. Keep it to yourself, or the Ol’ Troublemakers. But, you’ve already entered Wink & Shine into best new product, so…”

I stop, waiting for her to reply. I will support her no matter what decision she comes to, but that doesn’t mean I’m not leaning one way. Because what she has is special. Better than anything I’ve tasted in a long time.

Tell her…

I should tell Lindee; I know that. But I don’t want to take the focus off of her. I don’t want to ruin this moment. I really don’t want to make this feel like a competition. Because it’s not. Hers blows mine out of the water.

It’s not even close.

“You’re right. Let’s do it.”

She smiles, lighting up the room and my insides. I grab my laptop and pull up the website, navigating to the submission form as Lindee jitters next to me. Sliding the laptop toward her, I take her hand, kissing her knuckles.

Letting out a sigh, she returns the gesture. My heart squeezes and there is no denying that I’m a goner. This woman has stolen my heart.

“Here goes nothing.”

20

LINDEE

“I’m nervous.”

The smooth, almost hypnotic sound from the tires against the asphalt of the highway fills the truck’s cabin. It’s the kind of white noise that usually calms me—lulling me to sleep or into a trance-like state—but today, all it’s doing is grating on my nerves. Like the hum of a mosquito that won’t go away. I fumble with my phone in my hands, unlocking it and absentmindedly pulling up the email again.

Okay, maybe it’s not quite as absent-minded as I would like to think. After almost a week of staring at it—reading and re-reading it every chance I got—I can pretty much recite it word for word at this point. Committing it to memory doesn’t change the fact that I still can’t wrap my brain around it being real.

I’m a finalist for the SLOSH most original cocktail at CocktailCon.

“No reason to be,” Brandt says, casually lifting one shoulder.

Easy for him to say. Southern Brothers and their beers have won awards at this event time and time again. As a historic brand, Tennessee Trouble has never qualified.

“Yes, there is,” I argue. “It’s a big category. God only knows how many submissions.”

“Hundreds.”

I whip my head to my left, glaring at Brandt. That answer is not making it any better.

“Narrowed down to ten finalists,” he continues, glancing over long enough to wink and smirk at me. “I looked it up. Top three are awarded, but even if you don’t make one of those, it’s a finalist, and one of the top ten drinks. Pretty big deal.”

“And that’s why I’m nervous.” I laugh, trying to get some of this squirrelly energy out of me. “But I’m excited for a weekend away in Nashville.”

Brandt reaches over, squeezing my hand for a quick second before returning it to the wheel. “Would be better if all your siblings weren’t tagging along.”

That is also a damn good point. Just the two of us escaping for an adventure would have been a lot of fun. Three days of music, food, dancing, and a spirits convention all while pretending we’re a real couple? Yes, please.

Except it’s not just the two of us. Along this same stretch of highway are two other vehicles carrying my siblings. Kyra and Davis are somewhere ahead of us, speeding along in the convertible Davis rented for the weekend. A few miles behind us—I think—is Rylan’s SUV containing him, Declan, and Mikayla.

While there is a part of me that is dying to be a fly on the wall in that SUV, another much larger part is thankful I’m not. You couldn’t pay me to have to spend four hours sharing a small, inescapable place with Mikayla and Declan.

Rylan is a saint.

“I don’t disagree, but…they’re excited. Kyra has this whole plan to live stream from the event and all these things she wants to do while we’re there. And Mikayla has that deal she’s trying to land, so she’s working on setting up a meeting while in town. I don’t think we’ll see too much of her. And my parents⁠—”

“Your parents?”

I nod. Did he really think they weren’t coming?