Page 24 of Bourbon Girl, Part 2 of 6

fermentation tank cleaning the sanitation process between fermentation cycles to prevent contamination

THE MORNING air carried the promise of another scorching day as I climbed aboard the tour bus, still floating on the afterglow of last night's party.

"Well, well," Jett said, studying my face in the rearview mirror as we pulled away from the campground. "Someone's in a good mood this morning. I take it the distillery event went well?"

"It was nice," I said, trying to keep my voice casual while fighting back a smile that seemed determined to take over my entire face.

"Nice," Jett repeated with obvious skepticism. "Right. And I'm sure that color in your cheeks has nothing to do with a certain bartender."

I hummed a few notes of the jazz song that had been playing when Dylan kissed me, then caught myself and tried to look serious. But the melody kept bubbling up despite my attempts to contain it.

"You're saying a lot by not saying anything," Jett observed with amusement. "Must have been some evening."

The strip mall parking lot came into view, where a small group of customers waited outside the tour office—three couples celebrating a wedding anniversary, based on the matching t-shirts that proclaimed "50 Years and Still Going Strong.

" They looked cheerful and ready for adventure, the kind of group that would make for an easy, enjoyable day.

I was still humming under my breath as we loaded the anniversary celebrants onto the bus, their excitement infectious as they chattered about the distilleries they'd researched and the bourbon flights they were most looking forward to trying.

My phone buzzed as we pulled out of the parking lot, Dylan's name appearing on the screen. My heart did a little skip as I answered, still warm from memories of his hands cupping my face in that quiet hallway.

"Good morning," he said. "I hope I'm not calling too early."

"Not at all. I was just thinking about last night. It was wonderful."

"It really was." There was something in his tone that made me straighten slightly in my seat. "Actually, that's why I'm calling. I wanted to tell you about an opportunity that just came up."

"Oh?"

"The master distiller at a craft operation in Texas called this morning. They want me to come work alongside them for two weeks, learn their techniques. It's completely last-minute, but..." His voice carried genuine excitement. "It's exactly the kind of experience I need for my certification."

Two weeks. He was leaving for two weeks, just when something real had started developing between us.

"That sounds amazing," I managed, proud of how steady my voice sounded. "What an incredible opportunity."

"I fly out tomorrow morning. I know the timing isn't ideal, but I couldn't pass this up."

"Of course not. You absolutely should go." And I meant it, even as disappointment settled heavy in my chest. "You'll learn so much."

"I promise I'll stay in touch while I'm away."

"Please do," I murmured, then said goodbye.

In the scheme of things, two weeks wasn't very long, I told myself. But part of me wondered if two weeks in Texas might give him time to reconsider whatever had sparked between us in that hallway.