Page 28 of Bourbon Girl, Part 2 of 6

secondary fermentation a rare step in spirits, but sometimes referenced in extended yeast activity

JETT'S HOME office occupied a converted bedroom with tall windows that overlooked the pasture where his hives dotted the landscape.

The morning light streamed across a sturdy wooden desk covered with manila folders, photocopied directories, and legal pads filled with our notes.

The air smelled of old paper and coffee, with an underlying sweetness that seemed to permeate everything on the property.

We'd been working side by side for nearly three hours, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we leaned over the same document or passed materials back and forth. The proximity felt natural rather than awkward, like we'd found an easy rhythm in our shared detective work.

Jett looked up from the Wild Turkey roster he'd been scanning, his dark hair falling across his forehead. "That makes three total—Rebecca Church at Buffalo Trace, Linda Church at Maker's Mark, and David Church at Jim Beam."

I added the new information to our list. "Two women and one man. The women could be sisters, wives, daughters—any family connection might lead us to other Church family members who worked in the industry but weren't in these particular directories."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Jett stretched his arms above his head, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. "Let me get us something to drink, then we'll start cross-referencing addresses and see if we can find any patterns."

He disappeared toward the kitchen, and I used the break to look around the office for the first time.

The space was organized but lived-in, with bookshelves lined with volumes on agriculture, beekeeping, and sustainable farming.

A framed diploma from the University of Kentucky hung beside photographs of hives and wildflower meadows, and a blue ribbon declaring "Best in Show - Kentucky State Fair" was pinned to a cork board covered with receipts and business cards.

Through the window, I could see the white hive boxes buzzing with activity that made my skin crawl despite the glass barrier between us and them.

Even from this distance, I could see the dark clouds of bees moving in and out of the hive entrances, their collective energy both fascinating and terrifying.

Jett returned with two tall glasses of iced tea that clinked with ice cubes, the amber liquid sweetened with what I assumed was his own honey. The first sip was perfectly balanced—tart and sweet with a floral complexity that spoke of wildflower meadows and careful craftsmanship.

"This is incredible," I said, settling back into my chair. "How did you get into beekeeping? It seems like such an unusual career choice."

He leaned against the desk, cradling his own glass and gazing out at his hives with obvious pride.

"I studied Agricultural Sciences at UK, focusing on sustainable farming and soil ecology.

During my junior year, a professor brought in a local beekeeper to speak about pollinator decline and the impact on agricultural systems."

"And you were hooked?"

"Completely." His eyes lit up with the same enthusiasm I'd seen when Dylan talked about bourbon craftsmanship.

"I started with two hives as a side project for a sustainability class and discovered I had a real instinct for it.

There's something about understanding their behavior, working with their natural rhythms instead of against them. "

"What happened after graduation?"

"I came back to the family farm. Instead of continuing with cattle like my dad and brothers, I started converting pasture into wildflower plots and investing in more hives." He chuckled, shaking his head. "My family thought I'd lost my mind. Dad kept asking when I was going to get a 'real job.'"

"But they came around?"

"After my honey won Best in Show at the Kentucky State Fair, suddenly everyone was a lot more supportive.

" He gestured toward the blue ribbon on the cork board.

"That victory got the attention of local distilleries who started buying my honey for limited-run bourbon infusions and specialty cocktails.

Now I have sixty hives across three leased plots. "

The scope of his operation impressed me far more than I'd expected. This wasn't some hobby that had gotten out of hand—it was a legitimate agricultural business built on expertise and careful planning.

"That's amazing. You've basically created your own niche."

"It's good work," he said simply, but I could hear the pride in his voice.

Through the window, a particularly active cluster of bees swarmed around one of the nearer hives, and I involuntarily shuddered.

Jett caught the movement and laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Still terrified of my girls?"

"Girls?"

"The vast majority of bees in a hive are female."

"Oh. And yes, I'm still terrified. But I'm impressed by what you've accomplished, even if I never want to get within fifty yards of those hives."

"Fair enough." He set down his glass and picked up another directory. "Ready to get back to work? We've still got a lot of names to check."

As we bent over the documents again, I found myself stealing glances at his profile, seeing him in an entirely new light.