Page 42 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

“When are the results going to be announced?” Regan asks as she strides into the office of the distillery, her cowgirl boots clicking easily on the floor.

She plops herself into one of the old leather chairs, kicks her feet up on Colt’s desk, and grabs one of the whiskey glasses he’s been trying to get me to sample for the last hour. Without hesitation, she throws it back like it’s water and smacks her lips with a satisfied grin.

“Ooh, now this one’s good. Is that a hint of cherry I’m tasting?”

I groan, the sound coming from so deep within my chest it feels like it rattles my heart. It’s the same heartbroken groan I’ve found myself doing all week since Rae told me about her Charlotte job offer.

“Dammit, Regan. That was mine.”

“Relax. It’s not like you were drinking it anyway. Did you expect it to enter your stomach via osmosis?”

And she’s right. I wasn’t. I swore to Rae—and to myself—that I wouldn’t taste the new holiday blend that I worked on until she was here with me.

The first time I taste it, I want it to be from her lips, not from some damn, cold glass.

I designed this blend for her. Because of her.

It tastes like the few short months we’ve had together that will never feel like enough to me.

I shove the next shot Colt nudges my way back toward him. “I’m not taking that yet.”

Colt raises an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s your creation. You gotta try it.”

“It reminds me of Rae.”

Regan whistles low under her breath, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wow. Cash's whipped.”

Colt leans back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “I like it. Love looks good on you, brother. Except for the part where you look like you’ve been punched in the gut.”

“She hasn’t decided yet,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “About the job in Charlotte. She’s still thinking it over.”

Regan’s playful smirk softens as she lets out a breath. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing there for her,” I say, my frustration spilling out in waves.

“I told her last weekend. I’m here. I want her.

Everything she loves is here—hell, I’m here, dammit.

But it’s her career. And she loves working in politics.

It's a big break for her. I can’t blame her for considering it or even taking it.

I guess if she does, we could make it work.

It’s only a few hours’ drive away, and we have the brewery there that I could help out with. ”

“Well, what if she wins the mayoral race?” Regan asks.

I shake my head, the knot in my chest tightening. “She didn’t even know if she’d stay for that. That job in Charlotte pays almost seventy-five percent more than what the mayor of this tiny town makes. That kind of money is hard to turn down, especially when she’s worked her ass off for it.”

Regan glances at the clock on the wall. “And the results are announced on TV in the next thirty minutes?”

“Yeah.” I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answers that I’m too afraid to face. Spoiler: it doesn’t. "I should have backed out of the race."

“No. You absolutely shouldn’t have backed out,” Regan says firmly. "You said yourself you wouldn’t because you didn’t want her to feel like you were handing the job to her. You know how much pride she has. She wouldn’t want that. She’d want to win this on her own.”

I drop my head back, closing my eyes. “If she wins, she might leave. If she loses, she might leave. There’s no scenario where I know for sure that she’s staying. And it’s killing me.”

The door creaks open behind me, and I crack one eye open to see my older brother Lawson strolling in casually.

He's wearing a pair of sweatpants, a rare choice for the guy who runs our sales and marketing and is usually dressed in his denim jeans and button up uniform, rushing to catch his next flight. He grabs a chair from the corner of Colt’s office, spins it around backward, and straddles it, resting his arms on the back.

“Did you see who’s leading in the polls?” he asks casually, like it’s just another day and not the day where Rae's going to either break or make my heart.

“No,” I groan, already regretting asking. “Who?”

“Rae.”

Her name is like a hit and a caress all at once, and I groan again, louder this time. Just hearing it makes my chest ache and my cock twitch.

Colt chuckles, shaking his head. “Cash is heart-sick over her. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s downright entertaining.”

“Because she’s the one,” I grumble out.

Regan pushes a shot glass toward Lawson with a sly grin. “Since Cash won’t taste his own formulation, you should. Tell us what you think. It's the one you built that new, holiday campaign for. Hits the shelves at the end of the month.”

Lawson picks up the glass, turning it between his fingers like he’s studying it. Then he knocks it back in one smooth motion, his eyes widening as the flavor hits his palette.

“Shit, that’s good. Cherries?”

I groan again, the sound more tortured than before. “Stop talking about cherries.”

Lawson chuckles, setting the empty glass down with a thud. “You’ve got it bad, little brother. Real bad.”

I don’t respond. Because yeah, I do. And the worst part? I’d let Rae break me a hundred times over if it meant keeping her in my life.

Thirty minutes. Thirty freaking minutes until the results are announced. And all I can do is sit here, spiraling over something I can’t control. For once, I've opened my heart to a woman, seen a future beyond my selfish present and now she might leave me behind.

Before I can get anymore into my self-loathing, the door bursts open and I smell her sweet scent.

That unmistakable mix of dark humor and wild cherries hits me, wrapping around my senses like a lasso.

I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s her, but when I do, my breath stills anyway, and all fear over the future is dispelled.

Regan's boots hit the floor with a thud as she straightens in her chair, but I’m already transfixed, watching Rae storm toward the desk like a damn goddess on a mission.

Her thighs—strong, smooth, and sinful—are hugged by those tight Wrangler jeans that make her ass look so good I’d gladly bury my face in it for eternity.

Her hips sway just enough to make my cock twitch in anticipation of her sitting on me, and her white T-shirt, stretched thin over her chest, shows enough bounce to have me swallowing hard, thinking about sucking on those nipples.

She doesn’t say a word as Colt pours her a shot of my whiskey—hell, her whiskey, the one I spent months crafting with her in mind, into a glass, the soft trickles serenading her movements.

He slides it across the desk without a word, and she snatches it up, knocking it back like it’s nothing.

Her eyes lock on mine as she sets the glass down with a sharp clink and then she’s on top of me.

Straddling my lap, she plants herself firmly, her thighs gripping either side of me like they belong there—and fuck, they do.

My hands shoot to her hips, gripping her tight as I stare into those stormy, green eyes that I could lose myself in forever.

Her hands skim up my neck, her fingers curling behind it as she tugs my face toward hers. I barely have time to breathe before her lips are on mine, parting, demanding, and then—holy hell—she’s pouring that shot straight into my mouth from hers.

I taste it on her tongue and in my throat, that deep, smoky flavor that Colt’s whiskey is known for, kissed with the sweetness of her .

It’s better than I ever could have imagined, rich and intoxicating, and it hits different coming from her mouth.

My grip tightens on her hips as my free hand slides into her hair, tugging her head back roughly to deepen the kiss.

“You’re always surprising me,” I whisper against her whiskey soaked lips.

Her gasp fuels me, and I take the kiss further, harder, like I’m trying to rip the cherries straight from her soul. Because that’s what Rae does to me—makes me want to consume her whole, devour every piece of her until there’s nothing left.

When I finally break away, my chest heaving, I’m greeted by the sound of Lawson’s low chuckle and Colt’s shit-eating grin. Even Regan is smirking like I’ve won the lottery.

“Hell, Cash, could you at least pretend we’re not here?” Colt teases, but I don’t give a damn. My focus is solely on Rae, whose lips are swollen and wet from our sloppy kiss.

She leans in close, her voice low and trembling with something that sounds a lot like relief. “I’m staying,” she whispers. “No matter what happens with the election in a few minutes, I’m not leaving. I’m staying, Cash. I decided last night.”

The knot in my chest dissolves instantly, replaced by a heat that spreads through me like wildfire. “Fuck, yeah,” I growl, pulling her mouth back to mine. This kiss is harder, hungrier, and I can still taste that whiskey lingering on her tongue.

In the back of my mind, I make a decision: later tonight, I’m going to fuck her senseless, pour another shot into her mouth, and taste her all over again—this time mixed with my seed. That sounds like the perfect blend to me.

Regan’s voice cuts through the haze. “Hey, shouldn’t someone turn on the TV?

” She spins toward the corner and flicks it on without waiting for an answer.

The election results are being announced, but I don’t care about them anymore.

Rae’s staying. She’s mine. That’s all that matters. We'll make this work.

The door creaks open again, and Molly slips inside, moving behind Colt’s desk to settle herself on his lap. His arms wrap around her protectively as they both fix their eyes on the screen and the announcement.

Meanwhile, I’m still wrapped up in Rae. My hands dig into her thighs, pulling her closer, and my mouth is on hers again. We’re making out like two teenagers who don’t give a damn about curfews or consequences.

“I love you, baby,” I whisper against her lips.

She pulls back slightly, her green eyes searching mine. “I love you too.” And then I kiss her harder. I lose track of time until I feel a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. I glance up to see Molly and Regan smiling down at us, their eyes warm with approval.

“Congrats, Rae,” Molly says softly, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “We’re so glad to have you as our new mayor—and have you here with Cash.”

Rae pulls back slightly, her lips still brushing mine as she lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes lock on mine, and there’s something raw and vulnerable in them that makes my chest tighten.

“I won,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I grin, brushing my thumb over her cheek. “You won, baby. The town chose you.”

Her smile spreads wide, brighter than I’ve ever seen it, and I know in that moment just how much this election meant to her. Before I can say anything else, she kisses me again, hard and deep, and I can’t help but chuckle low in my chest.

When we finally come up for air, I'm smiling like a fool. “Look who’s the new Mrs. Whitewood Creek . You going to take my place at high school sporting events? Start having the older gentleman of this town pass out from your beauty?”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t waver. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” I admit, pressing another kiss to her lips. “But I’m yours. And you’re mine. Forever.”