For Love & Bourbon (7 page)

“Ever the charmer, Joe convinced Vivi to take him home to Fox Hills with her, and she did. Within a month they were married, and within two he’d talked the Fox Hills Savings and Loan into giving him money to buy this very facility you see here today. Now, at the time it wasn’t nearly as grand. But you can imagine a hardworking, fearless Irish immigrant, bent on proving his own family wrong and making whiskey the way he knew it should be made.”

She paused as an older woman in front raised her hand. “Yes?”

“How’d he get into making bourbon? Is it completely different?”

“Ah, yes. All bourbon is whiskey but not all whiskey is bourbon. Bourbon has its own specific rules to follow that separate it from Irish and even Tennessee whiskey, which we’ll get into later. Joe discovered bourbon the minute he set foot in Kentucky. It was given to him by a bartender who refused to serve anything else, so Joe gave it a try. From that moment on he was hooked, and couldn’t resist putting an Irish spin on it when it came time to create his own batch.”

Ava motioned behind her to the trio of copper stills lining the wall. Elongated with a bulbous base, each still connected to the wall where pipes ran between them and down into a tasting chamber. Signs near the gleaming copper warned not to touch the hot metal.

“We are one of only two bourbon distilleries in America to do things with a European flair. That means we triple distill our bourbon in copper pot stills, just like how single malt Irish whiskey is made. The boil ball at the bottom lets the vapors expand and contract, then pushes them up through the gooseneck. The gooseneck slows the vapors down, causing some to slide down the copper, a crucial part of the process. We then smell and taste it to determine when to forward it on to the next still. After all three stills it’s ready to go into the barrel. But of course, before it’s ready to be distilled, all whiskey starts with a few classic ingredients.”

She walked over to a display of large glass jars, each filled with a different type of grain in varying quantities. Resting her hands on the three-quarter-f jar of corn kernels, she smiled. “You asked what sets bourbon apart from other whiskies. Bourbon—by law, in fact—must be made with at
least
fifty-one percent corn. The remaining ingredients vary from distillery to distillery. Most use a combination of corn, rye, and malted barley. Here at Lucky Fox, our classic bourbon is comprised of seventy-two percent corn, eighteen percent rye, and ten percent malted barley. To convert starches into sugar, you must have at least ten percent barley in the mix. Otherwise the magic just won’t happen, folks.”

A few people chuckled as she lifted her gaze to the handsome stranger in the back once more. He was watching her attentively, looking very much like a kid enthralled by a flashy science experiment. Seeing the interest in him flattered her, especially since she noted some of the other guests were looking a tad bored.

Shifting gears, she motioned to another set of iron doors against the back wall. “Shall we move on?”

Taking the tour through the bustling distillery, she showed them where the corn mash was blended with yeast in giant churning vats and prepared for distillation. While listening to more questions, she caught the eye of Mr. Science Nerd.

He acknowledged her with a nod and a subtle smile, one that lit a flame within her that had for so long been extinguished.

THE TOUR
ended back inside the visitor’s center, where guests were invited to taste the whiskies they’d watched be crafted in the distillery. While some crowded around the tasting bar and others darted off to the gift shop, Cooper made his way to a smaller bar counter beside the distillery doors, where Ava was busy completing the sale of a bottle of Lucky Fox 101 Bourbon. She thanked the middle-aged man who purchased it, her laughter more genuine than anything Cooper had ever heard. The open, honest way she moved and spoke captivated him.

Once the man was gone, Cooper sidled up to the bar and fixed on a casual grin. “For a guy who’s never tried whiskey before, where would an expert like yourself suggest I start?”

Ava feigned a look of shock. “Never tried whiskey before? God-almighty.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, resting his elbow on the bar. He leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his voice. “But I’m really more of a beer guy.”

“Well, we’ll just have to change that.” Ava winked and grabbed a bottle of Lucky Fox Honey from under the bar top. She placed it in front of him. “Now, before you go all, ‘that’s a girlie bourbon’ on me, hear me out.”

Cooper laughed. “All right.”

She tilted the bottle back so he could read the label. “Our Lucky Fox Honey is a bourbon-based liqueur. It’s only 70 proof, so it’s easier on the palate than the straight bourbons. For someone who’s never tried the hard stuff before, this is a good way to get the flavors of bourbon softened by notes of honey, caramel, and a splash of citrus.”

Uncorking the bottle, she poured a small amount into a glencairn glass and handed it to him. Both humor and challenge filled her eyes. “You man enough to try it?”

Cooper lifted the bell-shaped glass to his nose, breathing in the unmistakable aroma of sweet honey. Intrigued, he took a small sip. His taste buds were immediately assaulted by a rich, smooth explosion of honey married with the spice of something oaky and earthy. Before he had a chance to explore all the flavors, he swallowed and coughed.

Ava’s face lit with a delighted grin. “Not so girlie, is it Slick?”

He laughed again. “No, not really. Not what I expected, either.”

“You get used to the burn.” She tilted her head to the side, admiring him. Most men would have been embarrassed as hell to admit they knew nothing about whiskey. He seemed more interested in learning than pretending. “If you’re feeling up to it, I can give you something with a bit more kick to it. I promise it won’t kill you.”

Drinking the rest of the honey bourbon sample, Cooper nodded. He set his glass down in front of her. “Hit me, bartender. Just not too hard. I’m a sensitive soul.”

She threw back her head and laughed, big and bright, and had his insides twisting up again. “All right, then. This’ll be good for you.”

She presented a bottle of their Distiller’s Choice, the prime bourbon Cooper had seen Marco drinking back in D.C. He watched her pour an ample amount into his glass, then nudge it across the counter to him.

Without hesitating, he nosed it, breathing in the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers and toasted vanilla. “Wow,” he murmured, taken aback by it. “How do they get it to smell like that?”

“It’s all in the charred oak barrel,” Ava explained, leaning closer to him across the counter. Her smile widened, bringing out a sexy little dimple in her right cheek. “It’s what makes bourbon unique. Come back tomorrow for the barrel house tour and I’ll give you a little lesson.”

He could smell the spiced apple scent of her perfume, could see the flecks of gold in those hazel eyes of hers, and found himself easing away. How had he gotten so close in the first place?

“Maybe I will,” he replied, sipping the bourbon. His focus was elsewhere and had him downing it without really tasting it. “It’s good.”

One of her eyebrows arched. “Good?”

He set the glass down, gave a brisk nod. “Stronger than the honey, I’ll give you that. Definitely got the burn, but the vanilla is in there somewhere too. I liked it.”

She straightened, corked the bottle of Distiller’s Choice. “It’s one of our best.”

“I can see why.”

Ava paused and considered him. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A rapid shift from the carefree charmer he had been when he first walked up. Maybe he was married. “Anything else you’d like to taste?”

Cooper cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take a bottle of the 101.”

She managed a surprised laugh. “You sure you can handle it?”

“Yeah.” He dug into his coat pocket for his wallet, felt his badge. Guilt raced through him knowing he had entered into a conversation with her under false pretenses. Then again, he
was
genuinely interested in what Lucky Fox had to offer, wasn’t he? It was perfectly innocent.

But then she cocked that chin and looked at him with suspicious eyes that told him she was onto him.

Christ. She may actually kill him when she found out. He might not make it back to D.C. alive. Marco would have to cart his charred body back in a duffle bag, present it to his sobbing mother. It had definitely been a mistake to come.

Then again, he
was
enjoying himself. That had to be worth something, right?

Ava slipped a bottle of the 101 bourbon into a gift bag and told him the total. He started to hand her his credit card, only to backtrack and give her cash instead. Better to not leave a paper trail.

She rang up the sale and offered him a pleasant smile. “Thanks for visiting us, Slick. I hope you enjoy that 101.”

Their eyes met as he grabbed the bag. “If I don’t, I know who to complain to.”

Her grin turned wicked. “I’ll just tell you to man up and put it on ice.”

He let out a sound caught between a laugh and a groan. “Good to know. Nice to meet you, Ava.”

She stared after him as he walked away, resting her chin in her hand. Her grandfather came up beside her, rested a hand on her shoulder. “Time to get home, dearie.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She took a deep breath and attempted a smile for him. “I just sold a bottle of 101 to a guy who’d never tried whiskey before today.”

“Oh, my.” Joe chuckled. “That’s a right cruel thing to do.”

“He’ll be able to handle it,” she decided. “In fact, he may even love it.”

“Some men aren’t afraid of a little burn.”

How well I remember my first encounter with The Devil’s Brew. 

I happened to stumble across a case of bourbon—and

went right on stumbling for several days thereafter.

~ W.C. Fields ~

T
he Lucky Fox office in downtown Fox Hills was nestled in a quaint, two-story brick building between a hair salon and the local deli. Cooper savored the scent of cold cuts and freshly baked bread as they walked past to their destination.

Marco held open the door. “After you, oh-saintliness.”