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She rolled her eyes. “If that grunt means I should let you go first…” She waved a hand at the closed door.
Reaching around her, he punched the key code into the alarm system. With one hand on the weapon riding along his spine, he opened the door. The few windows high on one wall shed a dim gray light over the space.
On red alert for any threat, he took a step inside.
Suddenly, all the overhead lights snapped on.
With a groan, he shot Livia a look. “You just can’t let me do my job, can you?”
She offered him a sweet smile. Damn, the woman had charm for days but enough spark to burn down a forest. He was beginning to question if he was the right man for this job.
“Mind closing the door?” He tipped his jaw toward it.
She did as he asked—shocker—and watched him prowl around the space.
He’d done a daily security sweep of the distillery, but he hadn’t spent any time investigating this side of Livia’s business. He had to admit, he was intrigued. A female brewing rum in small-town Montana was far from any norm.
After making a circle of the room, he returned to Livia’s side.
She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “All clear, Commando?”
“Ha-ha,” he stated in his driest tone.
To his surprise, she shook her head on a giggle. “I’m going to check the latest batch of rum. If that’s okay with you.”
He stepped aside, sweeping an arm out for her to lead on.
In long strides, she crossed the room. The huge tanks and copper piping looked like a futuristic creature with extra arms of iron and steel. She walked to the long wall and reached overhead to pull down a glass jug.
When she moved to one huge tank, Carver watched her with hooded eyes. Damn, the woman had enough bounce to lure any man close enough to touch her curves. In her business, she was probably targeted much more often than she realized.
His fists curled at the thought of that asshole breaking in and destroying her property. If she happened to be in the bar at the time…
Livia bent over, cutting the synapse in his brain and creating another pathway that ran straight to his cock. Since touching her, he could barely focus whether she was right in front of him or in the other room. Half the night, he lay aching for her, head swirling with thoughts of digging his fingers into that mass of red hair, pulling her lips down to his as she rode his cock.
She twisted the top of the spout, and rich amber liquid flowed into the clear jug. She let a small amount flow in, then shut off the spout.
Long after she straightened, his gaze was glued to her round ass. God, what a woman. She was a little badass. She ran a bar. She brewed rum. Badlands was a fantastic name for the place, and she’d made everything neat and tidy, with sharp, modern branding and just enough rustic edge to appeal to the country locals.
She strolled to a wooden table at the far corner of the room. A single light hung over it. The things that bare bulb reminded him of would make weaker men curl up in the fetal position, but he was a trained SEAL. He knew how to compartmentalize all the torture he’d endured in his life and stow it away deep inside, in dark recesses.
Wandering over, he watched her draw two shot glasses closer. She filled each with a splash of rum and sent him a look.
“This is the raw state. It hasn’t been aged in the barrel room yet.”
He’d been in the barrel room during his security checks and been equally impressed with the setup. All those oak barrels stacked on metal racks from floor to ceiling was evidence of Livia’s hard work and dedication.
She lifted one glass, and he took up the other. She raised hers in tribute. “Bottoms up.”
He took a slow pull of the liquid into his mouth. Flavors mingled on his tastebuds.
She polished off her shot and set the glass on the table with a small clink. “What do you think?”
“You’ve got a good product here.”
“But you said it needs to age longer.” She pulled out a chair and sat. Once he was seated across from her, he took a moment to glance at their surroundings.
“How did you ever afford this? I got the idea your father drank too much. Usually bar owners tend to drink all their profit.”
