 Mal grinned and nodded to an area of flat rock. “When I was a kid, I brought stadium chairs and cushions in here. I had a thermal chest over there.” He pointed to one spot tucked away near the cave wall. “And lanterns all over. I thought I had my own palace.” “Like a tree fort without the tree—and underground,” Colt said. “Exactly. I’m sure you’ve heard around the distillery that great whiskey starts with the best spring water?” Mal asked. He hopped lightly from one pile of rocks to another, then turned to wait for Colt. He waved to a stream of water and sat on the rocks at the edge. “Yes.” Colt settled beside Mal and shined the flashlight around the interior of the cave. “My great-great-granddaddy owned a little piece of land he’d staked out and settled. It was about twice the size of what’s inside this fence. He had a small shack on the top of this hill, but it was what was under here that he was interested in. The best whiskey and moonshine comes from the purest water.” Mal pointed deeper into the cave, and Colt swung his flashlight in that direction. “A few hundred yards down is a spring. All this water comes from it. He didn’t know why, but it’s got a much cleaner taste.” He leaned down, scooped up a handful of the water, and sipped it. Colt mimicked Mal’s actions. “Wow. I always thought it was a gimmick, but this water really does taste fresher, better. It’s cold.” “That’s because the spring’s source is nearly a thousand feet down, where it’s cool. This whole area is littered with limestone, and when the water travels over it, the limestone leaches the impurities and iron from the water. He wasn’t the only one with the idea. Other distillers knew the same secret. My great-great-granddaddy and Jack Daniel, the man, grew up together. They both learned the craft together, and when Daniel bought land with his spring, my great-great-granddaddy set out to find his own.” Mal shrugged. “Or so the legend goes.” “So he landed here, and the rest is history?” Colt asked. “Yep.” Mal nodded and laughed. “The one thing distillers like more than good ’shine or whiskey is a good tall tale. I’m sure it’s basically the truth, embellished.” “This is an amazing place. Thank you for showing it to me,” Colt said. “You’re welcome. It’s one of my favorite places, and it’s important to distilling whiskey and ’shine.” Colt held up one finger and grinned. “A skill you did promise to teach me, and you are the best.” “Oh geez.” Mal rolled his eyes and shook his head, but it was clear he liked Colt’s admiration. “I did indeed. We’ll need some downtime for that, and you’re getting quite popular. Have you seen the list of requests Audrey has?” “No. She offered to show me, but honestly, I’d rather not know so I can concentrate on the ‘assignments’ she gives me. I do have a confession, however.” Colt ran one hand through his bangs and ducked his head a bit. “I hope you’re not angry.” “Maybe you should confess, then let me decide?” Colt made a face, then admitted, “I like the moonshine better than the whiskey. Especially all the wild berry flavors.” “Well, then, that’s what you’ll learn first. I think it’s important to have a passion and genuine love of what you make. It’s the most important ingredient. I need an assistant distiller in training. Who knows, maybe if you stick around long enough, you’ll take over the moonshine line.” Mal bumped Colt’s elbow with his own and teased, “But don’t get cocky about it.” He stood, offered Colt his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Time we should get back and be on the road.” “Oh, Mr. Grice will love that part about the moonshine,” Colt grumbled. He rested his hand on Mal’s shoulder when Mal put his free hand on Colt’s hip. Mal sighed. “Yeah, about Jeffery. He and some other members of the board are concerned about our relationship.” “What does that mean?” Colt dropped his hands to his sides. “It means people forget I’m a person, not simply a company. Negotiating the parts of my life that are private and the parts that are business can be like playing hopscotch in a damn minefield.” “I’m not doing anything wrong.” Colt tried not to sound terse but didn’t succeed. “No, you’re not. Neither am I. That’s the point,” Mal said. “You let me worry about Jeffery. He was probably born a grumpy old man, he’s still a grumpy old man, and someday he’ll be a really old grumpy old man. But he’s very good at his job.” He smirked. “However, so am I.” He leaned forward and pecked Colt’s cheek, clearly seeking forgiveness. They stood there for another minute, silently looking at each other. Colt’s cock swelled enough to be uncomfortable inside his pants. His cheeks warmed, and he glanced away. “We… should….” He jerked the thumb of his free hand over his shoulder. Mal let go of him slowly and nodded. “We should.” When he stepped away, Colt looked down out of reflex. Mal’s pants were a tad tight as well. They walked back to the house in silence, though every few steps their hands brushed together or their shoulders bumped. Colt realized Mal was the first person he’d been so comfortable around in maybe his entire life. Whiskey and Moonshine is available in eBook, paperback and through Kindle Unlimited.    
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