Page 58 of Hats off to Love

Outside the distillery, a pathway is roped off to the door and is lined with a red carpet. There is security standing there ready and waiting, but there are also a ton of cameramen. It looks more like a scene you would expect in Hollywood than Louisville. My already anxious chest tightens even more as Stokes swears under his breath.

“You good?” he asks me just before it’s our turn.

“Yep.”

An attendant opens his door, he slides out, and then he holds out his hand for me. I take it, and together we make our way to the door. There are a few flashes, but mostly it’s just a lot of clicking with random people yelling at us.

“Stokes! Rosie! Look this way,” one reporter yells.

It’s crazy to me that these people know my name. His, not so crazy. After all, he is a Whitlock, but me—I’m no one.

“Rosie, how does it feel to be chosen by the bachelor of the season?” another asks.

“Stokes, should we be placing our bets on Ace of Spades this year?”

Stokes’s ever-present scowl drops into place as his hand tightens around mine and we cross the short distance from the curb to the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says as the door is opened for us. “I didn’t think about that.”

“No need to apologize. It’s not your fault.” I give him a small smile.

“Still . . . those pictures will be posted somewhere.”

“It’s okay. Besides, didn’t you once tell me it would be good for business for me to be seen with you?” I bump his shoulder with mine, teasing him.

He exhales, releasing his irritation, and then he wraps his arm around me, pulling me into a side hug.

“Mr. Whitlock,” the greeter says, smiling at us as we approach him. “If you and your guest will follow me, I’ll show you to your seat.”

Looking around, my eyes are greedy as I take in the details. Obviously, being from Louisville, I’ve tasted bourbon, but I wasn’t living here when I turned twenty-one, and since I’ve been back, I’ve yet to visit any of the distilleries. I’ve passed this one on Main Street what feels like hundreds of times, but I’ve never seen the inside. More brick walls, lots of windows, vintage industrial lighting, rustic wooden high top tables, and a grand sweeping bar that is backed and lined with lit full bourbon bottles.

“Downstairs, you will find the silent auction, and through that hallway”—the greeter points—“is where the tours are being offered. If you haven’t had the chance to discover us here at David’s, I highly suggest you explore or come back soon and let us tell you our history. Upstairs is where the dinner is being served.”

We continue to follow him up the stairs, and the chatter becomes significantly louder. This room is decked out like you would expect a rustic wedding reception, and it is gorgeous. Molly and Austin are already at the table, and they’ve unintentionally cocooned themselves into a bubble. They are so into talking to each other it’s as if no one else is here, and they don’t even see us approach.

“Molly,” Stokes says, loud enough to grab her attention. Her head shoots up and a smile splits her face.

“You’re here!”

Both of them stand. Molly rushes me for a hug while Austin reaches out to shake Stokes’s hand.

Pulling back, she keeps a hold of my shoulders and asks, “Oh my, were the cameras still out there just now? Wasn’t that crazy?”

“Yeah, they’re still out there. They called me by my name.”

“That’s so fun!” She’s grinning from ear to ear.

“If you say so.”

“Thanks, man, for inviting us. As you can see, we are excited to be here tonight,” Austin says, tipping his head Molly’s way.

“Of course. I’m glad it worked out,” he tells him, pulling me away from Molly so he can link his fingers through mine. “Let’s head to the bar and get a drink before they get started,” Stokes says, looking down at me. His gaze is tender, intimate for me, and as much as I love it, it adds another layer of heaviness to my chest. Is he feeling this way right now because we’re in the moment or because I mean more to him, like he does to me?

“Sounds good.” I barely get the words out.

“Can we get anything for either of you?” he asks.

Austin looks at Molly, and she shakes her head. “Nope. I think we’re all good for now. Thanks for asking, though,” he answers for both of them.