Chapter Three
By the time Jarrod made it back to the kitchen the party was over, except for a few stragglers sharing shots and smoking cigars in front of the dwindling bonfire in the barnyard. Jamey had patted him on the cheek as she and Brodie departed with Fiona, and with a wink, reminded him that her bottle of 12-year Redbreast was still in the kitchen. “Call if you’re too far gone to drive. Fiona will be up,” she added with a cackle.
“I’m not—”
Jamey shook her head. “Deny all you want.” She leaned in close. “My shenanigans sniffer is set to sensitive.”
He was pleasantly buzzed, no more. “Join us, Jare,” one of the veterans from the ranch next door called.
He shook his head, loosening his tie. “No thanks. I’m headed out.” He’d grab the Redbreast and be on his way. The reception had
