A
Love Letter to Whiskey
By Kandi
Steiner
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Quirky Bird
Photographer: Perrywinkle Photography
Release Date: October 13, 2016
Synopsis
It’s crazy how
fast the buzz comes back after you’ve been sober for so long.
Whiskey stood there, on my doorstep, just like he had one year before. Except this time, there was no rain, no anger, no wedding invitation — it was just us.
It was just him — the old friend, the easy smile, the twisted solace wrapped in a glittering bottle.
It was just me — the alcoholic, pretending like I didn’t want to taste him, realizing too quickly that months of being clean didn’t make me crave him any less.
But we can’t start here.
No, to tell this story right, we need to go back.
Back to the beginning.
Back to the very first drop.
This is my love letter to Whiskey. I only hope he reads it.
Whiskey stood there, on my doorstep, just like he had one year before. Except this time, there was no rain, no anger, no wedding invitation — it was just us.
It was just him — the old friend, the easy smile, the twisted solace wrapped in a glittering bottle.
It was just me — the alcoholic, pretending like I didn’t want to taste him, realizing too quickly that months of being clean didn’t make me crave him any less.
But we can’t start here.
No, to tell this story right, we need to go back.
Back to the beginning.
Back to the very first drop.
This is my love letter to Whiskey. I only hope he reads it.
Excerpt
(pre-final edits)
The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat
on my face.
Literally.
I was drunk from the very first sip, and I
guess that should have been my sign to stay away.
Jenna and I were running the trail around the
lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South
Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well
have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the
approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped
below eighty degrees.
As it was, we were battling ninety-plus
degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s
cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with
that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running —
absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board
that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who
never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d
agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of
the day.
I saw him first.
I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and
I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I
looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could
tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean
build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized
just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he
ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in
concentration as he neared us.
I looked over my shoulder, attempting to
waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot
guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back
around, it was too late.
I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the
pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from
embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up,
smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the
ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him.
It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread
through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his
silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent
over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had
somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my
skin on fire.
Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe
him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a
sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just
slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green,
and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but
it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes.
The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the
longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that
I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his
face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping
back up to his sideways grin.
“Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s
voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched
onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my
balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you
brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh
champ?”
Oh no.
I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I
couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too
late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I
even had the chance to say a single word to him.
Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one
hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This
was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what
you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being
cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy
blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow.
And then he did, too.
His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and
it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a
unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had
platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to
boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had
it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things
traditional high school boys valued.
But we’ll get to that.
“Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his
hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick
the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m
Jamie.”
“Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an
appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger.
And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name,
wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B —
everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the
first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name?
Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying
to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked
smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the
words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I
both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty
party.
“It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some
reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his
head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath
his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It
was unnerving and exhilarating, too.
But before I could latch onto the feeling, he
turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their
faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick
watching it happen.
I saw him first, but it didn’t matter.
Because he saw her.
Meet the Author
Kandi Steiner is
a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the
University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works
full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba
fitness instructor and blackjack dealer.
Kandi started
writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment.
In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her
classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly
halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took
particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a diehard
hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies).
When Kandi isn’t
working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with
her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She
enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not
necessarily in that order.
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