Chapter Text
You hated moving. Packing all your junk, then unpacking it just for it to sit there. It drove you up the wall. You were moving to this quiet neighborhood in Texas. You’re used to the city. Being able to walk where you needed to go, now you had to learn how to drive to get to college. You really missed that part of city life. However, your new house was bigger. You had the whole attic to make into your room. It had a circular window overlooking the front porch and the dirt road that led to your house.
You moved your bed, so it was right underneath the window. You began to unpack your decorations and books for your shelf. You felt as if the boxes that your parents would bring in would never stop. You hear a knock on the front door.
“I got it!” You yell down to your parents as you skipped down the squeaky stairs.
You open the front door to see a tanned, brown eyed man standing there with a plate of brownies. He was wearing a leather jacket whit a white shirt underneath. He had jeans that were lightly covered in dirt, and boots that has seen some use. His brown hair was slightly messy, but it was covered up with a cowboy hat. He had a smile that made you blush, hard.
“Well, howdy, darlin’!” The man beamed. He tipped his hat, “I’m your neighbor down the road. The names Jack, Jack Daniels, but you can call me Whiskey.”
You introduce yourself, “It’s nice to meet you.” You take the plate of brownies out of his hands, lightly brushing them.
“My grandmother’s recipe,” Whiskey winks, “The best brownies yer ever gonna taste.”
You take one of the brownies off the plate and nibble on the corner. It was so sweet. It was nice and cold too.
“Wow, you weren’t lying.” You took another bite of the brownie. “This is definitely what I needed after unpacking all day.” You set down the plate inside your house on a table next to the front door, “So, besides that, what brings you hear?”
“Well,” Whiskey rubs the back of his head, “I wanted to meet my new neighbors. There hasn’t been anyone living in this house since, well, years actually.”
Your parents came up behind you and introduced themselves. Your mother was all bubbly from meeting Whiskey, your father copied your mother’s enthusiasm. Your Father immediately grabbed some of the brownies and began munching on them. Your mother lightly slapped him on the arm, which caused you to giggle. In turn, Whiskey smirked.
“I have to say, yer smile is quite a sight, sugar.” Whiskey crossed his arms and slightly leaned back.
You feel the blood rush to your face, “Thanks, is there anything we can do for you? I- “
Whiskey cuts you off by raising one of his hands, “Darlin’, there is no need for yer to do anythin’ for me. This is just a welcomin’ gift.”
With one last wink and goodbye, Whiskey is off in his Bronco. The dirt leaving a cloud where his truck once stood. You close the door and pick up the plate of brownies. You set them down in the fridge so that they stay nice and cold. You hurry back up the stairs to finish unpacking your things.
Whiskey is still on your mind, maybe it was the flirtatious compliments or the brownies themselves. Something about the man stuck with you. His comment about how no one had lived in this house for years also stuck with you. You didn’t see a wedding band on his finger either. He must have been lonely. You feel for Whiskey, this was a pretty secluded place. It’s one of the reasons your parents pick the house.
The next couple of days are quiet. You spend it toying away on your laptop applying for college classes. It was tedious, but it had to be done. You ordered your supplies for the classes and got a few new clothes for yourself. A little treat for yourself didn’t hurt here and there. You were also looking at driving schools. You could just ask your parents, but they weren’t the best teachers out there.
One day, you hear a knock at your door. You were in the kitchen cleaning the plate that Whiskey had given you. You walked over to the door and saw the familiar shadow of Whiskey. You opened the door to see him holding a plate of cookies this time. Your eyes beamed and you licked your lips.
“Hungry, aren’t we?” Whiskey chuckled, “You sure love yer sweets, sugar.”
“Well, if they’re as good as your brownies,” You took the plate out of his hands. Yet again, you brush your hands against his. “Then my sweet tooth is very satisfied.” You hold up a finger, “Let me get your plate for you.”
You walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the plate. You came to the front door and Whiskey was leaning against the door frame. You handed him the plate and he responded with a soft smile. You two talk about your day. Whiskey had just gotten back from work. Ironically, he said he worked for a whiskey company. You explained how you were still finding boxes after days of unpacking. They seemed to never end. Whiskey chuckled at your jokes about unpacking. He was kind to you. His accent was music to your ears. It was sweet like honey.
“So,” Whiskey adjusted his hat, “I’m havin’ a cookout this Saturday. I was wonderin’ if you’d like to come. It doesn’t have to be for long, darlin’.”
Your eyes light up, “Of course! I have nothing better to do, so I’ll swing by.”
“Great!” Whiskey pointed at you, “It be around the same time as now.”
With a wave, he was off. You watch him get into his Bronco and drive off. The way he leaned back in his seat and hand his hand on the steering wheel caught your attention. You close the door behind you and walk back into the kitchen. You set the plate of cookies down. Your heart was racing. You’ve met him before, but something about the way he looked at you this time drove you mad. You head back upstairs to clear your mind.