Page 38 of The Distiller's Darling

“Well, unless you plan on wrapping me in a tortilla—” she held up a finger as he opened his mouth. “No!” She laughed. “That’s not a thing. I vote tacos first, then some naked celebrating.”

“Your motion carries,” he said. “Get your jacket.”

Over dinner, he told her about his day, barely able to restrain his jubilation. “You were right about the branding,” he said. “One hundred percent. Thank you for putting it together. It keeps sealing these deals. Having the full package makes Whitman’s seem like its own thing, not just some weird experiment from the Brennans.”

“All three restaurants are placing orders?” She started on her second taco. “That’s so awesome.”

He nodded. “They all signed on, and it took me over the edge. Just in time.”

“So now what?”

He leaned back in his seat, laying a hand across his belly as he used the other to push his empty plate toward the center of the table. “Some of it depends on what my family says when I talk to them tomorrow, but I’m hoping the next step is expansion. Whitman’s is a solid brand, and we’re well on the way to having a real foothold here, so we could keep going.”

Naomi set her taco down and eyed him. “What does keep going mean?” She wasn’t entirely sure what the flutters in her stomach meant, but she probably shouldn’t keep eating.

He looked thoughtful. “Well, presumably more sales trips now and again at the very least. A permanent directorship for yours truly.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m not talking fame, fortune, and glory, but at least I wouldn’t be reporting directly to my older brother anymore. I could keep building this brand up, make it into something really well-known, you know?”

She nodded. His pride in himself and Whitman’s Revival was evident in everything about him—his voice, his posture, his smile. “Do you think, um, you would be coming back here?” She couldn’t believe she was asking. Their time together was nearly over, and here she was begging for more? But somehow, she found herself waiting breathlessly for his answer ... like it was going to change her life.

He leaned back in, his gaze suddenly intense. “Maybe. Would you want me to?”

“I mean … if your job brought you here … I wouldn’t object to …” she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“A booty call?” He raised an eyebrow playfully.

She felt herself relax. “Yep. That. Definitely that. Your booty. My booty. Together. Doing stuff.” She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and poked her opposite forefinger through it a few times for visual emphasis.

He laughed. “You’re a true romantic, Miss Klein.”

“I know,” she deadpanned. “It’s all those romance novels Angelica makes me read.”

Angelica had developed a taste for historical romance novels during her Hollywood years. Naomi still wasn’t sure how her friend had gotten hooked, although she’d once muttered something about Gwyneth Paltrow while Naomi was browsing the Oakwell Inn’s well-stocked bookshelves.

Personally, she hadn’t enjoyed the historical romances Angelica had foisted on her—it was a little difficult to read about a time when your ancestors weren’t treated particularly well, while more dukes and duchesses than could possibly have ever existed trotted about never getting syphilis no matter how much ’rake reforming’ they did.

But she’d found a few modern romance authors who were tackling more realistic pictures of historical life, and then she’d discovered contemporary romance, which had led to a month of solid reading. Now, Angelica was considering forming a River Hill book club, and she’d been badgering Naomi to join.

“You’ll have to recommend one to me.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, then lowered them and narrowed her eyes. “Challenge accepted.” She leveled a finger at him. “Get ready to have your mind blown.”

“I’m so ready. I mean, my mind, of course, and at least one other part of my body, right?”

She let her head fall back as she laughed. She really enjoyed being with Iain, more than she’d ever expected to. None of the other men she’d spent time with had ever been as good at dirty banter as he was, and none of them had ever enjoyed it very much when she’d made saucy comments. Iain not only liked it, but he was happy to engage her competitive side in a game of one-upmanship. Her conversations were going to be so much more boring once he left.

“Listen …” She didn’t know what impulse made her open her mouth, but she found herself plunging on. “If you do come back here, for work, you could, um, stay at my place if you want.” He was silent, and she realized she was actually blushing as she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Not that you have to. I just—”

“I would love to.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you sure? I just didn’t expect you to say something like that, since … you know.”

“Neither did I,” she confessed. “It just popped out.”

“That’s what she said,” he muttered under his breath.

She snorted. “I’m just saying, if it would be easier for you, I wouldn’t mind.” She paused. “We’ve been sharing the space pretty successfully, right? If you came to town for a few days here and there I think I could handle it.”

“Good lord, I hope you’ll do more than handle it,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You know I will,” she laughed. “Any appendage you can think of.”

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