Page 23 of The Distiller's Darling

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“There is nothing out there.” Iain groaned and shoved a taco into his mouth, savoring the succulent pork. Max was testing out a new recipe. As far as Iain was concerned, his new friend had outdone himself.

Noah set a bucket of beer on the table, and Angelica grabbed one of the bottles and twisted the top off. “How much are you looking to spend?” Noah asked, settling in next to his girlfriend on the leather bench.

Iain wiped his mouth. “I’m looking to keep it under two thousand a month, but I’m starting to think that’s not enough.”

Angelica took a long drink. “No wonder you can’t find a place. That’s chump change around here, Iain.”

“It’s not the money, not really. It’s mostly that I can’t commit to signing a long lease. And every landlord I’ve talked to wants first and last month’s rent. Meanwhile, that’s literally all I need. I might have to stay at Oakwell after all.”

“You still looking for a place to stay?” Max asked, setting down a plate of pickled radishes and jalapeños and sliding into the booth next to him.

Iain nodded and spun his beer bottle within the ring of condensation that had accumulated on the table in front of him. “It’s brutal out there, man.”

“The people who owned my place before me put in a studio apartment above the garage. It’s got a dorm fridge and hot plate, so the kitchen’s pretty much worthless, but it’s yours if you want it, however long you need it. You can pay me whatever you feel is fair.”

That was the best news he’d heard all day. Not that it was too hard to earn that distinction—from the time he’d woken up, his day had been filled with one bit of bad news after the next. Before he’d made his way down to Frankie’s, a graphic artist he’d been about to hire had let him know she could no longer work with him since she’d just taken a contract with another distiller. Personally, Iain didn’t consider them competition—they made flavored vodkas, of all things—but their head of marketing definitely considered anyone with the last name of Brennan his competition, so now Iain was back to square one on that front too. If Max was willing to let him crash above his garage for the next two months, he’d take it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. I only put my gym equipment up there because I felt like the space was going to waste and I felt guilty.” Max shrugged. “Which reminds me—if you’re going to move in, I’ll need your help moving my gym equipment into the garage. And it could probably use a deep clean.” He scratched his chin. “And some towels and bed linens. Pretty much everything, to be honest.”

Angelica bounced in her seat and clapped her hands. “Ooh, can I help?”

Noah barked out an emphatic “No,” while at the same time Iain exclaimed “Yes!”

Noah shot him an exasperated look. “Dude, no. She’s only home for four weeks before she starts filming again in fuck knows where, and I intend to keep her busy for all of them.”

Angelica bumped Noah’s shoulder with her own. “It’s Portland. And you’re a pig.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Noah waggled his eyebrows, before inhaling the rest of his taco in one bite.

She rolled her eyes and slapped her palms down onto the wooden tabletop. “Anyhow …” she said pointedly, “I would love to help. I was planning to do a Tar-jay run on Friday morning. Need to refill a few essentials for the inn.”

“Tar-jay?”

“Sorry, I mean Target—only the best, most amazing store in all of Christendom. My personal philosophy is if you can’t find it there, it doesn’t exist.” Her eyes took on a dreamy cast.

“Sounds expensive.” Iain wasn’t cheap, but he didn’t think forking over a ton of cash to kit out a temporary home was the wisest decision. He’d already spent way too much staying at Angelica’s bed and breakfast, though it had been nice having daily maid service.

“That’s the great thing about Target. It’s not expensive—”

“Says the woman who regularly spends two hundred dollars when she goes there for ’just one thing.’” Noah raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

Angelica chuckled. “Guilty as charged. That’s the downside of Target—you go in with a small list, but then walk out with an overflowing cart full of stuff you never even knew you wanted.”

While that might be true for Angelica, Iain doubted he’d suffer the same problem since he’d never had any difficulty before sticking to a to-do list … or a budget. Quickly, he went over his schedule for the week. He had a couple of meetings with restaurant owners in Napa on Monday, and Oakland and Berkeley on Tuesday. And apparently he’d need to help Max move his gym equipment downstairs by Wednesday, so he could hopefully get a cleaner in on Thursday. As it turned out, Friday worked perfectly. “Okay, count me in.”

“Traitor,” Noah whispered, downing the remainder of his beer.

* * *

“Knock, knock.” Angelica popped her head through Iain’s open doorway. “You ready, Freddie?”

“Yup.” He slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and palmed his keys on the way out. “I’m warning you though. I hate shopping.”

Angelica gave him a quick once over as they walked down a manicured path toward the gravel-lined parking lot at the side of the inn. “I figured as much.”

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