Page 27 of The Distiller's Darling

“Well, then.” Her mother heaved a small, satisfied sigh as though she’d won the argument. “When you find the right man, Naomi, you’ll know.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. The hurt she felt whenever her mother showed she thought marriage was the only thing good enough for her daughter was an old, familiar ache. But she wasn’t going to resolve it here, in the middle of a crowded ballroom. She was pretty sure therapists didn’t make house calls, let alone gala calls.

Although there probably were some pretty good psychologists in the crowd tonight. She eyed the people around her, wondering if she could trick somebody into convincing her mother to attend therapy.

“Naomi.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m speaking to you, dear.”

“Sorry. What?”

“Can you ask your father what the name of that whiskey he liked at dinner last night was? I want to pick some up for his office.”

“Brennan’s,” Naomi said without thinking. Her mother’s sudden silence made her realize what she’d just said. Naomi never—never—knew random trivia about her father’s alcohol preferences. She looked over at her mother, who was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I think it was Brennan’s. I’ll, um, go ask him.”

The very last thing she needed was her mother learning anything about Iain Brennan. The woman was a fiend with Google. Plus, Naomi had shut the door in Iain’s face and barely spoken to him for days. He was probably on his way out of town right about now.

Her phone buzzed as she escaped from her mother’s orbit. She glanced down at the notification to see a text from Angelica. She grinned. Noah’s girlfriend was swiftly becoming a good friend, and she was glad. Thank goodness it hadn’t gotten awkward between them. The content of the text wiped the smile straight off of her face.

Angelica had taken Iain shopping? To outfit the apartment above Max’s garage? What was happening? Was the man relocating to River Hill? She thought he had two months to get his sales deals in order for the new line of whiskey. She’d assumed that meant he’d be traveling up and down the coast, hustling. Or whatever one did to sell whiskey. Avoiding him was going to be a lot harder if he was staying around for another sixty days. On the other hand … he was only here for two more months. That was what he’d said, specifically. Then it was back to Ireland. Two months of fantastic sex sounded pretty damn nice.

She flipped her phone over against her palm, running her thumb along the smooth case thoughtfully. Her last piece for Z Gallery was due in a similar timeframe. She’d need to supervise the installation and attend the opening. An easy out if he got clingy when it came time to part. Naomi let her lips curve into a smile. Maybe she could have her cake, and sleep with it, too.

“Miss Naomi!” A familiar voice broke into her musing, and she turned with the smile still on her face.

“Hi, Luis. I didn’t realize you’d be here.” She pursed her lips. “How silly of me. Of course you are.”

Luis Montero was one of her father’s best friends. He was perilously close to being a celebrity chef, as his restaurants won as much acclaim as his high-profile relationships. She’d always adored him, and secretly wondered why such an interesting man seemed to have such a genuine friendship with her extremely boring father. When she’d been in her late twenties, Luis had finally let her in on some of the more hair-raising exploits the two of them had shared before Naomi and Jacob had been born. The friendship made a little more sense now, but she still couldn’t picture her father doing any of the things Luis had described. Or her mother, for that matter.

She hugged the older man, then let him grasp her arms and kiss her cheek before pushing her back to look her over. “You have opinions?”

“You’re a credit to your family,” Luis said.

“Great. Just what I’ve always wanted to be.”

He laughed. “I saw something about Z Gallery. Big time stuff, Miss Naomi.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty excited about it.”

“You going to make something for my next restaurant?”

“I don’t know. Are you going to pay me for it?” she teased. He’d given her one of her first big breaks, displaying several pieces she’d created during her Tuscan phase in one of his popular restaurants. Sure, she wanted to make it on her own artistic talents, but she wasn’t opposed to a bit of nepotism when it benefited her career. Plus, she’d given them to him for free, and when the restaurant had closed a few years ago, he’d sold them for a tidy profit, something she was fairly sure he wasn’t aware she knew.

“We’ll work something out,” he said.

“What kind of restaurant are you opening next?” It seemed like Luis was always opening something. His restaurants were always successful, and he didn’t stick to one type of cuisine, something she appreciated.

“My girlfriend calls it hipster comfort food.” His latest girlfriend was an actress on a TV crime drama. Naomi hadn’t met her, but Luis tended to have relatively good taste in women. Nearly all of his exes were still friends with him. If she were interested in having relationships, she might have asked how he managed it. Two months enthusiastically fucking Iain Brennan wouldn’t count as a relationship, would it? Nah.

“We’ve got the design and most of the initial menu worked out,” Luis was saying. “Working on vendor agreements now. Gotta get the very best behind the bar and in our kitchen, you know? I’m trying to find all new stuff for this one, introduce people to tastes they haven’t had before.”

Vendor agreements. Naomi opened her mouth, then closed it. Iain’s new whiskey was probably the sort of thing Luis was looking for. One word from her, and Iain would have a contract with one of the biggest restaurant owners in California. She could use her connections to help him. Just like her mother would for her father.

Something uncomfortable squirmed in the base of her stomach, and she felt herself going cold. If she put in a good word for Iain right now, it could be a huge break for his career. But it would turn her into The Supportive Girlfriend. She wasn’t his girlfriend. She wanted him to do well in his chosen field, and she certainly hoped that his new brand succeeded. But using her social connections to make it happen for him?

The idea made her faintly nauseous. It was the same feeling she got every time she stood at the door of her parents’ penthouse, waiting for her mother to open it and ask why she wasn’t married yet, or if she’d met the son of one of the members of the hospital’s Board yet.

---