Page 34 of The Distiller's Darling

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Coming up on the sign that heralded the exit toward River Hill, Iain let out a long, satisfied sigh. He’d been working non-stop for the past two weeks. Al those long hours on the road had finally begun to pay off.

For the past few days he’d seriously wondered if this whole scheme was mad. The contract tucked safely away in his briefcase proved otherwise. The order for five hundred bottles of Whitman’s Revival for a new speakeasy-style restaurant in Oakland was an excellent start.

A start he felt like celebrating. And he knew exactly how he wanted to go about doing that.

Trudging up the side staircase that led to his tiny one-room apartment over Max’s garage, Iain loosened his tie and yanked it off over his head as he walked through the door. He dropped his bag next to the rickety chair in the corner, kicked off his shoes, and made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower to wake him up as much as refresh his tired body.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the shower to check his phone and saw the message he’d been waiting for. Gavin Crawley, a musician he knew from back home, had been touring the U.S., playing small, intimate venues. Tonight he had a gig in Santa Rosa. Iain didn’t love the idea of more time in the car, but if he could convince Naomi to join him, the long drive would be worth it.

Things had been great between them lately. When they weren’t working, they were either eating or fucking, and if it hadn’t been for the stress of his job, he could truthfully say the past couple of weeks had been outstanding. There was something very freeing about being with a woman who had no expectations of forever.

And he knew Naomi felt the same. She’d said as much yesterday morning after waking him up with her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. When she finished getting him off, she’d chuckled and then whispered something about their non-relationship being “the best idea ever.”

Iain was sure he’d look back on their time together with a mixture of lust and fondness. The only downside was he didn’t know if he’d ever find someone else who would be able to get him going quite the way Naomi managed to.

But tonight, he wanted to get her going. He knew his whiskey was damn good, but the restaurateur had called out its branding as being an essential element of why he’d gone with Whitman’s instead of a more well-known commodity. The label Naomi had designed fit the aesthetic of the new restaurant perfectly, and because of how well it tied with the space’s overall look, Whitman’s would take pride of place in the circular bar area smack dab in the middle of the room. In fact, the chef was going to have his bartender create a whole series of signature cocktails featuring Whitman’s. Iain knew he owed a large part of this deal to Naomi’s ingenious work, and he wanted to thank her. Properly. He picked up his phone and opened the text messaging app.

Iain: Remember how you said we should order Chinese and stay in tonight?

He sat back against his headboard and waited for Naomi’s response. He knew she’d been sculpting all day, and if his timing was correct, she should be wrapping up soon. The light in her studio was best in the morning; the shadows caused by the late afternoon sun filtering through the large oak tree outside her window could be problematic if she was working on some of the more intricate parts of one of her designs.

As predicted, her response wasn’t too long coming. Three dancing dots appeared on his screen before they were replaced with her reply.

Naomi: I’ve been looking forward to dumplings all day.

He smiled fondly. She was an unapologetic hedonist—something he adored about her, since it matched his own voracious appetites so well.

Unfortunately for her though, Iain had something other than dumplings in mind. From any other man, at any other time, what he was about to propose would probably sound suspiciously like a date. Thankfully, they were well past all that nonsense.

Iain: How about the best tacos in Santa Rosa and a concert instead?

Naomi: Santa Rosa? If you want tacos, you should swing by Max’s on your way over here, then I can still have my dumplings.

Okay, maybe the tacos shouldn’t have been his opening gambit. All of his new friends were seriously obsessed with Max’s carnitas, seemingly to the exclusion of all other attempts at the dish. Iain was pretty sure Noah was close to petitioning the city council to make them the official food of River Hill, and the rest of them weren’t much better. On the plus side, she hadn’t said no to the outing—just his choice of meal. He could still salvage the situation.

Iain: How about you order your beloved dumplings, and you can eat them in my car? I have a buddy playing a gig that I want to check out. Plus, I’m celebrating.

Naomi: You got a sale?!?

Iain: I did. That new place in Oakland I was telling you about the other day. They loved the label, so naturally, I wanted to include you in my celebrations. I couldn’t have done it without your help.

Naomi: Well, why didn’t you say so? I’d love to!

Iain: Pick you up in thirty?

Naomi: Better make it forty-five, if that’s okay?

Her response was immediately followed by the second selfie she’d sent him that day—unlike the one she’d sent this morning, however, her glasses were long-gone, and her dark hair was covered in a fine dusting of clay powder. And his black button-down? He was pretty sure it belonged to Naomi now. No way was he ever going to be able to get those stains out. He waited for the annoyance to come, but it never did. Interesting. He’d once dated a girl who’d stolen one of his shirts much as Naomi had, and that stunt had signaled the end of their relationship. But seeing this woman clad in nothing but his shirt? He liked it.

Christ, she’s sexy, Iain thought, his thumbs brushing over the virtual keyboard. “See you then,” he typed, and then set his phone to the side to finish getting dressed.

Later, he wouldn’t have been able to explain why he’d taken the time to remove the wrinkles from his clean shirt with the iron Angelica had made him pick up at Target. All Iain knew was that looking good for Naomi wasn’t the chore it would have been with anyone else.

And he wasn’t going to examine too closely why that was.

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