Page 51 of The Distiller's Darling

20

Iain’s phone buzzed, alerting him to an incoming call. He honestly didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but since he was still in the middle of wrapping up the sale of his shares in Brennan’s to purchase the distillery down the road, he didn’t dare let the call go to voicemail.

Although when he heard the voice on the other end of the line, he wished like hell he had.

“Iain?” He sucked a long breath in through his nose and didn’t answer. “I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there.”

“What do you want, Naomi?” He let all the air out of his lungs on a long gust.

She paused, and he knew his terse response had caught her off guard. Good. She’d blindsided him ten ways to Sunday. It served her right.

“Look,” she said, her voice taking on an uncharacteristically nervous tone. “I know things are messed up between us right now—”

He scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

This time it was Naomi who let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. Truly. And I plan on telling you exactly how sorry I am, but right now you and I have much bigger fish to fry.”

Iain heard rustling in the background, and then raised voices. He recognized the haughty voice of Judith Klein, but he couldn’t tell who she was arguing with. The other voice was deep and rumbly and distinctly male. Briefly, he let himself wonder what had gone down after he’d left the other day and whether the Kleins had broken off into factions. From the sound of things, either Naomi’s father or brother had decided to come to her defense. He tried not to care. It wasn’t his place to think about who Naomi had in her corner now. All he knew was that it wasn’t him, and it probably never would be.

When the voices got louder, and he heard the unmistakable sound of Naomi’s mom shriek, and then a glass hit the wall, he pushed his pride aside. He might be hurt by the way things had turned about between them, but if the situation was going to turn violent, he didn’t want Naomi in that house one second longer. “What’s going on over there?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she said, her voice dipping into a whisper. “Your dad showed up looking for you, and—”

“What?” He had to have misheard her. There was no way his father was standing in Naomi’s house, arguing with her mother, of all people. It was ludicrous. “You’re joking.”

“I really wish I was,” she snapped. He heard a door snick closed behind her, cutting off the argument in the background. “He seems to be operating under the misguided notion that I’ve convinced you to stay in California.”

Fuck. This was not the way he’d planned to tell her he’d be sticking around. He knew they’d have to discuss it at some point, but he’d wanted time to lick his wounds before he had to go back to her and make nice. As upset as he’d been over her betrayal, he’d had some time to think things through, and he knew it wasn’t Naomi’s fault that his venture with Whitman’s hadn’t been successful. His father had said it himself: he’d never intended to let Iain and Maeve move forward with their plan. The betrayal from his own family cut deep. Naomi’s had put him over the edge.

Still, Iain couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten the sales he’d needed sooner rather than later—if she’d hooked him up with this Luis fellow months ago when it might have made an impact on his early reports back to Dublin—if he might have been able to change the old man’s mind. Now, he’d never know.

And … he was right back to remembering why he was upset with her in the first place.

But as she’d just said, they had bigger fish to fry.

“About that,” he said, shoving his hands through his hair and dropping his head back against the padding of the chair he was sitting in. “I’d meant to talk to you about this the other day, but it turns out I’m sticking around River Hill a bit longer than originally thought.”

He heard her swallow. “How long?”

He decided to pull off the Band-Aid in one quick tug. “Permanently, if things go the way Maeve and I are hoping.”

“W-w-how?”

“After the bomb my dad dropped on me last week, my sister and I decided to go into business for ourselves. Noah gave us a lead on a distillery that’s all kitted out. We’re going to make Whitman’s here.”

“Here?” she croaked.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, acid churning in his gut. “I don’t expect this to change anything between us. I know where I stand.”

“Iain …”

Just then a loud thud sounded, and he heard Naomi let out a little shriek. “Shit. It’s like World War Three out there. I better go make sure nobody’s bleeding.”

He heard the door to whatever room she’d been holed up in open. The yelling grew louder and more pronounced. Naomi spoke quickly over the ruckus. “We definitely have a lot to talk about, Iain, but right now we need to keep our parents from literally killing one another.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the line had already gone dead. Shit. Things were really not turning out the way he’d envisioned.

* * *

---