Page 113 of On The Rocks

Shit!Where was my chill? “Sorry!”

Callum tugged my hand to pull me away, bending low to murmur so only I could hear, “As much as I fucking detest the thought of my sister getting to know that fuckingbogger, I gotta get you away for Ash’s sake.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” I winced, then, catching movement from the corner of my eyes, I glanced at the stage where the boys of Dischordium were strapping their instruments on and getting ready for their set. The hairs stood up on my neck as a buzz of anticipation went through the crowd.

“I love this,” I told him, my tone threaded with excitement. “I love the electricity, the atmosphere, and the sexy vibe.” My eyes lifted to meet his, and I touched his jaw. “We did it, didn’t we, baby?”

His fingers curled around my nape, and he dropped a kiss on my lips, “Only time will tell, wife, but if tonight’s any indication, we’ll be okay. Takings are through the roof. We’ve already started on the cider we allocated for next weekend, and the beer’s getting low, too, and the night’s still young.”

“Awesome!” I breathed.

Callum's lips tipped up, and he pulled me toward the bar. “Come on. It’s time.”

“Time for what?”

He pulled me to the stage and grabbed a radio mike from Noah, then we moved to the bar. Turning, he grabbed my hips and lifted me up onto the counter. Then, placing a hand on the wood, he vaulted up and landed next to me. His arm slipped around my waist, and he turned the mike on, holding it to his mouth.

The music lowered, and Callum’s voice came through the speakers.

“Good evening, all.”

The loud chatter dissipated, and every eye turned toward us as whoops and hollers filled the air.

“Welcome,” he greeted. “I hope you’re all enjoying the booze and the craic.”

A roar went up, so loud I thought the roof would lift up. Giggling, I snuggled into Callum’s side.

His fingers clasped my bare arm, and he glanced down at me. “My wife and I—” He chuckled as he got cut off by a barrage of deafening wolf whistles ringing through the ether.

He looked down at me and waggled his eyebrows, causing another bubble of laughter to escape my throat.

Callum shook his head good-naturedly, watching the crowd and waiting for them to calm themselves. When the din eventually quietened, he kissed my temple and continued, “My gorgeous wife and I would like to say,fáilte. Welcome. We’re happy to have you, and I know my aul fella will be somewhere smiling with us and having a grand old time, too.” He paused, and I could tell he was unexpectedly overcome with emotion.

Squeezing Callum’s knee, I rubbed it comfortingly, trying to give him some encouragement.

He composed himself and cleared his throat. “I’d like to call the rest of my family over here to raise a glass to our da.” He looked around the bar. “Where are they?”

Tadhg appeared by my side with a tray full of shots, closely followed by Donovan and Aislynn. We all took a glass and stood together as a family.

“Do Lorcan.For Lorcan,” Callum choked out, and we all downed our shots.

I coughed at the burn of the whiskey that scalded my chest, tears hitting my eyes as the crowd solemnly repeated, “For Lorcan,” before taking a drink.

Callum slammed his glass on the bar, placed a hand on it, and vaulted up onto the countertop, standing tall over our guests. He held his arms out and yelled, “Welcome to the Lucky Shamrock, where your troubles be less and your blessings be more.”

Another roar went up, and my husband pointed toward the stage with a theatrical flourish. “Please put your hands together for...Dischordium.”

Squeals and shouts went up, and my heart soared at the quiet tap of drumsticks. The slap of the bass thumped through my body, and Blue came straight in with the wail of his lead guitar.

“Hey,” Noah’s deep, husky voice echoed over the music. “The O’Sheas wish you all a warm welcome.”

Screams and catcalls filled the air as the crowd yelled back.

“Lemme introduce you to the band. Meet Styx, Blue, Griff, and Jax, I’m Carbine, aka Noah, but you know us better as... Dischordium.”

My pulse thrummed as the band began to carve out a sweet melody, layering it over the slapping bass guitar. The song was one I’d heard recently on the radio called “Honeypie,” and I couldn’t help nodding my head in time to the funky bassline.

Callum jumped down from the bar, reached up to hold me by the waist, and lifted me back onto my feet. “You okay?” he asked.

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