Page 54 of On The Rocks

Our stares locked, and I shook my head disbelievingly. “Can you believe I’m a married man?”

Donovan chuckled. “Da and Patrick got you over the proverbial barrel, didn’t they?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a wife?” I asked wryly.

Donovan’s eyes bugged out. “Right? And Maeve Monroe, of all people? Though Dad saw something in her that he wanted for you, and I’m starting to think he may have known what he was doing. She’s great. Just make sure you don’t fuck it up like you always do.”

My gut tightened at his words, especially since it was pretty much a given that I would invariably do what he warned me about and indeed fuck it up. Why were we saying everything except the truth?

I liked Maeve, and it was fast becoming obvious that she was among the very few women I could be in the company of for more than five minutes without wanting to rip my own head off.

However, that didn’t mean shit; it certainly didn’t mean I’d ever love her. I wasn’t built that way, and Donovan got it because he wasn’t either. We always got bored. We were the same way as kids, whether it was toys, friends, video games, or even each other. There was a reason he fucked off to the military. The same reason I’d never had a girlfriend and why Tadhg couldn’t stop risking his life by racing cars. Even why Dad had to move away from the family in New York to ensure he wasn’t forced into a life he couldn’t escape from.

The O’Shea men had an inbuilt restlessness that we’d never been able to shake. My dad used to say we had the Devil in us,and he was right. We always thought the next best thing was just around the corner and believed the grass was always greener.

It was our curse and our salvation, and not something I’d ever really thought about before, purely because I’d never had to be responsible for anybody but myself. Except that had changed, and for the life of me, I couldn’t help wondering what the fuck my da had been thinking when he saddled me with a wife and, more to the point, saddled Maeve with me.

I’d avoided this shit all my life because I never wanted to hurt anyone.

And now, my chest ached with the knowledge that, eventually, I may not have a choice.

CHAPTER 12

MAEVE

Ten days. That was how long it had taken me to get my first batches of cider and ale brewing. Ten days of blood, sweat, tears, and little to no sleep, and ten days of not being able to wipe the smile off my face.

I loved taking on new challenges. Usually, they were academic; I enjoyed using my brain to work out problems and form arguments. Brewing had been something way out of my comfort zone. Still, it was also surprising how much of my academic experience I could apply to learning everything I could about it.

Within twelve hours, I knew the basics of brewing cider and ale, including harvesting, crushing, mashing, fermenting, and aging. Within twenty-four hours, I’d found a local supplier, placed my first order for the ingredients, and I’d also made a new friend.

Maple Meadows Ranch and Agricultural Center was a ranch and a farm that had only been open locally for two years.

The first call I made inquiring about supplies was to them—purely because of its close proximity to Hambleton—and praise the Lord in Heaven, I lucked the hell out. Mack Meadows, one of the owners, answered my call directly. Within three hours,Callum and I had already been taken around the farm and pressing room to take a look at the setup. After I was satisfied that the Meadow’s farm had everything we needed to produce decent brews and the quality was good, we moved to Mack’s spacious office in his huge family ranch house to negotiate terms.

Mack cut an imposing figure. He stood well over six feet tall and was broad-shouldered and handsome. If it wasn’t for his worn-in jeans and chambray shirt, Mack would’ve looked more like a hot, aging surfer with his short, black hair and full beard turning grey at his temples. He must have been in his late fifties, though his age was only given away by his weathered skin and the silver streaks threading through his beard. Mack’s smile was as easy as his demeanor. He had an air of quiet, grandfatherly confidence that immediately drew me in, and I found myself liking him immensely.

His ass perched on the edge of his desk as he took a swig of coffee, studying me intently. “So, you reckon you know everything there is about brewing after a few days of reading?”

I leaned forward to address him. “No, I never said that, but I know enough to brew, or else I wouldn’t do it.”

Callum leaned forward, his elbows hitting his knees. “You’ll find out after about three point two seconds of talking to her that my wife is incredibly smart. There isn’t much Maeve can’t do if she puts her mind to it.”

I beamed, my heart unfurling like a flower in springtime.

How sweet!

Callum turned back to the other man. “Mr. Meadows?—”

“The only people who call me Mr. Meadows are bank managers and kids,” he berated gently. “I’m Mack.”

Callum gave him a nod. “Mack,” he corrected. “If Maeve says she’s got this, then best believe she’s got this. If I know her—and I do—she’s been on the forums talking to world expertsin brewing and charming them into telling her all their secrets. She’ll have recipes and ideas pinging around that big ol’ brain of hers that you and I can’t comprehend. She’s an amateur at this, but I bet she already possesses more knowledge after just a few days than people who’ve been in the game all their lives.”

Looking down at my fingers, I played nervously with my ring, smiling smugly to myself.

He wasn’t wrong.

I did do all that.

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