Page 65 of Grace on the Rocks

“Biased?”Wesasked.

Bryan nodded, though she was still blindfolded and he was staring atGrace. “Iworked under a master distiller there the last ten years.TheRionnagachwas mine.”

“Shut up!”NowWesripped off her blindfold as both she andGracestared at him, dumbfounded, and his cheeks turned scarlet as heat swept down his throat and up to the tips of his ears.

“Yours?”Gracerepeated. “Likeyou made it?”

He nodded shyly.

“Let me taste it again,”Wesdemanded, and he poured her another tiny dram.

She closed her eyes and savored it. “Iwas wrong,” she finally said. “TheCampbeltownwas exceptional, but this campfire shit is where it’s at.Finalanswer.”

Bryan rolled his eyes at her a little, but he was obviously bursting with pride.

“You saved the best for first,”Graceagreed. “Idon’t know how you even begin to create something like this.”

His blush deepened, and he studied the floor. “Youcreate whole worlds,” he mumbled. “Thisis just ssscience.”

ChapterSixteen

She was gazing atBryanin a way that made his chest feel tight and his eyes sort of sweaty, while his tongue tied itself in knots and clogged his throat.Henudged the charcuterie board closer to his guests so they could soak up some of the whisky.

“This pancetta is really amazing,”Wessaid, oblivious to the electricity swirling around the kitchen. “Irespect your choices, but you’re missing out.”

“I’ll letEòghannknow you approve.”

Her head shot up at the mention of his cousin, but then she looked back down, suddenly entirely focused on the cheddar. “Eòghannpicked it out?”

“I rely on him to choose all my meats”—he grimaced at the innuendo hanging in the air—“when the occasion calls for it.”

“That’s nice of him,” she mumbled, her cheeks turning pink.Hadshe figured out his cousin wasn’t a priest yet?

“Really nice,”Graceagreed, eyeing her friend in a way that suggested she had not.

“That’sEòghann.Kindnessto a fault.Unlikeme.”

“Agreed.You’renot nice at all,”Gracesaid. “Thiswhole thing”—she gestured at the empty whisky glasses and half-eaten food tray—“incredibly rude.”

“So rude,”Wesagreed. “HowamIsupposed to go back to drinking beer and appletinis now?”

“A thousand apologies,”Bryansaid, though he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

“Seriously.”Sheoffered him a shy smile. “Thanksfor the sensory overload.”

“I’ll give you one to take home,” he promised, and she clapped her hands giddily.

“You going to stay up and write?” she askedGrace, unfolding herself from her stool and stretching languidly.

“Depends.Yougoing to bed?”

“I’m going to getinbed.”

The two shared a look laden with meaning thatBryancouldn’t unpack.

“I’m probably too tipsy to write, butI’llstay up awhile.”

“I was going to make a fire,”BryantoldGrace. “You’rewelcome to join me if you won’t be too cold.”

---