Page 67 of Grace on the Rocks

She sobered. “SupposeIcould use that excuse?”

He bristled again at the wordexcusebut focused on the purplish evening sky. “Howd’you mean?”

“I haven’t failed to write my book.I’vejust written a million words that aren’t the right ones.NotthatI’vewritten anything close to a million words.”

Bryan frowned.Wasthat what he sounded like to his family?

“You could’ve brought out your laptop,” he snapped, not meaning to sound so testy.

“Is there an outlet?” she asked, squirming around on the seat so her arse brushed against his thigh, sending tremors of heat straight to his groin.

He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. “No.”

“Then there’s no point.Itneeds charging.”

“Ah.”

She studied him a moment, and he knew his face was scrunched up in a resting bastard face, but he couldn’t seem to relax it.

“Thank you,” she said, almost uncertainly. “Forwhat you did tonight.”

And that did it.Thosewords were all it took to finally ease the knot in his brow and loosen the one in his throat. “My… pleasure.”

“Was it true?Aboutthe color altering your perception of the flavor?”

“ ’Course.Whatdo you imagine a dark whisky tastes like?”

“Strong and smoky?”

“And a light one?”

“Smooth and fruity.”

“Exactly.Totalbollocks.Thecolor comes from the aging cask.It’soften enhanced for aesthetics.”

She scoffed.

“You thinkI’mlying?”

“I don’t.Itsounds like something a company would do.”

“Folk want an eye-catching dram as well as a tasty one.”

She watched him for a moment, a little too intently, and his scalp prickled.

“Was it your grandfather who taught you to love it?”

“Not really.Buthe was damn chuffed whenItook the apprenticeship.Hecrowed about it to everyone he met and made sureIknew it too.QuitdrinkingLaphroaigin favor ofArdbegfrom that day on.”Hesmiled to think of those phone calls,GrandadMacso eager to hear every detail about the still and all.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” she said. “Ilost my abuela not long afterDiegoleft home.”Hervoice was thick and low with the weight of her own sadness, and it shouldn’t have done funny things to his belly, but it did.

“To play forCeltic, you mean?”

She shook her head. “Hewent toFloridafirst.Asort of soccer academy there.Theydid take him toScotlandfor some kind of camp, though.That’showCelticknew about him when he went toUNC.”

“That’s when he metTeàrlach.”

Her eyes went wide. “BeforeCeltic?”

---