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Doc shifted in his recliner to face me more fully. “So what if you could find an investment option with Devlin that would be just as exciting for Bruce but would save the pub from being majority owned by Ames?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering. I can’t see how Bruce truly wants to own a historic pub in Ireland as an investment. Honestly, I think he took a trip over there, liked the feel of the place and the taste of their custom brews, and wanted a piece of it. It’s more of a pet project than an actual serious addition to his portfolio. So how do I finagle it so he gets his pet project without messing with the ownership of this historic pub?”
Grandpa stood up and stretched. “Let me grab us some thinking juice,” he said with a wink.
“Bailey’s please,” Doc called out with a grin. “On ice if it’s not too much trouble, sweetheart.”
“Anything for you, dearest,” Grandpa teased. “Hudson?”
“Same. Thanks.”
I turned to Doc. “What about beer distribution rights in North America?”
“Does the brewery have capacity for that?” he asked. “You’d have to research the profitability of it. Make sure it’s as good of an investment if you’re going to recommend it instead of the acquisition.”
“Are you going back over there?” Grandpa asked.
“I don’t think so. I have to give my report to Bruce on Monday and see what happens. On the one hand, if the acquisition happens, I might get to go back over there and it will go a long way toward helping me make VP at Ames. But if it doesn’t, then the Murrays will get to retain more control over their family business which would make Ch… them happier. So… I kind of have to hope the acquisition falls through. But that will mean I don’t get to go back to Ireland again.” I shrugged. “At least that family will have retained ownership of their legacy. That’s more important than me making vice president anyway.
“I wonder if I could come up with other ideas in case Bruce doesn’t like the distribution one,” I mused. “Something that would be a win-win for both Ames Investments and the Murray family.”
Doc scrambled out of the recliner and came over to pull me into his arms. He smelled familiar, and his hug was comforting.
“You’re a good man, Hudson Wilde,” he murmured into my hair. “Not everything can be solved tonight. Now head to bed and get some sleep. You’ve got to be dead on your feet. No problems get solved on a low tank of fuel and sleep.”
He was right. After wishing them both good night, I made my way to the guest room and fell into bed. I’d only have Sunday to get my brain together for work the following day, so I needed all the sleep I could get.
Despite my best intentions, I fell asleep to memories of my hands and lips skating across creamy skin sprinkled with freckles. The vision of Charlie’s freckled face smiling at me from across the Fig and Bramble bar made me feel safe and comfortable. Happy.
While I slept, the four-leaf clover I’d found outside the pub sat on the bedside table safely ensconced in a tiny keepsake jar I’d found in the airport gift shop in Cork.
16
Charlie
Charlie’s Words To Live By:
Never trust a bloody Yank.
“Fuck him! No seriously. Fuck. Him,” I bit out. “I hate him. Just another corporate wanker who’s out to make rich people richer on the backs of small business. I should have known.”
Cait’s eyes were wide as saucers as she joined me on my little sofa with two mugs of tea. We’d just retreated to my cottage after a horrific and enlightening meeting with Uncle Devlin in which we’d been told about some changes happening around here. I’d have been throwing back shots of something stronger if Cait hadn’t announced her pregnancy a few days before. She’d made me promise not to tempt her with the good stuff.
“Shh, you’re making my headache worse, and you’re scaring Mama.”
I reached my hand down to soothe my pup. “Sorry, sweetie,” I cooed to my best girl. “Next time you see Uncle Dev, feel free to nip at his man candy to make up for ever giving Hudson Wilde the time of fucking day.” I looked up at my sister with narrowed eyes. “And so help me, if I ever see that arsehole around here again, don’t be surprised if you hear a scream come from over the edge of the cliffs.”
I was desperate for this new anger to overtake the heartsick feeling that had been gnawing at me since I’d left Hudson in Cork the month before. Since I was a bloody idiot who couldn’t help but fall for all the wrong people, I’d allowed the man to steal my heart and leave me gasping with loneliness since his absence. Finding out he was responsible for some American investor to cheapen my family’s history by trying to franchise Fig and Bramble… well, that was just the icing on the bloody cake. Typical. Just my fucking luck.
