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“A Malbec, please,” I said, turning back to Graham, amusement replacing my earlier awkwardness. “And a bowl of the hearty vegetable soup with a cheese toastie on the side.”
“Ah, a classic. I’ll get you sorted out,” Graham said, already filling my glass of wine.
“It’s a proboscis, you bloody eejit!” a man shouted in the back and Agnes turned to me with a smile. Picking up her glass, she tapped it against mine.
“Welcome to Loren Brae.”
CHAPTERFIVE
Munroe
My old shyness crept in and hit me across the head like a bag of bricks.
Who was this gorgeous woman who strode confidently through the door of the pub, all tough edges and rounded corners? The lift of her chin and the edgy leather jacket contrasted with the uncertain look in her large brown eyes. She worried her bottom lip, and I found myself transfixed on her perfect pink mouth, wondering what it would be like to taste her. Her riot of tawny curls said Scottish, but her accent said American. I wondered what had brought her to Loren Brae.
And how I could keep her here.
The thought was so foreign to me that I turned away, burying my face in my glass while the pub argued the anatomy of bees. Despite myself, my gaze kept getting pulled back to this lovely woman, like a bee drawn to the prettiest flower. I mentally rolled my eyes at the image. What was with the bees tonight?
I hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to her yet, though I’d caught her name as she’d introduced herself to Agnes.
Lia.
It was a pretty name, like the soft tinkling of fairy chimes in the wind, and I committed it to memory so when I did speak with her, I wouldn’t make the impasse of calling her the wrong name. I met so many new people in my line of work that oftentimes I would miss the first few minutes of a conversation after they introduced themselves because I was busy trying to make sure I’d remember their names.
I kept to myself, letting the conversation flow around me, nursing my Guinness as I watched Lia out of the corner of my eye. She’d already caught me staring once, so I had to try and not be a creep, though all I wanted to do was look at her. Which…sounded creepy even in my own head. Sighing, I turned so my back was to her and tried to listen to the man next to me talk about flowers that would attract pollinators.
Lia was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I couldn’t remember ever having such a visceral reaction to someone before, and I swear I could feel my heart thumping harder in my chest when I looked at her. My hands were sweaty on my glass, and I had to work to concentrate on what the man was saying to me before I made a total fool of myself and asked this woman to run away with me. If I changed her out of the leather jacket and put her in a sweeping green dress, she would be the spitting image of a Fae warrior queen in one of my favorite fairy tales. I was a nerd to my core, loving all things board games, fantasy, and sci-fi. My love of reading had carried over into adulthood, and I often found myself consumed with the latest fantasy series. Much like the argument about bee tongues, I could argue for hours over the Fermi Paradox.
“How’s business then, Munroe?” Agnes pulled me back to her side, and I turned, my eyes lighting on Lia before skimming down to Agnes.
“Well enough, I suppose.”
“More than well enough,” Graham said, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “My mate here is looking to open a distillery in Loren Brae.”
At that, the arguments about bee tongues skidded to a halt, and exclamations rose from around the bar. Instantly, I was peppered with questions, and I narrowed my eyes at Graham.
“Ever heard of privacy, lad? My publicist is going to kill you.” Usually, we drew up a detailed launch plan before announcing we were building in a new location. There were many aspects to consider before investing in a new distillery, none of which I’d had a chance to brief my team on regarding Loren Brae. To say this was jumping the gun was an understatement.
“Och, lad. It’s just us mates here.” Graham rolled his eyes. Raising his voice, he turned to the pub. “I’d better not hear any talk of this in the papers. Munroe needs to keep his publicist in a job, or her kids will go hungry. Understood?”
“Sure, that’s grand. Make me look like a jerk who’ll fire his publicist if this gets out.” I buried my nose in my pint.
“What kind of distillery?” Lia spoke directly to me, and I almost choked on my Guinness. I wasn’t expecting interaction so soon after she’d refused my drink, and I’d convinced myself I’d blown my shot by coming on too strong by offering to buy her a drink when I’d not even met her yet. It was out of habit, really, as liquor was my business. Typically, whenever I went into a pub, I’d offer free gin drinks to anyone in the crowd, as it was just good business.
“Gin,” Agnes answered for me and slapped me on the back, furthering my embarrassment.
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Lia’s face when she realized she’d unintentionally insulted me, and a pretty pink flush swept across her dusky skin. I wanted to jump in and reassure her that everything was fine with us, but I couldn’t quite seem to get my mouth working properly. It was astounding to me, really, that after all these years of running my own company, a healthy number of girlfriends, and even some public speaking events under my belt, that my old shyness could still come back to cripple me on occasion.
“Nae bother, hen. It’s whisky you’re wanting if you want a proper Scottish drink,” Graham piped up, holding a bottle of Macallan in front of Lia, deliberately needling me.
“I’m good, thanks.” Lia gestured with her wine glass, and I cheered up. At least she was rejecting Graham as well as me. “Why do you keep calling me a chicken?”
The three of us turned and stared at Lia, and then I burst out laughing. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I realized she thought I was laughing at her. I hurried to correct her, but Agnes beat me to it.
“Och, we do forget that others don’t use the term hen to refer to women, don’t we? Honestly, Lia, it’s not used that often really. We call our bachelorette parties ‘Hen Parties’, so there’s that, I suppose. But Graham here helps with the castle tours, and he also gets loads of tourists through the pub. He slips into a few of the stereotypical Scottish phrases more than the rest of us, just to put it on a bit for the ladies since his accent is the only thing he’s got going for him. You ken?” Agnes arched a brow, and I pressed my lips together to bite back a smile. These two had been at each other’s throats for years, and whenever they got into it, I felt like I was home.
“I beg to differ, darling. It’s my accentandmy dangerous good looks that the ladies fall for,” Graham countered, flashing a wink at Lia.
