Whiskey Prince Page 42

Something in my chest lurches before I glance over at her. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

She shakes her head, a worried look on her face. “Never had the time. Sorry, that’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, not at all. It’s just I don’t want to rush you into anything, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to date me because I want you to.”

She laughs. “I am not dating you because you want me to. I am doing it because I want to. All I know is that I want to see you, I get giddy when you text me, and I love being around you. So that has to mean something. If it means we are together, then we are… and I’m okay with that. For a first boyfriend, I think I hit the jackpot,” she says with a wink that hits me straight in my gut.

Suddenly stopping the car, I reach over, taking her beautiful face in my hands before smothering her with a kiss. She responds the way I want her to, melting to my touch. As our kiss deepens, I find myself completely immersed in her. I am utterly gone when her lips touch mine, and I’m curious to see what will happen once we take it to the next step. Not saying that we are anywhere near ready for that but, of course, my body is. But I have to control that, even if it is the hardest thing I’ll ever do.

Pulling my mouth from her, I kiss the side of her mouth before sitting straight in my seat. Pulling at the crotch of my jeans to adjust, I let out a breath. “You kiss like a dream, Amberlyn.”

I glance over at her and she is blushing, the color so beautiful it takes my breath away. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod.

“You’re not too bad yourself, big guy,” she says, sending me a cheesy grin. I laugh.

“Okay, enough before I ravage you and I don’t get to give you the tour.”

She smiles innocently as she giggles. “You’re the one that attacked me.”

“Yup, sure did,” I agree as I bring the car back on the road. Within minutes, with my hand securely in hers, I pull into my spot at the distillery. Getting out, I come around to help Amberlyn out as one of the workers comes up, like they always do.

“Sir, should I fetch Cathmor?”

I shake my head as I notice that he is the same guy that has been working for me for a year, and I don’t even know his name. How sad. “No, not today. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.”

The man looks at me, surprised, before answering, “Matthew.”

I hold out my hand. “Matthew, thank you, but not today. I have to take her home afterwards.”

He shakes my hand slowly, his eyes full of bewilderment, and I smile. “Sounds good, sir. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you.”

As we walk in, I am thankful my da works in the offices and not in the distillery. I don’t want to introduce him to Amberlyn yet. I’m afraid she’ll run the other way once she meets him. I know everyone is watching me and more than likely, he’ll know within seconds that I am here—with a girl—but for right now, I’ll enjoy the way she looks with the stone wall behind her, how she’s smiling, and how fuckin’ gorgeous she looks in my favorite place.

I didn’t realize how much I was going to enjoy having her here. As we walk through the distillery, I explain how to make the whiskey and what we do. She seems very interested and hangs on every word I say.

“So it takes three years for the grain to be ready?”

I nod. “Yup and the grain has to be grown in Irish ground for it to be considered Irish whiskey. Since that is the only thing we make, that’s the only way it works, but some places can outsource. We do not though. We are strictly Irish.”

“No way. I would have never guessed, being in an Irish distillery,” she jokes. I chuckles as she leans into me.

Wrapping an arm around her, I take her to the malting room and explain the process. A lot of our workers are working hard, turning over the barley. “This is a constant process. They are in here twenty-four hours, for eight to twenty-one days, depending on the germination. Kane has it down to a science. That’s why he is the boss in here. I used to do this when I was kid.”

“Looks like fun,” she says with wide eyes. “Hard though.”

“No, not at all. Come on.”

“Huh? What?”

“Come do it with me,” I say, pulling her along. She comes willingly, smiling as we reach for rakes leaning against the wall. Picking a section that doesn’t look as if anyone has gotten to it, I show her how to rake the barley over and over again. She catches on quickly and soon she is laughing, just enjoying the process. I love how she lives. How she jumps in with no cares, no worries—she just lives. She is so happy, and it’s mind boggling with all the tragedy she’s been through.

When we are done, we clean up what mess we made before heading to the malting room, the grinding room, the brewing room, then the aging room, until we are in the distillation room.

“This is my favorite room.”

She looks around before glancing back at me and asks with confusion lacing her voice, “Why?”

I try to look at the room through her eyes. It is basically just a room with huge pot stills but to me, it is home. This is where Kane and I would hide from Lena. Where I smoked my first fag. Where I kissed my first girl and drank my first shot of whiskey. I was eleven and my grandda had to hold a bucket to my mouth since I was vomiting so bad. This was my home… my place… and it was unbelievable to share this with her.

“Because I love how quiet it is, and I love how beautiful it is. It also hides my whiskey.”

“Your whiskey?” she asks with a grin.

I nod as I reach for my bottle, bringing it out for her to see. “Yup, took me seven years to brew it.”

“Wow,” she says, taking the bottle from me. “Is there like a barrel of it?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t gotten permission to manufacture it yet.”

She unscrews the top, taking a swig, and then grimaces as she tries to smile. “That’s strong.”

“Yeah, but good right?”

She takes another swig, moves it around in her mouth, making a face as she swallows. Laughing, she hands me the bottle. “I mean yeah, the best whiskey I’ve tried all day.”

Pride flushes through me as I lay the bottle down. I know she isn’t lying or teasing me, her eyes are sincere and her words mean the world to me. Taking a step towards her, I wrap my arms around her waist with all the intention of showing her how much that meant to me. “Really?”

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