Whiskey Prince Read online

  Pushing my seat back, I stand, mirroring my da in height at nearly 6’2 as I hold his vexed gaze. I want him to see in my eyes that I want these things, that I don’t want to lose my chance to make our whiskey better than before, but I know all he sees is that I’m not what he was at my age. My ma stands too, her hands out in a pleading way as she says, “Enough, sit down. Let’s finish our dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I say before turning and walking away, despite them calling my name, demanding that I come back. Ignoring them, I walk through the many halls of the O’Callaghan estate. With over sixty rooms, one would think I would get lost, but I’ve had the same room my whole life. I was born in this room, which is bigger than most suites in a five-star hotel. It’s the room that I’ll bring my bride to, and more than likely, my child will be born in there too. That’s the way the O’Callaghan’s do things.

  As much as I would like to say that I don’t want these things, that I want to do something completely different, I don’t. I want the same traditions, this way of life. I want my children to grow the way I have, and then their children to do the same. I love what my family stands for. I love our brand, our whiskey, and I will do anything for the things I love.

  But do I give up my need to have what I desire, what I’ve dreamed about, to have the traditions and life that has been mapped in the stars before my birth? Or do I stand strong and look for what I want? What I deserve? Looking around my empty room, which is filled with furniture older than my grandfather is, I decide that I am not going to find any answers here, so I turn and head for the front of the house.

  On my way, I pass by our housekeepers and, unlike my sister, I do not say a thing, only give a curt nod as I head to the place that brings me peace. When the fresh air hits my face once I am outside, I let out a breath and then take in a deep one, filling my chest with the air of my homeland. Ignoring my car, I make my way to the stables to where my Irish Draught, Cathmor, awaits me. When I enter, my stable hand, Mitch, is putting the saddle on my friend as I run my hand along his white chest, which is speckled with black. He snorts loudly, greeting me with his furry lips on my face.

  “Howya, Cathmor, good lad?”

  He snorts again as Mitch says, “He’s ready. Good day, sir.”

  “Thanks, Mitch,” I reply before mounting Cathmor. When Mitch backs away, I kick Cathmor to go and, like a bullet, he is off. I always love to ride to the distillery rather than drive. There is something about the air hitting me in the face, and the speed of the beast beneath me, that pulls all the stress from my body. It’s relaxing and soothing as he runs through the fields of my home. The trees are in full bloom, the grass so green, and the sky blue. I can feel the lake on my skin from the wind, and I can’t wait to get down there to fish or take my boat on the lake. Summer is my favorite time because of the beauty my land provides me with. Well, my da’s land. In six months’ time, I could have nothing.

  Depressing, I know.

  Kicking Cathmor’s side so he will go faster, I leave that thought in the dust as he takes a sharp turn around the lake that separates our land from that of the Maclaster’s Bed and Breakfast. I’ve never been there but my best friend, Kane, enjoys going to the pub that is a part of their establishment. He tries to get off with the owner’s daughter, Fiona Maclaster. I haven’t seen her yet but from what Kane says, she is easy on the eyes.

  When the large, stone building that holds my family’s dynasty comes into view, I kick into Cathmor again to get there. Not only would being around the smoky and spicy aroma of the whiskey calm me, but I could use a glass too. Stopping before another worker, I dismount Cathmor and run my hand down his beautiful mane, saying, “Good ride, lad, thank you.” To the worker, I say, “Please give him plenty of water. He ran the whole way.” The worker, whose name I notice is Cal from his nametag, nods as I hand him the reins and make my way inside.

  As soon as the aroma of whiskey hits me, I take in a deep breath, savoring it as I look around the room. With large windows letting in the sun, the room is like its outside, stone, with a dark, dungeon feel. Some people may fear the O’Callaghan distillery, but I love it. Have loved it since I was a little boy. Heading to the back distilling room, I shut the door behind me, to give myself privacy, before heading to where my bottle of whiskey is hidden. Passing by the pot stills, I run my fingers along the copper base, lightly, making sure not to burn my fingers. My great-great-great-great-great-grandda learned how to make whiskey from a Scottish pal and because of this, we use pot stills to this day. I’ve always loved the look of them and enjoy this room the best because it reminds me of my history.

  My dynasty.

  Reaching for my bottle, I sit on a stool as I pour only a little at the bottom of a glass. Bringing it to my nose, I take in a deep inhale, the smell of vanilla and caramel overloading my sense before I take a small sip, moving it around in my mouth, savoring the smooth flavor before swallowing it. It has a kick but it’s one I enjoy. This is my bottle, the one I plan to name Cathmor once I have my chance to own the name. My da isn’t adventurous with his whiskey, keeps it to the books. But me, I like mixing and trying new flavors, and I feel that the Cathmor will blow people away. It has taken me five years to find the right flavor and I want my chance to share it with the world, which means one thing…

  I need a wife.

  When the door suddenly opens, I pause with my glass at my lips as my best friend walks in and shuts the door. With a grin on his face, Kane says, “Saw you sneak in here, thought I’d join you.”

  I nod as I place my glass down, picking up one for him before filling and passing it off. Taking it, he holds it against mine before saying, “Cheers.” We both take a good sip, savoring the flavor as we sit in silence.

  “It’s not good to drink alone, Dec.”

  “Da pissed me off.”

  “When does he not?” Kane scoffs. “What did he do this time?”

  I take another sip before shaking my head slowly. “Pressuring me into marrying off.”

  “Again?” Kane asks, even though we both know that Da won’t stop pressuring me until I do what he wants.

  “Yes. I told him I want to marry for love, and he said fall in love then! Says I have six months to get it done, or I lose my chance at the name.”

  A shocked look comes over my mate’s face as he exclaims, “Well, you best do it!”

  “Come off it! I’m trying.”

  “You do no such thing. You don’t go out and meet anyone.”

  “I do too,” I insist. “I go to the pub and meet women all the time.”

  “Fucking shite, ya do! You go to the pub that your da’s mates drink at—not somewhere that would produce a wife.”

  I let out a sigh; Kane is delusional. “I’ve met plenty of women there.”

  “Sure, but have they stuck? No, they are slappers, out for your money. You need to meet a good woman, someone that will stick. Someone to be mad about.”

  He’s right, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Fine, what do you suggest then?”

  “Come out with me. We’ll find you someone.”

  That gives me the shakes. The places that he goes make me nervous. The kind of places that are full of people I don’t know, but they know who I am because of the news or magazines. Because of that, they treat me differently than they do Kane. Then again, Kane is easy to get to know. He is fun and charming. Me, I’m off as he says. I don’t know how to act normal when people I don’t know stare at me or talk to me. My shyness, as Kane has so nicely informed me, is probably the only thing that makes me not like my name, the title I have. It isn’t easy being the Whiskey Prince. Not only does it draw attention to me, but it seems like everyone wants something from me. Sometimes, I come off a little abrasive because of it. Even being my best mate, I can’t tell this to Kane. He wouldn’t understand. His life is easy, ladies flock to him, and no one wants anything but his company. With me, it’s different, and I hate the way it makes me feel.

&
nbsp; “Fine, soon, I’ll go.”

  He lets out a long breath. “Fucking hell, lying like that to your best pal? I can see it in your eyes, your mannerism. Leaving the O’Callaghan land gives you the willies but I’m telling ya, it’s for the best. You don’t want to lose your precious land, do ya?”

  I shake my head as he says, “I know you don’t, so come on, let’s find you a wife.”

  “Fine, I’m going to have to be ossified,” I say as I take a hearty sip of my whiskey, needing the liquid courage.

  Kane lets out a long laugh as he shakes his head. “Not tonight, my friend. You need time to adjust to the idea, savor it, but when you’re ready, I am.”

  I nod because I know that Kane would do just about anything for me, as I would for him. That’s what twenty years of friendship gives you, and I’m thankful for that. But the question is—when will I be ready? As I look around the place that I know I can’t live without, I figure I need to get ready pretty quickly.

  Because I can’t lose this.

  One would think that after a month of living and working in a very busy pub in Ireland that I would at least know what people are saying when they talk to me.

  But I don’t.

  “I plan on being pissy drunk,” one of my patrons informs me with a slight slur or maybe that’s his brogue, not sure, but he seems excited.

  I look back at my cousin, Fiona, confused, and she shakes her head, a smile playing on her pouty lips. “He plans on getting really drunk tonight,” she says in her just-as-thick Irish accent. It has been Americanized though, thankfully, from having an American for a father.

  I look back, meeting the gaze of my elderly patron as I pass him his pint of beer, and smile. His green eyes are shining, and he is wearing an intoxicating grin with a long, scruffy beard. I have to admit, I don’t know him, but I know he is going to make my night. People like this make me love my job. I love meeting the people, talking to them, despite not knowing what they are talking about half the time. I love working in the high pace that the pub requires, and I love working with my cousin. I never would have thought this a month ago, but I love being a bartender!

  “Sounds like a plan!”

  He takes a long pull of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before pointing his finger at me. “American, yes?”

  I nod. “Guilty as charged. Only been here a month.”

  And what a month it has been. Of course, my Aunt Shelia and Uncle Michael have been unbelievably accommodating and have given me a lovely home. It isn’t the home I had with my mom and dad, but they love me as if I were theirs. Shelia is excited to have me, and always talks about how much she loved my dad and mom. It’s refreshing. I think she expected to get some heartbroken girl and while yes, I am heartbroken and I miss them more than ever, I had time to accept that my mother was leaving me. So while I may still have my moments of complete heartbreak, where I sob until I can’t breathe because I miss her, I am able to go on with my life and do as she asked.

  Live each day as if I were dying.

  When I got here, though, I was scared. Shit, I’m still scared, but her letter that my aunt had waiting for me was so comforting. I knew that I had to do everything that the letter said. I also memorized it, remembering everything about it, because I never wanted to forget my mother’s words, her handwriting, or how the letter smelled like soft roses. Just like her favorite perfume that my dad had given her. While she told me repeatedly that she loved me, and that she was sorry she had to leave me, she also gave me three things she wanted me to do this year.

  Take a risk.

  Do something drastic.

  Fall in love.

  While each one scares me to the core, I haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, since I have been settling and adjusting to life here. I don’t even know what I’m going to do though! Take a risk? Yeah, no clue. Do something drastic? Um, a tattoo is drastic, right? Yeah, I can do that as soon as I get over my fear of needles. And fall in love? Is she crazy? All I’ve ever done with a boy is kiss one, and she wants me to fall in love? Jesus, that involves sex, doesn’t it? Since no one has ever been in my pants, that could pose a problem. A huge one! I’m pretty sure I’m the only virgin in Cong, County Mayo, and that is just downright sad. My mom is asking for a lot, but I can’t help but love her more for each word she wrote. She wants me to start over, she wants me to be happy, and I have every intention of doing that.

  I miss my home, but I believe in what my mom is doing here. Plus, Uncle Felix has everything under control. Surprising, I know. We stay in contact weekly. He is living in my home, packing up my parent’s things, and moving his in because he is starting a new life in Tennessee. If I come back after the year, then he’ll move out and find his own place but if I don’t, he plans to buy the house from me.

  I never expected him to be so helpful. This transition has been great, and I think that’s because of my mom’s hard work. She knew what she was doing. I have to trust her, and I know I have to leave all caution in the wind. Something I’ve never done. I’ve always been the one to be ahead on things, caring for my mother, paying all the bills on time or even days before. I have never just lived, and this is my chance. My chance to be me—Amberlyn Reilly.

  Not sure who that is, but I am excited to get to know her.

  The other great thing about this transition has been that my cousin and I have become instant best friends. Completely awesome, right? I totally love her. She is the sister I never had and simply breathtaking. Fiona is a year older than I am, with sweet, bluish-green eyes and long, brownish-golden hair with high cheekbones covered in light freckles, and pouty lips. She is stunning, slim, but thick in all the right places. The boys go gaga for her in the pub, but she ignores them all. She is my lifesaver, especially when the older customers with the thick brogues come in. I have no clue what they are saying to me, but she’s ran the pub for so long that she has no problem getting them what they need while I stand there like a fish out of water.

  I don’t let it derail me though. I am on a mission to make a new life. Hopefully, while I’m at it, I’ll catch on to this language.

  “Céad Míle Fáilte!”

  That’s the name of the Bed and Breakfast, but that doesn’t mean I know what it means. I glance over to a smiling Fiona and she says, “He is saying welcome, like a thousand welcomes.”

  “Oh, awesome, thanks! It’s wonderful to meet you!” I gush as I go to the next patron and the next. My night is busy, but that’s what I’ve come to expect from the Céad Míle Fáilte. It’s the best, and the busiest, pub/B&B in all of Mayo, as numerous people have told me every night.

  “He’s here,” Fiona says as she passes by me. I glance up from the pint I’m filling to look at her as she lays down a plate of food for one of my customers. Her face is flush, a grin pulling at her lips.

  I smile as I asked, “Who?”

  “Kane Levy,” she says out the side of her mouth. “Over at the end of the bar.”

  I look over my shoulder but before I can focus on anything, she smacks me in the arm.

  “Don’t look!” she scolds, and I laugh as I pass a pint to a college guy. He smiles his thanks and throws five euros in my tip jar.

  “Thank you,” I say before turning to Fiona. Before I can say anything, the college guy says, “You’re quare good looking; will ya be my missus?”

  Without me even having to look at her, Fiona says, “He wants to marry you.”

  Now see, this is one of those moments I could take a risk, or do something drastic, maybe even have the potential to fall in love, but the thought of doing any of them with this extremely cute guy has me wanting to hide under the bar. He is obviously drunk and super cute with big, brown eyes, but not my type. Call me picky but I want someone that is going to make me shiver with need, and I’m not shivering. So with a smile, I say, “Not today.”

  He goes to say something more but Fiona puts her hand up. “Brian, we’ll be having none of that. Go on now; she’s no
t interested.”

  He doesn’t say anything. His face falls with rejection as he turns with his beer and heads to the table where his friends are waiting. Fiona watches him and when he sits, she turns back to me. “Be on the lookout for that one. He is quick to want to marry someone. Asks me like every month.”

  “Oh, I’m glad to see he isn’t selective.”

  She laughs as she nods. “Total eejit. Don’t pay him a bit of heed, but as I was saying, he’s here.”

  “I know, but you won’t let me look!” I laugh, but I can’t help but be as giddy as she is. She is grinning ear to ear, eyes bright as she watches him from over my shoulder.

  “He is so yummy. Look at those eyes.”

  I roll mine as I remind her, “I can’t! You won’t let me.”

  “Fine, go reach for that um, jug and look,” she allows. I shake my head as I turn, reaching for the jug she pointed at before looking down at where a sinfully hot man sits. Oh, goodness. No wonder she is all giddy. Dark-as-night hair, deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and squared jaw that is covered in dark stubble. When his eyes meet mine, I turn quickly, breathless as I look into Fiona’s eyes. “Fucking hell! He is beautiful!”

  “I know! He comes in every other night, and I haven’t had the balls to say anything.”

  “You need to. He is smoking hot!”

  Fiona pauses her gaze on him, and then looks down at me. “You go chance your arm with him. He gives me the chills and I feel stupid when I try to talk to him, but he’s checking out your arse. Go on.”

  I shake my head quickly. My heart speeds in my chest as my hands quickly cover my ass. Don’t ask me why I do that—I have no clue. “No way. He is way too much man for me.”

  Her head falls to the side, her eyes boring into mine. “What does that mean?”

  I wave her off with a nervous laugh. “Don’t worry about it. He’s obviously someone you want to talk to, and we all know the young guys come in for you.”