The Dating Plan(17)
She couldn’t go through that emotional roller coaster ever again.
? 7 ?
LIAM pulled open the door to the Rose & Thorn, an Irish pub in the Mission. Managed by his cousin, Ethan, it was a great little neighborhood dive bar first, Irish pub second, and had been his favorite place to relax when he visited the city. Now that he was back permanently, it had become a second home.
He paused on the threshold to check out the small stage where he could find anything from a barbershop quartet to a Marilyn Manson cover band belting out the tunes. Tonight, a small jazz band was performing their set, creating the perfect mood with the dimmed lights and cozy atmosphere. Exposed brick walls, plank wood floors, Irish décor—everything from carved Celtic Trinity knots to historical maps—and a big stone fireplace gave the pub authentic charm.
Breathing in the scents of hops and barley, he felt the tension ebb from his body as he grabbed the last seat at the bar. Sounds from the crackling fire and clinking glasses thrummed like a pulse beneath the low hum of chatter. For a few blissful hours he could forget about Brendan and the will, the houseful of relatives he didn’t really know, the end of the distillery, and the emptiness in his heart from the loss of his grandfather.
“Hey, stranger.” Rainey Davis, the head bartender, looked up from the dishwasher where she was stacking glassware. She was wearing her usual Kiss Me I’m Irish tank top so people would overlook her Texas drawl, her red-gold hair a tumble of curls down her back. “Ethan got in a shipment of Middleton Very Rare this afternoon. You want a taste?”
“Fill up a glass and keep pouring until I fall down.”
“Bad day at the office?” She pulled a bottle from the case on the floor.
“Bad week overall.”
“Then I’d better drink with you.” She poured two glasses and passed one over to Liam. “What should we toast?”
“To John Murphy, founder of Murphy & Sons Distillery, who died doing what he loved after he drowned in a vat of partially distilled spirit . . .”
“My kind of guy.”
“And to my grandfather, Patrick Murphy, who is soon to be turning in his grave.”
They clinked glasses and Liam took a sip of the smooth, rich liquid. Peppery spices slowly began to soften, followed by a sweetness that was a mix of licorice, barley sugar, and a hint of honey, edged with a touch of sherbet. The finish was slow to fade. As he savored the spices, he added a drop of water to the glass.
“My grandfather taught me that trick,” he said when Rainey frowned. “He said it mutes the alcohol and allows the other flavors to come forward.”
“Ethan told me your grandfather passed away.” Rainey refilled his glass. “Were you guys close?”
“We’d just reconnected,” Liam said. “He owned a whiskey distillery in Napa and I spent a lot of time there with him when I was a kid.”
“You never mentioned it before.” She took another sip of her drink. “What’s the name? I’ll make sure I have a few bottles for you next time you come in.”
“Murphy & Sons.” He drained his glass. “It’s mine now. Or at least it would be if I had a wife.”
“I guess he didn’t know you very well.” Rainey had seen Liam leave with a different woman almost every time he’d come to the pub. She didn’t judge, but she didn’t pull any punches, either.
“He did know me,” Liam said. “After we reconnected it was like we’d never been apart. We had a lot in common—same sense of humor, same political views, and even the same taste in whiskey. We had some issues—mostly because of my dad—but we were able to put them aside. I thought I’d found someone in the family who actually understood me.”
“Are you talking about Grandpa?” Ethan joined Liam at the bar. Two years older, tall and broad-shouldered like all the Murphy men, his dark hair was long, tethered in a loose ponytail, and his blue eyes were set in a rough, craggy face. He was the only son of Liam’s uncle Peter, who had died when Ethan was young. “I got a letter that he’d left me some money. I’m going to use it to fix up the bar, maybe take another trip to Ireland.”
Liam nodded. “He left me the distillery on the condition that I’m married by my next birthday, and stay married for a year. Brendan is furious. The distillery usually goes from eldest son to eldest son. I guess Grandpa decided to change the tradition because our father turned his back on the family business. Not only that, he expressed a wish that I continue the legacy by having kids.”
“I guess he wanted to make sure there were some little Murphys running around to carry on the family name.” Rainey snickered. “Maybe you should find yourself a wife real quick.”
“I’ve been through all my contacts.” Liam pulled out his phone and placed it on the counter. “Unfortunately, I’ve burned a lot of bridges.” He sighed. “I can’t do mail-order brides or green-card marriages in case something goes wrong, or they get attached, or they take half of the distillery when we get divorced after the year is up. The risk of involving someone I don’t know is just too high.”
“You need someone you trust,” Ethan mused. “What about someone you work with? Or a childhood friend?”
Liam swirled his drink around his glass. “I bumped into a woman from way back the other day at a conference. Her name is Daisy. She’s the sister of my best friend from high school. I thought maybe she could help me out, but we parted on bad terms ten years ago, and she made it clear that she still hates me.” He drained his glass and pushed it across the counter for a refill.