“Yeah. It means we’re in for a fun evening.” She smiled. “I like the way you take all your frustrations out on me. Have you tested your glucose levels, by the way?”
“Half an hour ago. All good.”
“Then let’s go try some whiskey.” She laced her fingers through his, and led him out of the office. Nobody gave their linked hand a second glance, they were used to their relationship by now. The gossip had disappeared about a week after they went public. It was amazing how boring a good relationship was to people.
“You calm me, you know?” His voice was gritty.
“Yeah, I know.” And he calmed her, too. Held her when she cried. Whispered soft words when she was afraid. Made her feel safe in a way she never had before.
When they walked into the still room, it was a hive of activity. With their hands still intertwined, Becca led him to the spirit still and poured out the clear liquid, which contained the distilled water, malted barley, and sugar, heated and condensed before being turned to liquid again. Holding up the glass, she gave it to Daniel, who lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply.
“What do you think?”
“It’s better.” He nodded.
The whiskey was fiery and potent, not yet mellowed by years of resting in an oak barrel. They’d chosen three different barrels for the single malt to age in, a bourbon, a virgin oak, and a burgundy cask. Each would impart a different flavor, and once mature, they’d mix the single malt to the right taste.
“It’s going to be a long wait,” Becca murmured, as the still men worked hard, piping the whiskey to the casks, where they’d be taken to the barrel room to mature. “In seven years I’ll be in my thirties.” She lifted a brow at Daniel. “You’ll be almost forty.”
He shook his head, amused. “Thank you for the reminder.”
“Ah, you’ll age well. You know you will. A few sexy greys at your temple, and maybe some deeper lines.” She grinned. “And you know what they say, you’re only as young as the woman you live with.”
“That’s the only reason I’m keeping you around.”
She arched a brow. “The only reason?”
“That and your baking.” He’d stopped teasing her about having a sweet tooth and started asking when she was making her next batch of treats. She’d known she’d win him over to the dark side in the end.
Even after six months together, he could still make her weak in the knees with a single glance. And though he seemed mollified, she knew he was still a little pissed about the first run. Maybe tonight she’d rile him up a little more.
Let him take it out on the punching bag, then indulge her in her favorite kind of pastime. Turning Daniel Carter’s dark eyes light.
They balanced each other. She was slowly learning that she didn’t have to be a people pleaser, starting with him. And he was learning that she wouldn’t run screaming if he showed his weaknesses. Instead, she’d give him advice that he’d listen to and absorb.
Seven years. That’s how long they had to wait for the whiskey to mature. Maybe longer, if it hadn’t aged to where they wanted it to be. It was all about patience, trusting the process, and not rushing things that didn’t need to be rushed.
Having faith in something you couldn’t see with your naked eye.
And she had faith in them. They’d gotten through the worst night of their lives together, and each day after that had been a step toward the happiest of futures. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. Lawrence and Daniel still hated each other, but at the rare time they saw each other at Nina’s house, they were scathingly polite.
It
helped that Lawrence, along with Nina, had signed his shares to Daniel and Nathan and didn’t have to pretend to show an interest in the distillery any more. And that Melissa had apologized quietly to Becca about her behavior. There’d been no repeat of it since.
Garrett Rhys walked into the still room, blanching when he saw Daniel standing there. He glanced at Becca, and she nodded in an attempt to tell him that Daniel was calmer now.
“Garrett?” Daniel said, putting the glass of distilled whiskey down.
“Yes, Sir?”
“I apologize for biting your head off earlier. It wasn’t your fault. You’re doing a good job.”
Garrett blinked, as though shocked. He wasn’t officially working on the new single malt, preferring to be the lead distiller for their traditional lines until retirement. But he’d stepped in to help Becca while she was in the office calling for more supplies, and had inadvertently taken the heat.
“That’s okay.” Garrett nodded. “Whiskey does that to all of us.”
Daniel smiled. “I appreciate you helping out. How are those grandchildren of yours?”