Her visible pain stabs me in the chest. “I’m so sorry.”

She tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you. But that’s the reason I’m here. Never in a billion years did I think I’d come here without them, my parents, I mean. My dad passed away when I was twelve.”

Fuck, that’s unthinkable! This poor woman. Both her parents? How is she standing, smiling, and living a life? I would be lost. I love my parents. Yes, they are always on me, but we are loving a family. We need each other. I don’t understand it. Most of all, I’m impressed by her. She is strong. That’s easy to see, and it amazes me. “Wow, I’m sorry again.”

“Thanks, but she wanted me to start a new life. My parents grew up here. My aunt Shelia is my dad’s sister. My mom had this whole plan about me coming here and trying something new. She was afraid I’d get stuck if I stayed in the States. I’m pretty confident she was right.”

“That’s amazing. Fair fucks to ya for taking the risk. That’s a lot to take when you are hurting, I’d think.”

“Yeah, it sucks. I miss them, so much, but I’m happy with my choices of coming here.”

I am too, I wanted to say, but instead I just nod before taking a bite of my bacon. When I look back up at her, she is watching me, her eyes boring into mine. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, yeah, go ahead.”

I fully expect her to ask me why they call me the Whiskey Prince, but to my surprise, she asks, “What’s up with the beanie? It’s hot out!”

I laugh as I look down, shaking my head. My cheeks are warm and my heart is pounding, but I feel so alive. Looking up, I say, “I don’t like my hair.”

“Why? It’s so cute!”

“That’s why—people think it’s cute. Cute is not a manly word,” I say, deadpan, but she just laughs before reaching out and pulling it off my head. I go to reach for it but she puts it on her on head, a grin on her face that is nothing less than intoxicating.

“Stop, you don’t need this. I like your hair, and I’m sure the rest of the world will too.”

I want to reach for it off her head but I have to admit, she looks pretty fuckin’ cute with it on. So I return to eating. “I don’t care if they like me. Sometimes, I wish they’d stop staring.”

“Oh goodness, me too! I don’t get it. Why are you such a big deal to them?” she asks, but then, before I can answer, she says, “Sorry if that came off rude!”

I shake my head, my mouth forming in a grin. I’ve never smiled this much. It’s weird, but exhilarating all at the same time. I like the way she makes me feel. I like the way her eyes stay locked with mine. I like her. Placing my fork down, I say, “It’s always been this way. My great-great-grandda started it. He wanted to be admired for what he did around here, and people flocked to him. They made a big deal when he got married, when he had kids, and then it just carried on and carried on. When I was born, my grandda called me his little Whiskey Prince and it stuck. I don’t like it but it is what it is, I guess.”

“Wow, that’s neat.”

I shrug. “I don’t think so. I think it’s weird.”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you know I’m not like everyone else, and I don’t plan to treat you any differently.”

“It’s ’cause you’re a Yank,” I say with a wink, and she grins.

“Yup, but remember—take that to your grave,” she says, returning the wink.

“Will do.”

“Good. Well, I hate to say this, but I have to get some stuff done before my family gets back for dinner rush, so I’m going to actually work while you eat, okay?”

“Sure. I’m almost done, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She reaches for a bucket, but looks back at me to say, “But maybe you can come back?”

Breathlessly, I say, “Sure, that’d be grand.”

She sends me a wide grin before turning to start cleaning. I want to say more, maybe ask her to dinner, or anything really, just to see her, but I don’t. Instead, I finish my food and my pint as I watch her. She has a great ass, round and full in her fitted blue jeans. I also love the way her hair falls down her back. Knowing if I don’t leave, I never will, I lay some money on the bar before standing up. She is over by the window, wiping down tables, and she looks up at me when I push the stool back under the bar.

“You outta here?”

“Yeah, I have to get back to work.”

Walking towards her, I stop in front of her as she smiles up at me. “I didn’t know you work. What do you do?”

“I push paper mainly, but I help run the whiskey business.”

“That’s cool. I bet it’s awesome.”

“It really is,” I say. Silence falls between us as we stare into each other’s eyes.

“All right, well, until next time.”

It would be sooner than she thought but I didn’t want to sound like an eejit, so I just ask, “Can I get my hat back?”

She laughs as she pulls it off her head. “Totally forgot I had it. Here ya go, but I promise you don’t need it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say as I put it back on, tucking my hands in my pocket afterwards. I rock back on my heels, not wanting to leave, but knowing I need too. She has work to do, and I do too. I’ve been hiding out for too long as it is, and Kane is probably blowing my phone up. “Okay, so I’ll go.”

“It was good seeing ya again, Declan.”

“Yeah, you too, Amberlyn. Have a good day.”

“You too,” she says as I reach for the door and push out of it.

Once outside, a grin is on my face and I know that I can’t wait to see her again.

Declan has been in almost every day for the last two weeks. He usually comes during my dead hour when Fiona is out doing errands, and I love sharing that time with him. We don’t say much, usually just small talk while he eats and I clean, but it’s fun. He’s quiet and because of that, I find him intriguing. I want to pick his brain, find out what makes him tick, but every time I go to do just that, I feel like an asshole because what is that going to do for me? It’s not like I can date him. He has a fiancée, even though he has never mentioned her. You would think he would have by now but he hasn’t, which makes me wonder why, but I can’t bring myself to ask. So I have to keep this completely innocent, but it’s hard because I want more.