Page 45 of Wild Scottish Love
“What? Being poor?” Lia laughed and tucked a curl behind her ear, her eyes getting a faraway look as she thought back to her childhood. “For a long time, I don’t think I knew any better. I mean, when you’re a kid you just…exist. You don’t think about money or how food shows up or where clothes come from. It just…arrives. But when my brothers entered the picture is when I really began to understand the depth of what being poor meant. I…well, I had to kind of raise my brothers because my parents were working so much to make ends meet. God, I don’t know how they did it.”
“Five kids and they both worked? Yeah, I can imagine that was tricky.”
“To say the least. If there was no food at home, I’d walk down the street to the corner gas station with money from the emergency stash. It was there I really learned how to budget and stretch food between four growing boys. You’d be amazed how far you can stretch some instant ramen packets. Man, they could eat.” Lia shook her head at the memory. “Then, of course, high school is when everyone really starts judging each other. I never had new clothes. Thrift store clothes only and, trust me, the other kids let you know it. Granted, I got pretty good at spotting quality pieces that would stand the test of time, but that didn’t always mean I was in fashion with what was popular at the moment.”
“Kids can be ruthless. I’m so glad we didn’t have to deal with picking out our clothes. It sounds like a lot of pressure,” I said, shifting so I could see more of her lovely face.
“You didn’t…oh, did you have uniforms?” Lia asked, and I nodded. “Private school boy.”
“Aye, but it’s the same with public schools here. Everyone wears a uniform,” I explained.
“Really? I didn’t know that. Only the fancy schools have uniforms back home,” Lia said. “Huh, I wonder how that would have been. Are uniforms expensive? Or are they given to kids in the public schools?”
“I…I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. Clothing myself as a child had never been something I’d had to think about. Clothes just appeared in my closet, and anything with a hole or a stain disappeared and was replaced with something new by our housekeeper.
“You’re a rich boy, aren’t you?” Lia gave me a small smile, as though to say she’d forgive me this sin. “Like, aside from the business you own. You grew up with money?”
“Aye, my parents are well off.” I stood, uncomfortable with talking about money, but I figured it was only fair. If Lia could talk freely about her lack of it, I had to share what it was like to have an abundance of it. Picking up the lasagna dish, I slid it in the oven, and then topped up our wine glasses before sitting back down. “Very well off, actually. We had a housekeeper, a nanny, a chef, and a gardener. I rarely saw my parents, except at dinnertime, where I was quizzed on my marks at school. We took several holidays a year, in which the nanny accompanied us and babysat me while my parents attended parties and excursions. I never had to think about what something cost until I started my own company. Trust me, it was a rude awakening. While it was a sharp learning curve, I’m happy to say that I didn’t make a proper mess of it all, and Common Gin was born.”
“Why Common Gin?” Lia turned fully to me, a considering look in her eyes. I couldn’t help myself and reached out to twist a tendril of her hair around my finger. Soft. I tugged it lightly and the curl sprung back from my touch. Resilient. Like Lia.
“Why the gin or why the name?”
“Both, I suppose,” Lia said.
“Gin because my family business is in whisky. Fancy whisky. For posh people with money. Or the kind of bottle you give on a very special occasion, and you drink from it once a year. It’s pretentious and snooty. Granted, whisky is a much-loved part of Scotland’s history, and I dearly enjoy a wee dram myself. But when I realized what I wanted to do, I wanted something that was more accessible. A drink that everyone could enjoy easily. No barrier to entry,” I explained, my tone soft.
“Oh, Munroe,” Lia said, understanding crossing her face. She pursed those kissable lips. “You wanted a friendly drink, didn’t you?”
“Aye, I did. The name was just a play on that song…you know the one that sings about living like common people?”
“I do, actually.” Lia laughed.
“My whole life I was tucked away like an afterthought. I guess I didn’t want to live up in the tower anymore, so to speak.”
“You wanted to come slum it with the rest of us,” Lia said, tapping her elbow to mine. “Welcome to the gutter.”
“Hardly the gutter.” I laughed. “You’re a celebrated chef, and I just paid off the loan I took out to start my company. I think we’re doing just fine.”
“You didn’t use your own money for your company?” Lia’s eyebrows rose.
“My parents set up a trust for me, which I’ll come into when I’m forty. They balked at my choice to go into gin, and tried, desperately, to woo me over to their company. Honestly, I couldn’t understand why they were suddenly so interested in what I was doing after a lifetime of all but ignoring me. I suppose it didn’t look good for their brand, to have their only son start a lowly gin company. So, instead of groveling, I applied for a business loan and I’m happy to say I finally paid it off.”
“Hardly lowly.” Lia shook her head. “And good for you. It’s not easy to follow your heart. You lose a lot of people along the way.”
“I’m not sure I ever really had them,” I said before I could hold the thought back. Lia reached out and squeezed my arm, and my skin heated underneath her touch. Our eyes caught, and Lia leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine in the sweetest of kisses.
I wanted to drag her from the stool and carry her into the bedroom and sink into her softness. With Lia, I was home. I wanted, no needed that connection, and everything inside me calmed when her lips were on mine.
The timer dinged, and I pulled back. As much as I wanted to make a move on her, I was reminded that she hadn’t eaten that day. I would first take care of her, and then, maybe…well, we’d see how the night went.
“Are you ready for the most enthusiastic Scottish lasagna you’ve ever had?” I asked, leaning back.
“I cannot tell you how ready I am.” Lia laughed, and the sound danced through me.
“We can eat at the table or at the counter,” I said, nodding to where I’d put flowers at the small dining table.
“Table it is. Can I help?” Lia asked.