by Sara Rider
By the time Sunday evening rolled around, Nora finally realized why she’d allowed herself to be so easily bullied by Gemma, Rose, and Annie into hosting book club every month. As bad as it was, at least she was in her comfort zone. Her home, her food, her control. But tonight was a whole other story. Nothing was in her control. She didn’t know any of the people at the Books and Brews club. What if she wore the wrong outfit? What if the people at this book club were just as standoffish? What if she didn’t fit in?
Even the idea of a book club at a bar sounded so absurd, she had trouble believing it was a real thing.
This was ridiculous. She was an adult with excellent hygiene, above average intelligence, and proper manners. And she actually loved the book the group was discussing.
But what if they thought her questions were silly? Hell, what if it was the wrong book? She groaned and fell back on her mattress. She was relying entirely on Eli’s recollection that the pink cover with looping writing and a happy couple locked in embrace was the same one that the book club happened to be reading.
The knots in her stomach tightened until they ached. This past week had been full of too many ups and downs to handle another disappointment. This event might go wonderfully, but it also might turn out to be another disaster, and she just couldn’t handle that tonight. She was tired, and all she wanted to do was crawl into her sweatpants and eat her weight in kettle corn. She could always go next month. Maybe she’d grow enough confidence by then.
She changed into her favorite sweats and resigned herself to a coward’s way out. Her doorbell rang just as she was about to settle onto her couch with her e-reader. Reluctantly, she dragged herself to the door and opened it.
“Eli? What are you doing here? I thought you were working.”
“I was, but I figured you’d feel better about going to the book club meeting if I gave you a ride.” His eyes scaled up and down the length of her body. “Um, I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is that really what you’re wearing? I mean, I’m all for being comfortable, but it looks like you’ve been using those clothes as a target practice in a meatball throwing competition.”
“They’re my lounging on the couch clothes. I’ve had these since high school.” She gestured to the school logo on the side of her pants.
“You were an athlete?”
“A cheerleader. At least I was in my junior year. I gave it up to focus on my studies.”
He winced and clutched his hands to his heart. “A nerdy cheerleader. I swear you are trying to kill me with that image. Seventeen-year-old emo soccer-playing me would have been all over you in high school.”
“Probably not. I had acne and non-ironic oversized glasses, and my teenage hormones only made my perfectionist streak a million times more intense and overbearing. But I could do a mean splits.” She turned and walked into her kitchen where her earl grey was still steeping, knowing he would follow her.
“Nope. I guarantee teenage me would have found a brainiac teenage you super hot, but I can’t promise the old sweats are going to have the same effect on the folks showing up to the Books and Brews meeting tonight.”
“That’s the problem.” She pulled the teabag out of the steaming mug and tossed it into the compost bin. He watched her with his arms crossed and an expression that made it clear he was prepared to wait however long it took for an answer. “I’ve already made an embarrassment of myself the last time I was at your brewpub. What if nothing I wear is right? What if go there and I don’t fit in again? What if I sit down in someone’s special spot? It’s not easy walking into a room full of strangers and hoping that they like me.”
“You’re overthinking this.”
She cupped her hands around the mug and dropped her head. “That’s what I do. I get anxious and stressed and uptight, and I overthink things until I suck the fun out of life.”
“Or maybe you’re just someone who gives a shit. There’s nothing wrong with that. But there is something wrong with missing out on a good opportunity because you’re scared, especially when I’m here to help.”
“How?”
“You like to be prepared for new situations, right?”
She nodded slowly.
“So let me prepare you. Books and Brews is meant to be a causal event and there’s usually a few drop-ins, but I know most of the regulars. My sister, Julia, is always there. I’ve already told you she’s organized, and that means she always asks the same questions. First, if you could ask the author any question about the book, what would it be? Second, how believable were the character arcs? And third, how hot was the sex?”
Nora’s head jerked up so fast, her brain reverberated against her skull. “Uh…”
He grinned. “Yeah, they pretty much only read romance novels.”
“Just romance? Seriously?”
“Sometimes mystery or sci-fi and that kind of stuff, but I’m pretty sure they only choose those books if there’s hot sex in it.”
“So no highbrow discussion about stodgy books that make me want to poke myself in the eyeball with a rusty fork?”
“I can’t promise you that, but I know they laugh a lot. Clem is pretty serious about books, but she’s not a snob. Just the opposite. She’s a little awkward and shy, but she’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet, and she likes to ask things like ‘how did this book make you feel?’”
Nora nodded. This sounded like something she could handle. Maybe even get excited about.
“And then there’s Lorenzo, who sneaks in chocolate to all the meetings and only likes to ask who in Hollywood would play the characters in a movie version of the book.”
Her stomach sank again. She wasn’t a visual reader. She had no idea who she would cast as Talon and Genevieve. Heck, even if she could think of a rugged, blond, six-foot-four man and a tattooed woman with bright pink hair, that wouldn’t mean they had the right energies for the characters. And even if she could come up with a name, what if the others at the meeting thought it was totally wrong?
He leaned across the counter and cupped his hands around hers, pressing them into the warm mug. “I don’t know where you just went right now, but I know it wasn’t good. All you need to do is relax, drink one of my delicious beers, and talk about a book. Or just sit there and drink one of my delicious beers.”
She groaned. “That’s another problem. I’ve never tasted a beer I liked.”
“Because you haven’t tasted my beer.”
“I did!”
He shook his head with an expression of disgust. “You’ve tasted my radler, which is the best radler in town, but you haven’t tasted my beer. Grain, hops, yeast, water, and my magic touch. Nothing else.”
“Maybe,” she conceded, though she was doubtful. “I don’t know anything about beer. At all. What if I sound stupid when I try to order? What if I order something that I don’t like?” Saying her fears out loud only made them sound silly, yet just the fact Eli was here, listening to her like she was making sense, soothed her anxiety more than any list or pep talk.
“You don’t have to drink beer if you don’t like it, even if my beers are fantastic.”
“I know, but…I want to like it.”
“Why?”
“Because you like it, and we’re friends, so I should learn to like it.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d said the wrong thing because he looked at her like he was just noticing her for the first time. “All right. If you want to learn more, I can give you a crash course right now.” He checked his watch quickly. “We have just enough time for what I have in mind.”
“Which is?”
He grinned. “Do you trust me?”
The answer that came straight from her gut surprised her. “Yes. I do.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
She walked him to the door, curiosity beating in her veins.
He paused quickly on her stoop, then turned around and planted a quick peck on her lips. “One more thing, Princess. This lesson is
going to work a lot better if you’re naked when I come back.”
Eli carefully selected three bottles from his fridge and jogged back over to Nora’s place. He knew the complicated beauty of beer better than most people, but that didn’t mean there was any reason to be afraid of it. Drinking beer was about relaxing and savoring life. Enjoying the people you were drinking with. He just needed to show her that. He’d never met a person he couldn’t find the right beer for. He just had to open her mind to the experience.
He stumbled to a halt in her living room. She wasn’t exactly naked, but she was damn near close. Her tiny, soft blue robe covered her arms and upper thighs, but the loosely tied knot let the fabric drift apart at her chest, hinting at the swell of those small but perfect breasts beneath.
“I gotta admit, I didn’t really expect you to be naked.”
Her eyes widened. “But you said—”
“I know what I said. I just didn’t know that you would listen. Hoped. Prayed. Offered the devil my firstborn son. What changed your mind?”
She laughed. “I didn’t change my mind. I just haven’t figure out what I should wear yet and I figured this robe was better than actually being…naked.”
Biting his tongue went against every smartass, flirtatious instinct he had, but someone needed to stop using the word naked in this conversation. Besides, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Ready for your lesson, professor?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded, absentmindedly running her fingers up and down the edge of her robe. “No, but I do trust you and I really want tonight to go well, so if you think you can help, I’m willing to try.”
God, he had no idea if she knew just how sexy she was. He led her to her couch and set the beers on the coffee table. She winced and pulled out a set of coasters from the storage space below the table and slipped them beneath each of the bottles.
“Right, sorry. Okay, there are two basic types of beer,” he said, using the same professional tone he used on the rare occasions he gave tours of the brewery even though he found himself oddly nervous. “Lagers and ales. The big difference is that lagers are bottom fermented, and ales are top fermented. Lagers are the most popular type of beer in the country, and tend to be simple and easy-drinking. Lagers should be crisp. Refreshing. The kind of beer you reach for on a hot day.”
“Does that mean less respectable?”
He grabbed the bottle of his Lord’s Work Lager and handed it to her. “Nope. There are many ways to enjoy beer and I’m not going to shit on anyone’s experience. Besides, my lager is fucking fantastic.”
She winced and fought back a cough at the first taste, but he’d been in this business long enough not to take it personally.
“You don’t like it?”
“I don’t not like it. I’m just…not used to it.” She took another sip and swallowed it like her esophagus was actively repelling the drink.
She hated it. No matter how much she tried to deny it, her face looked like she’d sucked on a lemon instead of the beer he’d spent over a year of his life perfecting.
“Maybe you need something with more character.” He uncapped an American IPA next. “Ales, as we currently think of them, have been around for thousands of years, and there’s a huge amount of diversity in how they’re made, but you can expect a bit more complex flavor in this one. A little bit fruity. A lot more bitter. The hops are more noticeable in this style of beer. Some people find them too bitter, but the way I see it, it’s kind of like music. No one wants to listen to a happy song when they’re sad. The perfect bitter beer can create the most beautiful harmony with an equally bitter mood.”
“I can’t decide if that sounds delicious or terrible.”
“Don’t judge it by the description. Judge it based on how it tastes.”
She straightened her shoulders like she was readying herself for battle, and took a sip, then sputtered, which turned into a coughing fit. She set the bottle back on the coaster, eyeing it like it was a giant bug. “It’s not…bad.”
Eli rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how much worse this could go. “Okay, last one. This is a porter. It’s thick and rich, but not quite as bitter as the IPA. Don’t be put off by the heaviness. It has notes of caramel and coffee, and should be smooth on the tongue.”
She picked up the bottle and took the tiniest sip he’d ever seen. “This one’s okay,” she said with a forced smile.
He shook his head. “You need a real taste. Hang on.” He dashed back to her kitchen and came back with a tall glass. He poured the beer, letting a small layer of foam settle at the top. “Try it now.”
She did, taking only a slighter bigger sip this time, though still looking like she was forcing the dark liquid past her protesting lips.
“Porters have a different mouthfeel than the other beers. You have to let it wash through your entire mouth before you swallow.”
“Mouthfeel?”
“The tactile feel of the beer in your mouth.” He turned toward her and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You need to relax your jaw to let the flavor in and appreciate the structure.”
She leaned into his touch and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, even though he knew he should. “I’m trying, but it’s not working.”
He kept running his thumb along her soft skin, trying to ease some of the tension locking her body so tight. She let out a deep breath and met his eyes. Electricity sparked between them at that moment, surrounding them in a heavy, charged air. Her gaze dropped to his lips at the same time her hand went to his knee.
She leaned forward and placed a quick, tentative kiss on his mouth. He kissed her back gently, feathering his lips against hers. Giving her time to change her mind. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her hand crept higher up his thigh until she was nearly on top of him.
He tugged her closer until she was straddling his lap, and deepened the kiss. His tongue swept through her mouth, dancing against hers until he felt the tension finally disappear from her jaw. She grabbed his hands and brought them to the tie of her robe, and he nearly exploded with desire. He wanted her so bad, it felt like a dream to be touching her again. He parted her robe and ran his hands along her curves.
She pulled the robe off her shoulders, letting fall to the ground, and unhooked her bra. He broke the kiss and watched in complete awe as she dragged the straps down her arms and tossed the bra onto the ground. He could have stared at her perfect, creamy skin for hours, but he wasn’t a complete fool. He kissed her sternum, taking his time exploring the delicate expanse of skin.
She leaned forward, arching into him and pressing against his hardened cock. Her fingers coiled in his hair like she never wanted to let go. For a woman who guarded herself so fiercely, it was shocking how she opened herself to him so generously.
He moved to her breast, taking her pink nipple into his mouth. The rough sound of her breath was more beautiful than any music. Everything about her drove him crazy with desire.
“Condom,” she whispered into his ear.
He pulled one out of his front pocket—the one he’d put there earlier in the faintest of faint hopes, even though he knew it made him a douchebag to keep hoping when she’d turned him down before. She fumbled with his fly at the same time he cupped his hand over her lace-covered sex, stroking and readying her. She kissed him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as her panties grew wetter against his fingers. Finally, she managed to free his cock and it was his turn to lose himself in the ecstasy of her touch.
She rolled the condom down his length.
“You sure, Princess? Not too late to change your mind.”
“Definitely sure. Don’t make me wait.”
He pulled her panties aside and slid into her. She cried out and clung to his shoulders as she used her thighs to ride him at a fast pace. Watching her take her pleasure from him like this was hotter than anything he’d ever experienced. He cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples, rapt by the unguarded sensations playing out on her beauti
ful face.
She came fast and hard. Her body slammed against his, head buried in his neck as she cried out. He gripped her hips and took over the rhythm, wrenching out as much pleasure as he could until he came with a growl.
She slumped against him, breathing heavily. He had no idea if this changed anything. Sex—even incredible sex—was so simple. Just bodies moving and thrusting and claiming. But there was nothing simple about the snarled, twisted feelings inside his chest as he stroked his hand up and down her spine.
“So,” he finally found the energy to say. “Feeling relaxed enough for the Books and Brews meeting?”
“More than relaxed. Boneless.”
“Oh, I’d say you were thoroughly boned.”
She giggled—a sweet, soft sound that reverberated down his spine.
“See? It’s impossible to be nervous when you’re thinking about me naked.”
“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“I never said I was a conventional guy.”
She tilted her head back and looked him curiously. “No, you haven’t. I’m just finally starting to understand a little better what that means.”
He glanced at the old farmhouse clock on her wall. “We should probably get going if we’re going to make it on time.”
Her lips twisted into a frown. “I’m going to feel weird going out in public after what we just did. Especially without showering first.”
“There’s no reason to worry. I promise they’re going to love you as much as…” Fuck. He stopped himself before he said anything too stupid.
The silence that followed stretched on too long. She slid off him and retied her robe around her. “I’ll be right back.”
A few seconds later, he heard the shower turn on. True to her word, she was only gone for a couple minutes before the water turned off and he heard the sound of her footsteps scurrying to her bedroom. “All yours,” she called out from her bedroom.
That was his cue to clean up. He made a quick trip to the bathroom, and when he came out, she was dressed in jeans and a blue sweater. She’d pulled her hair back into the tight ponytail she always wore, but the red flush on her cheeks and spark in her eyes were new, and damn if that didn’t fill him with pride.