It could just be that he had an overactive imagination and the paranoia to go with it, and in truth nobody spared him a second glace. It was easier to assume that was correct after a beer or two. Then he could hear his bubbe’s voice in his head, reminding him that of course he was paranoid—he was Jewish. Paranoia was called being smart.
After a couple of beers, that joke seemed funnier too.
Ian set down the mugs and turned back toward Micah, who was staring at his phone, brow furrowed. Should they go back to work at the brewery, or head to the town offices to appeal their sign? He should probably read the email himself before reaching a decision, but he was so tired of this crap. Still, Ian pulled out his phone to check. He was not submitting to any of this town’s BS without a fight, and to fight well, he needed all the information. No matter how infuriating.
Across from him, the shop door opened with a jingle, and Ian glanced up as a familiar face entered. Tasha McCleod noticed him at the same time, and her lips pressed together in something that was almost but not quite a smile. Ian wasn’t sure what to make of that. He and Tasha weren’t exactly friends, but Tasha worked for the town. Since he and Micah had lost innumerable hours of their lives on the other side of her desk at the town hall, he’d probably spent more time talking to her than most other people in Helen.
Then Ian saw the SHS pin on her jacket, and that explained everything. When Kelsey had walked into the brewery on Friday wearing one, it was only the second pin Ian had seen. Three days later they appeared to be everywhere, spreading like a virus.
“Et tu, Tasha?” he asked, mostly to himself.
Tasha didn’t catch the question, and she forced her mouth into a more normal smile. “Hey, how’s the brewery going?”
He should lie, be polite and pleasant. He told himself Tasha didn’t deserve his bad mood, since allegedly she wasn’t the one making his life miserable. But the pin made it hard for Ian to believe that.
“The brewery would be going better if you and your friends weren’t trying to sabotage it,” Ian said, gesturing at her pin.
He glanced toward Micah again. There was no way his friend couldn’t hear their conversation, but he was keeping his head down. The jerk.
Tasha’s smile wavered. “No one is trying to sabotage anything. Forms just need to be filled out correctly. As for the pin, containing development is a priority of the mayor’s. It’s nothing personal.”
“It’s starting to feel very personal.”
“I’m sorry you think that way.” But she stumbled a bit on the words, and her phone rang. “It’s the day care. I need to take this.”
Ian nodded and headed back toward Micah. Saved by the ringtone. There was no point prolonging that conversation anyway.
Micah tossed on his jacket, and they left in silence. Ian no longer felt like discussing the sign problem somewhere with an audience, and that meant waiting until they were back in his truck.
“So the whiny town clerk has a pin too,” Micah said as Ian started the engine. “Figures.”
“She’s not whiny. There’s enough we can kvetch about without making stuff up.”
“I disagree. She has one of those nasally voices that makes everything she says sound like she’s whining.” Micah pretended to shudder. “Why defend her when she’s wearing an SHS pin?”
Ian wasn’t sure. He backed out of the parking spot, making the executive decision to head toward the brewery rather than the town hall. It was late in the afternoon. If they were going to fight the sign issue in person, it was probably best to wait until tomorrow morning.
“Kelsey was wearing an SHS pin too,” he pointed out, “and you didn’t seem to have an issue with her.”
“I like Kelsey.”
“You like Kelsey’s ass.”
“I can like more than one thing about a person.”
Ian shook his head. “What else is there to like about Kelsey?”
“For starters? The way you get all tense whenever her name comes up.”
“I do not.” He made himself loosen his grip on the wheel, and he didn’t need to take his eyes off the road to figure out Micah had noticed. “I’m tense because of the sign problem.”
Micah exhaled something between a groan and a sigh. “We’ll deal with the town tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to need a drink.”
“Conveniently, we happen to have some alcohol.” Ian pulled into the brewery’s lot. The bare spot over the door where their sign was supposed to hang looked extra empty, and instead of parking in front, Ian pulled around to the back so he didn’t have to see it.
“Drinking our beer reminds me too much of work.” Micah slipped off his seat belt.
Ian jumped out of the truck, wishing he’d bought more coffee to take with him. There was so much to do, never mind the sign taking up more of his time. “Fine. We can drink someone else’s beer, but I’ve got to get that inventory list finished, and those new tanks need to be—”
“No.” Micah held up a hand to cut him off. “We’re stopping at dinnertime. We don’t have to work late every night.”
“I can’t let this stuff sit.”
“Yes, you can, my friend.” Micah took the keys from Ian’s hand and opened the back door. “Sign issue notwithstanding, everything is on schedule. We are in good shape, and no matter how hard you work or how many more batches of beer you want to start, you can’t make the current ones brew faster. So relax a little before you give yourself an ulcer.”
Ian blinked as the industrial-strength lights overhead turned on. How were there still so many boxes to unpack? Why was the bottling equipment in such disarray? Was there something off about the smell in the air? What if a batch had gone bad? What if he was going to fail?
He inhaled more deeply, breathing in the scent of alcohol, hops, and other fermenting grains that weren’t entirely beer yet. At least not beer he’d want anyone to drink.
“That’s right. Breathe it in and relax.” Micah handed him back the keys. “Look at it this way—we should be out and about more, frequenting the places around town that we want to become our customers. Make them see us. Make them like us. Make them want to buy our products. That’s good business.”
Ian couldn’t argue with the logic of that, although it felt like a convenient excuse to take a break. One he would regret later if the business went under.
He ran a hand over the stainless steel tank closest to him and told himself that Micah was right. If he was acting like this, he probably did need a drink.
Unfortunately, going out wasn’t as simple as Micah was making it out to be either. “Yeah, yeah. But do we go to a Porter place or a Lipin place?”
As ridiculous as the question was, the last few months had taught Ian it was taken very seriously. A feud had overtaken the town decades ago. Ian didn’t know what had caused it, but for some reason, people had never gotten over it. The only upside Ian could find for being considered an outsider was that no one expected him and Micah to pick sides, at least not yet. He hadn’t figured out whether Kelsey helping the brewery would change that, but he sure could imagine Kelsey being the type of person to enjoy a feud. Picking fights seemed like her hobby, and she probably thrived on the animosity. He had practically felt it radiating off her today. It made her more . . . interesting. That was unfortunate, but Ian told himself it was only because hers was a mindset he would never understand.
But Kelsey’s interesting shortcomings aside, Ian hoped her help wouldn’t drag the brewery into the morass. If he had his way, they would never get involved in it. Not every business did. There was only one supermarket, one hardware store, and now one brewery, which suggested they should be positioned to remain neutral.
As for the other businesses, Ian was still learning about their affiliations, so to be safe, when he went out, he made sure not to show favoritism to any one bar or restaurant. It was an additional hassle in a t
own that seemed to thrive on creating hassles for him, and one more piece of evidence that there was definitely something in the water around here that drove people to irrationality. Ian fervently hoped it wasn’t as contagious as those damn SHS pins so he wouldn’t catch it.
7
MICAH HAD SENT his responses to her questions yesterday, but Kelsey had been in no mood to look at his answers. His email sat in her in-box, contributing to her pile of electronic guilt. In fairness, her Should Be Working On pile was massive, and she was adept at ignoring it. Why should the brewery work be treated any differently? She’d get around to it when her irritation with Ian simmered down.
Because eventually that would have to happen. It had to. It just couldn’t while the memory of him looking so damn smug played through her mind. Smug and sexy and insufferable and insolent. No, wait. Her list of words for him was expanding, but sexy was not supposed to be on it. Damn it.
Procrastination via running errands, rather than working on the brewery piece, was also supposed to have prevented Ian-related thoughts from intruding on her time. So much for that.
Kelsey paused on the steps outside the post office to zip her fleece higher. It wasn’t raining yet, but she swore she could smell rain in the air, and she hoped she could get a good walk in before it actually started. Maybe a walk would clear Ian from her mind.
A mail truck pulled down the narrow, alley-like street, and Kelsey waited for it to pass before crossing. She’d just stepped onto the sidewalk when the library door opened in front of her and out popped the last person she wanted to run into.
Kelsey pursed her lips and prayed Ian wouldn’t notice her. Smug. She focused on the word to keep from focusing on the man, but there was truly nothing smug about the way Ian walked down the path toward her.
She told herself there was nothing sexy about it either. He was wearing jeans and a green jacket, and it was a totally workmanlike combination. It was the sort of thing any guy in this weather, in this town, might wear. Same with his hair. It was a boring color, a common one. There was nothing special about it. Nor about his face. Perfect cheekbones were overrated.
“Kelsey.” Ian gave a slight wave.
She startled and her heart landed somewhere around her throat. Shit. Had she been staring?
She’d definitely been staring. Here was hoping the stare was more of a glare. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Ian’s brow, which really was just another forehead and also not exciting, furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
What kind of stare had she been giving him if it wasn’t a glare? And why hadn’t she brought her dogs with her? Maybe Ian would have snubbed her then. “Like what?”
His brow lines deepened. “I don’t know. Like you’re suspicious of me or something.”
Suspicion was totally not what had been running through her head, but she wasn’t about to let the excuse Ian handed her go to waste. “You’re walking out of the library.”
“So?”
“That suggests you might read. Seemed suspect.” Ouch. That was meaner than she’d intended, but it was the first relatively logical bit of snark that came to mind.
Ian seemed to take it in stride, or perhaps he’d learned what to expect from her. “I’m actually a man of many talents, reading among them. In fact, I was finally getting my library card. I hope that’s okay with you.”
Anyone who got a library card was more than okay with her, but it wasn’t like she was going to admit that. Once again, though, Kelsey had to appreciate that Ian would return her snark volley for volley. “You don’t need my permission to read a book, although I reserve the right to judge your choices.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Do I lose points for fiction versus nonfiction? Are certain genres worth more or less? What about length—does it count?”
She couldn’t repress a smirk. “Length always counts.”
“Spoken like a woman.”
Sure, he looked physically pained saying the words, but she was currently the one imagining the length of his “book.” Unfair.
“Length is not as important as quality though,” Kelsey added hastily, trying to purge the image of a naked Ian from her brain.
“I’m sure Hemingway is relieved.”
Whoa. Ian could make literature jokes? She was impressed despite herself, and that did nothing to banish those images, which had morphed into a naked Ian reading in bed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask to see your books.”
His lip quirked. “Believe me, I have no reason to worry if you did.”
“Spoken like every overconfident man.”
Ian’s lips twitched a second time, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets as though attempting to become physically and emotionally more standoffish. “Anyway, glad I have your permission to use the library. Seeing as everyone around here wants to make me jump through a million hoops to do anything, I was expecting a blood sacrifice would be required to get my card.”
Kelsey almost laughed at that. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
“Dramatic? No, not me.” He pointed toward the town hall, which was next to the post office. “How about the town changing the guidelines for what is and isn’t permitted on signage after we had our sign designed to meet them but before approving it, all apparently done at the behest of the SHS.”
Surprised, Kelsey chewed that over for a second. “That does seem—”
“Dramatically directed at us?”
“I was going to say unfair and possibly shady.” Of course, the town was run by Lipins. The mayor was a Lipin, and Lipins dominated the town committees. Shady could be expected. Ian’s problem was that he didn’t know he shouldn’t expect better of the family.
On the other hand, this was the sort of petty shit they’d usually only pull on her family. It was odd that they’d treat Ian and Micah in a similar way. For some reason, Kelsey had expected better of them. More professionalism maybe.
It also reminded her that she was long past due to delve into what the Save Helen Society was about. It really could be just a group of citizens concerned about overdevelopment. That was generally a more Lipin-affiliated attitude, but Kelsey knew she wasn’t the only Porter quietly worried. It could also be something the mayor had cooked up to generate support for his positions, however. Kelsey’s fingers flexed with the urge to remove the SHS pin, but she wasn’t about to do it in front of Ian, especially because the group might truly be benign.
“Nice of you to admit it.” Ian seemed to shrink an inch with exhaustion.
It wasn’t exactly sexy, but it wasn’t insufferable either, and for a painfully long second, Kelsey almost felt bad for him. Somewhere deep inside, her determination to dislike Ian Roth cracked ever so slightly. She knew what petty Lipin BS was like, but more—she knew what that kind of exhaustion with life felt like. She’d been feeling it more and more over the last several months.
This was another reason she tried to avoid humans. As soon as she felt the slightest bit of sympathy for someone, it was so damn hard to keep up her ice queen exterior.
“Honestly, I don’t know much about the SHS or why they might be directing their ire toward you,” Kelsey admitted. “I just don’t want Helen to turn into a glorified strip mall. I like it as it is.”
Ian took a moment to respond, forcing her to wonder what was going through his head. Possibly she’d shocked him by not saying something sarcastic. She’d kind of shocked herself. “I like it as it is too. It’s one of the reasons I moved here.”
“Which makes you part of the problem.”
That brought a faint sardonic smile to his face, which Kelsey took to mean he couldn’t argue the point. “I’m only one person.”
“That’s the thing.” Her restless fingers brushed the SHS pin, and Kelsey curled her hands into fists to keep herself under control. Then, because that looked more
confrontational than she was feeling, she shoved her hands into her pockets. “Everyone is only one person. It’s when you add one plus one plus one, et cetera, that you start running into problems.”
The smile on Ian’s face broadened a touch, eliciting a dimple on his left cheek. How had she not noticed it before? Had she never actually seen him smile? She should say something mean to make it go away before the dimple exerted more sympathy from her. That could destroy her determined dislike.
Ian shrugged in defeat. “Fair enough. If you can admit that the sign thing might be shady, I can admit you have a point. In theory, I agree with the SHS’s goals.”
Kelsey’s cheeks twitched, and she caught herself before she could join him in a smile—or, worse, before she let out a victory cry and punched the air. Ian’s admission was nothing to celebrate. She wanted to dislike him on principle, and a reasonable Ian—an Ian who also had a library card, made Hemingway jokes, and had a goddamn dimple—was a hard Ian to dislike. She should leave. Now.
“Well, I’m glad we had this conversation,” Kelsey said. “I’ll be in touch about the website soon.”
“Me too. Actually, Kelsey?” Ian called out to her as she turned away, and Kelsey cringed with her back to him.
“Yeah?” She turned around.
“About the website. I still want to compensate you for your help. The beer was just a token, but I want to pay you whatever your going rate is for projects like this.”
Now he was really messing with her head. Not to mention that she didn’t have a going rate. Also not to mention that her father would probably be upset if she accepted payment when her labor was supposedly his generosity. She should have ignored Ian when he’d acknowledged her existence. That was how puppies got to you. All you had to do was look at them and suddenly you couldn’t dislike them.
Paws and Prejudice Page 6