Georgie’s mouth firmed like she was considering it.
River understood the sentiment. Here Jack had probably thought he’d hit the jackpot—and now someone had literally pissed in it. And he didn’t need Georgie to tell him that this wasn’t the kind of ship she usually ran. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Look,” he said, keeping his tone flat and calm. “You could do that. You’d be well within your rights. But consider this—you’re two outsiders taking over a local brewery. Lurch is part of this town. He might be an idiot half the time”—at least three-fourths, he mentally corrected—“but he knows basically everyone who lives here, and most of them actually like him. Your grandfather certainly did, and it wasn’t for his brewing skills. Besides which, he doesn’t have much money, so you’d be paying through the nose to make a point. Do you really want to start out here like that?”
Georgie laughed, but this wasn’t her natural laugh from last night—this one held a razor’s edge of panic. “I’m starting to think I don’t want to start out here at all.”
“Hey,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I get that. This”—he gestured back to the brewery—“isn’t exactly a great impression. But we can come back from it. Think of it as a clean slate.”
“I’m listening,” Jack said, catching River off guard. He’d been looking into Georgie’s eyes still, and he’d somewhat forgotten Jack was there.
“Everyone thinks Buchanan’s flatlined, right?” River said, forcing himself to look back and forth between them. “That the creativity’s gone? Well, here’s our chance to make it new. Now. I suggest we make a couple of the flagship brews, the classics, but the rest should all be new. Why wait?” He paused, then added, “Of course, we should definitely wait for everything to be professionally cleaned. Maybe twice.” This he added with a hint of a smile for Georgie’s sake.
Georgie didn’t smile back, but she reached for him, something that made his heart race in his chest before she realized what she was doing and let her hand drop. Her cheeks pinkened a little. “Will we have to close for a while? What are we supposed to do if there’s no beer to sell? Or to bottle?”
“There’s got to be a reserve,” River said. “Enough to last us for a while. Probably a couple of weeks. Maybe more. But any beer we brew now won’t be ready in time to fill the gap. So, yeah, we might have to close for a while.”
Georgie’s mouth pressed into a worried line, and he wanted nothing more than to span that gap between them and take her hand. To comfort her the way he wanted to. Instead, he forced himself to shift his gaze back to Jack. “Did you hold any events at that bar you manage?”
“Sure,” he said, caught off guard. He hadn’t been expecting that. “St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago is a pretty big deal.” His mouth twitched with a hint of humor. “The fact that I’m still alive should count for something.”
A glint entered Georgie’s eyes, and she tilted her head to look at River. “You think we should do a grand reopening.”
“Look at you,” he said with a grin. “You’ve only known my aunt for one day, and you’re already reading minds. Must be that pink crystal.”
“This’ll take a lot of planning,” Georgie said, but she didn’t sound so dejected anymore. She sounded like she was actually looking forward to it.
And so was he—because he’d get to plan it with her. She probably had a special pen she used for planning launches and the like. And if she didn’t, maybe he’d get one for her.
“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Jack said, shaking his head. “It’s a great idea. Five minutes ago, I didn’t know if we’d be able to turn this around. But this might just do it. This place needs a total reset.” His glance darted to Georgie, as if silently asking her opinion, and she gave a small nod. That was good—it meant they were forming a mutual respect, something they’d need for a successful partnership. He had a feeling he’d have a harder time winning Jack’s trust.
Jack’s phone rang, and he pulled it out to look at the caller ID. A pained look crossed his face, and he nodded to them. “I’ve got to take this.”
Then he was gone, and it was just Georgie and River in the empty tasting room.
He nodded to the table they’d abandoned earlier. “I think it’s about time for that water, don’t you? Everyone needs water.”
She laughed, and this was the laugh from the night before, which felt like a victory. “You’re right about that. They say up to sixty percent of the body is water.”
“Except for Lurch,” he said as he followed her back to the table. “It sounds like he was at least twenty percent beer last night.”
She shook her head as they reached the table. “I still can’t believe he did that.”
Because she’d run a professional outfit, and truth be told, Aunt Dottie had influenced Beau in a lot of ways these last years.
She sat down, and River sat opposite her.
“Lurch was nice earlier, but I guess he must really hate us,” she said. “Will a lot of people feel that way? Like we’re outsiders prying this place away from Beau?”
“Maybe some of them. There are foolish people everywhere, no escaping that,” he said. And because he really was his aunt’s nephew, he poured her a glass of water and slid it over. “But I think you, Georgie Buchanan, are the best thing to ever happen to this place. And so did Beau. That’s why he left it to you. He knew you’d be the one to turn this ship around.”
Her lips parted slightly, and a little smile tugged at her lips, but the next moment it was gone, and she was looking down.
“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what we would have done without you. Or maybe I do.” She bit her lower lip, drawing his attention to it. He’d come so close to kissing those lips last night—just like he wished he could now. He shifted forward a little, drawn toward her despite himself. “I probably would have let my brother and sister convince me to sell. Jack would have wanted to keep it, but I don’t know how he would have managed on his own. And I would have gone on knowing about my brother but not knowing him. So thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Georgie,” he said softly, letting himself put his hand next to hers on the table but stopping short of taking her hand. “You did this all on your own, but if I can guide you in any way, it would be my pleasure.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And I suppose it’ll also be my job.”
He thought again of the way Georgie and Jack had acted before the whole bubble extravaganza. Jack had been strangely accusatory even before everything had fallen apart.
“That is, of course, if the offer is still on the table.”
She’d been sipping the water, and she snorted a little, choking on it. He was about to get up to pound her back, but she finally did take his hand, stopping him. A zip of awareness shot through him, much stronger than it should have been from such an innocent touch.
“I’m okay,” she said through coughs. “I was only laughing because not even five minutes ago I was thinking you were the irreplaceable one in this equation, not Jack and not me. We’re lucky you want to work with us.” Her lips pursed in a worried look. “From what I can tell, Beau was paying Lurch a lot less than the average salary for a brewmaster.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” he said, feeling the heat of her small hand over his. She must have noticed too, because a horrified look filled her eyes and she snatched it back so fast she toppled the water pitcher, the water splashing all over his shirt and lap.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, River!”
“It’s okay,” he said. And because he wanted her to erase words like “replaceable” from the vocabulary she used about herself, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling of her hand, he found himself saying, “A little beer on my shirt yesterday, a little water today. It’s almost like you want me to take my shirt off.”
Her cheeks went bright pink at that, and she stopped what she was doing, feverishly grabbing napkins from the holder in the middle of the picnic table. His shirt was soake
d through, and those napkins would do nothing to help. The downward glance she gave her hands told him she knew it.
“I’m just teasing,” he said softly. “But I think I will grab some of the merchandise, if you don’t mind.” He nodded to the counter of the bar, where a few of the brewery T-shirts were on display, and headed over to grab his size. The only design left was one Aunt Dottie had put together last year. Do it the Buchanan Way! it said. The image was of a beer can in the center of a starburst, which he’d always thought made it look like it had just exploded. Maybe not so inspiring.
He pulled off his shirt to change into the fresh one, which was, of course, when Jack came back in.
He did a double take—which, fair enough, River had just taken off his shirt during what had to be one of the strangest business meetings of all time. “I’m gone five minutes, and now River has his shirt off.”
“Little accident with the water,” River said, nodding to the table. He was about to pull on the brewery shirt, but his gaze shot to Georgie. She’d taken a seat again, but her eyes were fixed on his chest, and the heat in them shot straight below his belt. Well, shit, he’d better get sitting again.
He pulled on the shirt and returned to the table, but instead of sitting opposite Georgie, he sat next to her, telling himself he could use the water as an excuse. She didn’t move away.
Jack sat opposite them, avoiding the water spot.
“I think we might need to design new shirts too,” Jack said wryly.
“Too bad Adalia’s not much interested in the business,” Georgie said. “She’s an amazing artist.”
“Oh?” Jack said, tipping his head. There was genuine interest in his voice, and River could tell that Jack had spent time thinking about his sisters and brother, wondering what they’d be like. He put on a tough front, but he wanted to know his family, that much was clear.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind if it’s something that interests her,” River suggested. And having a joint project could help draw the siblings together to do something other than argue.
Although what did he know? Maisie was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he’d met her for the first time when he was thirteen.
“I hope you’re right,” Georgie said, turning to him with a smile. “I’ll talk to her.” Happiness shone in her eyes, and he was grateful to have put it there. It had seemed impossible just a half hour ago.
“Good plan,” Jack said. Some emotion passed through his eyes, but River couldn’t pin it. “Georgie, something’s come up in Chicago. I wanted to stay in Asheville for at least a few days longer so we could get things moving, but I have to go back immediately.”
Based on what little he was saying, it was obvious it was personal—and even more so that he wasn’t going to tell them who’d called or what was said.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Georgie said after a moment of silence, and River could hear a hint of hurt in her voice.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not,” he said bluntly. “But it will be. I’d rather not think about it, though, and I’m even less in the mood to talk about it, if that’s okay. But we can figure some things out over the phone and email while I’m away. I still plan on being back in about a month. Plenty of time to plan for the reopening.”
River admired him for being direct—too many people would have lied and given the all clear. At least he hadn’t blown her off. That was something.
“Sounds good,” Georgie said. Another pause. “But I’m here to listen if you ever do want to talk.”
Jack just nodded, but he seemed almost embarrassed.
Since one of the new owners was about to leave the state, River figured it was as good a time as any to talk direction for the brewery.
“We’ll probably need to move forward with putting together our first beer list, Jack,” he said. “Any ideas you wanted to add? I was thinking we’d make some changes seasonally. So we might want to focus on fall right out the gate.”
“Actually, I was thinking about this last night,” Jack said, his tone brightening. “Before I was a manager, I spent years making drinks. What do you say we do a line of beers inspired by classic cocktails?”
“That’s a great idea!” Georgie said, catching his excitement, and River could tell it was a mix of genuine appreciation for the idea and her desire to bolster her brother. She turned a little to River as if to say, Is it?
“It is,” River said. “We can have one or two specials a season.” He told them a little about his own thoughts—the beers that had worked best at Big Catch, which he could mimic without copying, plus a couple of more experimental ones he wanted to try. Some of the barrel-aged ones would take months.
Jack’s phone made a buzzing noise, and he flinched. “My car’s here,” he said. Georgie’s eyes rounded with surprise, and she shot another look at River. Whatever that phone call had been about, it had lit a fire under Jack, enough so that he’d summoned a car immediately.
They all got up, and River shook Jack’s hand. Georgie and Jack had an awkward moment where she went in for a hug, and he tried for a handshake.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” he said, and then he left. Georgie’s gaze followed him as if he were a puppy running off and she wondered if he’d ever find his way home. Once the last of him disappeared from view, she turned to River.
“So what now?” she said. “What needs to happen first?”
A slow grin stole over his face. “Let’s hire some cleaners. Then it’s time for you to make your first batch of beer.”
Chapter Fifteen
“This is it,” River said as he put his key into the lock of his heavy wooden front door. He looked relieved when the lock turned. “Well, at least I know that Aunt Dottie won’t be here waiting to ambush us.”
“What?” Georgie asked, wondering if she’d heard him wrong.
They’d called an outside cleaning crew to come clean up the bubbles and empty and sanitize the tanks. Georgie hadn’t had the stomach to stay and watch, but Aunt Dottie, who had shown up in response to a call from Josie, had insisted on supervising the cleaning. She’d assured Georgie that everything would be okay—Mercury was rising and the stars were aligned for a change. Georgie was nervous about leaving the task to the older woman, especially since she’d shown up with her pink sea salt lamps and started some chants to disperse bad energy with a sage stick. But River had assured her that while his aunt had some odd beliefs, she was a stickler for cleanliness. They would be better served working on their new brews.
Now, standing in front of his front door, he gave her a wry grin that held a playful look. “Nothing. Go on in.”
He pushed the door open, and she took a hesitant step over the threshold, surprised at the smell of fresh bread, but then she recognized it from Beau’s house and realized it was the smell of brewing beer. She was surprised, and more than a little bit pleased, to discover that she liked it. She associated it with River now.
Her gaze wandered around the open living room and dining area, curious about River’s home. You could tell so much about a person from their personal space, and she was relieved to see that River’s loft was warm and homey…and littered with shredded toilet paper and pillow stuffing.
“Oh shit,” River said, coming up short behind her.
She was about to ask him if he had a rat infestation when a tiny bundle of fur came bounding out of the kitchen and slammed into River’s feet. He bent down and scooped up the furball, holding the cutest puppy she had ever seen up in front of his face.
With a mock scowl, he said, “Hops, how did you get out of your kennel?”
She laughed. “I didn’t know you had a puppy.” But then she felt foolish. How would she have known he had a puppy? She barely knew him, yet for some reason, she felt like it would have come up in conversation during their multiple discussions about Jezebel the night before.
A grin lit up his eyes. Had she ever met a man with more expressive eyes? His were always so full of humor a
nd kindness, even at the brewery today when everything had gone to hell. But she shouldn’t notice things like that. Especially given their professional relationship. She told herself that good bosses made sure their employees were happy, but she knew that was a stretch.
No good boss made her employee happy the way she wanted to make him happy.
Boy, was she in trouble.
“I didn’t until this morning.” River balanced the fluffball’s belly on his palm and turned the puppy to face her. “Georgie, meet Hops; Hops, this is Georgie.” The puppy’s feet began to paddle as though it were swimming. River laughed and held the puppy close to his chest. “Hops is a foster. Maisie caught me at a weak moment this morning and twisted my arm into taking him.” But as Georgie watched him rub the puppy’s head, she wondered how much arm twisting had really been involved.
“And you named him Hops?” She couldn’t help grinning. Somehow it fit.
His gaze darted to the puppy’s head, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s kind of a tribute to Beau.”
Guilt nipped at her momentary happiness. It felt like she was stealing River’s inheritance. Still, she’d made a promise to Jack, and that was important to her too. She didn’t want to break her word to him, particularly not when things were still so fragile between them.
“Hey,” he said, misinterpreting her sudden somberness. “I didn’t mean to upset you about Beau. After this afternoon…” He grimaced, then gave her an earnest look. “It’s going to be okay, Georgie. I won’t let you fail. I promise.”
His words and his tone, so earnest, brought tears to her eyes. How could she keep this from him? “Um…can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” he said, worry crinkling the bridge of his nose. “But I’m concerned about what you’ll find there. If he pulverized all of the toilet paper, there’s some under the sink. I’m going to take him out anyway, so that will give you a moment to yourself.” River grabbed a leash off the kitchen table and headed out the front door, the puppy still cradled in his strong arms.
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