by Gina Ardito
He had no idea how much those last four words pissed her off. She shook her head. “Thanks anyway, but I have way too much to do to get this place up and running on time. It’s not just paperwork. There’s a lot of physical labor involved, too.”
“All the more reason you should eat. Come on. I’ll bring dinner here, and then take you home afterwards.”
“You don’t even know where I live,” she retorted, pushing back from the desk to give them both some distance and prevent further contact.
“I handled your lease. I know that property better than you do.”
Right. Of course he did. She chewed her lip.
“Dinner,” he pressed. “Here. You can work as long as you like. I’ll bring some files and my laptop from my office, and as long as you can set me up somewhere with a table, a chair, and an electrical outlet, I won’t be in your hair at all.”
The air inside the small room hummed with anticipation, with a magnetic attraction that lured her closer to this man. The palpable sexual tension secretly terrified her. She could barely form one word. “Why?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure why, except you interest me.”
Her blood ran cold. The last thing she needed was someone digging into who she was. “Trust me,” she said, placing the pen in her mouth to gnaw on the plastic cap. “I’m not that interesting.”
“You are to me,” he replied.
She chewed and nibbled, a nervous habit she’d picked up in junior high and never completely given up. It was only because the pens here were new they didn’t show more of her teeth marks. Give it time. Eventually, they’d all wear the same mangled look, especially if Drew Garwood continued to show interest in her, romantic or otherwise.
He rearranged all the papers inside the folder again and dropped it into his case. Rising from the chair, he leaned across the desk and clasped her fingers in his palm. A warm zing shot through her.
“I’ll bring you dinner. Leave a light on for me.”
Long after he’d left, she sat at her desk, gnawing on every pen cap in the drawer.
Chapter 3
When Drew returned to the brewery a few hours later, he carried his laptop case in one hand, and a paper bag full of food from the diner in the other. He’d opted for burgers with all the fixings, steak fries, and two hunks of cheesecake for dessert. Bo didn’t strike him as the “I’ll just pick at a salad” type of woman, thank God—another in a multitude of differences between her and his ex. Not that he was comparing them…well, not really. He didn’t have a treasure trove of broken hearts in his past, just Maura. Fair or not, he supposed it was only natural to use her as a yardstick for any other woman who got his heart beating double-time.
He found the front door locked when he arrived and used his car keys to tap at the glass until Mitch spotted him.
With a quick nod and a wave, Mitch approached and opened the brewery’s main entrance, swinging the door wide and leaning out. “Hey. Bo said you were coming back. Told me to tell you to make yourself at home in her office upstairs.”
Drew sidled past to step inside to a much quieter area than what he’d left earlier. The construction workers had disappeared, and the place seemed empty, except for the two of them. Before he could remark on the silence, cheers erupted from the brewery floor area. “What’s going on back there?”
Mitch grinned. “Bo. One of the guys has a hoverboard, and she’s messing around on it right now.”
Drew snorted. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Mitch poked him in the upper arm with a bent elbow. “You wanna see?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Come on. Let’s get you situated up in her office. You’ll be able to watch her from that big window up there.”
They crept upstairs, and Drew paused only long enough to drop the bag of food on the desk before striding to the window to view the brewery floor below. A crowd of men lined up near the walls of pallets, and in the middle of the aisle they created, Bo waved her arms frantically as she struggled to stay upright on the narrow board with the illuminated wheels and herky-jerky motion.
While they all watched, the contraption spun in a circle, and she windmilled her arms to counter the rotation. When she managed to stay onboard, she smiled in triumph, and the breath left his lungs.
Jeez. No woman had ever affected him so intensely, so quickly, like lightning in a bottle, a sudden magic spark between two virtual strangers.
The board moved forward. She wobbled, flailed her arms, and for a split-second, looked like she’d pull out of the downward spiral. Gravity worked against her. To the shouts of, “Whoa! Whoa!” from the onlookers, she stumbled off the hoverboard, and onto her knees on the cement floor. A dozen men winced in empathy, including Drew and Mitch, who both sucked in a sharp breath.
At that point, Drew expected she’d return the board to its rightful owner and admit defeat. Good thing he didn’t bet on it. She regained her feet and brushed off her jeans. With a wave of her hand, she signaled her eagerness to jump on the board again. The men on the brewery floor cheered. Drew’s heart plummeted to his stomach when she climbed on top of the contraption for another round.
“How long have they been doing this?” he asked Mitch.
“About a half-hour or so. Bo’s trying to beat the current record.”
“Which is…?”
“Twelve minutes.”
“How close has she come?”
“About ninety seconds.”
“Within ninety seconds?”
Mitch shook his head. “Nope. Ninety seconds total.”
He chuckled. “So I wouldn’t be interrupting anything crucial if I went down there and invited her to come up here to eat?”
A smirk twisted Mitch’s lips. “You’d probably be saving her life. Bo’s not one to give up easy. She won’t quit until she breaks the record or a bone. She’s got a real competitive streak.”
“How long have you known Bo?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess about ten or twelve years now.”
“Is she always this reckless?”
“Well, I don’t know if she’s reckless. She’s got a lot to prove.”
“To whom?”
“Herself, mostly. But her family, too. Her dad’s pretty well known in…his business, and so are her brothers, so she feels like she needs to make a name for herself in her chosen profession. They’re a competitive bunch. The fact she’s the only female in her family and grew up in a household of men means she always works ten times as hard, and she usually winds up twenty times more successful because she doesn’t give up.”
Outside, on the brewery floor, Bo fell off the hoverboard again.
Drew sighed. “I better go get her before she hurts herself.”
“I’ll come with you. You might need backup,” Mitch said with a snicker.
“Wait.” He strode to the desk and pulled out a round, aluminum foil dish with a clear plastic cover. “I bet I can lure her upstairs faster with this.”
“Is that a deluxe burger from that diner over in Claude?”
“Yup.”
“That’ll work.”
They left the office and headed downstairs to join the chaos on the brewery floor. Once again, Bo balanced precariously on the hoverboard in the center of the room while a young man, barely out of his teens, stared at his watch to time her progress.
“One minute, fifteen seconds,” the young man shouted.
Everyone cheered, except Bo, who ordered above the din, “Don’t keep calling out the time, Ryan! It distracts me.” The aroma of the burger must have reached her nostrils because she turned in his direction and smiled. Leaping off the precarious contraption with more grace than she displayed while riding it, she announced, “Time out. My dinner’s here. To be continued tomorrow.” She followed the scent straight to him. “Please tell me that’s meat, I smell.”
“And hello to you, too,” he replied.
“Sorry. Hi, Drew. Thanks for coming back. How
was your day? Is that meat I smell?” She spoke the words as if reciting a list, and he grinned.
“My smart phone shows more emotion than that.”
“What can I say? It’s been a long day. I need recharging.” She looked at the dish he held and gave a fist pump. “It is meat! Oh, thank God. It occurred to me after you were gone you might think I was one of those scrawny, salad-munching women.”
“You could’ve called to tell me what you wanted. My phone number’s on every email you’ve received over the last eight months.”
“True.” She shrugged. “But I haven’t had time. Been busy since I got here.”
He nodded toward the crowd of men surrounding the next victim mounting the hoverboard. “Yes, I noticed.”
She laughed. “Running a brewery isn’t like running a law office. We blow off steam in more…diverse…ways.”
Despite the innocuous meaning behind her words, the way she said them sent vivid pictures into his brain: the two of them naked in his shower with the tower rainfall panels and jets. As hot water surrounded them from all angles, her bare skin met his, his lips nibbled on the delicate column of her neck, leaving her gasping, wanting…
“Where’s the rest of the food?” Her question threw him until he shook off the vestiges of the fantasy and returned to reality. He stood outside the brewery floor, fully clothed, with a deluxe cheeseburger platter going cold in his hand. “There’s more, isn’t there? You didn’t expect us to share that one measly dish, did you?”
“Relax, Bo,” Mitch said. “There’s plenty more upstairs, in your office.”
Cripes. He’d forgotten Mitch was even there, watching their exchange. Luckily, no one could read his thoughts. At least—he dared a glance in Mitch’s direction and caught a fleeting smirk on the man’s face—he hoped not.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” she asked, apparently oblivious to the sexual tension thick in the air. “Feed me. I’m starving.”
He did his best to ignore the innuendos running through his mind. “Do you want to eat down here or…?” He gestured to the staircase.
“Oh, definitely upstairs,” she replied. “My office is quiet.” She shot a meaningful glance at Mitch. “And private. It’s not supposed to be used to spy when the boss is making an ass of herself.”
“Oh, please,” he retorted. “If I sat up there to watch every time you did something stupid, I’d never get any work done.”
To Drew’s surprise, she laughed. “Truer words were never spoken. Come on, Drew. My brewery’s in good hands down here for a half-hour or so.” As she hit the first step on the staircase, she paused. “Mitch, stay off that hoverboard. It’s dangerous.”
He snapped his fingers in an “aw, shucks” way. “There goes my evening’s entertainment.”
“Mine, too,” she quipped and scaled the steps.
Drew followed at a respectable distance behind her, far enough back that he didn’t wind up staring at her butt all the way up. That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of every curve, just that he didn’t ogle her.
Once inside her office, she took her seat behind the desk while he grabbed the bag from the diner. “Shoot!” he exclaimed. “I forgot something to drink.”
“Hang on. I’ve got something.” She rose and walked around her desk to the tall armoire-style cabinet against the far wall. When she opened the door, stainless steel glinted in the overhead lights. A built-in refrigerator took up the space. Inside the fridge stood a dozen different copper vessels. “I’ve got Dragon’s Blood, Angel Food, Robber Baron, Sea Witch, and Red Queen.”
He cocked his head in her direction. “Those are…beers?”
She nodded and pointed to each one individually. “This one’s made with blood orange and dragonfruit extracts; this one’s vanilla and caramel; this is a dark stout with whiskey undertones; this has lemongrass and citrus; and this last one is a hearty red Irish cream.”
“Which goes best with burgers and cheesecake?”
“Red Queen for the burgers, Dragon’s Blood with the cheesecake.”
She pulled out one of the copper bottles and opened another cabinet where a shelf full of glass steins sat lined up in precise rows. Cradling the bottle between her arm and her side, she pulled out two steins before returning to the desk.
“I thought you didn’t have anything made yet,” he said, pointing to the copper carafe.
“I always have a few growlers on hand for my personal consumption. How else would I know what flavors work?”
“Growlers?”
“Uh-huh.” She flipped the steel clasp on the top of the bottle, breaking the vacuum seal and eliciting a wispy sigh from the contents. “That’s what these bottles are called. Each one holds about a half-gallon of brew. Of course,” she added with a wink, “once they’re opened, you have to finish what’s inside fairly quickly before it goes flat.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“The better to take advantage of y—” She stopped, the joke too close to the truth for either of them. Her cheeks growing pink, she tilted the first stein, and slowly poured the reddish-gold beer, then repeated the procedure for the second glass.
He took one of the steins and lifted it in her direction. “Thanks. Salud.”
She imitated his action, but her gaze stayed glued on his face as he sipped. Once again, he was struck by the vulnerability peeking through her armored veneer. She waited, expectant, for his opinion on her beer.
He didn’t have to lie about the taste. The flavors packed a powerful punch, but with some subtlety that made him want another swig. “That’s probably the best beer I’ve ever had.”
“You think so?” She wriggled in her chair, a look of doubt marring her features.
“Smooth, flavorful, rich. It’s amazing.”
And there it was. That smile. As bright as sunlight, as warm as a summer’s day, and more beautiful in person than could ever be captured in a photograph.
He’d done it. And he knew he’d never be the same again.
****
If he kept staring at her like that, she would lunge across the table and rip the shirt off his shoulders with her teeth. The man did something to her, melted her insides into one enormous puddle of want. Oh, shoot, not now. She so did not need this strong attraction between them right now. She had a business to launch, a new life to seize, and an old life to leave in the dust.
In an attempt to refocus her derailed train of thought, she took a long sip of her beer, delighting in the way the flavors danced on her tongue. She might have screwed up the rest of her life, but she could still brew the perfect beer.
“Let’s eat,” he suggested.
Ha. As if she could. She’d been famished when he first appeared downstairs. The aroma of the burger reminded her stomach how much time had passed since she’d last eaten. But now, her mouth watered for a more physical pursuit—with a man she met a few hours ago. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never been the type to be led by her sex drive. Hell, the last two years could have been a lot easier to deal with, if she’d been able to blame her abundance of trust on an excessive libido, rather than carelessness.
Either way, she wasn’t about to ruin her future because of a man—not again.
With shaking hands, she removed the clear plastic lid from her dinner plate and selected a fat steak fry from inside. She bit into it, allowing the salt to remind her again she’d had nothing to eat but this morning’s carrot-raisin muffin from the airport coffee shop, before catching the plane to Amarillo. That one simple nibble reawakened her hunger, and she picked up the burger, taking a tremendous bite. Her tastebuds danced with delight at the juicy patty with the mélange of cheese, crisp lettuce, and spicy condiments. “Oh, my God, that’s so good!”
He grinned, and she noted a drop of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. She wanted to lick it off. Down, girl. Instead, she picked up a napkin and wiped her own mouth. He somehow took the hint and dabbed at his lips. Thank God.
“Gla
d you like it,” he replied. “There’s a diner in Claude, a town or two away from here. They make great food, don’t they?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said around another mouthful of burger.
“Save room for dessert,” he said with a chuckle.
“Trust me,” she replied. “I will. If dessert is as good as this burger, I’ll be happily sated in no time.” Her choice of words hung in the air between them, an open invitation. She couldn’t take it back—wouldn’t take it back. The next step was his. She tensed in her seat, her fingers shredding the napkin in her lap.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
Rip, tear, rip. “Sure.”
“What made you pick Silverton, Texas for your brewery? Why here? Why this particular property?”
The tension took a u-turn, headed down a road she didn’t want to face. She feigned a careless shrug. “Ian’s here. He knew I was looking to open a brewery outside of New York, and he emailed me the details of this property when it came up for sale. He thought it was the perfect site.”
“You bought it, sight unseen? That’s putting an awful lot of faith in Ian Merrick, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but the Merricks have worked with my family for generations. I trust his instincts.”
“I guess you do. And Mitch, too?”
Her grin grew broader. “I trust Mitch just as much as Ian, but he’s all mine. He’s the best brewery expert in the country. He was the first person I hired when I decided to launch Empire. I was lucky he agreed to put up with me and help me get this place off the ground.”
“Has he always worked for you?”
“No. I’ve known him since VLB, but we’ve always followed different paths until now. I’m just glad he was available when I needed him most.”
They continued the rest of their meal in relative silence until, finished with their burgers, Drew grabbed the cheesecake while she dove into her refrigerator for the growler of Dragon’s Blood.
“I’d better not.” He held up a hand. “I have to drive.”
She nodded and closed the refrigerator door. “Right. Sorry.”