Deliciously Smooth (Naked Brews #1)

by K. B. Jacobs

  “Sounds good. And Walsh,” Damian drew in a ragged breath, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Me, too. I would hate to take away the gift of seeing my pretty face every day.”

  Damian laughed as he disconnected which is what I’d been going for, but I had been stupid the day before. I’d been driving distracted, and to do that while I had Damian on the speakers had been the utmost of selfishness. He had enough of that shit in his head without me adding to it.

  I took a deep breath of the frigid morning air and tried to let the peace of the idyllic mountain town settle over me. When that didn’t work, I scanned the area around me for the nearest source of coffee. Caffeine had to help my outlook on the situation. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I finally located Otto’s Auto Body Shop. It was an old thirties brick building in the front with a more modern huge, aluminum-sided bay and service area added onto the back of the building. I spotted Desiree’s bright yellow fender in one of the bays, and I winced as I realized the rest of the car wasn’t attached to it.

  I pulled open the glass front door and entered the small reception area with a high counter. A man scowled at the computer as he pecked at the keys. He was young, maybe my age or a little younger. He had dark hair, a full beard, and his gray overalls were covered in grease. The name David was embroidered above the pocket.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He didn’t even look at me as he shook his head. “Hold your horses. If I don’t finish this while I’m here, it’ll never get done.”

  I nodded and glanced around the place. Where was everyone? Besides this dude and me, there weren’t any other customers. I peered through the large window that looked out over the service area. No other mechanics either. That seemed...weird, especially considering all six bays of the shop were filled with exotic, expensive cars.

  Whoa...was that a Lamborghini?

  “Yes, finally.” The man beamed up at me with a huge smile. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Technology can be a bitch sometimes.” I nodded at the computer. “You sorted it out?”

  His eyes glittered with self-satisfaction. “Yep. I never thought I was going to conquer that. Level seventy-nine of Bubble Bounce is a real bitch.”

  Seriously? He’d made me wait so he could finish a computer game? I gritted my teeth in annoyance. I was not going to deal with this flake. “I need to speak to the owner, Otto.” I was not going to deal with a lackey for the care of my baby.

  “You’ve got him.” The guy pointed to his chest. “Right here. So what can I do for you today?”

  “Your nametag says David.”

  “Yep,” the idiot answered with a pop on the p-sound.

  I hadn’t had enough coffee to deal with this shit. I was cold, hungry, caffeine-deprived, and my head was throbbing in time to my heartbeat. Flies...honey...pleasant attitude, I reminded myself. “So, where is Otto then?”

  “There is no Otto.” He grinned at me again. “It’s ironic.”

  “Ironic?”

  “Yeah...” He rolled his eyes at me. “To unexpectedly use something in a humorous way. Ironic,” he said in a monotone voice as if reading from a dictionary. “Get it? Otto’s Auto? There is no Otto. Just me. Da-vid.” He read his name off the nametag slowly and pointed at the syllables like he was talking to an idiot.

  Oh, I got it. All right. This guy was the idiot. “My car was brought in last night. I might need to take it somewhere else.”

  “Yeah, the Vette Vanguard.” He nodded at my stitches. “I figured that was yours. Sucks, but she’s a nice car.”

  I worked hard to hold onto some semblance of a pleasant smile, but I don’t think I was successful. “Is there another auto body shop in town?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever, dude. No skin off my back, but the next closest shop that can handle a Vette like yours is in Denver. You just got her, right?”

  I nodded and gritted my teeth.

  David squared his shoulders, and suddenly I could see a much more serious intent in his eyes than had been there up to that point. “One of the big selling points for the Z07 has been the upgraded braking and handling package for this car. Those six-piston monoblock calipers on the front tires are the bomb, but they’re exactly why the rollout on the car has been delayed. When you ditched your car, you cracked the carbon-fiber driveshaft assembly that holds them into place.” He looked like this all should mean something to me, but he might as well be speaking French.

  I drove fast cars that looked good and made me look even better because of it. I didn’t work on them. “Okay, but that’s fixable, right?”

  He nodded. “Yep, no problem on the actual fixing. The problem is getting the part. That’s why the car roll outs have been delayed. That particular part comes from Germany, where the workforce was on strike for five months this fall. Right now, they don’t have enough parts made to fulfill the building on all the pre-ordered cars. They sure aren’t sending them out as spare parts to idiots who managed to screw theirs up.” He shook his head as if in sympathy of my idiocy. “I can’t believe you already have your car, much less the part. You must have ordered it ages ago.”

  I had...a full eighteen months ago.

  “I have a guy who lives in Germany and might be able to do me a favor to get the part early, but otherwise, you’re looking at weeks—hell, maybe even months—before your part gets in.”

  Just perfect. It looked like I was stranded in Aspenridge until I could get a flight out of here. The sooner, the better.

  “Okay.” At least that gave me time to look into this guy to see if I wanted him working on Desiree or if I wanted to go to the expense of towing her back to Denver. “I need wheels in the meantime. Is there a car rental place around here?”

  David winced, and I steeled myself for more bad news. “No, but I have a truck you can borrow that I promise won’t land you in a ditch.”

  Was this guy serious? He would just loan me a car? But hell, it would be better than walking and freezing my balls off. Besides I didn’t have a whole lot of choices. “Sure, that sounds good. Thanks.”

  He smirked at me as he grabbed a set of keys off a hook on the wall. “I have a feeling you’ll like her. She’s not as pretty as your Vette, but there are similarities.”

  Since Desiree was golden yellow, I was a little scared. Desiree was a car made to be noticed. Not many other cars could pull that color off. But I followed him out the door and behind the shop. I helped him when he tugged on a blue tarp covering an indistinct vehicle.

  “Um, wow.” There was really nothing else to say. We’d revealed a huge monstrosity of an old, rusty truck.

  “It’s a yellow Chevy, just like your Vette, so it’s almost like a straight trade.” David bit his lip, trying to hold the laughter inside.

  It was so yellow...and so old...and so...rusty. “Sure it is,” I said slowly as I nodded in mock approval, but then I tilted my head at him in question. “Do you actually believe the lies you tell yourself, or is it just a way to keep yourself entertained?”

  “Hey, a guy’s gotta do what he can to find his fun. But seriously, she may not look like much, but I promise you she purrs like a kitten, and as long as you don’t drive stupid, she will hold onto the road with no problem. This here is a 1973 Chevy three-quarter ton truck made from pure steel. So, even if you do end up in a ditch, she’ll drive right back out, and no one will ever be able to tell.”

  I tilted my head and stared up at some sort of wire cage attached to the bed. “Did you haul livestock in it or something?” Maybe this guy was a part-time bear trapper or something equally bizarre. At that point, nothing would surprise me.

  “Naw, man, it’s just good for hauling stuff in. I move people around town all the time with this baby. No one ever has to rent a trailer, which is good since we don’t have a place that rents trailers. But I don’t need her much in the winter. You can use her as long as I have the Vette if you want.”

&n
bsp; “Okay.” I sighed and reached for the keys. “Let me know what you find out about the part.” And I’d do some checking on my own to see if I could come up with a better option in the next couple of days.

  “Sounds good.” David took off back around the side of the shop with a jaunty wave, and I pulled open the door of the truck, which complained with a creaky squeal of metal on rust. Perfect.

  I climbed into the cab and started the truck, surprised to find David was right. Despite her rough appearance, the engine ran smoothly.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed Damian again.

  When he answered, I got right into it. “It’s going to be a while before the Vette is fixed. I’m going to find a hotel room here and stay for a couple of days.” I needed to get my head back on straight, and every time I considered leaving Aspenridge and never seeing Lake again, everything inside me rebelled at the idea.

  “No, you’re not,” Damian said.

  My gut clenched. “Damian—”

  “You’re going to stay longer. I just talked to Emily Ryan. She’s given Lake a thirty-day extension before our deal closes. She’s told the daughter it’s to give her a chance to prove something, but from what I gather, it’s really just a stalling tactic to give the girl more time to adjust to the idea. I want you to stay there during that time and get to know both the daughter and the brewery better. Let’s find out exactly what we’re walking into. I pulled some strings and booked a room for you at the Astonian.”

  Thirty days. I had thirty days to explore the chemistry brewing between Lake and me. Most of the time I couldn’t decide if I should push her off a mountain or kiss her until she couldn’t think straight.

  But for the past three years, I’d been focused on honoring our fallen brothers and keeping Damian from spiraling into a depression pit too deep to climb out of. There hadn’t been room for anything else.

  I wanted Lake. I needed to explore this thing between us.

  I wanted to fuck her, bury myself inside her tight little body. I wanted to see her eyes flash at me in anger and see how differently they looked from when they flashed at me in desire. I’d seen traces of that this morning. I wanted more, and goddammit, I was going to go after it.

  It made me a bastard, but I was selfish like that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lake

  I lifted the coffee pot and swirled what was probably only a half-cup of cold coffee around the bottom. Cold coffee wasn’t going to cut it. Not after the morning I had. What in the hell had possessed me to touch Walsh? To let Walsh touch me? A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of his nose caressing my neck. I grabbed for the coffee tin to make another pot, but it wasn’t where it should be.

  “Where’s the coffee? I just bought a new tin last week.”

  Melissa didn’t move a muscle. Just sat in her chair, staring at the spreadsheet in front of her.

  Alex whirled around in her chair, smiling at me like the cat that ate a whole flock of canaries. “Coffee is for people who show up to work before noon.”

  I gaped at her, the mostly empty coffee pot still in hand, and considered pitching it at her for just a second...maybe two.

  “However,” Alex used her foot to push my empty chair over to me, “if you were willing to tell us exactly what—or who—caused you to be late this morning, I might be able to locate some coffee.”

  Melissa snorted. She actually snorted. Her body was still frozen, staring at the spreadsheet, but she was smiling, too, like this was all a big joke.

  “I forgot to set my alarm and overslept.”

  “For four hours?” Alex’s chest shook with silent laughter.

  Melissa lost her ability to hold it in. She joined along, and in seconds, the two of them were giggling their stupid heads off.

  “How is Walsh?” Melissa asked innocently. “I hope he was a good patient.”

  The giggles turned to cackling laughter. I slammed the coffee pot back on the burner.

  “What is wrong with you two?” I gave them my Death Star glare, but they didn’t even notice. “He had a concussion and needed a place to stay for the night. That’s it.”

  Alex wiped a tear from her long, black lashes. “You mean to tell me that fine piece of man meat you eyeballed all day yesterday stayed at your house overnight and nothing happened.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her exactly what an asshat Walsh was, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth was something had happened. Though I managed to snap out of it before I made the biggest mistake of my life. “I wasn’t eyeballing him.”

  “What color are his eyes?” Melissa yelled from her spot at the desk.

  “Green with little flecks of gold.” The words popped out of my mouth before I even stopped to think about it.

  Alex spun around in her chair. “Oh god, you are in so much trouble.”

  “No, I’m not.” I ran shaky hands through my short hair. Had I even brushed it before I left? I was in such a rush to get out of there, I couldn’t remember. “With any luck, he’s picking up his car and leaving town as we speak. I’m going to go check on my beer so I can win some competition and hopefully never have to see his sorry ass again.”

  I marched out the door with the girls still giggling behind me.

  Alex’s voice floated out of the office, following me toward the brewery. “Too bad, because that was one fine, sorry ass.”

  She couldn’t see the middle finger I held up behind me, but it made me feel better. I had more important things to think about than the sexy man who woke up in my bed and made my southern region ache in ways it had absolutely no business aching. Things like brewing beer and saving Naked Brews from the same guy whose lips looked like they would be magic to kiss and touch and feel all over my—

  God, I had to get it together and get Walsh out of my head. It didn’t matter how hot he was or what he did to my insides. He wanted my brewery, and that made him enemy number one.

  I threw open the glass door of the brewery and entered my happy place. The smell of smoked malt and crisp hops filled the air. The scent of brewing beer was my own personal endorphin rush. Harlan waved from where he was crushing a batch of grain. He was barely visible behind the plume of grain dust. I waved back and checked the bulletin board to see where we were with each batch.

  Handling the business side of the brewery didn’t allow me as much time as I would have liked back here in the thick of things. Harlan was perfectly capable of managing everything, but I missed the process.

  There was a special magic in brewing. Ingredients went in, and as long as I loved them and took care of them, amazing beer came out the other end. But if I didn’t pay attention, even the slightest change in temperature, timing, or ingredients could change everything. Maybe I ended up with an even better beer. Maybe I ended up with a vat of piss water that had to be dumped down the drain.

  There was nothing sadder than a group of grown men standing around a drain hole, watching a fifty gallon tank of frothy gold slide into the ground.

  Everything on the board looked good, so I decided to wander the tanks. Maybe time back here would help me clear my head and figure out how to win back my brewery. The three front tanks all held Hops on Top in various stages of fermentation. It was our most popular beer, and Dad always said it was his best recipe. It would be a no-brainer to enter this one, except IPAs were always the most crowded category at any competition.

  The other tanks were all single brews but standard for Naked Brews. The guys could probably brew them each from memory, down to the exact temperature for fermentation and secondary. It had been a while since we had tried something new. Except Dad’s beer. It didn’t even have a name yet, we just called it Dad’s Beer. Those first few days coming back to the brewery after his death were such a blur. I was barely functioning, but brewing was always something I could do and shut out the rest of the world. So I brewed.

  We needed more of that. After the competition was over and Naked Brews was firmly mine, I’d talk to Harlan. I
f we wanted to stay on top of our game, we couldn’t depend so much on old recipes. We needed to bring back the joy of trying new styles and experimenting to find new, great beers.

  I walked back to the lagering tanks. We had a few good lagers that might work for a competition if they would be matured in time. I checked the tag on the tank next to me to see how long it had.

  “Harlan!” My voice echoed around the steel and copper tanks, turning my shout into a chorus of cries.

  “Lake!” Harlan rushed over to me, breathing hard and covered in grain dust. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” I pointed to the temperature gauge. “This tank is lagering at least ten degrees warmer than it should be.”

  Harlan leaned around me and tapped the gauge. “Son of a bitch. It’s the damn regulator again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yes.” Harlan turned from the tank and stared me down. “I told you three days ago that one of the tanks was putting off odd temperature readings. You told me you’d have Jerry look at it.”

  “I...” Had completely forgot. That was the same day we had a hole in one of the tap lines, and I had our maintenance guy working on setting up a new line and cleaning it out so we would be set for the evening crowd. Then Melissa had needed me to sign off on payroll, and Alex had wanted to go over her new distribution goals. I had forgotten to ask Jerry to check on the tank.

  Harlan’s head dropped, and the weight of his disappointment sunk around my shoulders, killing my happy-place vibe.

  “Let me call him right now. Do we have another tank we can transfer this to? If we get it moved now, we might be able to keep the phenols to a minimum and save the batch.”

  “I’ll see what we can do.” He didn’t sound optimistic.

  I rushed out of the brewery so I could call Jerry, kicking myself the whole way. It seemed like the harder I tried to keep Naked Brews alive, the more I tripped. Dad was counting on me, and I was letting him down every step of the way. The thought of Emily being right about the brewery socked me in the gut and strengthened my resolve.