Time has been kind to Porter. He looks even better now than before.
“Porter’s the one you’ll be working with, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Your old crush is now your boss. You’ll be working side by side with him every weekday for the entire summer. This could be your big chance to make something happen.”
I love Dillyn’s romantic tendencies but she’s wrong about Porter and me. “He must be close to ten years older than I am. Maybe more. Probably not at all interested in someone my age. Plus, he was just a silly crush I had when I was a kid.”
“Bullshit. You had real feelings for this guy. You missed him like crazy when you left for college.”
She isn’t wrong. I did miss Porter like crazy, but I got over it; that’s what kids do as they mature into adults.
I was sixteen when Porter Beckman became my father’s new employer. I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And after being around him, I found out he was also one of the kindest.
Our lives profoundly changed after Daddy came to work at Iron City. We had medical and dental insurance for the first time. A real house. A decent car that didn’t stay stranded on the side of the road most of the time. We finally had all the things most people consider necessities and we were even able to afford some luxuries we’d always gone without.
Iron City Brewery changed my life. And I think that’s one of the reasons I fancied myself in love with Porter at such a young age. I confused gratitude for affection.
“Is he dating anyone?”
It was a job interview. Not a speed date. “I have no idea.”
“But you’re wondering.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know… maybe.”
Dillyn grins. “What did you wear to the interview?”
“Black skirt. Black and white blouse.”
Dillyn lifts a brow and her grin widens. “The short black skirt?”
I hate admitting that. “Yes.”
“The deep cut black and white blouse? The one that shows off your cleavage?”
I hesitate before answering. Even consider lying. “Yes.”
“What kind of bra?” The corners of her mouth turn up.
The bra is going to make this look bad. “Black lace.”
She cackles. “You. Slut.”
“Excuse me?”
She holds up one finger. “Short skirt.” A second finger goes up, forming a V. “Deep cut top.” A third finger rises, making a W. “Black lace bra you knew he’d see when you bent forward.”
“Means nothing.”
“I might believe that if you’d at least pretended to think about the bra, but you rattled that off without any thought at all. You wore that sexy short outfit to entice him.”
She’s sort of got me there. I could have worn any number of bras but I chose the sexiest one I had. That wasn’t by accident.
“I was dressed like a professional.”
“Like a professional what? Admit it. You dressed sexy so your boss would look at your tits and ass.”
Dillyn doesn’t beat around the bush. She plows straight through it.
I wasn’t exactly a beauty the last time Porter saw me. I wanted him to see me differently from that awkward teen girl he knew years ago.
And I think he did.
“I wanted to look good when I saw Porter again. What’s wrong with that?”
“No one said there was anything wrong with looking good for your interview. Did he notice? Act interested?”
“He was definitely looking.” I could feel his eyes all over me while I was setting up my presentation. And then I turned around and caught him looking at my butt.
And I liked it.
“Interested or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m only in Birmingham for the summer.”
“Which is the perfect recipe for a hot… summer… fling.”
A hot summer fling with my boss… my dad’s boss? “More like a recipe for disaster.”
“You’re twenty-one years old, Frankie. An adult. It’s perfectly fine for you to have some no-strings-attached fun with a man.”
“It’s pointless to start a romantic relationship that has an expiration date.”
“That’s why it’s called a fling. It’s not intended to last.”
“That’s not why I applied for the internship at Iron City.”
“Then call it a job perk.”
The server brings my drink, interrupting our debate regarding a fling with Porter, and Dillyn lifts her glass of wine. “Here’s to landing an awesome internship at Iron City. And to the potential job perks that may go along with it.”
Hot summer fling? No-strings-attached fun? Sex without commitment?
Am I cut out for such things? I don’t know.
Do I want to find out? Absolutely.
3
Porter Beckman
“Someone’s mighty early this morning.”
Molly isn’t wrong. I’m arriving earlier than usual; it’s my intern’s first day on the job. It would be shitty of me to not be here to greet her.
“I’m early and I have Starbucks.” I stop at Molly’s desk and remove her coffee from the cardboard carrier. “Grande Pike Place. Splash of coconut milk. One sugar in the raw.”
“Best boss ever.”
“Damn right.”
“Don’t tell Lucas and Oliver I said that.”
I give her a wink and lopsided grin. “No worries. It’ll be our little secret.”
Molly removes the green stick from the drink hole of her coffee and sips. “Man, this is just what I needed this morning. ’Preciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy.”
“I know you came in early because you wanted to beat Frankie in, but you’re too late. She’s already here.”
Early again. “How long has she been here?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
She’s an intern who wants to make a good impression. Her desire to impress me will wear off soon enough. “Where is she?”
“Art department.”
Art department is almost a comical label for the room where two desks with computers are surrounded by industrial metal walls. Not a very inspiring work space for a designer.
In my defense, the area isn’t complete. It’s the space where I plan on putting the full-time employee I’ll hire later.
“I knew you’d give Frankie the position.”
How did she know? Because I let the girl do odd jobs around the brewery when she was a child? Because her father is a loyal, dependable employee? Because she’s already Iron City family?
Or because she’s grown into one hell of a gorgeous woman?
I need Molly to understand that my decision was a professional one. There’s no room for confusion. “The choice was obvious when I saw her designs. She was clearly the best candidate for the internship.”
I don’t fail to see the grin behind Molly’s cup of coffee. “I’m sure she is a wonderful designer.”
I think I could stand here and plead my case all day with Molly about why I chose Frankie, but I’m positive she has already drawn her own conclusion. I know that woman well and nothing I say is going to change her mind.
I lift the drink carrier. “Coffee’s getting cold.”
“I notice you have an extra.”
“Thought Frankie might want one.”
“That’s a very nice thing to do for a pretty girl on her first day of work.”
“It’s not your first day, Molly.”
She grins and flings her hand in my direction. “Go on, smartass. Go see to your pretty intern.”
I find Frankie waiting for me in the art department. “Good morning, intern girl.”
She lifts her face and a broad smile spreads ear to ear across it. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. I won’t mind looking at her for the next three months. “Good morning, boss.”
“You’re here bright and early. You must be excited to get started.”
“I am.”
&
nbsp; “I’d start the first day with a tour of the brewery if you were any other intern, but I suppose you already know your way around this place.”
“Yup. Been knowing my way around here for a long time.”
“Well, since we get to skip the tour, let’s sit for a moment and enjoy our coffee.” I take her cup from the carrier and push it across the desk toward her. “What do you order when you go to Starbuck’s?”
“White chocolate mocha.”
Dammit. “I was so close to getting that. Went with caramel macchiato instead.” Note to self: her favorite is white chocolate mocha.
“I like caramel macchiato too. It’s a close second.” She takes a sip and then sucks her bottom lip into her mouth before running her fingers over it. Fuck. “How’d you know I’d want an espresso drink over black coffee?”
When I was sitting in the drive-thru looking at the menu, I couldn’t imagine anything but sweetness—and maybe my hard cock—touching that lovely mouth of hers. “Just a lucky guess.”
Thinking about my dick in her mouth is the wrong way to begin this working relationship. I can’t have thoughts like that about her.
“Well, thank you. It’s a very nice start for my first day.”
I grab the back of the empty chair and roll it around so I can face her when I sit. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“Yeah. I went to Tuscaloosa Friday night to hang with my two best friends.”
“They’re still in school?”
“They are. Both of them were short a few classes to graduate… a little too much partying. They’re knocking them out over the summer and then the three of us are moving to Austin together.”
I had thought it was odd that a woman so young would up and move away from her friends and family. I see now that Frankie at this stage of her life isn’t all that different from the way I was at her age. I did the same thing when Oliver and I moved to Birmingham to chase our dreams of starting Iron City Brewery. “It’s good that you won’t be on your own.”
“Have you ever been to Austin?”
“No, but I’m going to a graphic-design expo there in about six weeks.”
“Austin Graphic Expo?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah, man. I wish I could go to that.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Can’t afford the registration fee or the airline ticket to get there or the hotel room.”
That sucks. “If it makes you feel better, the convention is sold out. You couldn’t get in even if you had the money.”
“Well, it doesn’t make me feel better; I still want to go. But I hope you have a great time. Austin is a fun town.”
“I’ve heard.”
“How long will you be there?”
“Four days.”
“If you want, I can make you a list of must-dos.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“How did your weekend go?”
“Spent most of Saturday working on my 356B.” And then got laid on Saturday night for the first time in months. Can’t complain.
“I don’t know what a three-fifty whatever you said is.”
“It’s a 1963 Porsche.”
“Ooh. Do you have a picture?”
“Of course.”
I take out my phone and open the album. “This is the before picture. Piece of shit, right?”
“Uh, it could use some love.”
I scroll to the photo I took yesterday after a good wash and wax. “This is what she looks like today.”
“That’s a good-looking car. How long did it take to get it to that condition?”
“’Bout two years.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. I’ve worked hard on restoring it. I’m a proud papa.”
“You should be.”
She takes a drink of coffee and looks around the room. “This is where I’ll be working?”
“Yeah. Sorry it’s not more visually appealing.”
“Iron City is a brewery. I wouldn’t expect an office that looked like it belonged in a high-rise in New York.” Her hand gestures to the two desks. “Which one should I take?”
“The right one. Computer is faster.”
I roll across the floor until I’m beside Frankie and wiggle the mouse of the computer. Nothing. I reach around and press the on-off button. “This one has probably been shut down since the last time I used it.”
“Do the two art department computers share a file server?”
“Yes, as well as the computer in my office.”
When the computer fires up, I open Finder and hover back and forth over the folders with the cursor. “Iron City’s designs are here, and Bohemian Cider Company is here.”
“You do the cider company’s designs too?”
I guess I forgot to tell her that. “Yeah. BCC is Iron City’s sister company.”
“I knew Lucas was married to Oliver’s sister and they bought a cider company, but I didn’t know that you handled their graphics and marketing as well.”
“Lawrence wouldn’t have it any other way.” No way she was going to let anyone else be in charge of those things for her company.
“You do the graphics and marketing for two companies and still manage to help Oliver with brewing and creating new recipes?”
“I do.” And it’s fucking killing me.
“How can you possibly handle all of that?”
“I ask myself the same thing every day.”
“It’s no wonder you need help.”
Frankie doesn’t know the half of it. Some days, I feel like I’m trapped and drowning in one of the brewery’s damn fermentation tanks with only a few inches to keep my head above the surface. “I’m grateful to have your help.”
“This arrangement doesn’t work out any better for you than it does me. I’m grateful too, Beck.” She tilts her head and grins. “Do you remember me calling you Beck?”
Frankie was sixteen the first time she called me Beck. It happened by accident. She got my name wrong but I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. After a while, it just felt right for her to call me by that name.
Frankie Dawson! Mr. Beckman is my boss. And you’re a kid. It’s disrespectful for you to call him Beck. Apologize. Now.
I’m sorry, Mr. Beckman. I’ll never call you Beck again.
She was humiliated when her father scolded her in front of me. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed. And that’s why I told her later that day that I would like it very much if she continued to call me Beck. Our little secret.
“You can still call me Beck if you want. But I’m not sure you should let your father know you call me that. He might scold you again.”
“I think I’ll stick with Porter if that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
I should have her call me Mr. Beckman all the time. It would be a good reminder of how young she is. And that she is deeply off-limits. Mr. Beckman could serve as a prompt to help me remember to keep my fucking eyes in my head and not on her twenty-one-year-old tits and ass. It’s impossible not to look when she’s wearing clothes that hug her body in all the right places.
Dress code around the office?
Fuck. I should have told her to wear a turtleneck and mom jeans when she asked. Maybe then I could resist looking.
Beckman, get this train back on the tracks.
I open the Photoshop file of my latest design. “I started working on this label for the winter seasonal a month ago, and I’m no closer to a final than I was when I started.”
“Hitting a wall, huh?”
Yeah. One that won’t budge. “Nothing has felt right. I put it away with the intention of coming back to it later, but I got busy.”
“Sometimes you have to put it down and walk away, or you’ll dig yourself into a hole you’ll never climb out of.”
“That’s a good way of putting it.”
“What’s the winter seasonal flavor?”
“Smoked vanilla porter.”
&nbs
p; Frankie’s head tilts to the side. “Smoked vanilla porter. Sounds like a dessert special at a restaurant.”
Oliver and I have worked on that fucker for months. “It’s the finest porter I’ve ever tasted. I think it’s going to be a huge hit with our customers.”
“Sounds delicious. I’m not even a beer drinker and I want to try it.”
She’s not a beer drinker? I bet she likes those bright-colored girly cocktails.
“It’s a great beer and it deserves a great label. So far, I’m not doing it justice.” And I hate that. This is one of our best beers ever. I feel like shit because I can’t come up with anything.
“It’s seasonal. Are you okay with having some fun with the graphics?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a pencil and paper I can use to sketch out what’s in my head?”
This isn’t much of an art department. Zero supplies. “Let’s go to my office. I have everything you’ll need in there.”
I set up my drafting table with a sketch pad, graphites, coals, and pastels. “Need anything else?”
She grins. “I think this will work for now.”
Frankie sharpens a graphite pencil and then begins sketching the outline of a label. I don’t want to make her nervous by standing over her so I move to sit behind my desk. “Do you like to listen to music while you work?”
“I do.”
“Me too. What kind of music inspires you?”
“I know it sounds weird, but I really like eighties and nineties rock.”
I need something more specific than that. “Name some.”
“Toto. Foreigner. Def Leppard. Journey. Heart. Boston. Kiss. REO Speedwagon. Poison.”
Okay. I see where she’s going with that. “Bon Jovi. Mötley Crüe. Pearl Jam. Survivor, Warrant, 38 Special.”
“Yes to every one of those and so many more.”
I wouldn’t have pegged her for liking that kind of music. “You seem awful young to listen to those genres.”
“That’s the kind of music my parents liked, so it’s what I grew up listening to.”
I’m not sure Scott has turned forty yet. “They were young when you are born?”
Southern Girl Series: Bohemain Girl, Neighbor Girl & Intern Girl Page 52