Trouble Brewing

by Suzanne Baltsar

  “What?”

  She didn’t move, apparently protesting walking any farther.

  “Want me to carry you?”

  “Yes. Piggyback. One, two, three.”

  My reflexes were terrible after a night of drinking, and Piper slid down my back after jumping on me like some kind of wild animal. I told her so and she slapped my arm, but we tried again, this time with me counting. She jumped for the second time, and I caught her legs around my waist as she locked her arms around my neck. Drunk Piper was awesome and hilarious. Sleepy Piper holding on to me with her body pressed up against me was incredible.

  “This is much better,” she said into my neck, then went silent for two blocks.

  “You still with me back there?”

  “Mhmm. Just enjoying the ride.”

  There was a sexual innuendo joke to make in there somewhere, but I wasn’t with it enough to find it, and instead kept my mouth shut, feeling Piper’s slow breaths on my cheek.

  Just as I got to my apartment complex, she said, “You know what I like about you, Blake?”

  “That I’m devilishly handsome?”

  “No.” She yawned. “You give good piggybacks.”

  I set her on her feet and turned to face her. She was basically asleep standing up, her eyes halfway closed, but I bent my knees and laid a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth anyway. “And you give terrible innuendo.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Piper

  I woke up with the driest mouth known to man and a horrible thumping in my head. It took a few minutes to become fully conscious, and when I cracked open my eyes, I didn’t recognize where I was. The walls were light gray, unlike the cream color in my own bedroom. The two windows displayed a beautiful view of downtown between striped curtains, not the pitiful view of my backyard. And the bedding I lay under was a plain navy, not my colorful paisley.

  I smacked my lips together, trying to swallow over my sandpaper tongue, and turned on my side, only to be greeted with the bare chest of Blake. I instantly forgot about my confusion for a minute and admired Sleeping Beauty. His arm was thrown over the top of his head, his hair a mess. He breathed evenly through parted lips, and I cuddled closer into his side, matching my inhales and exhales to his.

  I remembered our walk home and how I’d forced him to carry me. But once we’d made it inside, I had pretty much passed out as soon as I’d sat down, so I didn’t know how I’d gotten to Blake’s bed, but I still had my clothes on.

  Blake Reed, gentleman.

  Even though I knew nothing happened between us last night, I’d happily waltzed across the line I’d drawn to keep myself from him. To keep it strictly business.

  But I wasn’t fooling anyone when I said I wasn’t interested. I wanted Blake.

  I just didn’t know how to reconcile that with my goals of continuing to sell my beer in his pub. There was no way to make it all okay. Appearances were everything, and if I appeared to be untoward in my business dealings, no one would take me or my beer seriously.

  I couldn’t begin to solve any of that now. The hangover made sure of that. It also made sure that my hands did whatever they damn well pleased.

  I traced Blake’s stubble-covered jaw with my fingertip. When he stirred but didn’t wake up, I continued my exploration. I gently dragged my finger down his throat, over his Adam’s apple to his collarbone, lightly scratching at his skin there until he woke up.

  “Morning.” His normally velvety voice was groggy with sleep.

  “Hi.”

  He dipped his head down, blinking a few times, then reached over to the nightstand for a pair of thick-framed glasses. “How did you sleep?”

  “Good. I passed out cold.”

  He shifted to his side, his left hand holding his head up, his right hand under the covers on my hip. “Yeah, you did. I was barely able to get your shoes off before getting you into bed.”

  The thought of him having to take care of me while I was drunk had me cringing inwardly. Waking up in his bed after a night of drinking was not the impression I wanted to leave, personally and certainly not professionally. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

  “Of course.” His fingers expanded over my hip, and he studied me for a long time, letting me know he wasn’t thinking about me in a professional manner at all right now. The trail his gaze left as it blazed down my body felt like I might never recover. I was fully clothed but felt naked under his observation.

  His eyes were wide, pupils dark, and when he slowly lifted his hand I anticipated a kiss, but instead he dragged his index finger across my bottom lip. It was an intimate touch. One where we spent endless moments breathing each other’s air, staring into each other’s eyes.

  He dropped his finger down to my chin, softly cupping my jaw with his palm. “If you don’t have to rush out or anything, do you want to stay for breakfast?”

  “I thought you don’t eat breakfast.”

  He smiled and tapped my nose before rolling over to grab his cell phone from somewhere on the floor, offering me a glimpse of the sleek muscle on either side of his spine.

  “Lucky for me, it’s ten-thirty. Just in time for brunch. How about some hair of the dog? I have bagels. A few pieces of fruit if you’d like.”

  He was adorably rumpled, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and I eagerly said yes, wanting to make him just as happy as I wanted to make myself. He sat up and threw the covers off, but as I did the same, my headache came back.

  “Oh.” I put my hands on either side of my head and bent over. “I could do with some ibuprofen.”

  “You like orange juice?”

  “Yeah.”

  With my eyes downcast, I heard him leave and return a minute later, his bare feet in my line of vision.

  “Here.”

  I looked up, momentarily stunned when I learned Blake slept in cutoff sweats that hung low on his hips. Those shorts were threadbare and practically pornographic. If he noticed my staring, he didn’t say so. He simply waited with his palm up, holding two gel capsules in it and a glass of OJ in the other hand. I took his gifts gratefully and swallowed them down. I coughed at the burn of alcohol mixed with the juice.

  “And some vodka, too,” he said with a smile. “Ya know, hair of the dog.”

  “Right.” I stood up, but my eyes drifted back over his unfairly delicious body, and I couldn’t help but think how good he looked while my own clothes were wrinkled, the waistband of my jeans cutting into my side. I imagined my makeup had probably run down my face during the night, so I probably looked like a clown, too.

  “I think I’ll just freshen up. Where’s your bathroom?”

  He led me a few steps down the hall to his bathroom, white tile walls with clothes and towels on the floor. He mumbled something under his breath and slid past me to pick everything up and dump it in a laundry basket hiding in the closet. “Do you want to shower? There’re towels in here, if you want.”

  I checked myself out in the mirror. My raccoon eyes and ratty hair were complemented by the pillow crease across my cheek. “I think I might.”

  Our eyes met in the mirror, and a few moments passed where we both seemed to realize how awkward this was. We were doing the morning-after thing after a night of absolutely no debauchery.

  His lips curled into a slow smirk, and he backed out of the room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  He shut the door behind him, and I sat on the closed toilet lid. I didn’t know whether to be mortally humiliated or excited at my morning with Blake. If memory served me correctly, Drunk Piper was overly touchy-feely. I recalled how I had tried to kiss him last night after he had locked the door. He’d turned around, and I threw my arms around his neck, but he’d held me back and smiled gently. “Not like this. I want to kiss you when you’ll remember it.”

  Well, I remembered it. And I wanted to slap myself. Thank God Blake was too much of a nice guy to bring it up.

  I swallowed thickly, dehydrated beyond belief. I bent over the sin
k and drank straight from the faucet before reaching for the toothpaste. A red-and-white toothbrush was next to it, and I hesitated only a second before grabbing it. I didn’t know what toothbrush rules were, but if I’d slept in his bed, I thought I was allowed to use it.

  I used gobs of toothpaste to wash the bad taste out of my mouth, then turned the shower on and stripped down. In the middle of washing my hair with his manly smelling shampoo, I heard a knock on the door. A moment later, the door creaked open.

  “Piper? I heard the water running and thought you might want different clothes to put on. I’ll set them here.” When I poked my head out of the curtain, he smiled at me. “Okay?”

  I wiped the suds away from running into my left eye. “Just making myself right at home.”

  “Good.” He stepped up to the shower, a wicked gleam in his eye, and held on to the curtain just below my hand. “Need any help?”

  I had no snappy comeback because, yeah, I needed help putting my scrambled brain back together from his flirtations. “I think I’m doing fine for now.”

  He leaned in close and wiped a drop of water from the tip of my eyebrow. “Sure?”

  “Sure,” I said, but it came out all ragged and breathless.

  “All right. You let me know.”

  I nodded and dragged the curtain closed before he could see how my body reacted to his playful smirk. The door closed a moment later, and I finished showering in peace before drying off. I fretted for a minute over whether or not I should put my underwear and bra back on from last night, but became distracted when I saw what he’d left for me to wear: a Mumford & Sons concert T-shirt and a pair of women’s leggings. I left my clothes from last night balled up on the floor and got dressed. Curiosity was killing the cat.

  The first thing out of my mouth when I met him in the kitchen was “Why do you have patterned pink-and-gray women’s leggings in your possession?”

  He lazily perused my body. It took him a long second to answer, but when he did I knew he wasn’t lying. “A couple months ago my sister crashed here. She was out drinking and came knocking on my door in the middle of the night. She left those here when I sent her home in a cab and sweats.” He closed some of the distance between us, just barely brushing my side when he reached behind me to open a drawer. “But I kind of like how jealous you sounded just now.”

  I guffawed. “I’m not jealous. I have nothing to be jealous for. I don’t get jealous.”

  He nodded sarcastically and opened a tub of cream cheese. “Sure.”

  I folded my arms, watching like a petulant child as he carefully took each bagel from the toaster oven. “By the way, I used your toothbrush.”

  He took his eyes off smearing cream cheese on the bagels for a second before going back to it. “Okay.”

  I figured he’d be more offended by it. Like I could get him back for calling me jealous. This guy was way too unflappable.

  He tilted his head toward the living room. “Come on. Come sit.”

  I followed him to a spacious area with two overstuffed couches and a big television. He was quick to place coasters and napkins on the coffee table before he set the plate of food down. I plopped next to him, noticing a couple of books neatly stacked up on a small shelf and sneakers on a shoe rack in the corner. He really did like things in order. I made a mental note to see how he folded his fitted sheet.

  He grabbed the remote and turned the television on. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Anything, I’m not picky.”

  He surfed through a couple channels as I picked at slices of apple. He settled on ESPN and sat back, grabbing a bagel on his way. “30 for 30. This is one of the best,” he told me, pointing to the television. “It’s about Mike Ditka and the 1985 Bears.”

  “Awesome.” I dragged out the word so he knew just how I felt about watching Mike Ditka and the Bears.

  “You said you didn’t care.”

  I picked up my own bagel and bent my legs into a comfortable position on the couch, my feet a few inches away from his thigh. “I didn’t think you were going to make me watch some stupid show about football.”

  “It is not some stupid show,” he said, pointing his half-eaten bagel at me. “It’s educational.”

  I eyed him for a moment before giving in. Call me spineless, a defeatist, or a coward, I wouldn’t care. Just put Blake’s hand on my calf, and I’d give in to whatever he wanted.

  “Okay.”

  He kept his hand on my leg, his thumb lightly rubbing over my ankle, making it really difficult to concentrate on whatever the narrator said about Mike Ditka. Eventually he hauled my feet into his lap without any warning, and that was the end of my caring about the Bears.

  “What did you think?” he asked when the credits rolled.

  I had no idea. The best part was when he excitedly squeezed my toe at the commercial for a new movie he wanted to see. And I couldn’t let him think he could pop on a sports show all the time and I’d be okay with it.

  My brain screeched to a sudden halt.

  All the time? Since when did I think I’d be over here all the time? My mind was three steps ahead of me, planning out our future television habits.

  I didn’t hate the idea, but I had to seriously cool it. Even though something was happening between the two of us, I was nowhere near ready to dive headfirst into a relationship. Oddly enough, with Oskar, I’d had no problem jumping right in. It bit me in the ass later on when he asked me to give up more than I wanted. All Blake had asked me for was some time, and I just wasn’t ready.

  “Want to watch a movie?” he asked, moving my feet from his lap to go over to the stack of DVDs on the entertainment console. “I have Ocean’s Eleven, the new one and the original, all the Godfathers, Tombstone, Mission: Impossible, Young Frankenstein, Sandlot—”

  “Sandlot Sandlot.” I pointed excitedly at the DVD he held. “That’s my favorite movie.”

  He cued it up, then tugged me to his side with an arm around my shoulders. “Mine, too.”

  As soon it began, he quoted every line until I backhanded him on the stomach. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

  He chuckled softly into my hair. “We should go out. On a date.”

  It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t know what to say.

  A minute passed, then, “Piper? Date? Tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. My mind was all over the place; even though my heart was on a straight and narrow path right to him, I didn’t think it was a good idea to say yes unless I was absolutely sure it was worth the risk of my business’s reputation.

  Blake slunk farther down into the cushions, positioning me more fully against him, and I let my head drop to his chest with my arm across his stomach. I realized how weird it was to cuddle like this after I’d left the date suggestion hanging between us, but I was too comfortable to move. And he didn’t seem to care, especially when his fingers began to trace up and down my spine.

  We laughed over the same parts of the movie, sometimes saying the lines with the characters, until Squints jumped into the pool for Wendy Peffercorn’s attention. That’s when Blake asked me again. “How about next week? Dinner? Maybe a late-night movie?”

  He was too cute. Honestly. But the thought of dating him, and another potential client or bar owner finding out and assuming things, made me nervous. “I don’t think so.”

  “You already used my toothbrush. You’re wearing my T-shirt. We’re practically married. You might as well go on a date with me.”

  I huffed out a laugh and tipped my head up to look at him. He wore my favorite Blake smile, crooked and dimpled.

  “No.”

  He playfully rolled his eyes then wrapped both of his arms around me, dropping the subject until just about the time Benny pickled The Beast. “Go out with me, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

  I sat up. “You’re relentless.”

  He ducked his head down to my neck and scraped his mouth along my skin as he said, “When I want something, yes.”
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  My arms broke out in goose bumps at the feel of his lips pressing gently against my throat.

  “Please, Piper.”

  I closed my eyes, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long, especially when he lowered his voice and said my name in that raspy way. My brain, and my ovaries, wouldn’t be able to handle much more of it. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

  He lifted his head, listening intently to me.

  “The Public is selling my beer, but it would look bad if word got out about us, and you’re the only bar with my beer. So I won’t go out with you until two more bars pick up accounts.”

  He narrowed his eyes, then nodded slowly, extending his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Miss Williams.” Just as I curled my fingers around his for a handshake, he jerked me into him and whispered sinfully, “And you better believe I’ll be pulling out all the stops. I want to be your best first date ever.” His lips hovered close enough to mine that I could feel the heat from his breath. “I want to be the best of a lot of things for you.”

  I closed my eyes, waiting for a kiss, a kiss I was frantic for, but it never came. I opened my eyes to find he had sat back against the cushion. He cocked an eyebrow. “If I have to wait, so do you.”

  I huffed and threw myself into the corner of the couch. Well damn.

  CHAPTER 14

  Blake

  After my blissful weekend, I was back at work. Grouchy and upset. Bear teased me during our workout. He said it looked like I was constipated. Really, I missed Piper.

  Cheesy, I know, but we’d spent the entire day together Sunday, Netflix and chilling, minus the sex. And I didn’t even care. I’d Netflix and chill—really chill—with Piper every day if I could. What irked me the most was that I didn’t know when I’d see her again. Two more bars had to pick up her beer, and then we could go out.

  It would happen, I was sure of it. Especially after I talked up her beer a bit to some friends. They’d no doubt want to buy in. I just had to be patient.

  Problem was, patience was not my strong suit.