Trouble Brewing

by Suzanne Baltsar

  “No,” I corrected quietly. “I mean you and me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Piper

  I needed to get my mind off my fight with Blake yesterday. I set down yet another case of Gray-Haired Lady and wiped beads of sweat from my forehead and upper lip. Brewing was simple biology; once you understood the fermentation process, it was relatively easy. The hard part was the physical labor: the lifting, pouring, moving.

  Even though I was planning on speaking to him in person, it was impossible for me not to answer his text message asking if I was still upset.

  My one-word answer:

  Yes

  Of course I was still upset. I’d been disparaged by another brewer. I’d put my whole future at risk by being with Blake, and I didn’t know how to fix any of it, other than to work.

  I was a one-woman band, grinding away eight to ten hours every day, doing it all myself—the brewing, the packaging, the marketing. Nevertheless, I had big plans, and I wasn’t going to let what happened yesterday affect me.

  Or I’d try not to let it.

  “You need help with that?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Sonja in the open garage door. “Sure.”

  “I heard you grunting from the kitchen.” She grabbed another full case and carried it to the trunk of my hatchback. Three cases later, my car was loaded and ready to drive over to the distributor tomorrow.

  I stretched my arms above my head and wiped my hands on my T-shirt before sitting at the table I used for capping. Sonja leaned on the edge of the table and fiddled with one of the empty bottles. “The guys are coming over for dinner.”

  I tipped my head side to side, my neck cracking with relief. “The guys?”

  “Bear, Connor, and Blake.”

  I groaned for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that I’d told Blake we were a mistake. “Since when are they ‘the guys’?”

  She blew her cheeks up and let out a rough exhale. “Since you got all googly-eyed over Blake. Since you introduced your best friend slash roommate to his friends. Since we all got drunk for my birthday and became BFFs for life.”

  I slid down in my seat, resting my head on the back of the chair. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “You know Blake and I had a fight. Why did you invite him over?”

  Sonja shook her head at me like it should have been obvious. “First of all, you didn’t even tell me what the fight was about. You just mumbled something about rain and a car, and then sulked in your room watching Friends for the rest of the night. Second of all, I wasn’t going to invite the first two amigos over and leave the third out.”

  “You could’ve,” I said lamely.

  “And you could talk to Blake.”

  Sonja was right. She was always right. I hated that.

  “So what was the fight about?” she asked, inclining her head in interest.

  “This guy basically said I was sleeping with Blake and other owners to get my beer in their bars.”

  “What?” Sonja’s eyes bulged, her shoulders rounding back into that fighter’s pose I’d come to recognize.

  I waved her off. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but I stood my ground.”

  “So what happened?” She folded her arms over her chest.

  I shrugged. “Blake didn’t seem to make the connection of how us being together could be a problem for me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I circled my hand in the air. “Apparently hang out with the guys while silently seething in the corner.”

  Sonja cracked a smile and patted me on the shoulder. “Terrific plan.”

  I pulled my T-shirt away from my chest, airing it out. I smelled like beer and yeast. “What time are they coming over?”

  She set the bottle down and stood up straight. “Six.”

  “Sonja! It’s five-thirty.” I leapt out of the chair and ran out of the garage. I may have been mad at Blake, but I certainly didn’t want him to see me in my ratty work clothes. “I have to shower and change and do my hair in”—I held up my cell phone—“in twenty-nine minutes!”

  I sprinted into the house with Sonja’s laughter as my soundtrack. I showered and changed in record time. I was slathering on tinted moisturizer just as loud footsteps clunked through the front door. Masculine voices carried upstairs, something about burgers on the grill, and I hurried through the rest of my makeup, putting my hair in a quick braid.

  With an uneasiness in my belly, I forced myself to walk downstairs, greeted with waves from the guys.

  “Finally,” Bear said, lifting his beer to me. “Way to join the party late.”

  I noted it was the brown ale I’d been messing around with. I’d only made a few gallons and stored it in a keg. I didn’t even have the recipe down yet, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Made yourself right at home, huh?” I jerked my chin toward his glass.

  “Sonja told me to help myself.” He pointed to the girl in question, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, drinking water with lemon. “Found it in the kegerator you have hidden in the basement.”

  “Hidden for a reason.”

  He threw me a grin before taking a big gulp of the brew. “It’s good.”

  “It’s getting there,” I said, and turned to Connor, pointedly ignoring Blake’s stare that felt like a laser beam on the side of my face. “How’s it going?”

  Connor tilted his head to the side. “Good. Hungry.”

  My lips tipped up in spite of my mood. “Man of few words.”

  Sonja stood up. “I’ll get the salad started. Who’s doing the grilling?”

  Connor volunteered, and Sonja waved her hand toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’m starving. I missed my mid-afternoon snack.”

  “Uh-oh,” Bear said with a smirk. “She missed her hourly two hundred calories. Someone call the doctor.”

  Quicker than a flash of light, Sonja struck her hand out to his bicep.

  He grabbed his arm. “I’m kidding. You know I think it’s hot when you talk calories to me.”

  He jumped back when she took another jab at him, and they playfully continued to shadowbox their way down the hall. Connor followed, leaving me still trying to ignore Blake.

  “Hi, Sunshine.” His voice was soft, even a bit apologetic, but I kept my eyes on the leg of the side table.

  He stood up, grazing my hand when he said, “You look pretty.”

  “In this?” I rolled my eyes. I plucked at the old teal baseball T-shirt, knowing he was trying to get back into my good graces.

  He brushed my braid over my shoulder. “You always look pretty. No matter what you wear.”

  I let out a begrudging “Thank you” but took one small step back. The way his mint-green button-down brought out the green flecks in his hazel eyes was distracting me from why I needed to stay away from him.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Didn’t we do enough talking yesterday?”

  He huffed. “No.”

  I assumed it was the lawyer in Blake that made him want to beat a dead horse.

  “How about you show me where the magic happens?” Blake offered with his hands out.

  I jerked back, my eyebrows pulling together. “You want to see my bedroom?”

  His smile turned downright sinful as he reached for my waist. “Oh, I’m very interested in your bedroom, but I meant I want to see where you brew.”

  My cheeks heated, and for a moment I forgot I was supposed to be mad. “Oh.” I toyed with the end of my braid. “Yeah, this way.”

  I led him past Sonja and Bear chopping vegetables in the kitchen and Connor fiddling with the temperature on our rinky-dink grill outside, down the short sidewalk to the two-car garage. I opened the side door and flipped the lights on. He let out a breath behind me that had me wishing we weren’t in a cold garage filled with brewing supplies but upstairs with a nice, soft bed.

  “Wow.”

  I glanced back at Blake, surprised at the aw
e in his voice. Working in here every day made me kind of blasé about it, but seeing it through his eyes, I could understand how it would be impressive.

  Being in here automatically calmed me, and I pointed to the far side wall with the Hang in There poster. “That’s where I boil.”

  “How much can you make at a time?” he asked, running his hand along one of the fermenters I’d elevated for easier access to the casks.

  “Up to fifteen gallons, but I’ve usually got five fermenting.” I pointed to the two tanks at the end. “I’ve always got the amber in those two since it’s the most popular. I rotate the others through depending on what’s selling.”

  I leaned back against the wall while he wandered around, inspecting everything as I answered his occasional questions, until he finally circled back to me.

  “This is really incredible, Piper. To put this together all yourself.”

  I shrugged. “It’s all I have for right now. I’ll need backers if I ever want to be able to move out of here and actually open up a real brewery.”

  “This is a real brewery.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He gave me an encouraging smile, but it melted. “Yeah. I know.”

  I’d put up a wall between us, sincerely scared my chances of achieving my dreams had been washed away with the rain yesterday. “Blake . . .” I started, emotion choking my words. “What if I’ve ruined everything?”

  “Do you honestly believe that?”

  I picked at the hem of my T-shirt until Blake stopped me with his hand on mine. “Talk to me, Piper.”

  “I think it’s a strong possibility that rumors will spread about me. I already had to explain myself to Tim weeks ago, although I don’t even think he believed me.”

  Blake put his hands on his hips. “Remind me who Tim is again.”

  “My old boss.”

  He snapped his fingers in recognition. “Right. What did Tim say?”

  “He just . . . He told me he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to date, either.”

  “What does Tim know?” he grumbled.

  “A lot, actually. A lot of people, business connections.”

  Blake waved me off, sparking my anger again. It felt like I was right back in Berlin with Oskar treating me like I didn’t know what I was talking about. All that mattered was what he said. It didn’t matter what I felt or thought. And I wasn’t going to go through that again.

  “It’s easy for you to blow this off, but it’s not for me. I hate having to always look over my shoulder, worrying about what people think of me. About how I dress or act. So go ahead, treat this like a joke, but this is my career. My life.”

  I turned away from him in a flurry, hiding the tears threatening to fall. I hated that he didn’t understand how hard this was for me. After all this time of choosing my business over a man, I’d thought Blake was a turning point. That he’d be the one person who got it—got me—but his apathetic attitude toward my feelings proved otherwise.

  “Just forget it, Blake.” I turned around to him, keeping my shoulders back, feigning confidence. “Us being together is a bad idea.”

  “No.” He shook his head, his hand in the air. “I object.”

  “What?” I huffed. “You can’t . . . I . . .” My words failed. Between his serious expression and firm voice, I felt like I was in a courtroom.

  “For as much as I hate hearing you say us being together is a bad idea, I hate even more all the crap you have to go through just because you’re a woman. You think certain decisions you make will affect your career, and that makes you second-guess everything. But it’s just not true. I’m not going to let anyone—not that dickbag from the brewery, not your old boss—let you doubt yourself.”

  He curved his hands around my wrists, his eyes so intent on me it was like he could see straight into me. Like he could see how afraid I was. I did want to be with him, but there were too many outside factors that I couldn’t look past.

  “I like you. A lot,” he said sincerely. “And I know you like me. I also know you’ve worked incredibly hard to get where you’re at, and you’re going to get wherever you want to go because you’ll earn it with that same ethic. It won’t be because of me or anyone else. It’s you. It has been you, and it will be you.”

  Compliments were hard for me to take in because sometimes it was difficult to believe in myself, and I darted my eyes away, ashamed to give in to those feelings of inadequacy.

  But Blake, of course, didn’t let me go. He brought my hands together, holding them up between us, and waited until I looked at him before saying, “I want to be with you. Whether you’re making the best amber ale I’ve ever had or not. Is it a coincidence you do? Yeah. So what? I know what you’re capable of. You know what you’re capable of. Who gives a shit what other people think?”

  “Because they can make or break me,” I said.

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Let’s think this through. Let’s assume Travis McTallywacker is indeed a douchebag who believes conjecture. He will most likely do one of two things.” He held up the index finger on my right hand. “He will either stew about it with his meaty hands cooking up whatever lemon lager he makes, which is not as good as yours. Or”—he lifted my middle finger—“he’ll take the ultimate juvenile way out and tell someone what he thinks has gone on between us.”

  He wiggled my middle finger. “Let’s presume he goes with option B because he’s an asshole. Let’s pretend he tells one, or two, or even three people. What are those people going to do?”

  When I didn’t answer, he filled in the blank. “Those people will likely ignore him because it’s a rumor about a little known start-up, am I right?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘little known start-up,’ ” I said, and pursed my lips.

  “There’s that fight I’m used to.” Blake bit back a smile. “And I wouldn’t say that, either. You know why? Because your beer is good. How many times do you need to hear it? And from how many people?”

  I let his words sink in before I spoke. “I know my beer is good. I don’t need you to tell me. I don’t need anyone to tell me. I know because all of my cases at the distributor sold out last week. Dave called me for double the amount; he said other bars are asking for it. I’m expanding faster than I can make it.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” He threw his hands up.

  “I’m afraid!” I yelled at him, then brought my hand up to cover my mouth, surprised I’d admitted that, let alone done it so loudly. “I told you I’m afraid,” I said more quietly, collapsing into a chair. I was exhausted from keeping all of these emotions inside, and after finally speaking them, it felt like a weight had been lifted off me.

  “What are you afraid of?” He tucked a few strands of loose hair behind my ear and skimmed my earlobe with his thumb before dropping it.

  “Of failing. Of not being enough to run my company. Of not being enough for you.” My voice cracked on the last word, and I hoped he didn’t notice.

  But he laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the coolest, strongest, most badass person I know. You are way more than enough. I should be the one worried about not holding up my end.”

  He bent down and held my face between his hands. “You brew your own beer. You’re the best girlfriend in the world. What can you say about me?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “That I’ve got majestic hair?”

  I bit my teeth into my bottom lip, but I couldn’t help my smile.

  “I’m here for you—if you want me here, that is. But,” he said seriously, “if you truly think us being together will hurt your future, then I’ll walk away. I’ll keep selling your beer at the Public, but I’ll leave you alone.”

  The fact that he’d give me my space if I wanted it let me know he actually did understand how important it was for my business to succeed, and that I’d made a lot of sacrifices for it in the past. Turns out, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice Blake, but before I could answer, he went on.

  “I’d hate fo
r you to give up on something we’ve barely gotten a chance to start.”

  I nodded and stood up, wrapping my arms around him. “Me too. What we have is worth it.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  I kissed his cheek before leaning back to look him in the eye. “I got a small glimpse of lawyer Blake, and he was super hot.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He chuckled.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Your bedroom.”

  I laughed as he tugged me out of the garage, past Connor, Bear, and Sonja in the backyard.

  “Where are you two going?” Sonja asked as she handed a platter to Connor.

  “Going to try some beer,” I said, giving a quick excuse.

  I ran toward the stairs once we were inside, and he followed after me, closing my bedroom door behind us. He took his shirt off as I hopped from one foot to the other, stripping my shorts off. He chuckled at my clumsiness and pulled me to the bed, kissing my forehead, cheek, nose, mouth, shoulder, any bit of skin that he could find, as he finished removing the rest of my clothes and then his.

  He slid his hands down my back and thighs, my skin blazing under his touch. With every kiss and gentle caress, he shaped me, molded me to whatever he wanted. One hand dug into my hair, while the other rolled me underneath him, making me forget we’d ever had an argument.

  After what seemed like forever, I lay on my side, and he pushed the hair out of my eyes.

  “Do I look a mess?”

  “No. You look properly ravaged,” he answered against my lips.

  I went quiet, and he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry for crying and being all . . .” I waved my hands around my head. “Yesterday.”

  He sat up suddenly, looking a bit annoyed. “No. Please don’t make me into one of those guys who won’t listen to a woman’s feelings. And please, please, don’t be one of those girls who is afraid to express herself. Don’t apologize for it.”

  I tried to be strong in my daily life and not apologize for what I wanted, but I was self-conscious of coming off too emotional, or too bossy, or too weepy, or too whatever. It was a learned skill to not care what other people thought of me, and I was still working on it. Good thing Blake was around to help me.