Trouble Brewing

by Suzanne Baltsar

  My muscles involuntarily twitched under her touch. “I do try.”

  “Mhmm,” she hummed into a kiss, her lips tasting of the cantaloupe she’d been nibbling on. “And I want you to finish first.”

  I didn’t understand what she meant right away; I was too busy pulling the thin strap of her tank top down to pay attention, until she ground down on me.

  My body responded immediately, hardening against her.

  She slipped off me and knelt on the floor, looking up at me with both a sweet smile and sexy bedroom eyes. I couldn’t keep my own gaze off her as she unbuttoned my dark chino shorts and yanked the zipper down.

  God, I loved that. The ownership we had over each other with familiar touches and silent communication. I hadn’t ever had that with anyone before, and I didn’t want to have it with anyone else. I wanted Piper to be the only woman to ever own my body and heart.

  Watching her expertly work me with her mouth made the pleasure ten times better, and I tugged on her hair, feeling the telltale burn deep down in my belly. She rubbed her hands up and down my thighs and leaned back. “Nice guys finish first.”

  “Your turn.” I growled and wrapped my hands around her elbows, snatching her up from the floor and onto my lap once again. I viciously went after her throat, using my teeth and tongue to torture her as much as she’d tortured me.

  I drew a line from her neck to her collarbone, and the telltale wiggle of her hips in my hands let me know I was on the right track. The shirt she wore was no match for me. I jerked it and her bra out of the way to get to her, but just as I lifted her off me to reach for her shorts, her phone dinged.

  And I was back at square one. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, I knew her mind was on her phone two feet away. Her mouth was no longer as pliable. Her body no longer lax under my hands.

  “Go on,” I said, my hands going slack against the couch. If her brain wasn’t 100 percent into it, neither was I.

  She scooted off me, and fixed her tiny shorts and put her shirt straps back in place before she grabbed her cell. “It’s the e-mail.”

  Her eyes widened at me, and my stomach dropped. If I could have absorbed her angst, I would have, but all I could do was be there for her.

  “What’s it say?”

  She read it silently to herself, the index finger of her left hand constantly twirling a lock of hair.

  “You’re killing me, Smalls,” I said, trying to lighten the mood while I read over her shoulder.

  “Dear Piper,” she started. “I was given your contact information by your parents. We met blah, blah, blah,” she said, skipping down to the important stuff. “A few years ago, I invested in the DeLio Brothers Brewery, which has been running successfully since 2013. Last year, I parted ways with the brothers, on good terms, but have spent the last six months making plans to open another craft brewery in Des Moines. I have the capital and resources to invest, but I need the talent. From my research of your website, the pitch from your lovely parents, and the sample of your beer, I am very interested in speaking to you more about the possibility of bringing you on in this endeavor.”

  She slowly turned to me, a small curl to her lips, when she said, “He wants me to call him. He’s already bought the lot and has all the permits.”

  “That’s great.” I pressed a kiss to her lips, my elation swiftly plummeting to worry when I put two and two together. “In Des Moines?”

  “What?” she asked against my mouth.

  “You’d have to move to Iowa.”

  She jerked away from me, her eyes clouding to a moss green as they darted back and forth between my own. The reality must have just hit her, too, because she opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t . . . think . . . I . . . well, I don’t know.”

  I nodded in agreement, but we both knew what the truth was.

  If she wanted this investment opportunity, she’d have to move to another state.

  “Yeah, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I said, but I hoped to God we’d never get there.

  And didn’t that make me a jerk?

  I was supposed to be Piper’s number one supporter, but here I was praying this would work out for me. I didn’t want to give her up, but if she took this offer, I’d have to. And I’d have to do it with a smile on my face.

  I pressed play on Gilmore Girls and tried to ignore Piper next to me, happily typing away on her phone.

  I crossed my arms and pretended I wasn’t sulking as I watched Dean publicly break up with Rory at the dance-a-thon. Who knew I’d become so emotionally involved in fictional characters’ lives?

  “You okay?” Piper asked, running her fingers down my arm to link her fingers with mine.

  “Yeah.” I pasted on a grin, but she saw through it. The suspicion in her gaze was clear, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t hide my disappointment at her future plans. It may not have been set in stone yet, but you didn’t have to own a crystal ball to see what was going to happen.

  CHAPTER 22

  Piper

  The conversation with Bob Oakden lasted more than two hours. The passion in his voice was evident as he told me about his history in the business. He’d earned his money in his younger days in commercial real estate, and once he turned fifty, he’d decided he wanted to explore other options. He loved beer and wanted to get involved in brewing, which led him to invest in a small start-up.

  Bob was the type of guy who followed his gut, or at least that’s what he told me when he offered me the deal: a partnership to open a brewery in Des Moines where we’d split profits in half. He was willing to put up almost all of the starting cash, but he wanted a piece of Out of the Bottle in return. He sent me over a business offer and contract, and pictures of the beautiful old brick firehouse he’d bought with the intention of gutting the inside for a brewery.

  It all sounded ideal, and I obviously had a lot to think over.

  I told him so, and he kindly offered to put me up in a hotel if I was interested in meeting with him in Des Moines. Once again, I told him thank you and that I’d consider it.

  But once I hung up, fear got the best of me. I had a lot of information and questions floating around my brain, and I couldn’t digest any of it.

  My room suddenly became too small, the lights too bright, and I had to get out. I changed into mesh shorts and a T-shirt, and threw on sneakers before knocking on Sonja’s door. “I need some fresh air.”

  I knew she had been up early this morning to teach a class at the gym and only had an hour or two of downtime before she had to go back, but I needed her.

  She tossed her phone down to the bed. “Wanna go for a run?”

  My brain was so fried, I actually answered, “Yeah,” and hopped down the stairs toward the front door. Sonja joined me a minute later in her neon-green sneakers, Nike shorts, and matching top, looking much more adept at this running business than I was.

  “Let’s go this way.” She started us off to the left, heading in the direction of the park.

  I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in through my nose and out of my mouth like Sonja reminded me. The only positive effect of running was that I was too focused on the fire in my lungs to think about the chaos in my brain. I took one step, and then another, and then another, until I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Sweat rolled down my temple, and I slowed to a stop with my hands on my hips. “Hold on. Hold on.”

  “We’ve haven’t gone a mile yet,” Sonja said, doing the annoying thing where she kept running in place as if she wanted to rub it in my face that I had failed so spectacularly at keeping up.

  “Why are we doing this again?” I asked once I had enough air in my lungs.

  “Because you said you needed some fresh air and some time to think.”

  I bent over, studying pebbles on the ground as I fully caught my breath. “Oh, yeah.”

  Sonja headed down the road, walking at an easy pace, and I followed her dutifully. We went abo
ut half a mile before she finally asked, “So, you going to tell me what happened with the phone call or not?”

  “He wants to invest.”

  She knocked her shoulder into mine. “I knew you’d get it.”

  I smiled.

  “Why do you look all”—she pointed to my face—“wonky?”

  I batted her hand away. “I don’t look wonky.”

  “You do. Why?”

  Why? That was the question.

  An opportunity like this was what I’d been working for, so shouldn’t I have jumped at the offer?

  A few years ago—hell, even a few months ago—I would’ve been making plans, packing up, buying a plane ticket, but now there were too many things, too many people slowing me down.

  “I’m not sure what to do. I mean, this is a huge, huge leap for me. Out of the Bottle would finally have a home, but I’d have to split ownership with Bob. I can’t take that proposal lightly. Or the move, for that matter. Right?”

  “Let’s think about this logically with a pro and con list. Give me a pro.”

  “Pro. Okay.” I named the first thing that came to mind. “Out of the Bottle would be a fully functioning brewery with state-of-the-art equipment for increased production.”

  “Definite pro.” She nodded. “Con?”

  “I wouldn’t be in control anymore. I’d have to run all of my decisions past Bob. He knows what he’s doing and is clearly industry savvy, but I’ve been solo for so long, I don’t know if I’d like having a partner.”

  “Totally understandable. Pro?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never been to Iowa, so I’d get to live in a new place. Meet new people.”

  Her eyebrows narrowed slightly at that, not quite a glower, but close enough. “Con?”

  “I don’t think those new people would be as cool as you.” I grabbed my best friend’s hand and leaned my head down on her shoulder.

  “Obviously. No one ever is as cool as me.” She pointed at me. “Pro?”

  “Not as cold there.”

  Sonja inclined her head. “True. But you got used to these winters after a while, huh? Con?”

  I retied my hair into a messy bun, wicking the sweat back. “I’d have to start all over again, move, find a place to live.”

  “That does suck. Think about all the packing you’ll have to do. At least you’ll have some strapping young men to help you this time.”

  Speaking of strapping young men, Blake’s face popped into my head, not that he had ever left, but I’d been trying to keep him out of my decision. I was a business owner, and I needed to decide what was best for me and the business. This had nothing to do with him.

  Except, it had everything to do with him.

  “Des Moines is only three hours away,” I said, determined to stay positive. “Close enough that I could drive back, or you could come there.” I didn’t have to mention Blake’s name for Sonja to hear it in my voice.

  She frowned ever so slightly before replacing it with a smile. “Yeah.” She nodded, the usual assurance filling her voice. “Three hours is nothing.”

  I shot my hands out to the side, the truth thundering in my head because I didn’t think even Sonja believed the words that had just come out of her mouth. “It’s three hours away!”

  “I know! Do you have to move?” Sonja wailed, hanging on to my arm. “I’m so happy for you, I really am, but I hate that it’s not here.”

  She had given voice to every thought racing through my mind. I thought being outside, talking it through, would help, but it had only led to more confusion.

  The more confused I became, the angrier I got with myself. I prided myself on my independence, on always doing what I wanted to do, so I hated that I couldn’t do that now. That I couldn’t make a clear-cut decision.

  “Let’s review,” Sonja said, taking off on a quick trot. I had to follow as she went on. “The good things about this choice are that Out of the Bottle would have backing, you’d finally be able to make your own beer in a place that wasn’t our garage, and you’d be out there in the world. Bad things: you’d have to consider your new partner, move to a different state, and leave me. And, you know, Blake.”

  I’d tried to convince myself that if I didn’t say his name, I could pretend it wasn’t true.

  There was no Blake Reed in Des Moines, and he entered in on the list with an underline and an exclamation point.

  And I had officially become someone I promised myself I wouldn’t. After my relationship with Oskar ended, I’d decided I would never let another man influence my decisions. I’d never let a man get in front of my dreams. I’d never give up who I wanted to be or what I wanted.

  But here I was thinking of doing that exact thing.

  I pushed forward, chugging along as fast as I could. “I’m not going to not take the offer because of Blake.”

  “I . . . think that makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I huffed out. “It’s a double negative. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

  I ran so slow that Sonja turned around and walked backwards faster than I was going forward.

  “Blake wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to fall for the guy who sold my beer. I wasn’t supposed to have to choose between him and my dream.”

  “I know this probably isn’t at all helpful, but I’ll support whatever you decide, and I’m sure Blake will do the same.”

  “You’re right.” I rubbed at a cramp in my side. I wanted her to tell me what to do, not leave it all up to me. “Not helpful at all.”

  “Let’s go.” She steered me down the street, circling back to the house. It felt like a million miles until we arrived at our front door, where I promptly fell to the ground in exhaustion. The run may not have helped clear my head, but it made me physically too tired to even think about my decision.

  Sonja pulled out a house key from a hidden pocket in her shorts and unlocked the front door. Leo’s tail lazily swung in the window as he gazed outside at me. That fat cat actually had the nerve to taunt me while all he did was eat treats and sleep.

  “Here.” Sonja tossed me a water bottle, but it fell to the grass with a thump when I didn’t catch it.

  “What time do you have to go in to work?” I asked, reaching over for the water.

  “About an hour. I’m there until late tonight. What are you going to do today?”

  “The same thing I do every night, Pinky, try to take over the world.”

  Sonja didn’t laugh at my joke, and I sat up.

  “That’s Brain, from Pinky and the Brain.”

  She shrugged.

  “Animaniacs. You never watched it?”

  “Nope.”

  I slapped a hand to my head. “I knew you lived under a rock, but I didn’t know it was a giant boulder. It was a cartoon series on weekday afternoons. Arguably the greatest cartoon of the nineties.”

  “Arguably,” she repeated, raising perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “I’ll look into it when I have time.”

  But she never had the time. That’s why she never got any of my pop culture references. Because while I was parked in front of the television, binge-watching The Big Bang Theory, Sonja was off working or working out. Maybe for my next birthday, I’d ask her to spend the whole day with me, in her pajamas, watching every old cartoon I could find. She’d hate it.

  Then I remembered that if I moved to Des Moines, I wouldn’t be home for my next birthday, and my exhaustion couldn’t cover up my apprehension anymore. I slowly stood up and made my way inside and upstairs. I flipped my sneakers off into my closet and picked up my cell phone from where I’d left it on my dresser.

  There were a few texts from Blake.

  Let me know how the call went.

  I thought you had the call at 9, is it still going on?

  Three hours? Damn, I hope you’re hatching a plan for world domination.

  I’m meeting Bear for lunch, want to come?

  The last message was about twenty minute
s ago. I texted him back.

  Just got in from a run.

  When he didn’t get back to me, I hopped into the shower and changed into clean clothes before heading out back to the garage.

  My sanctuary.

  The one place I didn’t have to think.

  I got out my bottle capper, a simple machine to make the job easier without having to pay the thousands of dollars for an inline capper. Capping bottles was a menial task, but I could focus on it without exerting much energy, and soon I got into a rhythm.

  I sang along to the Band of Horses album I had playing through the Bluetooth speakers, and thought about absolutely nothing except for how the labels might look on a darker glass bottle Bob had suggested.

  That was until my phone rang.

  And I knew it was him.

  I wiped my hands on a rag and picked my phone up to find I was right. It was Blake.

  I didn’t have it in me to answer, so I let it go to voicemail and waited another twenty minutes until I pressed play on the message.

  “Hey, Sunshine. We missed you at lunch. A couple of high school hockey players recognized Bear and wouldn’t leave the table. We ended up hanging out with a bunch of sixteen-year-olds. It was actually kind of fun.”

  I snorted at his reluctant laugh.

  “I’m just calling to check in. See what’s up . . . and I miss you. That’s crazy though, right? I slept in your bed last night, woke up with my arms around you, and kissed you before I left for work this morning five hours ago.”

  I’d probably have laughed if my skin hadn’t heated up at the warmth in his voice.

  “I shouldn’t miss you yet,” the message continued. “That borders on creepy stalker.”

  I bit back a smile at his crazy train of thought.

  “But I do. And I had to tell you. I miss you every day, no matter how long we’re apart.”