by Jayci Lee
“Yes, ma’am. No hookup. Just a dance.”
Tara smiled at last, and he wanted to puff out his chest and maybe pound on it a little. But he restrained himself and led her to the dance floor. They had seen the bride and groom off to their wedding night, and the crowd was dwindling. The band was playing a lazy jazz piece, but the band leader winked at Seth and transitioned to a sensuous, old-time ballad. He nodded his thanks to him.
When Seth pulled Tara close, his body reacted as though he’d touched a live wire. His smile faltered and was replaced by slack-jawed shock. Every hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood at attention, and the shiver running through his body felt hot and cold at once. He’d never felt desire so instantaneous and powerful before. What the hell was happening?
Tara stared back at him with eyes filled with alarm. She must’ve felt it, too, and was as startled as he was by the electricity humming through them. He wanted to reassure her … let her know this was something new for him, too.
“Wow,” he said, taking a small step back. “I … will you catch me if I swoon? My knees feel like Jell-O.”
Tara huffed a husky laugh, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Each person to their own.”
He returned her smile and waited a moment before he pulled her close again. He shivered and she nestled her cheek in the crook of his neck, tightening her hold on him. Probably just in case I swoon. Her scent intoxicated him—citrus, cream, and aged oak. It was an unexpected but sexy-as-hell combination, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He couldn’t get enough of her. But he intended to respect the line she drew. For tonight.
Seth was moving to Paris in a little over a month. He was rearing to start the next chapter of his life as an esteemed photographer in the world’s fashion capital. It was the opportunity of a lifetime that he had every intention of exploiting. He already had most of his belongings packed and a lease on a condo in Paris.
But he couldn’t leave their wild attraction unexplored. He and Tara wouldn’t have much time, but there was enough for a bit of fun. He just needed to come up with a plan to win Tara over for a sweet spring fling.
The music came to an end much too soon, and he held her for an extra beat. Then Seth cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to get a drink?”
She hesitated, staring hard in the vicinity of his bow tie. After a moment, she met his eyes. “Sure. I could use some company.”
“I make great company,” he assured her.
Tara hid a small smile. He was surprised by her change of heart, but she seemed more comfortable around him. And less suspicious about his intentions. Whatever the cause, he was glad he could spend more time with her. But when he searched for the closest bar, the bartender was busily closing shop. Seth’s dismayed eyes sought out the other bars, but they were already closed.
“It looks like the bartenders are wrapping up for the night,” she murmured with something akin to disappointment. She worried her bottom lip for a second then asked, “Do you … want to take a field trip?”
“I’m game,” he said with a bit too much enthusiasm. He didn’t want the night to end, yet. “Where to?”
“I want to drown my sorrows in my beer barrels.” She didn’t quite succeed in making it sound like a joke.
“What sorrows?” His eyebrows drew together in concern.
“A corner of my heart feels hollow,” she whispered after a brief hesitation.
“Is it because of the wedding?” Instinct told him it was.
“More or less. I’m happy for Aubrey and Landon. More than words can say. But Aubrey is my best friend and her life is changing … she’s moving on. I can’t help but feel left behind. Stuck in the present.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Landon was his older brother, and he always seemed to walk a few steps ahead of him. This was just another instance where Landon stepped forward first. But Seth was about to take his own step forward—not toward marriage, but toward professional success and personal growth—by moving to Paris. But if he weren’t, would he feel left behind? Yes. Like a lone tree trunk rooted to the floor of a river.
“She might be moving on, but that doesn’t mean you’re stuck,” he said hesitantly. “It just means that you’ll have to figure out your own way forward.”
“You’re probably right.” She paused as though searching for the right words. “But my best friend grew a mini-human in her stomach, and got married to her soul mate. I’m going to miss daydreaming about the future with Aubrey, because her future is already here.” She tilted her head and met his eyes, seeking reassurance. “It’s normal to feel a little melancholy, right?”
“Without a doubt. And you know what helps with a bout of melancholy?” Seth smiled, wanting to chase away the sadness in her eyes. “Drowning it in copious amounts of beer.”
“Right. Let’s get out of here.”
“Lead the way,” he said, holding out his arm toward the main entrance.
“I’m afraid you need to be my chauffeur,” she said as they walked to the parking lot. “I drove here with my family, and they’re long gone.”
“With pleasure,” he said happily. “You can be my navigator.”
“Actually, are you okay to drive?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been drinking club soda for most of the night.”
“How very responsible of you,” she teased.
The short drive to Weldon Brewery would’ve been scenic, but it was pitch-black and they couldn’t see beyond the patch of road in front of them. But when they approached downtown Weldon, soft muted streetlights lit the way into the charming town, lined with a potpourri of mom-and-pop stores.
Seth pulled into the brewery’s parking lot and followed Tara inside through the back entrance. When the dim corridor opened up into the dining hall, he let out a long, low whistle. The vaulted ceiling and dark wooden beams bearing its weight made him feel as though he’d walked into a lofty ski lodge. The elegant simplicity and strength of the design alluded to a sense of freedom and steadfastness.
“So this is the famous Weldon Brewery,” he said, still surveying the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back opened up the space even more and highlighted its rustic appeal. “This place is impressive.”
“Thank you.” A proud grin spread across her face. Motioning for him to follow, she walked across the floor and rounded the bar. “What would you like?”
“I’ll leave that up to the expert.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Mischief lit up her face and laughter tumbled out of her. “Do you want to hear something funny?”
“Sure.” He smiled at her infectious laughter, curious about what brought it on. “It must be a good one.”
“When your brother had the nerve to show his face here after writing that horrible review about Aubrey’s bakery, I told him he should drink Witch’s Brew, which gave heartless jerks permanent impotence.”
“You did not.” Seth laughed, incredulous. She was so awesome.
“Oh, yes, I did.” She cocked her hip to one side and planted a hand on her waist in an unmistakable badass pose.
“Well done. Landon definitely deserved that dig. As for me, I’ll stay far away from Witch’s Brew. I’m not a heartless jerk, but better safe than sorry,” he said with an exaggerated shiver. “So which brew would you recommend for me?”
“Let me think about that one.” Tara pinched her chin between her thumb and index finger, seeming to give it some serious thought. “Back at the wedding, I would’ve recommended Buzz Off for sure. But you’ve grown on me over the course of the evening. Don’t get smug. It just means I’m not quite ready to kick you to the curb.”
“Very kind of you,” Seth murmured wryly. “On the bright side, that means you’re not immune to my charms.”
“You know what? I’ll create a special brew for you, and call it Inflated Ego.”
“Ouch. Even if I did have an inflated ego, spending time with you is sure to bring it down a few notches.”
“I
t’ll be good for you. You know, it builds character,” she smirked. “But I’ll give you a break. Why don’t you have Buckle Down, our barrel-aged stout. I’m pretty proud of that one. It’s not perfect, yet, but it’s getting there.”
“I can’t wait to try some,” he said with genuine enthusiasm.
She filled a heavy snifter with dark, rich stout, finishing it with a thick, creamy head. It was the perfect pour. As she handed him the beer, his fingers skimmed across hers, and desire enflamed his entire body. Her quick, indrawn breath told him she’d felt it, too. They stared at each other, unnerved by their reaction to each other. Their breathing became shallow as sexual tension wrapped around them.
Tara broke eye contact first, and poured herself a light golden brew in a chalice. She cleared her throat and held her cup toward him with a too-bright smile that belied what just happened between them. “Gun bae.”
The moment had passed, but his blood still pumped loudly in his ears. But following her cue to dismiss the flare of attraction, Seth clinked his glass against hers with an answering smile. “Cheers.”
His eyes widened after the first sip, then he took a slower sip with his eyes closed. It was full-bodied, rich, and just the right amount of bitter. One of the best damn beers he’d ever had.
“This is amazing. How is this not perfect?” His face scrunched up in confusion.
“The judges don’t think so. Weldon Brewery came in silver to Mountain Brewery’s gold in the wood-aged stout category for the last three competitions. I think I know why. Their finish is a smidgeon smoother,” she admitted grudgingly. “But I don’t want to sacrifice the bite of bitter coffee in my stout for the smoother finish. I’m getting there, though. I just need to fine-tune the malt and caramel ratio with the hops.”
“I hope you’re planning on beating them.”
“Hell, yeah. The next competition is at the San Diego Beer Festival, which is a good-sized event. That’ll be a good start,” she said. Seth leaned forward with his elbows on the counter and waited for her to continue. “But what I really want is to brew the best beers out there and have Weldon Brewery sweep gold medals for the top beer categories at the World Beer Cup. It’s the biggest beer competition out there, and we’re entering in the next couple years. If we establish a name for ourselves, we can start bottling our beer for retail sales. I want to put Weldon Brewery firmly on the map.”
“That’s fantastic.” Her talent, her strength, and her spirit blew him away. “You certainly have the drive to make it happen.”
“Maybe I overshot it a bit, but I definitely want to win the gold medal for the barrel-aged stout at this year’s San Diego Beer Festival. My IPAs have been doing great, so it’s time to let my stout shine.”
Seth raised his glass in salute and downed half of the beer. Tara lifted her own beer and finished it to the last drop.
“Whoa. What’s the rush? We’re not having a drinking contest.” He thought she was in a better mood, but her melancholy seemed to have stayed with her.
“Hmm.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “I like that idea.”
“What idea?” he asked, distracted by the soft give of her lips under her finger.
“Why, having a drinking contest, of course,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t we bet a hundred bucks to keep it interesting?”
“A hundred bucks? You’re not messing around.” Seth chuckled, enjoying her boldness. Then a brilliant idea lit up his mind. Dude, you’re a fucking genius. If it worked, he might get his spring fling with Tara after all. Reining in his excitement, he said casually, “Why don’t I suggest the game? Do you think you can handle some truth or dare?”
“Bring. It. On.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Here, let me switch out the glasses to something more civilized,” Tara said, reaching for his snifter. They were going to pass out before the game got interesting if they chugged from their full-sized glasses. “And we’ll both drink the white ale to keep the alcohol level even.”
“Sounds like a plan. Should I start?” He rubbed his hands together like he was relishing the thought of annihilating her. How precious. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” She crossed her arms in the universal bring-it-on gesture.
“When was your first kiss and with whom?” he asked with a friendly smile.
“Seriously? You just went there?” Her arms dropped limply to her sides.
Tara felt warmth seeping up from her neck and spreading to her cheeks. She was a late bloomer, and her first kiss hadn’t been until college with her first boyfriend. She never spoke about Jason. He had been her first everything, including her first heartbreak. He’d done such a thorough job of it that she’d buried her heart deep inside so no one could touch it again. It took her a year of friendship and a lot of beer before she’d even told Aubrey about the abusive bastard. Tara shook her head. Despite her notorious competitiveness, she picked up her cup and drained it.
“Really?” Seth’s eyebrows rose. “That was a question you couldn’t answer? I thought I was going easy on you.”
“Shove it.” She resisted the urge to pout. She couldn’t believe she had to admit defeat in the first round. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” he shot back.
“Ooh, fun.” She looked around for the perfect feat, and smiled. “I dare you to carry six full steins to that corner table, and walk back without spilling.”
“Come on. I bet even you can’t carry that many at once, and you’re a professional.”
“I can carry eight at a time, kiddo. Do you accept the dare, or are you drinking more free beer?”
“Hang on. Kiddo?” Outrage deepened the groove between his eyebrows. “I’m only a year younger than Aubrey.”
“And I’m a year older than her. So that means I’m two whole years older than you. In fact, you should be calling me noona.”
“Older sister? No way. Not happening.”
“We’ll discuss that later,” she said, laughing at his stormy expression. Annoying him was far safer than fawning over him. “For now, are you accepting the dare or not?”
In response, he unbuttoned his shirtsleeves and rolled them past his elbows.
Her jaws went slack at the sight of his manly forearms, and lust flared in her stomach. She tore her eyes away before she reached out and trailed her finger down his arm. Chaos and annihilation lie that way. Taking a fortifying breath, she proceeded to fill six steins with water. She refused to waste a drop of one of her beers.
“Here you go,” she said, placing them on the counter. “Three in each hand.”
Seth confidently picked up the steins and promptly sloshed water onto the counter. “Shit.”
“Be careful.” The veins and muscles in his forearms strained against the weight of the steins and she bit her cheek not to moan out loud. “If you bring back half-empty steins, you lose.”
With intense concentration, he walked toward the corner table, cursing every so often. But he soon returned with a decent amount of water left in the steins. He carefully placed the six steins on the counter and flexed both his hands repeatedly. They probably felt pretty cramped up. In truth, Tara could only carry four at a time herself. Maybe she should massage his strong, masculine hands for him.
“Dare accomplished.” She clapped her hands loudly enough to make herself snap out of her lust-filled thoughts. “Impressive for a first try. Let me know if you need a part-time job.”
“Don’t try to distract me with your pretty words.” Seth jerked his chin at her. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” After the last round, dare seemed to be the safer choice. She’d had her reservations about her rash decision to invite Seth to the brewery, but it was turning out to be a good one, despite her brief lapses into hornyville. She didn’t want to risk making things awkward again.
“Okay. Give me a sec.” Seth thought for a moment with his mouth scrunched to the side. She reveled in all his different expressions—all much too attrac
tive—and this one was just adorkable. Then he snapped his fingers, and said, “Mirror me.”
“Let’s go.”
The first one was easy. With his arms outstretched, he touched the tip of his nose with one hand then the other, like the sobriety test. She had to concentrate a bit to land her fingertip on her nose. She must be getting tipsy. All the more reason she had to succeed in this dare. Chugging one more glass might tip her right over to drunk.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she said.
Crap. Why did she goad him? It seemed trash talking was second nature to her. Last year at a beer competition, she yelled out to a competitor that their beer looked a bit flat and offered to lend them some of her carbonation. They were worthy opponents and good friends, so she didn’t get beaten up or anything, but she really needed to mouth off a little less.
“Oh, no. I have loads of fun up my sleeves.” Keeping his arms outstretched, Seth slowly drew his knee up and assumed the Karate Kid pose.
Tara snorted and mirrored his move. “You’re such a dork.”
“That I am.” With a roguish tilt of his lips, he put his foot and arms down and stood tall. Then he proceeded to do the weirdest, most fascinating thing. With his tongue.
His red, wet tongue slid up his upper lip as though he was about to lick it, but his tongue kept moving upward. Up and up until his tongue hit the tip of his nose.
Holy Mother Teresa. How was he doing that?
She stuck her tongue out. Maybe it wasn’t that hard. She’d just never tried it. Tara valiantly contorted her face and craned her neck, trying to copy the maneuver. It wasn’t easy. It was impossible. Her tongue just wasn’t long enough. Wait a minute. That meant Seth’s tongue was long, and … full of potential.
When she started drooling—from keeping her mouth open too long or from daydreaming about Seth’s potential, she didn’t know—she knew she’d lost the dare. She closed her mouth and dragged her sleeve across her slobbering mouth.
As soon as Tara gave up, Seth ceased his weirdly erotic tongue magic, and burst into laughter. “Oh, my God. You should’ve seen the faces you were making. Dammit. I should’ve recorded it.”