“You’re going to get technical on me?” He laughed like the old Knox. “Short a few fingers. Does that sell it better?”
“Marginally.” Our gazes locked. “You’re not a leftie, if I remember right. You can still do what you need to do with your right hand. And you seem pretty adept with your left still, too.”
“You do. And I can.” He raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Ash. What do you think I’m doing here? Taking pity on you? Throwing cash your way? You don’t need me. You’re so busy I had a damned hard time getting in to see you. That screener of yours—”
“Lottie.”
“She’s tough. If you and I weren’t friends, I’d be on the waiting list. Take pity on me. Find me a woman.” He grunted like a caveman. “I promise to be the perfect client.”
“There’s no such thing as a perfect client. And I know you too well to believe a promise like that.”
He laughed. “Come on, Ash. What do you say?”
I shook my head. “It could be uncomfortable for you. You’ll have to discuss women with me instead of Ruck. You’ll have to talk about your feelings and think about what you really want in a relationship. You’ll have to be honest. And sincere and serious in your pursuit of a wife. I’ll insist you follow my matchmaking rules, of which there are many, and follow my instructions. Can you live with all that?”
“Live with it?” He leaned toward me. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I smiled and took a deep breath. “All right, then. Let’s get started. What are you looking for in a wife?”
13
Crystal
Portland is a city that revels in its quirkiness, self-proclaiming its weirdness and taking pride in it. It’s Seattle’s wacky cousin to the south. A city that touts its locally sourced goods. And by locally sourced, they mean locally sourced, as in sourced in the city itself. “Locally sourced” signs are in nearly every shop.
The last time I was in Portland, I picked up an item to look at, I don’t even remember what it was now, and the shopkeeper came over to warn me and apologize. “I’m sorry. That’s not locally sourced.” She winced. “It’s made in Eugene.”
Which is a city to the south of Portland.
If you’re a foodie, or into microbrews, Portland is the city for you. If you’re a unicorn hunter looking to spot slightly offbeat trends, like me, it’s also the city for you. If you just want to have fun with a hot guy who’s planned a surprise date for you, it’s perfect.
My heart raced with anticipation as our train pulled into Union Station. With its Romanesque Revival architecture, it had a different feel from King Street Station in Seattle. Union Station was just off the Willamette River in Chinatown. I was guessing our final destination wasn’t Old Town Chinatown, but I could be wrong. Most of the interesting breweries were across the river.
“Where are you taking me for this beer?” I took Jeremy’s hand as we got off the train.
“You haven’t guessed?” He seemed surprised by that.
“No,” I said, slowly. “Should I have?”
He shrugged. “Do you want me to spoil the surprise?” He pulled me with him into the station.
“I’ll find out soon enough,” I said. “Are we going on a Portland pub crawl?”
“You’ll see.”
A car was waiting for us outside the station.
“Not doing the Portland thing and biking to our destination?” I leaned against him playfully.
“Sorry. No.”
I laughed. “Maybe next time.”
“Do you like to bicycle?”
“Not that much,” I said. “In the park, on a bike trail. Not in city traffic.”
“Then no.” He led the way to the car and held the door while I got in. He gave no instructions to the driver. Apparently he’d arranged everything ahead of time.
We headed out of the station and across the river.
I wasn’t familiar enough with Portland to figure out where, exactly, we were headed. I cuddled close with Jeremy and whispered in his ear, “I’m breathless with anticipation. This must be some beer you’re taking me out for.”
“Some beer?” His eyes danced. “Just wait.”
The drive to our destination, like everything else about this date, raced by too quickly. Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of a microbrewery I was unfamiliar with. It looked like a fun place and, if the full parking lot was any indication, popular. That was always a good sign.
Jeremy looked at me with anticipation, as if I should recognize the surprise by now.
I bit my lip by force of habit, forgetting for the moment that it was split, and winced.
He kissed me quickly and gently, and pointed to the spotlighted brewery sign, again, giving me an expectant look.
I shook my head.
“Nothing?”
“Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell,” I said, wondering why I should know this brewery. “Should I know it?”
He gave me a wry, almost sympathetic look. “Picture this—a truck out of control. Beer kegs rolling down the street. A truck driver in need of rescue. And a smart, wisecracking dude offering you a beer while he races to the rescue…”
My eyes went wide. “Oh.” I looked at Jeremy and stroked his cheek. “How in the world did you know which beer was rolling by?”
“The brewery’s name was on the truck before it burst into flame.” He tugged my hand as he held it.
“You had time to read the side of the truck?” I was amazed. “I didn’t see anything but a man in trouble.”
“The logo was a little hard to read as it bubbled and melted off the side.”
I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. “True confessions—the brewery owner contacting me to thank me after he saw me on the news may have jogged my memory a little.” He held his fingers apart to show me how little.
I closed my hand around his. “Tease.”
“If you’d stayed around and taken your share of the glory, he might have contacted you to say thank you, too.”
I hesitated. “Is thanks and glory what this date is about? I thought it was about a romantic train ride and an adventure in a foreign city?”
“If I’d wanted a foreign city, I would have taken you to Canada.”
I bumped him with my shoulder and gave him a serious look.
“Did I blow it?” His eyes went wide, but his tone was teasing. “Are you afraid of being recognized from the accident?” He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Let me allay your fears, my reluctant heroine. Don’t worry. I protected your privacy. You’re just along as my ‘date.’ I’m the hero here. As far as the microbrewery owner and staff know, no one has found my beautiful, shy, blonde female accomplice. We can leave it that way, or we can enlighten them. It’s up to you.”
“That’s very sweet and thoughtful of you.”
“You flatter me,” he said. “I knew there had to be a reason you left that accident and might want to remain anonymous. But I have ulterior motives.” He pointed toward the microbrewery. “Inside that establishment is a keg with my name on it, just waiting for me to tap it.”
“You bought a whole keg? Just for us?”
“Bought, no.” He shook his head. “You really don’t know anything about this place, do you? I guess I should have filled you in earlier. They brew all kinds of experimental, crazy beers. Once a week, some lucky patron gets to tap a random keg of some wacky beer they bring out of the cellar. The lucky tapper gets to bring along an accomplice, a holder.”
“A holder?” I said. “Tapping a keg is pretty easy. What do you need a holder for?”
“You’ve tapped a keg before?”
I sighed. “I went to college. Who hasn’t?”
“The holder holds the keg for the tapper.”
I shook my head. “Not really a necessary job.”
“It’s ceremonial. A great honor. The holder gets the second glass of beer, after the tapper. Sometimes the first glass, if the tapper’s chivalrous. People sign up months in advan
ce for this. We were catapulted to the front of the line due to the great, heroic service we rendered.”
“I see.”
“Only the hero can tap,” he said. “Am I tempting you? Step out of the shadows, boldly proclaim your heroism, and the tapping gig is yours. Otherwise, you’re just the pretty face holding the keg.”
I stared at him with narrow eyes.
“Come on.” His breath was hot in my ear. “I don’t know if I can handle all this glory myself.”
“You’re going to have to try,” I said. “I’m going to stick with my window-dressing role today. Too much money at stake here for me.”
“Money or glory, and you choose money.” Damn, he smelled good up close. “I guess we know where your priorities lie, moneygrubber.”
I grabbed his chin, pulled his face to mine, and kissed him until it literally hurt both of us.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his lip when he pulled away.
“Killing you with my passion, am I? Call me moneygrubber again and see what happens.”
“I will. Later. In private.”
I laughed.
“Come on.” He tugged me forward. “They’re waiting for us. Or rather, they’re waiting for me. FYI, the trucker we saved will probably be here tonight. His name is Grove. If he recognizes you—”
I shook my head. “He was unconscious when we met. If he recognizes me, he has much better powers of observation than some people.”
“Cruel woman,” Jeremy said. “Here’s the deal, babe—you’re going to have to watch everyone fawn over me.”
“I can handle it.”
He rubbed his lip again and licked. “Damn. I think I’m bleeding again.”
“Sorry.”
He laughed and kissed the top of my head.
We entered the pub an anonymous couple out for a drink and a Friday night on the town. But it was clear they were expecting Jeremy. Banners were hung proclaiming their gratitude. A gigantic portrait of him sat on an easel on a small stage at the end of the pub.
I pointed to it. “You look good with a big head. Give them that yourself?”
He frowned. “I think they pulled that off my Facebook profile. It’s not my best side.” He caught my eye. “And to think, that could have been your headshot up there with mine.”
“Yeah, that’s a relief.”
People were pointing at him.
“I think you’ve been recognized,” I said in his ear above the din of the brewery and the music playing.
Someone at the bar caught the bartender’s attention and pointed to Jeremy. The bartender wiped his hands on his apron and waved.
Jeremy nodded and waved back as the guy came out from the bar to introduce himself. “Brad. I own this joint. You’re Jeremy?”
Jeremy nodded. “And this is Crystal, my plus-one.”
“Crystal.” Brad took my hand and squeezed it. “Pleased to meet you. You’re the holder tonight?”
Good thing Jeremy had warned me what that was and how great an honor. “Oh yes, I am. Can’t wait. I’m thrilled.”
“Wait until you see the beer we have in store for you tonight. One of our finest and most experimental. Perfect for the occasion.” He slapped Jeremy on the back and pointed to his lip. “Fighter?” His gaze bounced to my fat lip.
There was a second where Brad’s face gave him away. What had he gotten himself into? Was his hero a domestic abuser?
Jeremy laughed. “Train accident.” He explained, making a great story out of it, including our heroism with the old woman. More hero points for us.
As Jeremy talked, Brad visibly relaxed. He slapped Jeremy on the back again. “Once a hero, always a hero.” He cast a quick glance my way. “Both of you were in on that one?”
I nodded.
“You must be very proud of this guy.” Brad puffed his chest out. “It’s not everyone who would risk his life to save a stranger. Who would run into a fire and possible explosion.”
I smiled sweetly and adoringly at Jeremy. “Oh, I am. So very proud.” I stroked Jeremy’s arm and leaned my head on it.
“Ham,” he whispered to me out of the side of his mouth.
“As soon as we heard about the accident, we knew this beer we’d been working on was for you.” Brad nodded toward the bar. “Before we unveil it, I have someone who’d like to meet you.” He waved a guy over.
My heart stopped for a second as the truck driver we’d saved walked toward us. He was just as big as I remembered. I was still amazed we’d been able to get him out of the truck. Neither of us was that big. Probably the two of us together didn’t weigh as much as Grove did.
Fortunately, Grove had eyes only for Jeremy. He walked past me and pulled Jeremy into a ferocious, crushing bear hug. I was definitely not envious of that bit of gratitude. “You saved my life, man. Thanks. I can never repay you.”
“No repayment necessary. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Jeremy’s voice came out strained, as you’d expect when being hugged within an inch of your life. He patted Grove, ineffectually returning the hug, and looked to me for help.
I shrugged and mouthed, “The price of gratitude.”
Just then, the trucker released him.
“Good to see you’re alive and well, dude.” Jeremy took a deep breath.
As the trucker laughed, his beer belly shook. He was definitely in the right line of work. “You’re a thin, little man. I must outweigh you by a hundred pounds. How did you get me out of the truck?”
“Adrenaline.” Jeremy glanced at me again. “And the help of a beautiful woman.”
I shook my head very subtly, warning him off.
“Who will forever remain anonymous,” Jeremy said. “She ran off before I even got her name. And believe me, I wanted it.”
“That hot, huh?” the trucker said.
Jeremy nodded. “You were saved by a complete knockout.”
“If she ever steps forward, I’ll be happy to thank her, too.” The trucker winked and clamped a meaty hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.
“I bet you will.” Jeremy winked at him.
The trucker broke out in another hearty laugh.
Brad stepped forward and took Jeremy’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get this guy onstage and get the beer flowing.” He led Jeremy toward the stage.
Jeremy grabbed my hand and pulled me along with them.
Brad took a mic. The music in the bar stopped. Conversation stopped. “Ladies and gentleman, friends, it’s time for the main event!”
The crowd hooted and applauded.
“Tonight is a special tapping of a special brew to honor a hero who saved our good friend Grove. Grove is a fixture around here. You all know how thankful we are he’s still with us.” He had to talk over applause as he pulled Jeremy forward. “This is Jeremy Marino, the hero we’ve been talking about all night. The guy who saved Grove. The man we owe our gratitude to.”
A cheer rang out.
Brad had to wait for it to die down. “And this lovely lady is his holder tonight, Crystal.”
I received polite applause. Jeremy was right. It was harder than it looked staying in the shadows and letting him get all the applause and adulation.
“I had a big speech planned, but speeches aren’t why you’re here this evening,” Brad said. “You know the story. We’ve been talking about it since it happened and playing the news clips all night. Jeremy pulled Grove out of his burning truck in Seattle a few weeks back. We’re here to thank him and honor him tonight. He brought this lovely lady with him as his holder. So. Let’s get on with what we’re famous for, drinking beer!”
The crowd let out a roar. One of the staffers rolled out a flat dolly carrying a large bucket brimming with ice, cooling a keg.
“All right. Quiet, everyone.” Brad walked over to the keg and patted it. One of his staffers handed him a tap. “Regulars know tapping a keg of a surprise experimental beer from our cellars is what we’re famous for. Tonight, we picked a special brew befitting a hero.” He grinned at Jeremy. “
This is a little number we’ve named for the occasion. This one is brewed with heat to it. It’s fiery, and we all know why. This is the good kind of fire. It’s stout.” He pointed at Grove’s belly.
The crowd laughed. Brad had good timing.
“It’s bold. Ferociously full of a flavor. A brave flavor. A perfect fall beer. A beer that lives up to its name—Fiery Hero Stout.” He nodded to Jeremy. “I think you’re going to like it. I hope you love it.” He pointed to the keg and shook the tap in his hand. “Know how to do this? Need a lesson?”
Jeremy’s grin was epic. “Do I know how to tap a keg? As someone once said to me, I went to college.”
The crowd laughed.
“Thank you Brad. Grove. Brewery staff. I’m honored to be here.” He patted the keg. “I can’t wait to taste this.” Making a great show of it, he rolled up his sleeves.
Brad handed him the tap.
Jeremy checked it over to make sure the spouts were closed, then looked at the end of the tap so he knew how to line it up on the keg. “Don’t want to waste any beer.”
He turned to me, took my hand, and guided me to the keg. “Hold my beer, beautiful.”
“Hold your beer.” I rolled my eyes. “Famous last lines before doing something stupid.”
He laughed. “Careful. Taps have a way of spraying beer if the tapper’s not careful.”
I raised an eyebrow and kneeled, positioning myself in front of the keg. I made a show of stretching my fingers and limbering up before grabbing hold of the edges of the keg and smiling demurely like a showroom model.
Jeremy looked down at me. “Got a good grip? Ready?”
I nodded.
He made a great show of inserting the tap, holding it high in the air, almost like a sacrifice to the beer gods, before rapidly bringing it down and locking it on the keg. He raised an eyebrow as he looked to Brad for confirmation.
Brad nodded and handed Jeremy a red plastic cup.
Jeremy primed the pump. “Here we go.” He opened the spigot and filled the cup to loud applause.
It was mostly foam. Typical for a first glass out of a keg.
Brad took it, put it on a table behind him, and handed Jeremy a clear beer glass with the brewery’s logo on it.
Mr. Accidental Her_Jeremy Page 12