by Kinney Scott
“It won’t be this way for long - I’ve arranged for a new car.”
Steven took a moment. During his lengthy pause Ravenna waited, and took another sip of wine. Now the red liquid didn’t taste as satisfying.
“Ravenna, when I set this deal up with Wade Michaels, he hadn’t started work on the new location. How does it look?”
She smiled, “This brewery has fantastic raw potential. The lumber mill is filled with organic elements. The space is perfection.”
An edge of irritation took over Steven’s tone. “No. I mean how far has he progressed? What is the quality of the materials? Does it look like this guy is strapped for cash?” She struggled with his line of questioning. Under some circumstances, these were legitimate concerns. Ravenna felt uneasy.
She answered truthfully, but with no embellishment. “The quality is above average, with plenty of raw material to repurpose on site. I haven’t met his staff of brewers. The men working construction seem efficient and professional.”
“Ravenna have you seen any sign of his family?” He asked abruptly.
She lost her composure and blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Oh, you know his cousin Seth?”
“Seth? Who the hell is Seth? How inbred is this town?” The tension in his voice rose another notch.
Ravenna quickly played down the connection. “Oh, nobody important - he was around when I got here. He’s Wade’s cousin.”
Steven’s prying was bringing on the edge of a headache. Her thoughts worked carefully, as she attempted to shift his attention another way, anything to dampen the unfurling pain in her head. “When do you leave for your next trip? Was it Florida?” she asked, paying little attention to his answer.
“No, Tennessee. We need to strengthen our presence in the south. I’m looking at a couple brewers near Nashville.”
“That would be an easy market to brand.” Ravenna half-listened as he filled her in on the top three brewers he planned to approach. Yet, her mind puzzled about Steven’s persistent interest in Wade’s family. Wades arrangement wasn’t unusual. Many breweries were family run.
“Honey, are you listening?” His question broke her train of thought.
“Sorry Steven, it’s been a long day, with jet lag, and the new location. What was that again?”
“Your birthday, we planned to spend it in Portland or at the beach. I wondered where you would like to stay?”
“Probably the coast, but it will still be pretty chilly.”
“Don’t give it another thought, babe. I’ll take care of everything. Trust me, I’ll surprise you.” Now, there he was. The man she enjoyed dating - spontaneous, and always in control. She basked in the intensity of his affection.
***
Driving past Northside Grill for the third time tonight, Wade struggled to balance his emotions. He enjoyed every moment he spent with Iris. Smart, honest, and incredibly sexy, she fit. But, he could not stop obsessing about Ravenna.
Pursuing Iris while he felt this magnetic draw to another woman felt dishonest. On the other hand, tossing away an opportunity to know Iris deeply would be foolish. What kind of idiot would choose lust over a chance at a solid relationship?
“Not this idiot. Ravenna has a boyfriend. She will be leaving Ashwood. And she works for Coalition. Trusting Ravenna is Impossible. Iris, I already trust.”
On a wide spot in the road, he spun his truck around, determined to focus his personal life on Iris. He parked his truck, and entered her restaurant through the side door. Her employees glanced up as Wade moved with clear intention through the break room, office and kitchen trying to locate her.
The guys in the kitchen tipped heads in silent understanding that Wade was there to stake his claim. They all knew Iris had been seeing him, hell the whole town knew, but until the two of them acknowledged it in public, they wouldn’t really be an official couple.
He spotted her. Half-hidden from customer view behind the bar, she gently moved to the music. A few people hung all over each other out on the dancefloor - their moves had nothing on the sway of her hips as she rolled with a rhythm that heated Wade’s core.
Propped against the frame of the door, he watched Iris until she felt his gaze. Awareness prickled when her green eyes met his. Iris had wondered when, or if, this man would decide to make their private affair public. His large presence behind the bar had one purpose, telling her and their small town, that Iris was his.
Her body responded to his claim, moving under the force of his heated gaze. By the time she reached him, half the customers blatantly stared their direction. Iris drew close.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” She whispered.
“I’m here.” He smiled.
“Good.” She looked up, and this simple exchange carried weight. He wanted to kiss her, but here in her bar, this was her call. He waited.
Conversations died out around them, an audience of sorts held a collective breath. Iris placed one hand on the side of his face, pulled his lips to hers until their breath mingled in a chaste kiss.
Wade snagged his hand round her hip before she pulled away. The heat of his palm spilled through her layers of clothing. His lips tasted hers for a moment more, before he released her. “What color did you choose today?” he growled.
She smiled at his obsession with her lingerie. “White.”
And he knew it wasn’t simple practical cotton. No, this was her secret. The lace would be sheer, and the cut risqué. He nodded in approval. Wade held that fantasy until he stripped her clothes away later that night.
TEN
Stalling while loading her bags in her brother’s truck, Linnea almost whined. “Are you sure you want me to go to Yakima? Wade, I’d be happy to stay here and keep an eye on things.” And try to figure out what’s wrong with Rick.
Wade levelled a stare at his sister. “Linn, just get in. Mom and Dad are expecting you.” She glanced at her phone. Rick texted the previous night, and wished her a good trip, but the past few days he had cooled toward her, following his recent trip to visit his mom in Portland.
Heading east out of Ashwood, she stared out the window, silently watching as the land changed from pines to rolling hills. Wade hoped his sister would be honest with him. He grew tired of the silent standoff about an hour into the drive and blurted out. “When did you plan to tell me you and Rick were dating?”
Her incredulous glare shot at him, shadowed by a look of hurt.
Wade pressed, “Really, Linn, Rick never leaves when you work late. You eat lunch together most days, and he can’t go more than an hour without wandering in the office to talk to you.”
“It’s not like that! Okay, maybe it is.” She hunkered down in her seat, with a sigh of disappointment. “Rick seems comfortable with the idea of being friends.”
“Good! I like that.” Wade laughed aloud, immediately realizing his mistake.
His sister’s frustration rolled his way. From across the cab, he watched as she snugged her arms around her chest to contain emotions that threatened to spill from her eyes. Good Lord, I do not want to make her cry.
Wade attempted to be understanding. A difficult task when he wanted to protect her. “Are you kidding? Rick does not watch you like a man who wants to be just friends. Take this slow with him Linnea. I’ve known Rick a while. If he isn’t pushing you, that means your different. You mean more to him.” She smiled hopefully at her brother’s honesty, and his protection. When it came to their family, the Michaels’ men were formidable.
Wade moved to a subject that weighed on his mind, “Linn, can you do me a favor? I’d like to keep Iris between you and me for now.”
Her laugh acknowledged his apprehension, “I never intended to go there with mom and dad, but they may have already heard something from Uncle Bill and Aunt Sandy.”
“I know, but if Iris doesn’t come up in conversation…”
“Gotcha, I won’t say anything.” she said as she turned away again.
Wade p
ushed, not allowing her to shut him out, “Thanks Linn. So tell me more about Rick. Do I need to have a talk with him?”
“No! Wade he’s great. He volunteers at the fire department, and hopes to be a full time fire fighter someday. Rick always helps people, and not a soul knows about it. He splits wood for his elderly neighbor, and checks in on people he has helped during aid calls.”
Her brother fought his smile, “Okay, I get it. Rick is a saint.”
“Shut up.” Linnea looked genuinely irritated.
Wade had pushed her too far, again. “Sorry, I was just teasing. Would you mind if I grabbed a beer with him? Maybe shoot some pool?”
“Sure, I guess so - but be nice. Don’t scare him away. After all, you are just like dad.”
“Now that was just plain vicious.” He smiled.
***
The red seven ball glanced off the edge of the pocket, as the cue scratched and dropped in with a clatter. “You’re off your game - what’s up?” Kent asked as Rick stepped back from the table, brushing off his friend’s question. “You’ve been sulking since your trip to Portland. Did Grace show up while you were visiting your Mom?”
Rick winced at the mention of his younger sister’s name. “No, Mom hasn’t heard from her in months, not even to ask for money. Not that she should give her any, it just feeds her habit.” He muttered, barely loud enough to be heard over the music in the bar.
After he landed another shot, Kent leaned against the table. “What’s eating at you? Are you trying to find a way to break things off with Linnea?”
“No, I mean I don’t want to… it’s just…well I think Linnea deserves better than my shit-storm mess of a family. Mom wants to meet her, and was pissed when I put her off.”
He levelled a stare at his friend. “Rick, you’re nothing like Grace. Her life doesn’t get to ruin yours. Linnea will understand, in fact I think she’ll admire how much you’ve tried to help your Mom.”
“Maybe, damn it. Linnea’s family is perfect. I’m not sure I can face telling her about mine. I need her to understand what my Mom has gone through before she meets her, but I don’t want pity. God, I don’t need this, not right now.”
Kent remembered the last time they scoured Portland looking for Rick’s sister, after she called her Mother asking for a tent before rains set in. That winter they found Grace as she stopped at a Portland food bank she frequented. Rick gave her the box of supplies, some cash, and the tent. Grace never made eye contact. She thanked her brother, and scurried quickly away. As she left them, Kent watched her huddle in a doorway to pull something from the box. Her expression shifted from wary to relief as she found a sweater, brought it to her nose, and deeply inhaled the scent of home. At the time, Kent felt a sliver of hope. He looked toward Rick, but his eyes appeared dull, numbed by the repetitive agonizing experience, he turned away.
When Rick missed another shot, Justin wandered up, a beer in hand, and asked, “mind if I get in on the next round?”
Handing his stick to Justin, Rick tried to hide his stress with a laugh. “Not feeling it tonight. I’ll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, left his nearly full beer on the table and wandered out of Northside Grill.
Out in the parking lot, Seth’s ex-wife caught him in a quick hug. Chelsea clung to his shirt holding him in place. He recoiled from her attention, remembering how nervous he’d been around his boss after he hooked up with Chelsea last summer. “Hey, Rick” she purred, “don’t leave yet, I just got here.”
“Sorry, Chels, I’ve gotta go.”
She leaned closer. “Do you want me to come along? I wouldn’t mind picking up where we left off.” Pinning him against the side of a random parked car, she toyed with the collar of his shirt. Her firm toned body did nothing but make him long for Linnea’s soft curves.
“Actually, Chelsea, I’m headed for the firehouse,” he lied. She flashed him a cat-like smile and ran her nails down his sinuous arm. A sigh of relief escaped in an audible exhale as she waved and disappeared into the brightly lit entrance of Northside Grill.
***
“Mom! Were home!” Linnea yelled as she opened the door trying to locate her mother. As always, she found her in the kitchen preparing a meal that included Wade and Linnea’s favorites.
She pulled her daughter to her. “Why did I ever allow you move to Ashwood? I have missed you so much.” She held her daughter at arm’s length, and steadied her by her shoulders. Karleen’s eyes studied Linn for a moment. “You’ve grown up, in these past few weeks.”
“Same old me, Mom.” Linnea grew uncomfortable with her mother’s careful inspection, her cheeks coloring in response.
Fortunately, Wade walked in with two small duffels, and attracted his mother’s attention. “Where’s my hug?” He said as he wrapped his strong arms around her. The house smells great. Mind if I raid the refrigerator?”
“Go right ahead, but find something quickly. Dad wanted you to give him a call as soon as you arrived. You can drive the gator out to the hop yard and meet him.” Allen’s day never ended until sundown, and often, not even then.
“Got it, I’ll just be a minute.” Wade took the stairs two at a time and dropped their luggage in their childhood rooms. Linn’s was still the same, lavender walls and white furniture, feminine and soft.
When he moved away years ago, his mom switched out his high school posters and a twin size bed with local art and a king bedroom set. He welcomed the change, recalling his struggle to fit his large frame on that short mattress as a growing young teen.
After grabbing a quick sandwich, Wade located his dad with half of the crew in the field. Bare cables stretched taught, high on poles overhead. This spring bines would begin to climb the trellis, and by summer, rich green plants would stretch pole to pole.
Three years had gone into selecting a variety Wade felt was worth taking beyond the experimental stage. He and his father held the patent for their new hop variety, Rusk, named for a glacier on Mount Adam’s flanks.
Enthused by the yield and pungent mango-citrus aroma, Wade was banking on this hop to set him apart from the growing herd of craft brewers crowding the northwest market. Rusk’s spring planting would more than triple last year’s yield. Just enough for a larger scale production of a new IPA.
***
“Before the men come in and take over the conversation, Linn, I want to hear how you’re doing in Ashwood.” Her mother hoped her reserved daughter found a way to connect in the new small community.
“I love everything about it; the challenge of working at Mosquito, knowing that Wade needs my help, and finding my place in Ashwood. How would you feel if I decided to move out of Bill and Sandy’s sometime soon? They’ve been great, but…”
“You’re ready for more independence. We understand that. Even if your dad blusters, he won’t stand in your way.”
“Thanks Mom, I’ll keep you in the loop. I’m not ready to make a move now, but once things settle into a routine at the taproom, I’m certain I’ll need a change.” Unable to control her thoughts, her mind drifted to Rick. Containing her optimism, she dared to hope he might treat her differently if she moved to her own space.
A knock barely rattled the back door, before Brooke walked in with a sheet cake balanced in her hand. “Linnea, welcome home! You look terrific. Mom - doesn’t Linn look beautiful? I can’t wait to hear about your new job with Wade. Where is our brother?” Brooke set her bundles down and pulled her sister in for a hug.
Karleen poured her oldest daughter a glass of ice tea, and refilled Linnea’s. “Wade joined your Dad in the hop yard. Is Dean working with the same crew?”
“I don’t think so. We saw greater demand for the Tahoma last year, and he wants to get more in the ground. I expect him on time for our family meal. Everything smells so delicious. Mom you’ve made enough food for an army again.”
Karleen smiled, knowing her children all loved taking away plenty of homemade leftovers. While preparing g
arlic bread Karleen and Brooke dug for more information. “Tell us about your job, your friends. We miss our catch up sessions…”
Linnea’s face grew animated. She talked about the demands of work, where she balanced administration, correspondence, and basic interior design. Brooke was happy to hear that Amanda’s group of friends were quickly welcoming Linnea into their fold.
Knowing looks passed between Brooke and her mother as the name Rick again bubbled from Linn’s mouth. While her daughters gossiped about Amanda’s flirtations with one of the guys from Whitewater, Karleen attempted to recall Rick from the sea of young men she met a few weeks earlier in Ashwood. Unfortunately, she could not place the one who put that sparkle in her daughter’s eyes.
The growl of Allen’s diesel truck preceded Wade and his father coming into the mudroom to kick off coats and work boots. A blast of cool night air came in with the men. Wade and his father looked like twins with a twenty-five year age gap. Both were lean and broad shouldered, but his father had weathered with years spent in the elements.
Brooke caught a quick hug from her brother, and then dashed outside to meet her husband on the porch as he pulled up on the gator. No one ventured outside, giving the newly married couple the privacy they craved. Linnea loved her brother in law, but felt a jealous twinge, longing for that same open affection in her life.
Wade peeked in the oven, “Mom, dinner smells fantastic. Thank you for making my favorite roast.
She smiled. “There’s plenty for sandwiches tomorrow too.” During planting, she planned for extreme appetites.
Over dinner, conversation moved to the work they must accomplish over the next few days. Linnea would climb onto a tractor early in the morning, laboring along with her brother, as she had since she was thirteen years old.
Their family meal almost passed without incident, until Allen began digging for information about the brewery. Before long, he pushed his doubts on his son. “I don’t see why you need to concern yourself with the product when you can control the keys to production. Wade your true gift lies in hop development. And those patents will insure a lifetime of income, unaffected by the whims of what beer is in fashion.”