Page 138 of Best Kind of Trouble
“We will indeed,” I confirm. “I work at the brewery with her.”
“Liam,” she says, surprising me. “Yes, she’s told me aboutyou. Now, you two had better make yourself scarce. Peanut butter should work if the oil doesn’t.” She starts padding away with her bag.
“Ma’am, do you need help with your bag?”
She waves me off without turning around.
I pour more oil over Cormac’s hand, and this time he manages to tug it free.
We exchange a look, and then I heft up the plaque. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Do you think we really need to climb through the window again?” he asks, eyeing the hallway. “She’s already seen us.”
“No, let’s leave through the front.”
There’s a chance a neighbor’s watching, but hopefully Great-Aunt Sky will cover for us if it comes up. She can tell them she hired a couple of gigolos.
We hurry toward the front door, and just as we’re about to exit, a wolf whistle fills the air behind us.
“Even better than I thought,” announces Briar’s great aunt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
BRIAR
The next morning, I get more calls from unhappy clients. I’m able to talk a few of them around, but a couple demand their money back. I’m trying not to panic. We have the New Year’s party coming up, and once people have tried Liam’s beer, they’ll want it on tap.
So I focus on the good things:
My great-aunt texted me this morning to say she will be coming to our New Year’s party after all. She’s staying at my parents’ house, which isn’t great news, but I doubt they’ll want to join her at the party after our argument last night.
Liam is carbonating our second beer, and he says the third will be ready to carbonate by the middle of the week. We’re moving right along. Our plan isworking. We just need more time.
And we’re going on a date tonight.
Before long, it’s early afternoon. Liam and I are standing side by side in the tasting room. He gives me a sidelong look that fills my soul with buttery yellow light and then tugs out his phone. A second later, my cell buzzes in my pocket.
I check it, holding back a smile.
Meet me at the brewery at 7
I’ll be waiting on our couch
I raise my eyebrows at him, then respond:
What’ll you be doing?
I hear his intake of breath, a cough suppressing a laugh. Then he responds:
Just waiting. You’re worth waiting for.
I hate myself a little for saying that, and more for meaning it.
[Kiss emoji]
He glances at me, then types:
This is ridiculous.
