Page 17 of Best Kind of Trouble
“What do you say, slugger? Are you ready to pack it in?”
She takes the gloves off and flexes her hands, which are pink across the knuckles. I turn off the fourth rep of “Eye of the Tiger” and pocket my phone.
“An ice pack will help if it bothers you,” I suggest. “Or a bag of frozen food.”
Briar holds the gloves in one hand, her big eyes peering up at me. “Thank you for being so nice to me, Liam.”
All I can do is laugh. “Princess, if this is what you think good behavior is, you need someone to show you a good time.”
I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, but from the way her expression shifts, she heard the innuendo too.
“I meant you should have higher expectations, that’s all,” I clarify.
“Thank you,” she says again. “This is exactly what I needed tonight.”
“Does this mean I get a raise?” I ask as I reclaim the gloves from her.
She smiles up at me. “You don’t even know what I’m offering to pay you.”
“So you can lie and tell me I’m getting a raise. I’ll never know the difference.”
“I’m going to be nothing but honest with you,” she says, her expression serious. “Something tells me you value that.”
“I do,” I reply softly. I know I should move, but I feel rooted in place, unable to take my eyes off her. It’s like she saw past all of my bullshit, down to the core of me.
But no man likes to feel weak in his favorite gym, so I get it together and lead the way back to the supply shelf. I wipe down the gloves and shove them in their place.
“Now, what else do you do when you’ve had a bad day? Drink with your friends? Would you like me to bring you back to Hannah and Sophie? You’ve probably got a dozen messages from them on your phone by now. I should warn you, though, my sister might be a half-pint, but she can drink most grown men under the table.”
She considers the offer for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I think I’d like to go home, if that’s okay. Can you drive me to my car?”
“Let me guess, it’s parked at my future place of employment?”
She nods. “Should we talk about the brewery on the way over?”
“No, Princess, there’ll be time for all of that. For now, there’s something else you should know about being the boss.”
She gives me a wry look. “Oh, really? And you would know this from personal experience?”
“That attitude will get you everywhere,” I say, leading her out to the dumpy lobby area.
I hand over my coat when we reach the coatrack, and she puts it back on, rolling her eyes.
“Before you hire anyone else, come up with a plan for how you want to run the brewery,” I continue. “Then we can talk about my ideas and Tom, Dick, and Harry’s ideas.”
“Why do you think I’m only hiring men?” she asks, wrapping the coat more tightly around her as we step out into the night.
I grin at her. “There you go, assuming poor Tom, Dick, and Harry aren’t women.”
She gives another surprised laugh as I hustle her into the truck.
We don’t talk much on the way to her car, but when “Eye of the Tiger” plays on the radio, she makes a little cooing sound like she’s a damn dove. I turn up the volume.
I park behind her brewery, across from the spacious outdoor beer garden, and check out the only car still in the lot—a red Mini Cooper I probably couldn’t fold myself into.
She shifts in her seat, clearly intent on making some kind of pronouncement.
“Don’t thank me again,” I insist. “I’ve reached my daily quota.”
