Page 46 of Best Kind of Trouble
It makes me smile, but only for a millisecond, because he’s probably just humoring me. Either way, it would be foolish to ask him about it. It’s important to keep things professional from now on, something he clearly signaled to me last night. I suppose I have a lot of work to do given I nearly puked on him, then nearly kissed him, and then gushed about my silly hopes.
I don’t have any right to be angry with him. Iknowthat. It’s only…
I felt this kinship growing between us like a wild vine. A connection, new but strong. And it’s like he picked up a giant pair of pruning shears and sliced it in half.
I can practically hear my mother sighing.Oh, Briar, you’re so overdramatic. It’s exhausting.
“Oh, shut up, Mom,” I murmur out loud, which only makes me feel more overdramatic.
When I comein the next morning, Liam’s already there, sitting at a table in the tasting room with a notebook in front of him and the pencil I gave him. His hair is damp, suggesting he’s freshly showered.
“Something’s off,” he says. “Might be the yeast Bubba had wasn’t good. I have to repitch the beer with fresh yeast. We’ll lose a day, maybe more.”
I swear under my breath.
He smiles and then swipes a hand over his mouth as if to wipe it away. “Better than losing the whole batch. Let’s hope it works.”
It’s starting to feel like this whole enterprise is built on a wish and a dream. Instead of solid construction materials, we’re working with sugar spears and gumdrops, and it’s all going to collapse around us.
“This is crazy,” I mutter and lower into the seat across from him.
“It is,” he agrees. “It’s either going to blow people’s minds, or it’ll be fucking terrible. Either way, it’ll be interesting.” He spreads his legs wider, his knee brushing mine under the table. We’re both wearing thick pants, but I feel his touch, spiderwebbing across my skin.
I yank back abruptly.
“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble.
He rises from his chair and his chin tilts up, as if he’s forming some kind of resolution. “We have to figure out what I’ll be working on next. There’s space for one more beer, and Bubba’s brown beer is going to be ready to keg in a couple ofdays.”
My impulse is to smile and tell him I’ll let him make the call, but I don’t want to revert to our friendly, casual dynamic. Not after what happened the other night. I straighten in my chair and say, “I suppose you have some ideas.”
“Naturally. But you’re the boss.”
“I am. Did you bring in those samples for me to try?”
His mouth quirks into a crooked smile. “You got a thing for drinking in the morning?”
“We’ll do it this afternoon,” I say, straightening. “And we’ll include a few other people.”
I can ask Sophie and Hannah to join me after lunch. Maybe Nora, if everything goes well. It’ll be easier for Liam and me to spend time together with other people around. Less…intimate.
He runs a hand over his stubble, and I notice his knuckles are chafed. My gaze flits to his face, and I notice a small bruise on his cheekbone.
Has he been at the gym? Did he get that while sparring with someone?
The thought pisses me off, because he said he would take me back to the gym, and now I know he never will. Maybe this is unfair, but it feels like another promise made to me by someone whose word is as solid as piecrust.
“Shouldn’t be a group decision,” he says, leaning back against the wall.
“I’ll decide how to runmybrewery, thank you very much.”
His smile spreads wider, which pisses me off enough that I get to my feet.
“Am I dismissed?” he asks, his eyes dancing with mirth.
“Is everything a joke to you?” What I mean…what I can’t say, because I couldn’t handle the answer is?—
AmIa joke to you?
