Page 57 of Best Kind of Trouble
I laugh at the image of my father trying to chase Bubba down. “That wouldn’t go very well for him. Maybe he can go boxing with you and Otis to get some practice first.”
“Yeah, I really cornered myself into that one,” he says with a chuckle. “But the kid’s got heart. He reminds me a little of my little brother.”
I try to smile, but it slides off my face like melting ice cream. “This is bad, Liam. If people find out…our business partners…”
“The optics wouldn’t be great. I figure we should just drop the messaging, and if anyone asks, we say we were having trouble sourcing all organic ingredients. We can always change course later. Were you planning on hiring someone to do PR?”
“I can’t afford it right now, but Hannah’s going to help me get the word out once we reopen. The band’s performance should help promote the New Year’s party. They have a lot of followers.”
I think of Melly…
“And there’s someone else,” I say. “She has a pretty big social media following, and she’s been freelancing forThe Asheville Gazette. She’s going to do some coverage of the brewery, although… I don’t really trust her to be honest.”
“So let’s not talk to her. We shouldn’t invite someone you don’t trust to write about us,” he says, shifting in his chair, his leg touching mine again.
“It’s complicated.”
He leans back. “Run it past me. Every now and then I manage to solve a problem without punching my way out of it.”
A smile escapes me. “Let’s just say my dad’s making me give her access. It was one of the stipulations in his agreement for handing over the business.”
“And is that guy John the one who put this agreement together?”
“Yeah.” I rub my arms, suddenly cold. “He’s my godfather.”
“Condolences. That guy’s a real shithead.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “How do you know? You barely said anything to him. We were only there for five minutes.”
“I knew after two.”
“Buthow?”
“Will you believe me if I say it takes one to know one?”
“No, because you’re an asshole, not a shithead. There’s a difference.”
He gives me a crooked grin. “Oh, so you have an encyclopedia of bad behavior?”
“If I did, I definitely wouldn’t show it to you. You’d get ideas.”
“I don’t need any more ideas.”
Neither do I.
I can’t stop looking at him, soaking in the details of his smile and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he really gives into it. I want to trail my fingers across the solidity of his arm to the larger expanse of solidity that is his chest. But I can’t. So I grip the edge of the table, hoping the solidity of the wood beneath my fingertips will wake me up, the way a lost dreamer might pinchthemselves.
I clear my throat, but it’s no more steadying than the table was. “Why’d you sign the contract so quickly if you don’t trust him?”
He gives a lazy shrug. “Youlooked at it. I trust you.”
“You do?”
A bigger smile spreads across his face. “Shit, did I make a mistake? Do you have designs on me, Briar?”
My heart beats a little faster, but I tell myself he’s just passively flirting again. Courting trouble, the way he likes.
“Yes. I have plenty of designs on your big brain.”
