Page 67 of Best Kind of Trouble
Because jewelry and love were two things I felt had been torn away from me, and in my heart I believed neither would be the same again. Making jewelry, which had always been a creative escape for me, would forever remind me of feeling like a failure. And falling in love would make me feel stupid.
“Of courseyou’re off dating, dear,” Dottie says. “You’ve had some bad luck, no question about that. My first marriage was dull as dishwater, so I understand completely. I thought I was done with love, but love wasn’t done with me. And it’s not done with you either. It’s like I’ve said—all signs point to you finding love right here at Silver Star. They have for months.”
Worry swirls inside of me, small cyclones joining to make one massive mess. “No, Dottie, I don’t?—”
Someone knocks on the door, and I peer out of the glass and see Otis.
“Ooohoo, men are already showing up,” Dottie says.
I open it too quickly, and Otis practically falls into my arms.
He grins at me and tugs off his stocking cap before turning and gesturing behind him to a group of five women in their early twenties. “They’re all available to work in your tasting room next week.”
A Japanese girl with an adorable pixie cut waves to me with a grin, and another woman, with long blond hair and a nose ring, gives me the stink eye. A third is on her phone, seemingly unaware that any of us exist, and the two others are studying their three elderly supervisors with suspicion. One of the newcomers finally peers at me and asks, “Is this, like, some kind of elderlyoutreach program?”
Constance, who’s still comfortably seated, barks a laugh. “Yes, isn’t it good of them to think of us? I needed a reason to get out of bed. Just wait, girls. Gravity kicks in when you turn forty, and it doesn’t stop kicking.”
“Come in,” I say, giving them a warm smile, my heart beating fast. “I’m Briar. Welcome to Silver Star.”
The women pour into the tasting room, and I direct them to sit at the table next to the one where Constance and Ann are seated.
Ideally, I’d interview each of them and ask about their service experience, but I’m not in any position to make demands. I need service staff, and if they’re willing to put in the time next week, I’ll give them a try.
Last night, I spent an hour writing a motivational speech about being underdogs, inspired byRocky. I’m deep into it when Liam shows up at the front door with a couple of big sacks of grain slung over his shoulder, wearing no coat over the dark-green thermal shirt that hugs his straining muscles.
He opens the door one-handed, then steps into the room with a gush of cold wind.
Everyone in the tasting room except for Otis shifts in their seat to gawk at him, which is for the best, because I cut my motivational speech off midword.
I clear my throat. “This is Liam, our head brewer?—”
We made out in my office last night, and I told him to touch himself in there. Would you like to see where I keep the coffee maker?
“Can I help you carry that?” one of the new hires says.
Liam chuckles, a deep sound that vibrates through the room and my body. “No, this is how I keep in shape. You tell them, Briar.”
“Yeah, he’s always carrying things around,” I say, holding his gaze for a moment.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking, which is frustrating, but then again I can so rarely tell what he’s thinking. He doesn’t wear it, the way Hannah does.
“Can you carry me around?” Ann asks with a broad grin that dimples her wrinkled cheeks. “Sometimes my legs get tired, and my hip might as well be held together with glue sticks.”
Constance mumbles something about selective hearing, and Liam laughs again as he continues on toward the back, giving me one final glance that makes my knees wobble.
I force myself to remember our list.
Kissing him was a mistake, but it’s a mistake we can put behind us. Weneedto put it behind us—the sooner, the better.
Most of thenew hires don’t even pretend to listen to the rest of my speech. They whisper under their breath and peer at the door leading to the back, probably hoping for another glimpse of Liam in that shirt. Afterward, they fill out the employment paperwork Uncle John put together, and I hand them over to the wise elders for training.
Dottie gives her sweetest smile as she stands next to their table. “Now, I’m about to teach you how to pour the perfect beer. Once we’ve mastered that, Constance will run you through a few scenarios about how to behave with difficult customers.”
I’m smiling as I walk through the door to the back, but my smile fades when I reach my office.
Liam’s waiting inside for me on the couch by the door. Yes,thatcouch. His legs are splayed in front of him, his hands woven together.
I swallow my gasp before it can leave my mouth.
