Page 3 of Best Kind of Trouble
Hannah would probably have toasted marshmallows in the ashes;I’dcome home to daddy.
Ross makes a disgusted sound, but Cleet sniffs and leans forward in his seat. There’s a mystery crust attached to the string of his hoodie. “Now that we’re not working together,” he says eagerly, “maybe you’d like to get a beer with me sometime?”
“Oh…oh.” My chest feels tight. “I’m so sorry, Cleet, but I don’t date anymore.”
Ross snorts. “That’s her princess way of saying she’s not interested inyourhairy ass, Cleet. Take the hint.”
“It’s nothing but the truth,” I insist hotly, even though I wouldn’t date either of them if we were the last three people alive. “I’m focusing on work. No more dating until next summer at the earliest.”
After the Jonah debacle, I made a vow to myself to stay single for an entire year. One year with dating off the table. It’s been refreshing, honestly, and I have Hannah and Sophie to keep me company. Sure, both of them are newly in love and busy with their own lives and business ventures, but they’re always there when I need them.
“Can I borrow a pen?” Cleet asks.
I hand him one, hoping it’ll get him out of here sooner.
“And a sheet of paper?”
I grab one from the printer and slide it across the desk, then watch as he slowly and painstakingly writes on it.
“That there’s my number,” he says, tapping it with the pen. “I’ll wait for you, Briar. As long as it takes.”
Ross snorts again, shaking his head at his friend. “You’ll be waiting forever, you fool.”
Cleet pockets my father’s expensive pen, but I don’t have the heart to call him on it.
“Uh, thanks,” I say, folding the paper and sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans.
My father forces all staffers to relinquish their phones at the beginning of their shifts, like a Boomer math teacher on a power trip, so I return Cleet’s and Ross’s phones with a tight smile and then follow them out of the office.
I’d expected them to take off immediately to pursue job leads—I’d spent five hours compiling that list for them—so I’m discomfited when they instead bypass the exit and trudge down the hall toward the two short steps leading up to the tasting room.
I trail after them and then follow them through the door, which swings shut behind me. Surely they can’t intend to…
But they do, because they approach the bar.
“You’re staying?” I ask them in disbelief.
Ross gives me a wounded look. “We just got fired, sweetheart. Of course we want to grab a drink with our friends. Would you begrudge us that?”
“Of course not,” I stammer, trying to figure out if I’m being unreasonable. “The first one’s on the house.”
“Thanks, Briar,” Cleet says, beaming at me. “Want to sit with us?”
I back up so quickly, I nearly bring down a wire display filled with Silver Star stickers. “I have to get back to work.”
“Must be nice to have a job,” Ross comments.
I don’t have a response for that, so I head into the back, hoping they’ll down their drinks quickly. But I check on them fifteen minutes later, and they’re still sitting in front of beers, talking to the bartender. The guy notices me and gives me a stare of death from behind the bar.
I feel it then: the goose walking over my proverbial grave.
An hour and a half later,I peek into the tasting room, and they’re still there, looking pissed. The other staffers must have heard the whole story by now. They’re going to be upset, and they’ll blame me for being the bearer of bad news.
Hannah would probably say I’m making this up, but I can feel dark energy leaching into the brewery, filling all the nooks and crannies like a cursed English muffin.
I try to keep busy by doing inventory in the stockroom, but the feeling only intensifies. So I’m not surprised when Bubba interrupts me a few minutes later and announces there’s going to be an all-hands-on-deck meeting by the vats. “That includes you, Princess.”
I’ve tried to like Bubba. Really I have. But he’s a big guy who tries to use his size to look down on everyone he thinks is weaker. My great aunt has always said eyes are the windows to the soul, and Bubba’s deep-set dark eyes that have about as much human kindness as a couple of raisins do.
