Page 43 of Best Kind of Trouble
We start walking, strolling past couples and a few drunk people howling with laughter and smelling of beer.
“Which part were you asking for my opinion on?” I finally say. “The cultist ladies with their sage?”
She laughs softly, the sound blending with the bells a corner Santa is ringing as he collects funds. “Working here with me. Do you really think we can pull this off?”
I feel a tugging in my chest, maybe a tearing. I come to an abrupt stop.
Briar stops with me, turning toward me expectantly.
The streetlights gleam down on us, making her long golden hair appear covered with frost. Her face is tipped up to me, like a question waiting to be answered.
“This isyourbrewery, Briar. I’m just an employee. Ten percent. We can say the bathroom’s mine.”
“I puked in the bathroom, so now it’s partly mine.”
I smile but don’t say anything.
She reaches into her pocket and then pulls out a key, placing it in my hand, which I don’t remember stretching out.
“This is yours,” she says. “Part of your ten percent. I figure you might need to come in at odd hours. To check on things, I mean.”
She pulls her hand away, her fingertips leaving little streamers of sensation on my skin. Again with the fingers. A simple touch that stays.
“Yeah,” I say roughly.
Briar watches me as if all the mysteries of the universe might be solved if she studies my broken nose for long enough. “Don’t you want to make your mark on the brewery?” she finally asks. “Or is this just a for-now thing?”
I consider her question as she looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, her breath warming the night between us.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. Then I decide to do the smart thing and draw a firm boundary for us both. “But it’s just a job for me. It’s your brewery, not mine.”
For a second, I see the wounded look in her eyes, but the next second it’s gone. Papered over. “You’re right,” she says. “I guess I’m scared to do this on my own. I didn’t think I was going to have to. Jonah, my ex?—”
“Oh, I know all about him,” I say, flexing my fist.
“Yeah, I guess you were mad at him for lying to Hannah.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
I’d had to content myself with only threatening to do Jonah Price bodily harm. Plenty of people wouldn’t believe it, but I have learned a few important lessons from my past mistake. Learned them good.
But I have to be honest with myself. At this particular moment, I’m not thinking about how that fuckhead messed with my sister. I’m thinking that he put his hands all over this woman in front of me, all while lying to her. He took advantage of hertrust and used her. Even though Briar’s not mine, and I’m mostly sure I don’t want her to be, I find that deeply offensive. In fact, I’d prefer it if he didn’t live in the same state as her, let alone the same zip code.
“It’s just…he promised he would help, and?—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say. “Rule number three, Princess. Don’t share personal information with your employees. You’re the boss. It’s none of my business who you’ve slept with and what pretty lies they told you.”
She flinches, a stricken look filling her face. I meant to sound like an asshole, and I did, and I can’t let myself regret it. I need to stay on my side of the line I just drew. It’s the only way this is going to work.
If I let myself get too close…
Well, I can’t, and not just because of Hannah.
Briar is tough, more so than she realizes, but she’s soft inside. More marshmallow than person. I won’t be the man who turns her hard.
She stiffens her spine and meets my gaze, her expression closed-off now. “I’ll find my own way home. I assume you can do the same.”
I grunt and nod, wanting to take the words back, even though I know they’ve already made their mark. I tell myself it’s for the best and only half believe it.
