Page 71 of Best Kind of Trouble
I start singing with her, edging my hand over so our fingers are touching as our voices harmonize.
I’ve never really noticed a woman’s fingers unless they’re wrapped around my cock. But right now, the slight pressure of her pinky against my index finger is the only thing that matters.
It’s a stupid thought, but I’ve been having a lot of stupid thoughts about Briar lately. I tell myself it’ll pass with time—an argument that was more convincing before she started harmonizing with me.
The door to the tasting room opens, and a few seconds later, one of the front-of-house twenty-somethings, a blond with a nose ring, steps into view from the other side of the vat. “You guys are singing loud. Like, it can be heard in the tasting room. Someone asked if it was karaoke night. Do we do karaoke?”
“No,” I say, “and we never will. Karaoke should be recognized as a form of torture.”
Briar laughs under her breath, then presses her hand more fully against mine. “Stop it.” Turning to the girl, she says, “We’re singing to the beer, Sorcha.”
Of course she knows her name. She probably knows the name of everyone who works here, along with where they were born and what their favorite drink is.
“Old people are so weird,” Sorcha mutters, rolling her eyes, just as the door to the tasting room opens again, admitting the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Dear, I’ve told you those words aren’t allowed in this brewery,” Dottie says as she comes into view. “We’re only as old as we allow ourselves to be.”
Categorically untrue, but Sorcha blushes and says, “Sorry, Dottie,” looking like she might actually be sorry. Dottie has that effect on people.
“Now, what’s all this fuss about?” Dottie asks.
The bubble Briar and I had formed is broken, but I remind myself it’s better like this. I can’t be alone with her without wanting to break every rule on that list and burn the paper.
“They were singing to the beer,” Sorcha says as if she’s accusing us of something.
“Delightful!” Dottie grins at us. “Should I ask everyone else to join in?”
I nudge Briar’s foot with mine. “What do you think, boss? Should the whole staff sing ‘Kumbaya’ to the pale ale?”
When our gazes meet, it feels like a warm glow is transferring between us. “You know what? Yes.”
“Uh…what about the customers in the tasting room?” Sorcha asks. It’s obvious she thinks we’ve completely lost it.
“They can join in,” Briar says.
“Uh…you guys know singing to the beer isn’t going to make it ferment faster, right?”
“Well said,” Dottie replies, patting her on the back. “Singing alone won’t do the trick. I’ll need to gather some crystals from home and place them strategically around the room to create an energy field. I only wish I’dthought of it sooner.”
She hurries out of the brewing area, which is separated from the hallway by a short half wall. She’s a woman on a mission, leaving behind Sorcha, who’s gaping at us.
“Spread the message, Sorcha,” Briar says, giving me a sidelong look. “We’re all going to raise our voices.”
Sorcha hurries away, turning into the hall and leaving us alone again.
There goes the most important rule on our shared piece of paper.
“You know she’s never coming back, right?” I comment.
“She’ll be back,” Briar insists.
“If you say so, Princess. But I’m telling you right now, if the crystals and the singing actually work, it’s going to break my brain.”
“You said you weren’t giving up.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, I’m not giving up either,” she insists, eyes on mine. “I believe in you.”
