Page 81 of Best Kind of Trouble
“No need.” I pull the bottle back, then press the cap against the lip of the table and tap it open.
“The wood…” her mother gasps.
I hand the beer across the table to Briar, who’s watching me closely, a smile playing on her lips.
After she takes it, I lift up the rest of the six-pack by the cardboard holder. “Anyone else in the mood to indulge? We’re going to be brewing all of these at Silver Star, eventually. We figured you’d be interested. Family business and all that.”
Don, who’s been studying me with the fascination of a tourist on safari, nods. “Yes. I think I will.”
I hold out the six-pack so he can choose which one he wants. The bottles are labeled with masking tape—a classy little touch I thought he’d enjoy.
“Dealer’s choice,” he decides.
“Oh, wait one second,” Alicia says, losing her cool. “Wait just one second.” She rushes out of the room.
“Did she leave something in the oven?” I ask as I open another of the beers on the table.
Then a third.
I hand one of them to Don, who’s chuckling. He wags a finger at me. “I heard you were trouble.”
“Glad Briar speaks so fondly of me.” I let myself admire her as she takes a long sip of her beer.
“Not from Briar,” Don says dismissively in a way that instantly raises my hackles. “Briar’s bleeding heart always gets her into trouble.” He flicks a finger at the recipe for success. “Look beyond others’ feelings.She can’t. Bleeding heart, like I said. ButIcan. So I asked around about you, sure. It’s a man’s right to look out for his family.” He has agotchasmirk on his face when he says, “I heard about the fight at Mountain Morning.”
“It’s not exactly a secret, and I wouldn’t call it a fight. The only injury I had was to my knuckles, so I guess you’d say it was more of a beatdown. But you don’t need to worry about that. I graduated from anger management. They even gave me a silver star.”
Briar coughs, suppressing a laugh, and I grin at her before focusing on Don.
He runs a hand across his smooth jaw. “I also heard you got fired from Big Catch.”
“Aw, but that was a misunderstanding. I had every intention of quitting. My boss beat me to it.”
He narrows his eyes at Briar. “John says you’ve hired other people.”
“I have.” She straightens her back.
“And dotheyhave checkered work histories?”
I snort. “Maybe so. From my understanding, the majority of them were recruited off dating apps.”
“Dating apps?” he sputters, his face reddening. He thinks I’m screwing with him but doesn’t understand how.
“Sure. Who else would have been available in the time frame you gave her?”
“We’ve been open since Monday,” Briar says, ignoring me.
“Pretty incredible, don’t you think?” I ask her shithead father. “Not many people could manage a thing like that. I’m surprised you haven’t stopped by.”
“I’ll be sure to put in an appearance after the holidays,” he replies with a wolfish smile. No doubt he’ll put together a whole smorgasbord of complaints to bring up at these enjoyable dinners.
“We’re only pouring Bubba’s beer right now,” I say, “so you might want to wait until our big party if you’re looking for something different.”
“You’re trying to put out a new beer by New Year’s?” he asks with interest.
“It was your daughter’s idea. She’s got a helluva lot of good ones. You must think so too if you made the whole brewery organic on her say-so.”
Don’s expression sharpens, and I know—I fucking know—this asshole was in on the grift.
