Page 97 of Best Kind of Trouble
“Christ, I hope not.”
I expect her to act offended, but she laughs.
“Oh, youdoremind me of Beau.”
“Beau Buchanan?” I ask.
Because, yeah, I’m a brewer who grew up in Asheville. I know all about Beau Buchanan.
He started Buchanan Brewery back when Asheville was a place that didn’t show up on travel websites’ top ten lists. Back in his day, there weren’t breweries around every corner, a new one every day. There was just Buchanan Brewery. Beau Buchanan paved the road we’re all walking along now.
My dad knew and admired Beau, and his legacy means something to me.
Hannah told me that Beau and Dottie were a thing for decades. He passed away several years back, though, and Dottie’s now seeing the guy who runs the bakery next door, aman who always has a smile on his face yet is surprisingly not obnoxious.
“The very same,” she says. “He was a god-awful grump too.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Thank you. I think.”
“It’s a compliment. You know, Beau and I worked together for years. It’s a beautiful collaboration, working with someone you care about. Building something together.”
“I see where you’re going with this.” So does the ache brewing in my chest. “But it’s not like that with me and Briar.”
It feels like that, though.
Which is exactly why I need to back off.
I always failed group projects at school. The only collaboration I didn’t totally screw up was helping my dad and sister raise my little brother—and that was done out of necessity. We’d been thrown into the deep end and needed to learn to swim or drown.
Dottie hums through her teeth. “No, of course not. You’re not at all her kind of man. I was thinking she might be a better match for Otis.”
“The kid?” I ask in disbelief.
“Heisa sweet boy, but don’t let his age fool you. He’s matured in all the ways that matter over the last few months. We’re all so proud of him. Why, he staffed the whole tasting room!”
“He’s a child,” I practically growl, my blood starting to simmer. “Briar needs?—”
“Yes, Briar needs a man,” Dottie says firmly. “Are you a man, Liam, or are you a child? I’m afraid the passing of years is not the deciding factor there.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Come on. You’re close with Hannah…”
“I am.” She smiles beatifically. “She’s such a lovely girl.”
“Yeah, she’s a peach, all right. You’ll excuse my languagewhen I ask if you’re also aware that she’ll cut my balls off if she finds out—if she thinks anything is going on between Briar and me.”
She lifts a finger. “She did say she would do that, yes.”
“Hannah doesn’t make idle threats.” It fucking sucks that my sister doesn’t trust me with her friends—and the worst part is that she’s right to doubt me. Sighing, I add, “Look, I’m not going to lie and say I don’t…admire Briar. Anyone would. But Hannah has good reasons for thinking I’m not worthy.”
Dottie sighs as if she’s almost all out of patience. Leave it to me to be the man who breaks her legendary calm. She pulls a hunk of stone out of her pocket and clunks it down in front of me.
“That’s not much to look at,” I comment. “Is it supposed to mean something?”
“It’s more moldavite. It’ll help you see things as they truly are, my dear. You need a lot of it, I’m afraid.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you said you left too much at the brewery.”
“I was wrong. I should have stuffed it into your pockets.” She takes a ladylike sip of tea. “Do you truly believe your sister asked you to stay away because she thinks you’re unworthy?”
