Chapter 3
three
. . .
STELLA
I was sanitizing my equipment when the brewery’s side door unexpectedly opened.
The electricity in the building went out early this morning, so I couldn’t open for business.
But just because I was without power didn’t mean I couldn’t get caught up with some tasks on the working side of the brewery, where the magic actually happened.
Stainless steel tanks lined the far wall, fermentation vessels hummed (when we had power), and the air always smelled of hops and grain.
But I’d also made the space cozy and inviting.
A long plastic folding table served as my work station, and across from it was the zebra-print sofa I’d impulse-bought online at two o’clock in the morning one night that hadn’t fit through the doorway to my loft.
An old Persian rug I’d scored at a thrift store covered the concrete floor, and a couple of mismatched chairs completed the space.
It was where I preferred to spend my time (versus the tap room out front), and where the people I actually liked could hang out without being in the way.
“We’re closed,” I called out, not looking up from what I was doing. “But I’ve got a few growlers in the ice chest near the door. Sixteen dollars each. Leave the cash in the jar on the stand next to it.”
“But what if I want something with a bit more bite?”
My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
Cade stood just inside the door, looking like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet—literally.
His hair was plastered to his head, his jacket soaked through at the shoulders, water still dripping onto the floor.
There were dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there two nights ago.
He looked exhausted and cold and still so stupidly handsome that I had to stop and take a moment to recalibrate.
“You look like shit,” I said, setting my scrub brush in the bucket and reaching for a towel to dry my hands off.
“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a real confidence booster.
” He peeled off his wet coat and hung it on the rack by the door before making his way back to where I was working.
He brought the smell of the ocean with him—salt and cold air and something underneath that was simply Cade—as he dropped onto the sofa with a groan, sprawling out like he might never move again.
“Can I get a glass?” He lifted his chin to indicate the open growler at the edge of the table.
“What you need is a shower and a nap.” I draped the towel on a peg behind me to dry. “When’s the last time you slept?”
He squinted at the ceiling and hummed. “Um, what day is it again?”
“Cade.”
“I’m fine,” he argued, waving me off. “Just been a busy couple of days. The Graymalkin’s engine is fucking with me again, and I’ve been out for hours each day hauling extra traps for the holiday rush.”
I should have told him to go home. Should have pointed him toward his truck and watched him drive away before I did something stupid like climb into his lap and fuck him into sweet, sweet oblivion.
Instead, I offered him a small pour of the honey wheat ale that was going into kegs next week.
He took a long pull, his throat working as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on me over the rim of the glass with that look that made my stomach flip, and my brain go fuzzy.
“What?” I asked, suddenly hyperaware that I was wearing my rattiest, thinnest t-shirt and hadn’t bothered with makeup today. I could count on one hand the number of days that happened each year. Mascara and lipstick were my armor.
“Nothing.” He set the glass down, and his mouth curved into a soft, tired smile. “Just missed looking at you.”
My traitorous heart did a little kick.
“You looked at me plenty two nights ago.”
He’d stayed over, left at dawn to get out on the water, and we hadn’t seen each other since. But he’d called me last night, which had devolved into us getting each other off over video within minutes.
“That was ages ago.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t quite subdue the warmth spreading through my chest at the sincerity in his voice. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you like it.”
I did. God help me, but I really did.
“Hmm,” I hummed noncommittally, turning back to my fermentation log and pretending I wasn’t focused on every breath he took.
Cade switched between scrolling on his phone and watching me with those summer-sky eyes of his, occasionally asking questions about the brewing process or making comments that had no business being as charming as they were.
“You’re staring again,” I said without looking up from the fermentation log I was updating.
“Can’t help it. You get this little crease between your eyebrows when you concentrate that’s super fucking adorable.”
I looked up, pointing my pen at him. “You’re not supposed to point out a woman’s wrinkles, Murphy. Especially after thirty.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “That’s not a wrinkle. It’s a concentration line. Totally different thing.”
“Uh-huh.” I turned back to my log, but I couldn’t quite hide my smile.
“And it’s super fucking adorable.”
I set down my pen and planted my hands on my hips. “It’s not adorable.”
“It is to me,” he said with a casual shrug, completely unbothered by my glare. “Also, your ass looks incredible in those jeans.”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck at his compliment.
I pointed toward the door. “Go home. You’re so tired you’re hallucinating.”
“What? I’m just being honest.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I should go home.” He paused, his grin turning absolutely wicked. “But honestly? I’d rather sit here and stare at your tits and think about you sucking my cock.”
I stared at him, my body betraying me in approximately seventeen different ways. My pulse kicked up. My thighs clenched. And somewhere deep in my stomach, something feral and hungry and absolutely unhinged unfurled its claws.
“Jesus Christ,” I managed to say around a deep swallow and a shake of my head.
His grin widened. “Too much?”
“Cade, you can’t just say shit like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He tipped back the glass, finishing off his beer and looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’ve been on my mind all day. I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you make. The way you look when you—”
“Okay, that’s it.” I jabbed my finger toward the exit. “You’re going home before you make me do something wildly inappropriate.”
Cade glanced around the empty brewery and shrugged. “No witnesses.”
I glanced down at my watch. “Colin is going to walk in any second.”
“Then we better be quick.”
“Cade Murphy, I swear to God—”
The door opened again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Colin strolled in with his guitar case slung over one shoulder, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. Which, knowing my brother, he probably had.
“Hey, Stel. Power still out?” he asked, glancing around the space and noting the quiet.
“Yeah, for a bunch of us. Turns out a car slid on a patch of black ice and hit a pole.”
“Shit.” He headed straight back like he owned the place—which, given he’d invested a few thousand dollars, he kind of did—and grabbed one of the mismatched chairs, spinning it around to straddle it backward. “Bummer.”
“Yeah. Rhett Jennings said the guy’s okay, so …” I shrugged.
It sucked that we all had to make do until the electric company could get the power back up and running, but that was nothing compared to a wrecked car before the holidays. Not to mention, it could have been significantly worse.
Colin glanced around the space, and his gaze landed on Cade sprawled out on the sofa. He jerked his chin up in greeting. “Dude. What are you doing here?”
My stomach dropped. Cade and I hadn’t discussed what we were going to tell people yet. Or even if we were going to tell people. Especially not my younger brother, who also happened to be Cade’s best friend.
The thought of Colin knowing we were sleeping together made my skin crawl—not because I was ashamed, but because I didn’t know what this thing between us was yet.
Right now, it was sex and hanging out and late-night texting that made my cold black heart feel a bit warmer.
But more than that? I had no clue. And until I did, the idea of explaining it to my brother—of watching him process that his sister and his best friend were …
well, whatever we were—felt like too much, too soon.
“Drinking your sister’s beer and being a nuisance,” I answered before Cade could, hoping my voice came out steadier than I felt.
Cade shot me a look, his eyebrow arched and the muscle in his jaw flexing. His head tilted slightly, a question written across his face.
I replied with a tiny purse of my own brows and a slight lift of my shoulders.
He rolled his lips between his teeth and then turned to Colin with an easy shrug. “Stella makes the best beer in town. Where else would I be?”
Colin snorted. “Fair enough.” He rested his forearms on the chairback, his attention zeroing in on his best friend. “Though I’m surprised your new girl’s cool with you spending so much time here.”
I froze, my hand halfway to the notebook I’d abandoned.
“What are you talking about?” Cade asked, giving Colin his full attention.
“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb.”
“Humor me.”
My brother leaned back, counting off on his fingers.
“You’ve been glued to your phone for two days.
You’re smiling at random shit. You said you were going to the Winterberry thing to pick up a tree, but you came home empty-handed.
And when I asked if you wanted to go grab a beer at The Anchor, you said you had ‘plans.’” He used his fingers to make air quotes.
“I have a life outside of you, Colin,” Cade said dryly.
“Since when? You never leave the house.” A slow, knowing grin spread across my brother’s face. “Except two nights ago, when you did and then didn’t come home until the morning.”
“Maybe I had somewhere to be,” Cade muttered.