12. Chapter 12
twelve
M ax was standing at the stove in his kitchen, cooking an omelette, just as he had every morning for the last four years. He never tired of the same morning routine as other people did. He woke up every day at five, worked out in the home gym he’d built in his basement, then showered, dressed, and made eggs.
And he liked it that way. It was comfortable. Easy. And he didn’t have to think about it, which was probably the best part about the routine. It gave his mind a chance to worry about more important things. Like finding brewery staff.
He flipped the omelette out of the pan and onto his plate, buttered his toast, and filled his coffee cup before sitting down at the table. He was just about to dig in when an email notification came through. When he looked at his phone, he found a response to the ad he had placed the day before for a brewery worker. Perfect.
His ad had actually generated a fair number of responses, which put him slightly at ease after his flaky brewer had stormed off in a huff the day before.
He quickly replied, confirming the time for an interview that morning, and gathered his things. The sooner he got to work, the better. He had about a million things to do before lunch.
“Are you leaving already?”
He spun to find Cara walking into the kitchen, headed straight for the coffeepot in her bathrobe and slippers.
“It’s only six, Max.”
“Some people take their careers seriously,” he said with a smirk, earning himself a glare.
In truth, his little sister had always taken her schooling seriously. She’d been labelled gifted when she was in grade three and had very lofty goals for her future. Goals that she kept putting off by staying in school for so long. But he had to admit, he would be enormously proud of her when she finally finished her PhD in astrophysics.
He threw his laptop bag over his shoulder and headed for the door .
“Wait, Max,” Cara said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Max stopped and turned to Cara. She was standing awkwardly at the counter, staring at her feet.
“Don’t look down,” he said for the billionth time in her life. She was brilliant, to be sure, but unfortunately, she seemed to lack confidence. If she could somehow find that confidence, she’d be a force no one could push around, and Max would sleep much better at night.
“What is it?”
She picked her chin up the way he’d taught her to and looked him in the eye. “I’m moving out.”
Max scoffed. “Like hell you are.” There was no possible way he was going to allow her to move back in with that fucking guy. She shouldn’t even be talking to him. Zero contact was the only way to go. “I’m gonna fucking kill that kid—”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not moving back in with Cooper. I’m renting a room at Chelsea’s.”
Max’s face blanked. “Why?”
She shuffled around some more. “I’m really grateful you let me stay here, but I just think I need to be a little more independent.”
Max cocked a brow. “Why? ”
She rolled her eyes. “This is happening, Max. I’m moving out today. I won’t be here when you get back.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re going to be living with Willow?”
Cara’s face lit up, and Max had to rein in his temper. “Yeah. Not just Willow, Chelsea and Jae, too. And Natalie’s next door. I think it’ll be great for me to be out on my own and to have roommates my age. Besides, you like Natalie and Chelsea.”
“Yeah, I know Natalie and Chelsea. All I know about Willow is that she’s . . . secretive.”
Cara rolled her eyes as she turned to fill a cup with coffee and pull a spoon from the drawer. “Maybe you should get to know her. She’s your business partner now, like it or not.”
Max huffed an annoyed breath.
“You seemed to like her when you were talking to her on the phone,” she said, pointing at him with the spoon. “You even smiled.”
Max thought back to that conversation and had to admit she was easy to talk to. But that didn’t mean he wanted her to live with his sister. He supposed it was better than her moving back in with that little shit, but not much better. She should just stay at his place, where he knew she was fine and, most importantly, where she wouldn’t dare bring fucking Cooper over.
Was she doing this because he was being too overbearing? Probably. As much as he hated to admit, it wasn’t really his place to tell her what to do. She was an adult. And he liked she was sticking up for herself, telling him how it was going to be instead of doing what he told her to do.
Besides, how bad could Willow really be?
“Fine,” he said. “But you can come back anytime you want. Night or day, you call me.”
Cara nodded.
“I gotta go,” he said, and she waved bye.
He got in his car and drove to the pub, eager to see when Willow would arrive for the day so he could get to the bottom of her secrecy. Maybe he was being a little too nosy before, but now that she was going to be living with his little sister, he had to know what she was hiding.
When he pulled up, the sight of her rental car already parked in the lot took him by surprise. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Probably that she’d show up at noon, or not at all.
He walked in, and instead of going straight to his office to get started for the day, he dropped his bag on the bar and went through the connecting door that led from the tap room into the brewery .
The moment he walked in, he spotted her passed out at a table. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t even twitch.
“Morning,” he said a little louder than usual, hoping she’d wake up.
Again, nothing. She was like a corpse.
He came a little closer to where she sat in a chair, her folded arms resting on the table in front of her, and a pool of bright-red hair surrounding her pale, freckled face.
“Hello?” he said.
She didn’t budge. Her back continued to rise and fall in gentle, peaceful breaths. He forced his eyes away, wondering when she’d got there and whether she’d actually accomplished anything or had just fallen asleep. He was on his way over to the fermentation tank when she suddenly popped up, startled.
She glanced around, caught him in the corner of her eye, and screamed.
Max rolled his eyes and waited for the ringing in his ears to stop.
“Oh God, sorry,” she said, catching her breath as she pushed the hair from her face. “What time is it?”
“6:17.”
“In the morning?”
Max’s eyebrows narrowed. “How long have you been here? ”
She ignored him, pushed herself up from the table, and dashed to the tank closest to her. She grabbed hold of the lever on the hatch and pushed but couldn’t get it to budge.
When she started throwing all her weight behind it, Max took pity. He came over, reached over her head and grabbed it with one hand, then pulled, releasing it easily.
She glanced up, her eyes staring at his biceps next to her face for a moment before continuing up to his face. “Thanks,” she said, then blinked those beautiful pale-green eyes away from him.
She measured something and poured it into the tank before pressing some buttons. Finally, she closed the tank and sighed against it in relief.
“Everything okay?”
She pushed her wild red hair back from her face again. “Yes. I should have put the hops in an hour ago, but it will be okay. I set an alarm, but I must’ve slept through it.”
“Have you been here all night?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why do you ask?”
Max threw up his hands, exasperated. “You won’t even answer a simple question now? ”
“I don’t owe you any answers. I can come here when I want, I can brew what I want, I can leave when I want,” she said, her little hands fisting before resting on her pretty hips.
God, she looked hot when she was all pissed.
He mentally slapped himself, took a deep breath, and changed direction.
“Of course you can. I’m not trying to stop you from brewing beer. Trust me, that’s the last thing I want. I’m just trying to understand why you’re being so secretive.”
Her narrowed eyes seemed to ease a little, then her hands dropped from her hips, and her shoulders relaxed. Finally, she slumped back down in her chair.
“Sorry,” she said.
His eyebrows shot up. “Sorry? For what?”
She shrugged. “For being difficult, I guess. I’m just . . . dealing with some things right now. This is all overwhelming.”
He sat down next to her, then looked her over. “Do you need help?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “No, I’m okay. I have a brewing plan, so I feel better about all this,” she said. “It’s just . . . personal stuff.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What kind of personal stuff? Are you doing something illegal? Are you on the lam? Are you using this place to launder dirty drug money?”
She burst into disbelieving laughter. “Launder money?”
He stared at her, eyebrow cocked.
“Max, I don’t even fully understand how laundering money works.”
His face relaxed as he decided she was probably telling the truth. She didn’t look like a criminal as she shook her head and smiled. She looked pretty as fuck, with pink cheeks and creamy skin down her throat. Even the sleep gunk in the corner of her eye didn’t lessen the effect.
“What is it, then?”
“Are you always this persistent?” she asked, rolling her neck.
He continued to stare.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll tell you,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not even that big a deal.”
He crossed his arms, waiting, trying to suppress his smile as she threw all that attitude his way.
He should probably try to figure out why that did it for him. Something about a woman who was smart and strong and challenging was incredibly attractive to him. It always had been.
“I lied to my fiancé and told him I was going to Ottawa to look after my Nana, but I came here instead.”
Fiancé?
She was engaged?
Fuck.
He liked it better when she was a drug lord.
He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed with himself for being disappointed, and tried to focus on the issue. “Why didn’t you just tell him?”
“I tried to, but he doesn’t want to leave Churchill.”
Max shook his head. “Okay, but why didn’t you tell him about buying it?”
“He kinda shut it down before I could even explain. I don’t want to . . . lose him.”
Max stared, trying to make this person match up with what he knew of her. She was so sharp with him. He never would have imagined she’d sneak around and lie just to spare some feelings.
“You don’t want to lose someone who doesn’t care about you?”
Her eyes shot up at him, horrified. “There you go being a Maxhole again. He loves me, and I love him. We’ve been together forever.”
Max gave his head a shake. What she did with her personal life wasn’t his business, but this seemed really messed up. At least her story checked out; the paying in cash and whispering. He hated she was a liar, but at least he didn’t get the sense she was lying to him. Still, didn’t that make it even worse ?
“He’s going to find out.”
“I’ll tell him, eventually, once the brewery is up and running successfully and he can’t naysay me anymore.”
Max shook his head. He told himself to take a step back, keep his distance, but one other question hung over his head, and as much as he tried to let it go, he couldn’t.
“How did you pay for it without him knowing?”
Her shoulders slumped forward. “I got an insurance payout when my mom died. He didn’t know about it.”
“How long ago?”
“Ten years ago.”
Max nodded. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks.”
“Is your Nana actually sick? Please don’t tell me you abandoned her when she needed you.”
Willow’s head tipped to the side as she assessed him. “She just has a little cold. She’s fine.”
Max nodded. “Fine.”
She looked up at him with raised eyebrows, looking nervous.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s all?”
Max looked around, then shrugged. “What the hell else is there? ”
“You’re not going to yell at me? Call me a liar, tell me I’m a horrible person?”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Seems like you get enough of that from your guy already. I think you handled the whole thing badly, but I’m not going to judge you for doing what you needed to do.”
She looked down, lost in thought.
“Just don’t lie to me, and we’re cool,” he said.
She looked up at him with a nod. “Just out of curiosity, how would you have handled it?”
“I’d have looked that fucker in the eye and said, ‘I’m out. We’re done,’ and then I would have left.”
Her eyes widened. “Have you ever been in a long-term relationship before?”
“No.”
A notification pinged, and he remembered about the interview he’d set up.
“We have a guy coming in at ten for an interview. He has some experience at a brewery two towns over. You need help in here. And we need someone reliable once you’re gone.”
She nodded. “Right. Good.”
He turned and walked out, annoyed that she was getting under his skin. He wished he could get a hold of that dick she was engaged to and force him to treat her better. The guy seemed like a toxic asshole. But it wasn’t his place .
He shook his head and silently reminded himself that she was not his problem. She was only a business partner. Someone who could make beer that would sell.
And he had much more important things to focus on.
The door to Max’s office opened, and Willow sauntered in and fell into the chair across the desk from him. It had been a few hours since he’d found her sleeping in the brewery, and she looked rundown. Why she hadn’t just worked during the day like a normal person was way beyond him.
He looked at his watch. Ten minutes to ten. At least she was early for the interview. Maybe she wanted to go over the resume, talk about what kind of experience they were looking for.
“You did a lot of work in here since my interview,” she said, ending on an enormous yawn that made her eyes close and her nose crinkle. “Thanks for fixing up our office.”
Max’s train of thought skidded to a halt.
Did she just say . . . ?
“Our? ”
She crossed her arms on the desk in front of her and placed her cheek against them. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she had a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Mm-hmm,” she said. “Ours.”
He wanted to be annoyed, even waited for the feeling to bubble up, but it never came. “You were in here last night.”
“How’d you know?” she asked, looking up at him with squinted eyes. “Do you have security cameras in here?”
“Pen box,” he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to the shelf along the back wall. “You opened it like a raccoon.”
She looked over his shoulder, and he knew when her eyes landed on the ragged box because they brightened and her smile doubled. She was pretty even when she was tired, with her heavy eyelids and pink cheeks.
He shook it off, annoyed at how attractive she was, but even more annoyed at himself. He should hate that she’d been in there, rummaging around and making a mess of his space. But he didn’t. It had actually made him laugh that morning when he’d walked in and seen it. Why would anyone open a box like that ?
“Have you ever shared an office with someone before?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Someone that wasn’t as organized as you?”
He thought back. “No.”
“Is this the first business you’ve started?”
“No.”
“Other pubs?”
“No.”
She stared at him, waiting.
He stared back. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “I came in here early to find out more about you. I keep fishing for more information, and you won’t give it up. It’s frustrating.”
“I was hoping you were coming in here to find out more about the guy we’re interviewing.”
She shook her head. “I’ll find out more about him later. It’s you I want to know about.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I feel like we’ve had an unfair exchange of information. I told you all about me this morning, and I think you owe me now. Are your parents still alive? It seems like it’s just you and Cara.”
He shook his head, reached for his mouse, and pulled up a fresh spreadsheet that he would need for their interviews. “I don’t talk about my personal life to strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
He shrugged. “Well, I don’t talk about my personal life to friends, either.”
“I’m not your friend.”
He stopped and looked up at her. “Fine. I don’t talk about my personal life to pains in my ass. Better?”
Her pretty little mouth fell open in mock offence. “I prefer to be called a business partner. And you know that you’re a pain in the ass, too.”
He held her stare for a moment before narrowing his eyes at her. “I wish I could fire you.”
Her face split into a gorgeous smile. “Well, you can’t. Tell me about your other businesses.”
He checked his watch. Five minutes before the interview. “Fine,” he said with a forceful exhale. “I started a consulting business as soon as I graduated.”
“What kind of consulting?”
“Business consulting. Companies would hire me to sift through their overhead, find places to cut, and then cut them.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “When you say ‘cut them,’ do you mean fire people?”
Max nodded. “People will pay good money to avoid doing their own dirty work. ”
“Oh,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “That sounds soul-destroying.”
He shrugged. Soul-destroying was a dramatic take, but not that far off. Some people were really hard to fire. “You just have to learn to compartmentalize.”
A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Do you still do that?”
“Compartmentalize?”
“No,” she said. “Consulting.”
“No,” he said. “I bought a laundromat when I had enough capital. The previous owner had established it well, and it was profitable from the start. I own three now, plus two car washes, a strip mall, and two warehouses. Those businesses would have bankrolled this pub, but I partnered with Adam, and he had a whole fucking vision.”
Willow smiled. “It is beautiful.”
“It’s expensive,” he said, still annoyed that he’d let Adam talk him into gutting the place. The pub’s busy location and loyal customer base in town had been what attracted him. It would’ve been just fine if they took over, put in a better chef and a better brewer, and slowly upgraded as profits allowed while remaining open to the public.
What he was doing now was way too risky for his comfort zone. It made him feel as if he were on a treadmill that kept getting faster and faster and there was nothing he could do but try to keep up.
“Why laundromats and car washes?”
Max gave a shrug. “They’re cash cows. Low maintenance, low overhead, and I could negotiate a good price from the previous owner because no one wants to own a laundromat. Most people want to start a glamorous business that they can brag about. They care less about their bank account and more about their ego.”
“But you don’t?”
He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit what people think of me as long as I can take care of myself and my family.”
Her pretty eyes went a little wide. “What about your parents?”
Max’s face went hard with no effort. “I don’t talk about that.”
Silence filled the room as Willow’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t realized how easily the conversation had been going until he shot it down.
“How do you do that?” she finally asked, her eyes narrowed on him.
“Do what?”
“Shut down. It’s a little scary how fast you shift.”
“It’s a little scary how comfortable you are with asking deeply personal questions to strangers. ”
“Ah,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Not strangers, remember?”
Max blinked away, glanced down at his watch, then at the door. Where the hell was this guy?
“Come on, Max,” she said. “Can’t be worse than a heroin-addicted mother.”
He met her eyes and found no judgment there, no pity, and actually considered telling her. He’d told no one about his parents before, not even Ethan or Adam. But that was probably because they’d grown up normal, and he hadn’t.
She quietly stared at him with her curious pale-green eyes. If there was anyone on earth he could tell this to, besides a therapist, it was probably her. From the sounds of it, she’d grown up just as fucked as he had. Maybe even worse. Plus, she’d be out of there soon, back to Churchill.
With a defeated shrug, he took a breath and gave her the quick-and-dirty version.
“I thought my dad was dead until he turned up when I was eight. He’d left my mom when I was a baby, but she kept sleeping with him until she wound up pregnant with Cara. When Cara was four, he left again. That time was for good. My mom had to work three jobs, so I took over Cara.”
Her eyes went round. “So you were twelve?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his phone and checking to see whether the guy had notified him he’d be late. Opening up to Willow hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought, but it still left an uncomfortable weight lodged deep in his throat.
He swept all his childhood baggage back up and shoved it in a box deep in the corner of his mind. “He should be here by now.”
When Willow didn’t respond, he glanced up to find her eyes full of pity. It made him recoil.
“I guess it makes sense why you’re so—”
“Sorry!”
A commotion at the door cut her off, and Max was relieved he wouldn’t have to hear whatever she was about to say. He stood as the guy came in, panting and sweaty, with a long, angry red scrape down the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Max fought off an eye roll, already totally annoyed with this fucking guy. Max could have avoided being sucked into telling Willow about his childhood and seeing that look in her eye if he had been on time. Well, maybe. She was very persistent. She’d probably have cornered him eventually and forced him to tell her. It was probably better to rip the bandage off.
“I’m Max,” he said, reaching out a hand .
“Willow.”
She shook his hand next, smiling as they all took their seats.
“How do I pronounce your name?”
“It’s Jer,” he said. “As in Jeremiah.”
Max lifted one brow as he looked down at the guy’s resume, wondering why he wouldn’t have put his full name on it. “You put your nickname on your resume?”
“No. Most people call me Jer, so why put Jeremiah when I’m going to ask you to call me Jer, anyway? Also, Jer isn’t my nickname. My nickname is Jer-bear, but you can’t call me that.”
Max stared at him, wondering if they should even bother interviewing him. Jer-bear was already a no for Max. Curiosity had him glancing down at the guy, wondering what the hell he’d been thinking when he chose his outfit for this interview. He was wearing a neon purple T-shirt with a picture of a cat in a martini glass on it, acid-wash jeans he’d rolled up to show off white socks, and green Converse high-tops. He looked like a cartoon character on his way to a high school dance in 1983.
“Are you okay, Jer?” Willow asked, her voice caring and soft. “Your face is bleeding.”
“Oh,” he said, pressing a dirty hand to his cheek. “That’s why I’m late. There was a squirrel trapped in a bird feeder on my way in. It freaked out when I tried to let it out, ran up my face to the top of my head, and jumped.”
Max snorted, then schooled his smile off his face when Willow looked at him.
“Please sit down,” she said. “Can you still do the interview, or should we postpone?”
Postpone? No. This guy would not be coming back. Max needed someone in there that was responsible, and serious, and capable. He’d basically be running the place once Willow left.
“I can do it now,” Jer said, taking in Willow’s eyes with a softened face as if he’d just fallen in love.
Max cleared his throat. “You said on your resume that you’ve been working at Wildwood Brewery for six months. Can you tell us about the responsibilities you’ve had there?”
Jer answered the question, running through a laundry list of things he took care of. Willow asked a few follow-up questions, and Max actually started wondering whether he impressed Willow. She seemed to actually like this fool.
In a last-ditch effort, Max gave him one more question. “Can you tell us how you would handle a problem on your own? ”
Jer nodded, and his face took on a serious look. “Many people think you can manifest a solution to your problems, but I think that’s bullshit,” he said.
Okaayy.
“No, what you need to do,” he continued, leaning in closer, “is raise your vibration higher so you’re above the problems. That’s the best way of handling a problem on your own. You gotta rise above it.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
Max glanced over at Willow, who was smiling indulgently at Jer, as if he were her child in a piano recital who hadn’t hit a single correct note, but she was still immensely proud of him. What the hell was happening here?
“Thanks so much for coming, Jer,” Willow said.
Max sagged a little, thankful that Willow was pulling the plug on this waste of time.
“I’m worried about the squirrel scratch. You need to get to a clinic.”
Jer stood, nodding, then gave Willow a hug. When he pulled back from her, he took a step toward Max, then thought better of trying to hug him, and let his arms drop to his sides. “Thanks for the interview. Sorry again that I was late.”
Max fought off an eye roll. “We’ll let you know. ”
He waited for Jer to leave, then started filling in his spreadsheet. Not that it mattered. Jer was a hard no.
“I loved him!”
Max paused, his fingers in the air above his keyboard, itching to make X ’s down the columns. “What?”
“He seems great. Didn’t you think so?”
Max stared at Willow. Had she blacked out during that nightmare? “No. He’s a court jester.”
Willow’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Max shook his head. “Jer-bear is a no. There’s been a lot of interest in this position. We’re moving on.”
The silence that followed his statement should have sent up red flags, but Max ignored it. That is, until Willow stood and swiped Jer’s resume from the desk in one fluid motion.
“Jer-bear is a yes,” she said with a flip of her pretty red hair. “I’m hiring him. And I’m going home to get some rest. And I won’t be in tomorrow.”
It took several seconds for Max to process all that. “Wait a minute,” he said, getting her to stop at the door and look at him. “What about the other interviews? ”
She tipped up her chin, looked down at him over her nose, and said, “Jer and I will interview them. You’re not needed anymore.”
With that, she turned and sashayed out the door, leaving Max gaping at her back, wishing for the millionth time that he could fire her ass and send her packing back to the Arctic.