Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
brIAR
I gape at the barrel room, taking in its complete transformation. The soft silk flowers. The warm lighting. The romantic purple velvet tablecloth, draped over the small antique table I spotted on the listing for the estate sale. The beers we’ll be tasting are arranged on top of it, waiting for us.
Liam made it clear he didn’t want to be any kind of partner in Silver Star, and yet he helped make this happen.
I’m glad he’s not down here, because my breath catches in my throat, and I almost feel like…
Briar, you will not cry, for God’s sake.
I may be too soft, but I won’t let myself cry in front of Nora, who is clearly made of stronger stuff.
“Do you like it?” sweet Otis asks, as if anything else might be possible. I’ve wanted to transform this room for so long, but when I shared my idea with my father a couple of months ago, he harrumphed about time wasters and children who think money grows on trees.
It’s everything I thought it could be, though, as if Liam and Otis plucked it from my dreams. Sophie, too, of course. Dear Sophie, who always finds ways to help other people, even though she’s plenty busy with her pop-up business.
My throat choked with emotion, I say, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Nora glances around the space with brisk efficiency. “I suppose you didn’t set it up like this so the staff could use it as a break room?”
“I’m going to offer a dinner experience down here. Only one couple at a time. A local restaurant is partnering with me.”
“Very nice,” she says with a small smile.
Her approval feels like a lifeboat, carrying me along, even though I remember Liam’s advice about not caring what anyone thinks. I don’t think I’d like to be that way, though. I don’t want to care what everyone thinks anymore, but that’s not the same as not caring what anyone thinks.
I want the good opinion of the people I respect.
“It wasn’t that hard,” Otis says with a broadening grin as Dottie pats him on the back.
I can hear the squeaking of the stairs down the hall, and my heartbeat picks up before Liam fills the doorway.
The entire space brims with his scent, his masculine energy, and the half smile on his face commands my focus.
He’s pleased with himself, but right now, at this moment, I know it’s because he’s pleased me.
“Ready for the tasting?” he asks.
“Oh, yes, please.” Dottie smooths the front of her button-up sweater. “It’s cold outside today, so I wouldn’t mind a bit of a tipple.” She takes a seat in one of the chairs. I offer the other to Nora, who lowers into it, but probably only to keep Dottie company.
I find Liam’s gaze and hold it as if it’s something precious. The intensity with which he stares back warms me from the inside out. “Thank you for helping.”
He inclines his chin, acting as if it were nothing. “It’s my job to help out around here.”
“Please don’t tell my business partner that,” Nora says. “He might start thinking I should hang flower garlands.”
“God forbid, but I think you could probably manage it,” Liam replies with a completely straight face. “You’d just need a stepladder.”
Otis snorts.
Nora rolls her eyes.
Dottie, who seems to have tuned out the teasing, picks up one of the labeled glass bottles on the table. “Oh, yes, I think I’d like to start with this one, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Would you like to make an introduction?” I ask Liam as Dottie pours beer into four shot glasses. Everyone takes one except for Liam.
“That’s my rosemary saison,” he says. “Bottoms up.”
So Liam. Short and to the point. Like it or you don’t. Spit it out or swallow, he wouldn’t care.
My mind abruptly goes to a very different place, and my cheeks burn as I lift the little glass for a sip. I feel Liam’s eyes burrowing into me. He’s waiting. But I don’t let myself think he cares about my opinion.
The flavor is mild at first, but the herb hits on the back end. It’s mellow but distinct.
“I love it,” I gush.
He nods once, still standing by the door, as if he’d like to be as close as possible to an exit at all times.
The beer seems to sour in my mouth at the thought of him ducking out and leaving.
“You haven’t tried it,” I point out.
His smile is faint. “I remember what it tastes like.”
“Sorry, man,” Otis says, hacking, and I tear my gaze away from Liam to look at him. “Nope. Can’t do it. It tastes like my grandmother’s garden smells. This is an old-people beer.” He darts a regretful glance at Dottie. “Sorry, Dottie.”
“Why would you be sorry?” she asks, giving him her full attention.
I suspect she’s teasing him, but from the panic in his eyes, he has no idea. “Because you’re…I’m sorry, that’s all.”
“Well, I think it’s delightful,” she says. “It tastes like—”
“A garden,” Otis mutters.
“Exactly.”
Nora takes another sip of hers, then says, “It’s good. Not for January, though.”
“No,” Liam agrees.
“It’s a spring beer.”
He gives her a knowing smile, as if they’re sharing professional respect.
That must be why I feel my stomach tighten with something like jealousy.
“Let’s keep going,” I insist.
The next is an amber beer. Then a plum IPA, which Otis likes well enough to claim the bottle.
Then a fig spiced ale.
“This is it,” I say, seeking out Liam’s gaze again. “The next one we should make.”
“You haven’t tried them all,” he says, but he gives me a slow, lazy smile that says more than words could: this is the beer he hoped I’d choose. If Nora’s approval felt like a high five, his feels like a hug.
“When you know, you know.”
“It’ll take five weeks.”
“We should still do it,” I say with a nod, wishing it would take less time but knowing it’s worth it. “We can make a faster beer for our third choice.”
“Your wish is my command. You’re the boss.”
The tension between us feels like an unplucked guitar string, until Dottie cuts it, turning another bottle over in her hands and saying, “Oh goody. I was hoping you’d bring a lager. Can we try this one next?”
The moment has passed but not the feelings it stirred.
I like Liam more than I should, way more than I planned to.