Chapter 12
Merri
One week later
I'm wiping down the bar at The Sassy Siren on a Wednesday afternoon when Heather and Julie walk in looking like they're on a mission.
"Uh oh," I say, setting aside my towel. "This looks serious."
"It is," Heather says, sliding onto a barstool. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Don't play dumb with us, Merri Gallagher," Julie adds, sitting next to Heather. "You know exactly what."
I pour them each a beer. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."
"Wyatt Dalton," they say in unison.
Heat creeps up my neck. "What about him?"
"Oh, come on!" Heather leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "The whole town is talking about you two. It's time to fess up."
"There's nothing to tell that the town doesn’t already know. We're collaborating on a competition entry. That’s it."
"Right. And that's why you two were holding hands on the beach in Hibiscus Harbor last week?" Julie pulls out her phone and shows me a photo. It’s slightly blurry, but unmistakably me and Wyatt, walking barefoot on the sand with our fingers intertwined.
My jaw drops. "Where did you get that?"
"The Pelican Point Morning Crew group chat," Heather says smugly. "Which, by the way, has been blowing up with Merriatt content."
"Merriatt?"
"Your couple name. Merri plus Wyatt equals Merriatt. It's very cute. I’m almost jealous they didn’t give me and Logan one."
I drop my face into my hands, groaning. "This cannot be happening."
"Oh, it's happening," Julie says. "There are at least thirty photos in the group chat.
See? You having dinner at Sal's. Wyatt walking into the brewery, a smile on his face.
The two of you at The Silver Willow. Someone even got a picture of him picking you up at your house with flowers in his hand. Flowers!"
"There is no privacy in this town."
"No, there isn’t, as I can well attest given my peeping neighbor." Heather agrees cheerfully. "So you might as well just fess up. How long have you been dating? Is he a good kisser? Have you two…" She makes a suggestive gesture that makes Julie snort into her beer.
"I'm not discussing my sex life with you two."
"So there is a sex life!" Julie practically shouts, making several customers turn to look at us.
"Keep your voice down!" I hiss.
"Give us the deets," Heather demands.
I look between them, knowing I'm not getting out of this. They're like bloodhounds who've caught a scent. "Fine. We're dating, okay? But it’s only been official for a week now. I don't know where it's going, especially when this competition is over."
Heather's expression softens. "You're worried it won't last."
"I'm worried it's just the intensity of the competition bringing us together. Once it's over and we go back to our normal routines…" I shrug. "What if we realize we don't like each other that much?"
"That's not going to happen," Julie says firmly. "Merri, the way he looks at you? That's not competition intensity. It's the real deal."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Marcus looks at me the same way, like I'm the only person in the room. And Logan is like that with Heather, too. We’re familiar with it, and Wyatt Dalton has it bad for you."
Heat spreads up my neck. "Really?"
"Definitely." Heather reaches across the bar to squeeze my hand. "Just take it one day at a time. Don't overthink it. Enjoy the fact that you're dating a ridiculously hot former Marine who makes excellent coffee."
"He cooks, too," I admit, smiling despite myself. "And he's surprisingly sweet and thoughtful. And he makes me laugh."
"Look at you, all smitten," Heather teases. "It's adorable."
"I am not."
"Oh, girl. You totally are. But don’t worry, we won't tell anyone."
I can’t bite back the scoff. "You're going to tell everyone."
"Probably." Julie nods, her grin evil. "But we'll make you sound good."
I laugh. "You two are impossible."
That evening, there's another town hall meeting to discuss the competition updates. Wyatt and I arrive a few minutes early, and he leads me to the seats in the front.
I feel the weight of curious stares as we pass, the low hum of whispers start before we're even halfway across the room.
"Subtle," I murmur as I sit next to him.
"Everyone already knows," he says simply, draping his arm around the back of my chair. "We might as well own it."
"Fair point."
Mayor Snyder calls the meeting to order, and I notice Ms. Mitchell sitting behind the podium, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction when she spots us.
"Good evening, everyone!" the mayor says, beaming at the crowd. "Thank you for coming out tonight. We have another exciting update about the Coastal Living Best New Business Competition."
The crowd murmurs with interest.
"The magazine has requested permission to interview each competitor," the mayor continues, "Some will be written features, others will include video segments for their online platform. Think reality TV style behind-the-scenes content."
There's a mixed reaction from the audience with some loving the idea, others look skeptical.
I turn to Wyatt, my eyes wide. "Video segments?"
He shrugs, his arm dropping from the back of my chair to my shoulders in a comforting squeeze. "It'll be fine."
There's a noticeable snickering sound behind us, and I resist the urge to turn around and glare at whoever finds us so entertaining.
"The interviews will be conducted over the next week," Mayor Snyder says. "Ms. Mitchell will coordinate schedules with you. Please be available and cooperative. Don’t forget that this is excellent publicity for our town."
Ms. Mitchell moves to the podium. "Our production team has developed this exciting way to showcase our talented competitors. It will be wonderful exposure for everyone."
As the meeting ends, Ms. Mitchell makes a beeline for us.
"Merri! Wyatt!" Her gaze ping-pongs between us. "How is your collaboration going?"
"Really well," Wyatt says, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "The beer is amazing. We're confident it'll win."
"I have no doubt." She takes in our closeness, and her mouth stretches into a smile that’s all calculation. "You two certainly seem to be getting along better than expected."
"We've found common ground," I say carefully.
"I can see that." She pulls out her tablet. "Speaking of which, would you both be available tomorrow afternoon for your video interview? The crew can set up at your brewery, Merri, and we'll film some behind-the-scenes footage of your operations while we chat about your entry."
So soon? My stomach twists uncomfortably. But I force myself to nod like it’s totally fine and not terrifying at all.
"What time?" Wyatt asks.
"Two o'clock? It should take about two hours."
I glance at Wyatt, who nods. "We can make that work."
"Excellent!" Ms. Mitchell makes a note on her tablet. "The magazine is particularly interested in your partnership. The whole enemies-to-collaborators angle is very compelling."
"We weren't enemies," I protest weakly.
"You absolutely were," she says cheerfully. "And now you’re more than just collaborators, right? That’ll make the story even better. My team will be there tomorrow at two."
She bustles off, leaving Wyatt and me in the middle of the emptying community center while my brain spirals into a dozen different ways this could turn into a disaster.
"This is my nightmare," I say slowly. "A video interview tomorrow at my brewery, with strangers pointing cameras at us while we discuss our partnership." I make air quotes around the last word because I still don't have a better term for whatever this collaboration-turned-relationship actually is.
Wyatt guides me toward the exit, completely unbothered. "You're doing that thing where you catastrophize before anything's happened. We haven't even made it to the parking lot, and you're already spiraling through at least five worst-case scenarios."
"Seven, actually, and one of them involves me accidentally dropping the f-bomb on camera when they ask about our fermentation process."
"Why would you swear about fermentation?"
"I don't know! That's why it's a worst-case scenario!
" I climb into his truck and wait for him to round the front.
When he slides into the driver's seat, I turn to face him.
"What if they ask about us? Not the beer, not the business stuff, but our relationship.
How we went from neighbors who couldn't stand each other to whatever we're doing now. "
He starts the engine but doesn't put the truck in gear yet.
"Then we tell them we're making it up as we go, same as everyone else who's ever attempted to date someone. The only difference is we’ve known each other a hell of a long time and also happen to make beer together, which is honestly an unfair advantage in the whole relationship department. "
"An unfair advantage," I echo. "Because nothing says romance like a decades-long prank war."
"Hey, some of our best creative energies were spent on that prank war. I’m pretty damned proud of some of the shit I came up with.
" He reaches over and takes my hand. "Look, our beer is incredible.
We both know what we're talking about when it comes to brewing and roasting.
Everything else is just background noise that we don't have to get into unless we want to. "
I squeeze his fingers. "And if I freeze up on camera and forget how to form complete sentences?"
"Then I'll carry the interview with my natural charm and devastating good looks while you sit there looking mysteriously brooding.
It'll be very artistic." He grins at my expression.
"Merri, you could talk about making beer for hours without running out of things to say.
Focus on that and let everything else sort itself out. "
The warmth of his hand grounds me more than any pep talk could. "You make it sound easy."
"That's because it is." His grin softens. "We've got this, Gallagher."
Maybe we do.