Chapter 15
I scan the bustling crowd, trying to spot Londyn”s booth. A blend of malted barley and hops permeates the air, igniting a deep, instinctual craving. For beer and her lips.
My gaze finally lands on the familiar Crown Jewel signage, Londyn”s radiant smile beckoning me over. She”s in her element, pouring samples and engaging the crowd with that effortless warmth of hers.
Something inside me unclenches at the sight. This festival, this celebration of craft and passion...it”s what first brought us together all those years ago.
With purposeful strides, I make my way through the throngs of people. Londyn”s eyes meet mine, her face lighting up in a way that does funny things to my chest.
”Well, well, it”s nice to see you stranger,” she teases. A sexy grin tugs at those full lips I”ve tasted more times than I can count.
I”ve kept away, but today, the pull to be near her proves too strong to resist.
”You know I can”t resist a good craft brew, Londyn.” The familiar banter rolls off my tongue with ease. ”Care to pour me a sample of your latest creation?”
She arches one perfect brow but obliges, filling a tasting glass with a deep amber liquid. ”My new Imperial Stout. Tell me what you think.”
I accept the glass, inhaling deeply. The aromas are downright sinful, like being wrapped in a warm blanket of bittersweet decadence. Taking a reverent sip, I let the bold, roasted flavors wash over my tongue.
A low groan of appreciation rumbles up from my chest. ”Damn, Londyn...that”s amazing.”
Pride lights up her warm eyes. ”You like that? I was going for the ultimate cozy beer—something you”d want to curl up with on a rainy evening.”
”Mission accomplished,” I murmur, slanting her an appreciative look over the rim of the glass. ”Although I can think of a few other things I”d like to cuddle up to on a stormy night.”
A ghost of red burns Londyn”s cheeks, that adorable hint of rose tinting her smooth brown skin. She bites her lip, torn between flustered and amused by my blatant flirtation.
Before she can respond, a raucous cheer rises from the nearby beer garden area. We both turn to see a cluster of people gathered, drinks raised in raucous celebration.
Londyn”s lips curve in a soft smile. ”I love the energy in the air, don”t you? Everyone”s so full of life and appreciating our love for good beer.”
I nod slowly, allowing the infectious energy to wash over me. For the barest heartbeat, I”m not a man consumed by the need for vengeance.
I”m just Jermaine Knight. A brew artisan at heart, celebrating the thing that”s bound Londyn and me together since the beginning.
Beer has been in my family for generations. I hope to one day pass on the love to my children and their children.
”It”s what brewing is all about,” I admit, something in my chest expanding at the realization. ”Taking the time to craft something with your own two hands, then sharing it with the world. The whole process, from grains to glass—it”s goddamn magical.”
Londyn beams at me. ”See? I knew there was a reason I fell for you way back when.”
My breath catches at her words. The warmth, the raw sincerity shining from those expressive depths.
How did I think I could get over this feeling? The way she crawls in my chest and makes my heart her home.
And I”m reminded of what first drew me to Londyn together. Her joyful spirit, her zest for life that complements my own single-minded intensity.
She has a way of cutting through all the bullshit and noise, zeroing in on the things that truly matter with laser-sharp clarity. And right now, as our eyes hold in this suspended heartbeat of mutual understanding I want to remove every stitch of her clothing and show her how much she means to me.
”Oh no you don”t, Mr. Knight.”
That makes my dick rock hard. ”Mr. Knight.”
”And not like that.” Then a ball of fire ignites in her gaze. ”At least not until we”re alone.”
”Is that a promise, Londyn Simmons? Because I”d move heaven and hell to get you alone.”
Her hand drops to her chest as if she”s trying to contain her facing heart. ”Then yes, Jermaine, it”s a promise.”
An appreciative roar fills the air, snapping us from our bubble. The crowd erupts in thunderous applause as the festival MC takes the stage, the signature Knights Brewery logo emblazoned behind him.
This is it.
Londyn grips my arm with unabashed excitement, her nails biting into the fabric of my sleeve. ”They”re announcing the winners!”
My jaw tightens as a hush falls over the assembled masses. The tension is palpable, every brewer and their team hanging on the MC”s every word.
”All right, all right, let”s hear it for the incredible talent we”ve had on display here today!” The MC”s booming voice echoes through the speakers. ”These judges had one hell of a task separating the best from the truly transcendent!”
The suspense stretches out, every soul present holding their collective breath.
”Our runner-up for this year”s Houston Craft Brew Fest grand prize is...Sadler”s Stout Works!”
A chorus of polite applause ripples through the crowd as the brewers take the stage, all nervous smiles and handshakes.
My chest tightens with each passing second. I cut my gaze to Londyn, the hopeful tilt of her chin damn near obliterating my defenses. I want to run to the stage and make them hurry up already.
”And the moment you”ve all been waiting for—the winner of the coveted $100,000 grand prize and title of Best Brewery is...”
The MC pauses for dramatic effect. My grip tightens on Londyn”s arm, grounding me even as my pulse thunders in my ears.
”Crown Jewel Brew!”
The roar that greets the announcement is deafening. Londyn gasps, hands flying to her mouth as disbelieving tears spring to her eyes.
”Oh my God...” The whispered words are coated with raw emotion. ”I won. I actually won!”
There”s a beat of stunned silence before Mia and Miss Connie erupts into cheers, engulfing Londyn in a tangle of celebratory hugs and high-fives.
I catch a glimpse of Mia, her infectious grin beaming through the joyous chaos as she squeezes her best friend”s shoulders.
Pride swells in my chest as I watch them—this tribe of passionate artisans who”ve poured their hearts and souls into following their dreams. And at the center of it all is Londyn, radiant and triumphant.
A queen earning her hard-won crown.
Almost of its own accord, my body carries me forward until I”m directly in her orbit, heedless of the cameras and roving eyes surrounding us. Londyn turns at my approach, shining eyes finding mine in an instant.
My next breath stalls in my lungs.
We”re so close, just inches separating our bodies as the world falls away in a dizzying blur. There”s only her—this stunning, passionate woman I”ve never truly stopped loving.
With a trembling hand, I reach out to brush away the tears sliding down her cheek.
”Congratulations, Londyn,” I rasp, voice gone low and husky with naked emotion. ”You earned this, every second of it.”
She holds my stare, those full lips parting as she drinks me in. ”Jermaine, I?—”
But I silence her with the barest shake of my head, every fiber of my being screaming at me to seize this suspended moment. To finally let go of the past and take this leap into the terrifying unknown that is the promise of us.
A heartbeat passes, two. Then I”m pulling Londyn flush against me, her lush curves molding to every hard plane of my body as I claim those softly parted lips in a searing kiss.
The roar of the crowd fades to a dull roar in my ears. There”s only the silken heat of Londyn”s mouth, the taste of her on my tongue as she eagerly returns my kiss.
I pour every ounce of the wildfire blazing in my soul into the sweep of my tongue, the caress of my hands, and my tight hold on her.
For this one second, I”m stripped bare, my senses overwhelmed by the scent of exotic fruit and malted barley that clings to Londyn”s radiant skin.
This moment, this woman—she”s everything, the missing piece that”s left my life a hollow husk of unfulfilled potential.
When we finally break apart, chests heaving in unison, Londyn”s eyes are dazed with naked longing. Her fingers grip the lapels of my jacket like a lifeline, holding me tethered to this fragile reality before I come to my senses and ruin it all.
Cupping her face, I lean in until our foreheads brush. My voice is a low rumble meant for her ears alone as the world fades to a distant buzz around us.
”Come home with me tonight, Londyn. We”ll celebrate properly...just you and me.”
Her breath hitches, those thick lashes fluttering. For a heartbeat, she seems torn, conflict warring behind those expressive depths.
Then, finally, she gives the barest nod of acquiescence. ”Yes.”