8. Deny, Deny
8
DENY, DENY
KEATON
Christmas in July in Holly Creek was the town’s cute gimmick to draw in more tourists. The annual ritual dated as far back as when Vivian and I grew up here.
As a kid, it was a fun-filled part of summers off from school. As an adult with a business to manage? Still fun, but spiked with nonstop motion for a few weeks straight, just going, going, people and faces a blur, and followed by my ultimate collapse into exhaustion when it was all over.
Many of the business owners agreed this had been one of the best July months on record. Some said they believed I had something to do with it, that my semi-celebrity status, refueled by the commercials playing on TV about the upcoming nuptials of former Brewed with Love cast members, brought more curious people into town.
All I knew was I posed often for photos and signed a ton of autographs, my cheeks aching from too much forced smiling. When I would empty my pockets each night, I pulled out strips of paper with a name and a phone number on it. Some women would insert them, hoping to get lucky. Last year, I collected them and counted how many I had received. It was a real ego boost. This year, I couldn’t care less and tossed them all away.
The mayor even approached me about being an ambassador for Holly Creek. He didn’t say this directly, but in the undertone of the conversation, he seemed to suggest that I mention the town more often in my public appearances, and show off photos of the town online.
First women and now the mayor tried to use my small amount of fame to their advantage. Would I ever escape it? It all came with the territory, and so I had accepted that being reality TV famous came with a price. But there’s a time to be that guy, and then there’s a time to just be me.
Holly Creek was so busy throughout the month, I blinked twice, and it was over. In terms of business, I couldn’t be happier, though. I spent the entire month busier than ever, even sleeping there a few nights, elbows deep in doling out my suds, until the final day of July.
I was done with peopling and ready for August to return to normal. As was tradition in town, August first had become an official day of rest. Stores remained closed. Everyone relaxed with family and friends to recover before getting back to work.
For me, that meant spending the morning relaxing and lingering in bed, and later I’d spend the afternoon at Richard and Vivian’s as they volunteered to host a party.
I yawned and noticed the time, having slept in a little late. I couldn’t help it. Thoughts consumed me about Sophie, thanks to her daily appearance in my life this summer.
From her coffee-fueled mornings in my office, to her laugh echoing while brainstorming funny new brew names with me, to the way she sometimes wore glasses and pushed them up her nose, it took all my restraint not to take her and bend her over my desk.
She brightened my mornings in the office like Hops’ personal sunshine, but she also starred in my nightly fantasies, too. The more I was around her, the more she poisoned me with her pheromones. Every night I’d drift off to sleep, craving her.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat upright, scrubbing my face when a text came in. The name Sophie popped up, and a sleepy smile spread across my face.
Sophie: Everyone is here but you.
Keaton: Miss me?
Sophie: Of course. I’ve been talking up the new brew you’re bringing for everyone to try. I tested some names we’ve been batting around to see which one they like.
Did this woman ever stop working? Not that I minded. She was good for my business.
Sophie: Everyone loves Frisky Frosty so far.
Keaton: Really? I was hoping D.E.L.F. would be the winner.
I chuckled at how she and Jessa were against that name from the start. I thought it was rather creative—Dirty Elf I’d Like to Fuck—but they’d nixed it right away.
Sophie: Sorry to disappoint you. But that name wasn’t even on my survey.
I shook my head and looked down at the huge wood twitching between my legs. I gave him a rub.
“Yeah, I know, buddy. It’s been far too long since you’ve had the pleasure of a woman. My hand will have to do once again today.” I stood and read another text from her.
Sophie: Hurry and get here. It’s hot and we all need your beer.
Keaton: Relax, city girl. Be there soon.
I nearly texted her something I shouldn’t—something flirty, something real.
But I deleted it. What good would it do?
She was here to work, not to fall for the idiot who couldn’t stop thinking about her.
In my extra long shower, my hand provided little comfort. The agony of not knowing the feel of being inside of her had better stop, or I’d drive myself insane. My poor, thick manhood, deprived of any female attention, needed relief. Under the stream of water, I stroked myself, imagining her beneath me or riding me, using every position known to me.
I moaned her name, and growled and painted the wall as I came.
Temporary solace.
She’d become my obsession.
Assholes who tried to hit on her at the Hops weren’t worthy of her. Especially that hockey player, Declan, who’d visited again one weekend. I was pretty sure they exchanged phone numbers, and positive the only thing he wanted was sex.
Hell yeah, I dreamt of having sex with Sophie. Obviously, I was the better choice for her over some jerk chasing a puck in the north.
Didn’t help one bit that Jessa reminded me—teased me—after seeing how grumpy I got that weekend, that Sophie was still on the market and didn’t have a ring on her finger.
The last woman I should want was the one using this marketing consultancy with me to get ahead. When this was all over, Sophie would move on. Nothing tied her here to Holly Creek.
My mind was a clusterfuck. The trip to Las Vegas loomed ahead of us, and all I could think about was getting lucky with her. What was I thinking, asking her to be my date?
When I finally swung my truck into the Buchanans’ driveway, they had the place dressed up as a winter wonderland. Richard with all his money—and now Vivian, too, as his wife—lived far beyond anything she and I imagined while growing up here in a tiny two-bedroom house.
I hoisted the keg out of the truck onto my shoulder and hiked around their house into their backyard. Twinkling lights draped the trees, pine garlands framed lattices, and a banquet table stretched so far it needed its own zip code. A line of red and white blooms and battery-operated taper candles spilled down the middle.
Richard waved from behind the grill in his outdoor kitchen with all the fancy gadgets. With a wrist flicking toward his refrigerator for the keg, I made my way there. Along the way, I greeted Rex and Chelsea, who were playing a game of croquet, and Vivian, Jessa, and Sophie, who were talking around the table.
“Here it is. My new formula for a holiday brew. I can’t wait to see what you think of it,” I announced to anyone in earshot.
“Neither can I. I have a few questions I’d like to ask everyone after you have all had a few sips,” Sophie called out, setting down a cinnamon-stick cocktail and producing a clipboard from her bag.
Damn, she came dressed to kill. I almost tripped over a toddler’s ride-on car, getting a good eyeful of her, which would be a disaster if the keg went down. But worth it to see her in a crimson sundress with white polka dots and buttons teasing me down the front.
“It’s always about marketing with you, isn’t it?” I chortled, giving her crap about it. “Step away from the clipboard. Today is the official Holly Creek Day of Relaxation, if you didn’t know. That means no work.”
“Thank God. I needed a break,” Jessa complained. She’d swapped her usual bartender head-to-toe black for an emerald-green floral dress. Compared to Sophie’s slender frame, Jessa’s was curvy, or plenty for a man to hold, as she always put it.
Ogling Sophie’s curves, she had plenty enough for me to hold. I tried not to sneak glances at her while I removed the old keg from Richard’s fridge and installed the new, but she entered my line of sight, and my chest constricted.
Fuck. Why did I have this reaction to her every time?
“Is this the Frosty Froth?” She giggled, bringing up another name we’d come up with.
“Nope. It’s the Sleazy Elf,” I replied, testing the new one I’d thought of in the shower while I jerked off to thoughts of her.
“Hm. Is it the spices you used or the man who brewed it that makes it sleazy?” With a gleam in her eyes, she tapped her chin with a pen. She hadn’t tasted it yet. I wanted her and Jessa’s fresh opinions today, like everyone else.
“Guess you’ll have to take a sip and find out.” I narrowed my gaze on her red stained lips.
Vivian appeared by my side then, carrying a tray of frosted glasses. “Finally, a day off. How did things go at Hops? I feel like we’ve been passing each other and never had much time to talk all month.”
“The numbers don’t lie. Best July ever for the brewery. How about over your way? Who sold the most cookies, you or Flora? And where are the babies?”
“They’re inside with Paris. Flora is monitoring them… which means she lost. She offered to babysit as my reward.” She moved off to Richard’s side to micromanage his work at the grill, and I filled the glasses. “Hard to beat a hometown favorite that’s been here for years longer than my Cupcake Cottage, but I’ll still try every year.”
Rex was the first to grab a pint of my new brew. Soon we all held frosty mugs in our hands, quickly melting from the blistering sun.
“We need a toast,” Richard announced. “Raise your glasses to the town of Holly Creek. May it and those in it always prosper.”
“That’s it? You couldn’t come up with anything more clever?” Rex joked.
“Asshole. You make a toast then,” Richard shot back.
“Nope. One is good enough. Cheers to all.” He clinked glasses with Chelsea first. I clinked mine with Jessa and Sophie, giving them both a wink of my eye.
“Down the hatch. May we drink in good health?” I took a swig and relished in the flavor profile of cinnamon, pumpkin, cloves, and my personal secret that added a smokiness to it all.
“Ah. Yes. I can totally taste the spices in this malt. Excellent.” Rex wiped the foam off of his upper lip.
“Masterful,” Richard added. His praise meant a lot, especially considering his time and investment in my business.
“It makes me want everything fall-ish right now. Especially if it beats this heat,” Chelsea exclaimed, fanning herself.
Jessa chimed in with, “You know, I love everything you make, Keaton, but this might become my new favorite. The day you launch this, I can see more tips coming my way this fall.”
Sophie eyed everyone and prepared to take notes on her clipboard. “Would you all say it’s warm and comforting or festive and flavorful?”
“Both?” Rex said.
“But if you had to choose one?” She continued to pry and prompt for a few more minutes. Clearly, she didn’t know when to stop.
“Okay, enough work. Let’s get back to relaxing and enjoying the day,” I chided her. She let her shoulders fall, grinning sheepishly, and put away the survey.
Suddenly, a woman shouted from the back door of the house.
“Merry Christmas in July, everyone. Surprise!” All heads turned to find Maisy standing there, with Brooks behind her, both freshly tanned. They strolled into the party like travel bloggers without a care in the world.
Flora came out from the house and joined Chelsea in screaming, and Vivian clapped like someone had won an award.
“Maisy!” Sophie ran to them and they all formed a group hug of shrieking women.
“You two didn’t come back here just to tan-shame us, right?” Rex teased Brooks.
He shook hands with all the men as a summer breeze picked up around us.
Brooks sniffed the air and scrunched his nose. In the heat of the afternoon, it stunk. “What is that smell?”
“It’s coming from my new stable of miniature Scottish cows, who produce more muck daily than I’d expected, but I love them,” Richard explained, practically beating his chest over his new hobby-rancher’s heart.
“Look at you, you’re glowing,” Chelsea observed her sister’s sun-kissed skin as they all gathered around the table.
“Well, other than all the sunshine we soaked up on the island, there’s a second good reason for that,” Maisy said, cheeks pinking. “We came home to share some news.”
Everyone went quiet.
Brooks beamed by her side. “We’re having a baby, and I asked Maisy to marry me.”
“I said yes!” she erupted, flashing a ring on her finger.
Cue the squeals, hugs, and clapping from all the women. Flora wiped her eyes. Maisy cried, apparently blissfully happy.
I offered Brooks a frosty mug of the yet to be named brew to celebrate the homecoming, along with a heartfelt congratulation.
I’d had occasion to talk with him when he and his brother, Archer, visited Richard and Rex, and always thought of him as one of the good guys. He’d found something real with Maisy. It showed by the way he smiled and kept a hand on her, preening like he was proud as hell.
As the women split off planning weddings and baby showers, talk fell among the guys about marriage and kids. I peered around the group, uncomfortable as fuck, with nothing to add as the outlier.
“Anyone need a refill?” I pointed to Rex and Richard’s empty glasses, falling into the comfort of my bartender role. They handed them over and I meandered to the keg. I read a text while there, half tempted to ignore it. Everyone I cared about was right here, so why bother? But I quickly peeked. It was Cassandra from the show.
Cassandra: I’m looking forward to seeing you again in Vegas.
Keaton: You could have seen more of me, but you chose Anthony over me.
Ah, Cassandra, the buxom blonde that I’d wished I’d ended up with instead of Starla on the show. I regretted nothing of my time on the show, but now and then I wondered if Cassandra and I should have ended up together.
Some time ago, we reconnected and texted flirty exchanges for weeks—until she went to Denver and hooked up with my buddy Anthony like I never existed.
Some friend. Some woman.
Cassandra: Only because it made sense. He lives in Denver. You’re far away.
Keaton: I could have moved if there was hope for us.
Cassandra: There still could be. I can’t wait to see you at the wedding in Vegas.
I quickly scanned her Instagram to find photos of her and Anthony, even one from this morning where they were kissing and holding each other, both profiles claiming they were in a relationship.
I wanted to text back, ‘what about Anthony?’ For that matter, I should text Anthony and tell him what his girlfriend was up to, but screw them. Considering he knew I was into Cassandra, but put the moves on her in Denver anyway, showed me the type of friend he was.
Tired of the games, I ended the texts there and turned off my phone. I would not fall for it. Not when Sophie was across the way, catching my eyes. Real and right here. But for how long?
Leave it to Vivian to notice, suddenly at my elbow, checking on the meat at the grill. “You’ve got it bad.”
“No, I don’t.” Deny and deny again helped me cope with the rising levels of lust in my bloodstream.
“You’re gazing at Sophie exactly like you did at Naomi in the band during high school. Dare me to break out the yearbook to prove it?”
As a scrawny, pimple-faced guy with braces and glasses, my photos back then were the last thing I wanted Sophie to see.
“What’s not to like? She’s funny, easy to talk to, and she’s great for my business. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck her,” I admitted.
Vivian cocked an eyebrow at me in that way she always did when calling me on my bullshit. “I think the looks you send her way are more than lust.”
“Stop it,” I grumbled.
“I’m just saying you could have more with Sophie,” she insisted on continuing to irritate me. “Have you tried asking her out or talking about it to see if the feeling is mutual?”
Paris startled both of us when she popped up from nowhere and exclaimed, “Uncle Keaton, are you and Sophie dating?”
I rolled my eyes. This was how rumors got started in a small town. “No, Paris. Just friends.”
“Oh, you’ve been friend-zoned, like how my bestie Emmie just friend-zoned our bestie Xavier?”
“Paris, you’re going on eleven. You and your friends cannot have boyfriends yet.” Vivian had a handful to work with there. I left mom and daughter to figure it out.
I crossed the yard and caught Sophie’s eye again and nodded with a smoldering smile back at her. Was I doomed to face life alone? Everyone else had love figured out. While I was one Vegas weekend away from either winning something real… or screwing it all up for good.
“Let me give you the grand tour of the barn,” Richard offered to Brooks, and I followed the guys out, happy for a distraction.