Chapter 19 #2
Inside was chaos. There was no other word for it.
Empty five and six gallon buckets were stacked like milk jugs at an impromptu fair stall.
Not just one, but five of them in a semicircle along the perimeter of the workshop.
A smaller metal canister lay drunkenly beside one with three buckets knocked over.
In between each of the bucket displays were smaller bottle versions with a whole lot of empty hard cider bottles.
From the scent of the room, I’d say most of them had been consumed the night before instead of from the stash of empties waiting for Ronan’s fermenting tanks.
And in the center of the room were two large idiots.
One was mine—sort of. Though I was rethinking that at the moment.
The other was a stranger who was somehow bigger than Ronan.
They were both bare to the waist with a stack of pizza boxes between two chairs they’d stolen from the grounds.
The large dark haired one had the top half of his body draped over the arm of the chair as he tried to get out of the sunlight’s line of fire.
I couldn’t see his face, just a startling amount of tangled curls dripping onto the cement floor.
Ronan’s head was tipped back, his mouth slack. Either still asleep, or probably still drunk.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I yelled.
Beckett stood beside me, his hands in his back pockets as he snickered.
“You are not helping.”
“What?”
Because I knew the Manning boys were almost as bad as these two idiots when it came to a night of drinking, it only made me more angry. I stalked over to Ronan and kicked his boot. I was glad I wore my platform paisley pumps instead of the strappy sandals I was going to wear today. “Wake up.”
Nothing.
“Ronan Parrish, wake up.”
A soft snicker came from the stranger. “You’re in trouble now, brah. All she needs is your middle name and she’d sound like your Ma.” He slowly straightened and stretched his beefy arms out then cracked his back and shook his head like a lion.
Since Ronan still wasn’t moving the stranger gave him a good kick with his much larger motorcycle boots.
Ronan’s head snapped forward. His dark eyes were bloodshot and glassy. He frowned and squinted then caught sight of me. His frown softened into a sleepy smile. He hooked his foot around my knee and dumped me on his lap. “Hi, Sunshine.”
“Sunshine?” Beckett said from behind me.
I tried to push up, but the angle of the Adirondack chair wouldn’t let me go easily.
Ronan slid his arm around my waist and shoved his face into my neck. “You smell pretty.”
“Let me go, you ass.” Embarrassment blazed through me and I tried to get free.
“Who’s the hottie, man?”
Ronan peeked around me. “Back off.”
Beckett curled his arm around my waist and lifted me off Ronan. “Anyone care to tell me what the hell’s going on in here?”
Ronan’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white. His dark eyes went shark flat as Beckett put me down but kept his hand at my hip as he shoved me behind him.
“Evidently I am not up to speed with what’s been going on at all.”
I shoved Beckett to my other side and angled toward the stranger. “I stand by the first question. Who the hell are you?”
The dark haired lion of a man gave me a sleepy smile.
His green eyes were lazy and full of indulgent charm as his gaze drifted down my body.
He was broad and deeply tanned with a series of tribal tattoos that skated down his neck and forearm in a repeating arrow pattern.
He wore board shorts that belonged at the beach and massive, unbuckled motorcycle boots—and that was it.
I crossed my arms and stared him down. The lazy charm slid into amusement as he arched his brow at me. A scar bisected the jet colored left brow. “I see why Boa has a thing for you.” He glanced at Ronan. “Sunshine, that part I don’t quite see.”
Ronan said nothing, just gritted his teeth.
“I’m Kira. I’ll ask you again, who are you?”
And who the hell was Boa?
Embarrassment and anger were running neck and neck right now. I hadn’t even told Beckett about Ronan. We weren’t exactly bosom buddies when it came to hookups. And hell, me and Ronan were supposed to be opening the taproom, not my damn legs.
The lion tipped his head back with a laugh before hauling himself out of his chair. “You two are definitely well matched.”
“Jesus,” Beckett muttered as both of us tipped our chins up to take him in.
He looked broad in the chair, but when standing, the guy was a damn giant. He held his hand out to me. “Kainoa N’ai. Boa’s my brother. Most people call me Kain.”
My gaze whipped to Ronan. “Your brother is a Hawaiian giant?”
His jaw was still tense but he sighed. “More like best friend, but yeah, we’re pretty much family.”
Kain shot a look over his shoulder and dropped his hand. “Pretty much?”
Ronan flipped him off.
Kain snickered as he raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it behind his shoulders. “I’m starving.”
Sarcasm rolled off my tongue. “I’m sorry for you. I’m still confused as to what you two are doing in here and what the hell is with the buckets?”
Kain craned his neck to follow where I pointed. “Huh. Not sure on that one. Think we wanted to play beer pong and bowling and made up something in between. We hit the bottom of the moonshine bottle around four in the morning. Things got fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy?” I curled my fingers into fists under my arms once more.
Kain shrugged, his grin affable. Ronan was still quiet, his gaze zeroed in on Beckett, his brows lowering another millimeter per second.
What the hell did he have to be pissed about? I was the one who found them hungover in the workshop.
Beckett was still standing close to me, amusement and bewilderment warring over his face.
“Nice to meet you, Kain.” He held out his hand and Kain shook it. “Beckett Manning.”
“Someone has manners today. It ain’t these two.” Kain slapped Beckett on the arm. “I really could do with some food. That moonshine is killer.”
“Tell me about it.” Beck tipped his ballcap up. “My brother makes it.”
“No shit? Oh…you’re the big boss man here?”
Beckett huffed out a laugh. “Some days.”
“I do not have time for this.” I whirled on my heel. “I have interviews starting at nine.”
“Wait up, Key.” Beckett snagged my elbow. “What’s got you so riled? They had some fun on their downtime. I’m assuming you didn’t hurt the batches we are using for the opening?”
Ronan stood, his body language rigid with anger. “Of course not. I’ve got them fermenting in a temperature controlled shed.”
“It’s unprofessional. You haven’t even seen the way we’ve been running things and now it looks like a freaking frat party in here.”
Ronan’s hands fisted. “I wanted to show my best friend my workshop. And this isn’t exactly how I wanted him to meet the girl I’m crazy about.”