8 #2
Mitchell’s gaze hardens, his mouth sets in a grim line as he turns his head slightly.
“Sorry to bother you, but we’re huge fans,” the guy continues. “Can we get a picture?”
“Sure,” Mitch answers, his left eyebrow twitching. Then he forces a smile and wraps his arms around the pair and poses for a selfie.
I use the welcome distraction to duck away, eager to get as far from our awkward conversation as possible.
Inside, the brewery is bustling with people.
Rock hits from the seventies and eighties play at a low enough volume to not overwhelm the din of conversation, but loud enough that I recognize the notes of Lynyrd Skynyrd fading into some Def Leppard.
Ever the fan of classic rock, I have no doubt Mitchell influenced tonight’s playlist.
At the bar, I order a pint of amber ale and sip it while glancing around.
I came by earlier to bring Hunter some promotion flyers for the hotel, but seeing the brewery during the day is nothing compared to seeing it now.
The white lights hanging from the mahogany-colored beams above and the glow of the lantern-like sconces on the walls give the place a warm and cozy atmosphere.
Months ago, when Hunter described the wood, black metal and bronze accents, I was worried it would be too masculine, too cold.
Turns out I was wrong. It might be the greenery seeping in from the outdoor garden at the back, but something about the brewery is very serene, very…
Hunter-like. It’s exactly as he’d envisioned, and I just want to grab a seat, drink a beer, order some comfort food, and mellow out.
Leave it to my brother to make a pub feel so damn relaxing.
Suddenly, strong fingers wrap around my bare elbow, startling me with their warm touch.
“We weren’t done.” Mitchell doesn’t release his grip immediately, but he doesn’t stop me when I gently pull my arm away.
“Yes, we were.”
I weave through the crowd, trying to distance myself, but like a shadow, I feel him follow. The staff has cordoned off the staircase to the second floor for tonight, but I’m family, so I don’t care. I dip beneath the chain, hoping Mitch will get the hint and leave me alone.
From the loft mezzanine above, I peer down at the busy crowd, but puff out my cheeks when I see him coming up. He leans against the black metal railing, staring at me.
“What’s up with you?” he asks.
“This isn’t the time or place to talk about it.”
“Why not? We’re alone. Unless you’re trying to hide from me.”
I glare at him. “Gee, you think?”
He smirks. “You’re hiding from me? That’s definitely going to make it impossible to work together.”
“As I said, we can’t work together.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” he says, scratching his chin through his thick beard. “How do you think this is going down? That I’ll just hand you a check and let you do all the work?”
“Ooh, could you do that? That would be great,” I reply sarcastically, then touch his arm and immediately regret it. My fingers wrap around his biceps, and he flexes as if reacting to my touch. I pull my hand back, clutching it around my pint.
“I’m not your sugar daddy, Maxine.” He clenches his jaw, and his deep-set eyes reflect his sudden, dark tone. “If we work on this, we work on this together. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
Countless reasons why this will end in disaster keep running through my head, but I set them aside and take a few sips of my beer, reminding myself that I need to do this. I owe it to Robyn. “It won’t end well.”
“Nothing between us ever does.” He tears his gaze away, biting his lower lip, and his nostrils flare with his deep inhale.
He stares down at the crowd. “This means a lot to me, Maxine. To us. I agree, it’ll be tough being around each other, but I don’t see another way. Like it or not, this has to happen.”
“I know,” I say, my voice small and resigned.
“Good. But I’m not working with you if you’re going to be a whiny brat.”
I wince up at him. “I’m not being a whiny brat. You don’t see what I see.”
He turns to face me, resting his elbow on the railing. “And what do you see?”
I chuckle, then look away, sipping my beer. “Forget it. There’s no point in even talking about it.”
“God,” he says, shoving away from the railing. “I can’t believe I used to find that endearing.”
I turn around. “Find what endearing?”
“Your incessant need to be as difficult as possible.”
I chortle and walk away, but before I get too far, he’s in front of me.
“Unh-uh.” He grabs me by the shoulders and gently guides me toward the couch tucked a few feet away until the edge of the seat hits the back of my legs. “Sit down.”
The flames burning my cheeks move up to my eyes, and I aim my glare at his head while my blood pressure works overtime. Still, his forceful touch searing my exposed shoulders and sizzling my skin, also weakens my knees, so I do as he says and sit down.
I fix my gaze straight ahead, realizing too late that it’s directed at his crotch. I’m not sure if it’s a game of shadows, or a hallucination, but I swear I make out the faint outline of his rigid—
“Damn it, Maxine,” he says, jolting me from my groin-analysis. “You need to stop this shit.”
I swallow hard, then tilt my head back and look up at him hovering over me. “Could you please stop speaking to me as if I’m a child?”
“Then stop acting like one.” He huffs out a long breath, taking the seat next to me. “Why are you doing everything you can to keep me away?”
“You’ve done that perfectly well all by yourself.”
“So, that’s what this is about? You’re mad because I left?”
“If you want to simplify things… Sure, let’s go with that.”
“I don’t want to simplify anything. Lord knows nothing is ever simple with a girl like you.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me what’s going on. To let me in like you—”
“Like I used to?” I interrupt, finally meeting his eyes.
For a fleeting second, I see the old Mitch in his gaze; the guy with the soulful expression and big old heart.
“I don’t get why this is so hard for you to understand.
You left. And you’re fucking right I’m still mad about it.
Why wouldn’t I be? But having you here now, acting like nothing ever happened. You haven’t even acknowledged how you—”
I’m interrupted by the metallic sound of people walking up the staircase. It’s Spencer and Bethany, but they’re too preoccupied with each other to notice us sitting in the shadows, and they disappear down the small hallway toward the offices.
“Forget it.” I stand, but Mitch takes my hand, tugging. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a slight pull, but somehow the force of it lands me in his lap.
He releases my hand, but then glides it across the small of my back, along my exposed skin where my shirt has lifted. Now I’m positive I wasn’t hallucinating, and saw the outline of his erection because it’s pressed firmly against my ass.
As if our brains are operating in low-battery mode, we freeze. I remain seated while he gazes into my eyes. I’m sure his mind is as overwhelmed as mine, but then his eyes travel over my face to land on my lips.
“Gotta say, I’m surprised you’re still too chicken shit to speak your mind,” he says. A smile plays on his lips, but a sinister edge sharpens his words.
I wiggle, then realize my mistake. I slam my hands against his chest and shove away from him, hopping off his lap. “You know what, Mitch? I guess I am.”
Mitch
I stiffen the moment Maxine’s perfect ass lands on my lap, but in truth, I’ve been semi-hard ever since I bumped into her on the street. There’s just something about a challenge, about snarky banter that always gets me going. Even when she’s driving me crazy, my blood pressure spikes.
Especially when she’s driving me crazy.
Taking a huge lungful of air, I try to ignore how happy I’d be if she rocked her hips. How, if I let myself picture it, I can imagine her naked, seated as she is, riding me until the sun comes up.
Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve been laid.
Her blue eyes blaze as she pushes away, reminiscent of that camping trip all those years ago. Cursing under her breath, she storms off, and I let her because trying to get the truth out of Maxine Nolan is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.
Still, a small smile creeps across my face when she sways her hips and my eyes lock onto her cute little ass, which is tucked perfectly in those boot-cut jeans.
For a few minutes, I enjoy the solitude of this dark hideout. One day, customers will get to come up here, but for tonight, it’s all mine and off-limits. Well, aside from Spencer and Bethany who’re down the hall probably christening Spencer’s office.
Maxine and I will eventually need to deal with this shit between us, but I’m also so not fucking interested. The whole point of this trip to Oakwhite was to open the brewery and spend what are likely my dad’s last days with him. I never intended to stay longer than a few weeks at most.
But now my time here has spiraled into this massive shitty thing, one I’m not prepared to deal with. Hell, at this point dealing with my dying father might be easier than dealing with my stubborn former best friend.
I move to the railing, and let out a long breath, looking down below. There’s something so peaceful and calming about this moment. The lights, the sounds, my favorite Rolling Stones song, Wild Horses—it all releases some of the tension. Maxine used to love this song, too.
I search the crowd, wondering if she’s listening to it like I am. Wondering if she knows who crafted this playlist and what inspired it.
The entire town seems to have shown up tonight. I recognize some faces, ones I haven’t seen in years. But I also see people who have been part of my life for so long, people who never resented me for leaving and who understood my reasons. They never blamed me for staying away.
Is this what home feels like? A place where no matter how long you’ve been gone, everyone will welcome you with arms wide open?
Well, maybe not everyone.