2. Chapter 2
two
“ W e’ll let you know,” Max said through gritted teeth.
He waited for the door to close behind their last interview, then turned to look at Adam with an eyebrow cocked.
“Where’d you find that buffoon?”
Adam snorted a laugh. “I guess he’s a no?”
“Waste of fucking time,” he said, walking back to his office and opening his laptop.
Adam followed and plopped himself into the chair across from him. “At least we know we’ve exhausted all our options. You updating your spreadsheet?”
“Yes,” Max said and could practically hear Adam’s eyes rolling in their sockets.
“Is there anything you don’t record on a spreadsheet? Do you tick a box every time you take a dump? ”
Max ignored him, continued working his way down the list of things he was looking for in a brewer. “How are things going with Chelsea?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
Adam sighed. “I met with the therapist last night. It’s going to be okay. I’ll win her back.”
Max nodded. If anyone could do it, it was Adam. He was good at articulating his feelings. Women found him charming.
Max didn’t have the same easy way with people.
“How’s Cara?”
Max sighed. His sister was the only person he was close to, and that’s only because he had to raise her on his own after his dad bailed and his mom had to work three jobs. And even then, there were plenty of things he never talked to her about.
“She’s still hung up on that mullet-headed loser.”
Adam shook his head. “I thought she hated him.”
“Apparently, nothing compares to him, according to the Sinéad O’Connor playlist that runs on repeat from her bedroom.”
“Yikes,” he said, then dropped his gaze to his feet. “But I get it.”
Max fought off an eye roll, continued clicking along his spreadsheet. The people in his life were driving him wild. He filled in all the fields for the fifth and final candidate who’d just left and hit Print .
“You’re overthinking this,” Adam said. “We don’t need a spreadsheet to know who the best woman for the job is.”
Max glared over his fresh spreadsheet, still warm from the printer. They’d only interviewed one woman. Willow Spencer. And she fucking hated him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever pissed anyone off as badly before. And he’d pissed off many people.
It had basically been his job for the past decade.
But looking at the numbers in front of him, it was clear as day that Willow was the best candidate for the job.
“Let’s see,” Adam said, plucking the paper out of his hands. “Just as I thought. Pretty little redhead with the dagger eyes for the win.”
“She can’t stand me.”
“Can you blame her?” Adam said with a laugh.
“She’ll never accept this job.”
Adam considered this. “I worried about that, too. But I’m not so sure. She seemed to warm up when she looked at the brewery. Plus, she was talking like she wants to leave the job she has now.”
“She said she wanted to start her own place.”
“Yeah, but this might be a step in that direction for her. The better question is whether you can handle her. ”
Max stabbed Adam with a look. He had yet to meet someone he couldn’t handle.
Adam shrugged. “She doesn’t seem like she’s going to take any shit from you.”
“I don’t want someone who takes shit.”
“Okaayy . . .” he said, unconvinced.
Max shook his head. “I just want someone who can make good beer. She can glare at me or ignore me or call me a prick all she likes as long as she keeps making beer that sells.”
“So you want her, then?”
Did he want her? It’d be absurd not to. She had tons of experience, an impressive track record, and when she wasn’t snapping at him, she seemed pleasant enough. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to offer the job to her and see what happened. He just wished he’d got off on a better foot with her.
Or that she sucked so he wouldn’t want her, anyway.
“Yeah,” he said, turning to Adam. “Call her, and offer her the job.”
The moment he said it, he felt a weight off his shoulders. This was the last key position they had to fill before they could get everything set up for the grand opening. He wasn’t convinced she would accept, but he had to at least give it a shot. She was clearly the best person for the job.
“Okay,” Adam said. “I’ll make the call in the morning.”
Max placed the spreadsheet in his folder, closed it, and neatly stacked it on the shelf in the corner of the room. He needed to work on getting the office into shape. He hated working out of such a disorganized space.
“I gotta get going, but I’ll be back—”
“At the butt crack of dawn, I know,” Adam said. “When does Chef Luis get here?”
“Tomorrow,” he said, closing his laptop and sliding it into his bag.
“Got it. I’ll just go through the kitchen one more time before I lock up so it’s up and running for him.”
“Thanks. Let me know what Willow says,” he said and found hope bubbling up as his words came out. If she said no, he’d have to choose from one of the subpar brewers on his spreadsheet. He quickly swept it aside, knowing hope and worry were useless emotions, and carried on to the door. He had too much else to think about, and he’d promised Cara he’d make her favourite dinner when she got back from her classes.
He’d just have to wait and see what Willow said, even if the thought of his future being in her hands made his skin crawl.