Chapter One #3
I watch her go for a moment before turning back to my beer, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck—and the sudden, inexplicable heaviness in my chest at the thought of hooking up with her.
I probably should. It’s not exactly healthy to stay this wound up. Sex with Phoebe has always been my pressure valve, a means to relieve stress and pent-up energy. She’s simple, predictable, and safe.
So why isn’t she enough for me?
Luke appears in front of me a second later, wiping down the counter with an exaggerated smirk. He wiggles his eyebrows. “So,” he drawls, “you gonna tap that tonight, or what?”
I fix him with a harsh glare. “Knock it off. It’s none of your damn business.”
He scoffs, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “Relax, man. I’m just saying… you’ve done nothing but work the past few months. You need to loosen up.”
I shake my head firmly, staring down at my beer. “I’m fine, Luke. Just busy. Everything with this upcoming harvest needs to be perfect.”
He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because if the summer tourists don’t get their cherries in a timely manner, the world will explode.”
My grip tightens around my beer. “Fuck off.”
Luke raises his hands in surrender as the back door swings open, letting in a rush of cool nighttime air.
My gaze shifts toward the figure stepping inside, pushing a trolley stacked high with silver kegs.
Despite living in Claremont Shores my entire life, I don’t recognize the man. He must be new in town.
He’s not particularly tall, but he’s broad through the shoulders, built solid and strong.
His hair is black and cut into a shaggy mullet, framing a sharp jaw dusted with a short, neatly trimmed beard.
Black gauge earrings glint under the bar lights, silver rings decorating his bottom lip, eyebrow, and nose.
A red flannel shirt clings to his frame, sculpting over thick muscles, the sleeves rolled to reveal forearms marked with ink. A black snake tattoo coils up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.
As he hefts the kegs behind the bar, his arms flex easily with the movement. His gaze flickers to me for the briefest second before returning to Luke.
“Hey, dude!” Luke greets with a beaming smile, fist-bumping him. “How’s it going?”
The man shrugs. “Fine. You?”
“I’m great, man!” Luke tips his head toward me. “Have you met my big bro, Ashton?”
The man turns to me fully, scanning up my body in a slow sweep that makes my skin feel too tight.
“No,” he answers, voice low and rough. He extends his hand to shake mine. The silver rings around his fingers press cool and hard against my skin. “Nice to meet you. I’m Troy.”
For a second too long, I just… hold his gaze. His eyes are a deep honey brown, warm and smooth as amber, framed by thick black lashes. I’ve never seen lashes like that on a man before.
Wait—what the hell? Why am I noticing that? It’s gotta be the alcohol or lack of sleep. I’m more exhausted than usual.
Clearing my throat, I shift my focus to the kegs stacked behind him. “Uh… so, you work for Black Cat Brewery?”
His lips part, his tongue catching on the ring embedded in the pink flesh. “I’m the owner.”
“Oh. Cool.” I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, trying to ground myself in something—anything—that doesn’t involve staring at him. “I like your beer. Hard to find good local brews around here.”
“Thanks.” A small smile curves his mouth. “You should come check out our taproom sometime. We’re rolling out a food menu next week.”
I run my tongue across my top teeth, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll swing by.”
His eyes flicker between mine for a moment before he turns his back to me, unloading the kegs. His arms flex beneath his shirt, hoisting them with ease as he stacks them behind the bar.
He grabs the handles of his trolley, nodding at Luke. “See you next week.”
As he disappears through the back exit, the door thudding softly behind him, I realize I’m still watching the space where he stood.
Luke exhales, wiping his hands on a rag. “Troy’s a nice guy. Kinda weird, though.”
I raise a brow. “Weird, how?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. Just… quiet. He moved here to open the brewery a few months ago. Doesn’t socialize much.” He leans in closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Plus, I heard he’s got a criminal record.”
I blink a few times, still staring at the door Troy just walked through. “Huh. What’d he get in trouble for?”
“Dunno. He’s not a big fan of small talk.” Luke exhales a heavy breath as he starts hooking up a keg. “Still… his beer’s damn good. Can’t argue with that.”
I nod absently and take another sip of my drink, the taste of hops bitter on my tongue. Around me, the tavern hums with quiet conversation and the clink of glass against wood, but my mind drifts elsewhere—to frost warnings, invoices, and the endless lists of things that could go wrong.
A lump forms in my throat, small but solid, like a cherry pit I can’t swallow or spit out. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, it just sits there, heavy and unmovable.
For the first time in my life, the start of cherry season doesn’t fill me with pride or excitement. I’m goddamn terrified.