Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Brewing Trouble
Declan
We’d confronted a murderer not long ago, so Beckett’s ominous threat sent an icy shiver snaking up my spine.
I didn’t even realize I was seeking comfort from Gideon until I leaned closer to him and he wrapped his arm around me.
As soon as I was pressed to his side, my dread eased. I loved how he was always there for me.
“Well, uh… that was…” a middle-aged man with a remarkably bulbous nose muttered from Roy’s side as Beckett disappeared into the crowd.
“Don’t worry about it, Flash,” Roy said, although his face was pinched, suggesting he was more bothered than he pretended.
Flash–that couldn’t be his actual name, right?
–was average-looking, so much so that I probably wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t opened his mouth.
But, yeah, Mr. Average’s awkward mumbling had pretty much summed up what we were all feeling.
We stood awkwardly for one long moment. I had no idea what to say, and apparently, no one else did either.
The accusation was serious. Would a company like Kettlebrook change its mind about going into business with Roy after that kind of allegation hanging over him? Or were they of the “all publicity is good publicity” school of thought?
Roy forced out a deep chortle, as if he’d heard the best joke ever, even though no one had said anything. He clapped Gideon on the back. “I told you you’d be carrying my beer before the summer was out, didn’t I?”
“Congratulations, Roy,” Gideon said with a smile.
It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but I doubted anyone else noticed. I suspected he’d be looking into Beckett’s accusation before long. That was just the kind of guy Gideon was. He didn’t like it when people were used and tossed aside. Not in his town.
Okay, so we didn’t know for sure that’s what Roy had done, but…
“Roykins,” a syrupy-sweet voice rang over the crowd. “Where are you, babykins?”
Everyone glanced around to identify the person who’d called out. People moved aside to let a small, noticeably pregnant woman in a sundress through to Roy, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the back of a very familiar head.
No, it couldn’t be.
I swallowed hard and tried to get a better look, but the crowd was still moving, and I lost sight of the person. I blinked. A full-body shudder rolled over me. There was no way my ex, Josh the Jerk, would be in Ravenstone for a beer festival of all things.
He hated small towns. He hated beer. He hated festivals.
I exhaled roughly and let the shock of my almost-Josh-sighting drop away. Yeah. He would never come here. It was silly how much that’d startled me. What a ridiculous thing to imagine.
All the texts Josh had been sending me were obviously messing with my head.
I thought about blocking him every day, except my name was on the apartment rental agreement, the insurance, and the car registration.
Most of that had been changed over now, but there was still the apartment.
Until that was resolved, I figured I was stuck with him on my phone.
That didn’t mean I had to read his texts when they turned flirty or whiny or cajoling. Man, I couldn’t wait for the day I could delete Josh and leave him in my past where he belonged. Soon. But for now, I was stuck.
Honestly, his texts were getting out of control. I’d stopped showing them to Gideon because they just pissed him off. At least I knew I’d never have to worry about things like that with Gideon. Just the idea of Josh’s assholery made him all growly and scowly.
“Hey, are you okay?” Gideon squeezed my hand. Because, of course, he’d noticed something was going on with me.
I nodded. “Of course.”
He studied me for a moment before pressing a kiss to my temple. “If you want to talk about anything, let me know.”
“I know.” My chest warmed at his concern, but I didn’t think confiding in how I’d imagined my ex here would be helpful to either of us.
While preoccupied with my past, the younger woman who’d called for Roy had made her way to him. He picked her up and swung her around as if he was a teenager instead of a man in his fifties. She giggled and held her sunhat to her head so it didn’t fall off. Her sundress fluttered around them.
“Did you see, darlin’? I won,” Roy said. “Me! I even beat Ivan. Can you believe it?”
“Of course you did,” she said. “I told you you had nothing to worry about.”
“I love you, Nadia,” Roy said, pressing a kiss to the woman’s glossy pink lips. “None of this would’ve been possible with you.”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him but didn’t deny it. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Now, put me down. I have someone you need to meet.”
“Uh… Roy? We need to talk, remember?” Mr. Average said, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his feet.
Roy glanced at the man as he lowered his girlfriend to the ground. She entwined her fingers with Roy’s and tugged him gently away from everyone. “I need to get back to the tent, love… Flash and I, we have to–”
“No.” She stomped her high-heeled foot. “Not now. Fletcher can wait. Today is our day.” She brushed her hand over her massive baby bump, and Roy’s eyes tracked the movement. His eyes went soft with obvious affection, and he nodded quickly.
“You’re right, babe,” Roy agreed.
“Besides, Caesar can handle things at the tent,” Nadia said. “That’s why we hired him, remember?” She didn’t acknowledge anyone else who was standing around them. “Now, come along. I met Siobhan Thomson from Kettlebrook while we were waiting in line for the loo, and she wants to meet you.”
Loo. What a strange word choice when the woman clearly wasn’t British. And who talked to someone when they were waiting to use the bathroom? Women were bizarre.
“She wants to talk? I didn’t think the rep wanted to meet until tomorrow…” Roy smoothed his shirt over his stomach and patted his thick hair, as if checking it was still where it should be. He shook out his first-prize ribbon, which had gotten creased in the few minutes since he’d received it.
“Roy… we really need to…” Fletcher–aka Flash, I guessed–tried to catch his friend’s attention, but Nadia had commandeered him already.
“She’s excited about your win, of course,” Nadia said, pointedly ignoring Roy’s friend. “Now, come along. We don’t have a lot of time to talk to her before your interview.”
“My interview?” He sounded bewildered.
Nadia rolled her eyes. “Of course. Don’t you remember your schedule for today?”
“Right. Of course.” Roy flushed. “My interview with that guy, right? For the video?”
As Nadia dragged Roy away, well-wishers shouted congratulations to him.
With each handshake or bit of admiration he received, his gait loosened until he was strutting through everyone like a proud rooster.
Nadia hung off his arm, giggling and gushing as if the praise was meant for her, not Roy.
By the time they found the Kettlebrook rep, I’d bet it’d be like the confrontation with Beckett had never happened.
Fletcher trailed after them, although with the way Nadia scowled at him over her shoulder, I didn’t think she’d tolerate his presence for long.
With Roy gone, the others dissipated, too.
Everyone was talking about sampling all the brews to see if they agreed with the judge’s choices.
People swarmed around three tents in particular.
Two proudly displayed their winning ribbons, so I figured those must have been Tessa and Donny’s. The other busy one was likely Roy’s.
But it was the other brewers that caught my eye and made me pull Gideon forward.
Malcolm was standing in his tent with his arms crossed.
Not a single person approached him. I wasn’t sure if it was his scowl that kept people away or his branding, which was splashed on everything.
The logo was a target in the crosshairs of a gun’s sight.
It was memorable, but guns weren’t really what I wanted to think about when I was drinking alcohol.
I spotted a familiar turquoise-haired friend in another equally empty tent.
The sprite was one of my grandfather’s other misfit monsters, although he didn’t look like a monster in the traditional sense of the word.
With his turquoise hair and pointy little ears, he wasn’t the least bit scary.
He always wore a big smile on his face, even now, when no one was visiting the tent he was in.
“Where are we going?” Gideon asked, matching my pace.
“We’re drinking beer. When in Rome and all that.” I didn’t really like beer, but I could do it for a good cause, right? “You’re going to teach me about Ivan’s complex lager, because I have no idea what that means. And then we’re going to try Malcolm’s fancy ale or whatever.”
“Don’t you want to try the winning brews first?”
I shook my head. “No. We can try those later, if we have time.”
Honestly, I wasn’t all that excited about trying Roy’s beer anymore. I knew I shouldn’t put too much stock into Beckett’s accusations until the allegations were confirmed. But I hated cheats.
When Gideon didn’t say anything, I turned to him. He had a little smile on his face. It was the one that usually led to him calling me adorable or something equally absurd.
I understood competitions had winners and losers, but I also hated it when people felt sad. And these people were undeniably unhappy. I wanted to bake things for them as a consolation prize, but I didn’t have time for that.
Besides, did any kind of sweet pair well with beer?
I should probably research that. Rue, the owner of the Twinkling Thistle Cafe, or the Thistle Café to the locals, was catering the festival’s poker tournament on Friday night, and she’d asked if I could take care of the baking since she hated doing it. It’d be my first-ever real baking gig.