Chapter 17
Rowan
That moment in the kitchen was everything.
I was pleased that Hattie had opened up to me.
She'd shared her deepest feelings about her family and admitted that she'd seen a therapist. I was surprised that she reached out to a professional.
But she'd talked to someone when she needed it, and that made me admire her more.
She was the strongest person I knew. And I wouldn't let her talk me out of that.
I'd been wanting to comfort her for so long, and this morning, she let me.
I held her for a while, and she didn't pull back until I needed to leave.
I wished we could have stayed in each other's arms, and maybe in my bed, all day.
But that wasn't realistic. Not with the brewery about to open.
I had a million things to do before the big day, and Malcolm was breathing down my neck to ensure that I stayed on task.
I liked the idea of setting boundaries with him, but he'd always been like this. Besides, he was family. When Hattie told me what to do, it sounded so simple. But it wasn't. Malcolm wasn't the kind of guy who took direction from anyone.
He was the guy who was always right. Who never got anything wrong. In a lot of ways, he acted like the head of our family. When Mom and Dad officially retired, he'd be in charge. There was no telling him that the brewery was mine to worry about. I'd already tried that, and it hadn't worked.
I walked to the brewery, pleased to find that Beck's truck was already in the lot. Inside, he was spread out on one of the round tables with his laptop and paperwork.
He looked up when I approached. "Pour yourself some coffee. We're going to be here for a while."
"I'm going to need the caffeine." I hadn't slept great because I was up with Hattie most of the night. I wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed with her. But it looked like it was going to be a long day.
I poured coffee into a mug that Clara had given us with the name Hart's Brewery and Bathhouse on it and carried it over to the table. "How bad was it?"
A crease appeared between his brows. "It wasn't awful. But we have to work on employee training. There were a lot of times when the servers were asking us what to do."
I pulled out a chair and sat down. "You don't think they'll naturally get it with time?"
He stretched his neck. "One bad experience is all someone needs to never come back."
Beck was more experienced with this side of the business. I hoped that we could work out the kinks as we went but apparently not. We needed to impress everyone with fully trained servers so that everything ran smoothly. "What do we need to do?"
He outlined an ambitious training schedule for our employees, including more education on the brewing process and a few more soft opening opportunities to practice their skills.
Then we moved onto the brewing schedule and what we needed to have in stock for the place to run smoothly night after night, but also how to adjust if we didn't have customers.
We wanted to be prepared, but at the same time, we didn't want to waste product.
"How are we doing on acquiring all the licensing we needed?" I sipped my coffee.
"We're registered with the Alcohol and Tobacco Trade and Tax Bureau, we got approval from the state liquor board, and we have all the necessary health, fire, and building permits."
I whistled. "That's impressive."
"I hired someone who handled that for us. Speaking of hiring people. We need to talk about how to maintain production at the level necessary for a local brewery."
I frowned, shifting in my chair. "I was planning on being the one who handled that."
"You can't do it alone anymore. We'll need a skilled commercial brewer, one who understands recipe scaling and equipment maintenance, and staff to package. From what I read, we're going to spend more time cleaning equipment than brewing anything."
I frowned. "I've been increasing production so that we're ready."
"Once we open, we'll be constantly selling. It will be harder to keep up with demand."
"Malcolm likes to keep most things in-house." He hired wait staff but believed that production should be done by the family whenever possible.
"Malcolm hired a chef. He's not cooking himself."
I rolled my shoulders back. "That's true."
"You have to think of brewing as something you can outsource, or you'll never be able to run the taproom and keep up with production. You need help."
"You don't think it's lazy to hire someone to brew for me? Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?"
"Once you move to this level, you have to have help. You can't do it alone. Especially if you want to keep your fiancée happy."
"Keeping Hattie would be ideal," I joked, but Beck was in full business mode this morning. He wasn't his usual relaxed self. Something about this business opening had him tense and worried. Maybe because it was his first one.
He leaned back in his chair. "I'm friends with Malcolm. But you need to do something about him. He's constantly questioning what we're doing, and it's distracting us from our purpose. We need to be focused on the brewery and not what he thinks."
"You want me to talk to him?" I asked for verification.
Beck leaned back in his chair. "Yes."
"But you're the one who's friends with him," I said.
"He's your brother, and the brewery is part of the family business." He gestured around us. "You have to set that boundary with him. If I do it, it won't be enough."
I sighed. "Hattie was just talking about this very thing this morning."
"It's crucial to the success of the business. His interference could cause issues. I understand that your family gets a vote on certain things but not on this. We're running the brewery. We're in charge. Not him."
I hadn't realized it was that dire. "I'll talk to him. But I'm not sure he'll listen to me."
Beck leaned forward, folding his arms on the table.
"I've seen this exact same situation before.
Someone who doesn't know as much about the business gives their opinion, and when the rest of the family follows their advice, the business suffers.
It also sends a mixed message to our staff.
Who's actually in charge? You don't want Malcolm directing the staff. "
"That would be confusing." I could see how Malcolm's interference could damage the business. I just didn't want to hurt him in the process. "You would think he'd have enough to deal with being a single dad and running a restaurant. Why does he want to be involved with the brewery too?"
"He needs control. I think he's always been that way, but when McCoy came along, he spiraled. So he tightened his grip on everything."
"He's going to be mad."
"If you do it right, he'll respect you. Right now, he's walking all over us because no one has been firm with him. If you stand up to him, he'll back down."
"I'm not so optimistic about that." I knew my brother better than Beck did. He was tangled up in this place as much as we were, and extracting him would be next to impossible.
"I don't want this business to fail because Malcolm can't let go and let us run this place. He has no experience with a brewery, and he has no business ordering us or the employees around."
"I'll take care of it." I didn't want to upset my brother. But it had to be done. No one would interfere with the success of the brewery. Not after I'd worked so hard to make it a reality.
Beck nodded. "Let me know if you need me to be there."
"Malcolm's my responsibility. I can handle it." The tension crept into my neck. I hated confronting Malcolm. But I didn't see any way around it.
He turned his focus to his laptop. "Let's talk about how each part of the business ran yesterday and how we can improve things."
We talked through everything that happened last night and brainstormed ideas for how we could do things differently. We worked until the afternoon, when Mom showed up with sandwiches. Then we kept working until the sun set. I told Hattie I'd be working late, so she shouldn't have been expecting me.
I hated not seeing her after the morning we'd shared though. Hattie had been vulnerable, and I wanted to see her, to ensure she was okay. To let her know that I'd always be there for her.
But there was a voice in my head reminding me that she wasn't really mine. That I wouldn't be the man in her life for long. She hadn't chosen me. Not yet anyway.
I had to be patient and show up for her. But what if I was so preoccupied with the brewery that I lost her again? What if she pulled away, and I wasn't there to stop her?
The brewery was my dream. I needed to be here finalizing the details and working with Beck to make everything perfect.
He was right. One bad experience could turn customers away from us.
And I wanted a good reputation. One that was fitting for a Hart establishment. It wasn't the time to be distracted.
Hopefully, Hattie would understand that I was busy, and things would improve. Of course, opening a new business wouldn't be any better. But things had to slow down eventually. I couldn't keep working like this. Not if I wanted a real chance with Hattie.
I just hoped I'd have enough time. That things would work out, and she'd give me a chance. We were growing closer every day. I couldn't give up.
By the time I got home, it was late. Hattie had left the lamp in the living room on, and a note telling me there was spaghetti on a plate in the fridge. I heated it up and ate it standing up. I rinsed the plate.
I would have loved distracting her from her task while she was cooking.
I'd arrive home while she was stirring the pasta in the pot.
I'd brush her hair to the side and kiss her bare shoulder.
I'd run my hands down her body, maybe dipping a hand into the waistband of her leggings and parting her folds, finding her wet for me.
Now I was hard and wanting her. I went upstairs, hoping she'd be amenable to me waking her up so that we could have sex. It was selfish of me, but I couldn't get enough of her. Just the thought of her naked body under my comforter had me fisting my hands.
This time, it was dark. No light emanated from under the door. I opened the door.
"Row?" Her voice was heavy with sleep as if I'd woken her.
I walked quietly over to her side of the bed. "Sorry I woke you."
She reached for me, and I took her hand, allowing her to pull me down. We rolled until I was on top of her, and her legs spread to accommodate me.
Her hands ran through my hair. "I want you."
I nuzzled her neck. "I always want you."
"You smell so good, like the brewery."
I loved that she enjoyed that smell because I was probably always going to smell like hops. "I'm glad you like it."
She gasped when my teeth scraped her sensitive skin. "I love it."
I ground my dick against her center, and she whimpered. "How do you want me?"
She pushed on my shoulder, and I reared back. She lifted the nightgown over her head, leaving her naked in the moonlight. Then she moved onto all fours.
I ran a hand over her hips. "You're killing me."
She gave me a saucy look over her shoulder. "Row. I need you inside me."
I made quick work of removing my clothes and lining my dick up with her pussy. I glided through her folds, ensuring she was ready for me.
She tipped her hips up in invitation, and my dick slipped inside. I bit my lip against the overwhelming sensations. Her tight walls pressed against my aching dick, and every muscle in my body was pulled taut. I wanted to hold back until she adjusted to me.
But she pushed back on me, and I lost all sense of reason. I gripped her hips and gave into my baser instincts to thrust. I nearly groaned at the sight of her on her knees for me. The reality was so much better than my fantasies.
Hattie Collins was mine. I was never letting her go.
Convincing her of that was going to be the problem. But for now, all I had to think about was how she made me feel.
The orgasm was building, and there was a strange feeling in my chest. Maybe it was tenderness or even something else, love. But there wasn't time to think about that because I was going to lose control very soon if I didn't rein myself in.
I slowed my movements, lowering my chest over her back so that I could reach her clit. Her clit was swollen and slick. There was something about being in this position that felt more real somehow. Raw even.
I circled her clit, and she clamped down on my dick. I gritted my teeth against the impending orgasm. This woman was going to be the end of me.
She was going to blow everything up, and I wouldn't even care. I was going to enjoy every minute of it.
She stiffened, then cried out. Her walls spasmed around my cock, milking my orgasm. I groaned and dropped my mouth to her shoulder, kissing her before carefully extracting myself from her body.
She collapsed on her stomach, seemingly unable to move.
"Don't move. I'll grab a washcloth."
"Wasn't planning on it," she mumbled into the pillow.
Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and I never wanted to be alone again. I always wanted to come home to Hattie.
She was the one for me. I just wished she could see it too.