Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Madison pulled into the newest location of Northern Lights Brewery, one word was on her mind—impressed. Garrett had outdone himself in his design work; he truly was an incredible architect.
The brewery sat just outside of town, surrounded by a stretch of jack pines and birch trees that made it feel tucked away, like its own little escape.
Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she eased into a spot, taking in the thoughtful landscaping, the clusters of wildflowers, tall grasses swaying in the breeze, and smooth stone edging that lined the path to the entrance.
In the photos Mason had shown her of the original structure, it was a run-down armory building—nothing special.
The ugly old yellow-brick facade was now painted a deep shade of gray, and black metal framing surrounded three glass-windowed garage doors.
An impressive white Northern Lights Brewery sign spanned the top of the building.
A black awning covered the entrance, and slender black lights shone over it to highlight the name and illuminate the sidewalks when nightfall came.
The moment Madison stepped through the front doors, the scent hit her—hops and toasted grain with a hint of citrus and something darker, richer.
The space opened up with soaring ceilings, exposed beams, and brick walls that still held the scent of fresh paint.
Polished concrete floors gleamed under rows of pendant lights, and sleek black metal fixtures gave the whole place a modern edge without trying too hard.
To her right, the taproom featured a long bar of reclaimed wood, its lacquered surface lined with gleaming taps and stools.
High-top tables were scattered throughout, and upholstered chairs were arranged in front of a fireplace nestled into the far brick wall.
It was inviting and homey, like the kind of place one could settle into with a flight of seasonal brews and lose track of time.
Ahead, a wide hallway led toward the back.
Stainless steel tanks glinted behind a wall of glass to her left—the massive fermenters gave the place its heartbeat.
A chalkboard sign hung nearby, listing the brews on tap in colorful chalk—names like Cabin Crusher and Pine Trail Porter, each paired with flavor notes, ABV percentages, and a small star marking the house favorites.
Madison smiled. The names were clever, the kind that stuck with you, and she had to admit—her brother and Garrett had a real talent for this.
Between the labels, the branding, and the way each beer told its own little story, they’d created something special. Something uniquely theirs.
Her gaze lingered on the chalkboard where Out of Office IPA was scrawled in bold, looping letters—a commemoration of the day Garrett and Mason walked away from their corporate lives.
Mason had tossed out the expression on his way out the door from their father’s grocery empire, and Garrett, never one to miss a good hook, slapped it on the label.
But to Madison, the name said more than either man probably realized.
It wasn’t just about quitting. It was about choosing something different—choosing oneself over obligation.
Something she understood more and more as she continued to seek meaning in her life outside the military and her time with NCIS.
She used to think Mason was being dramatic.
Now, after everything, she wasn’t so sure.
It was different from the Minneapolis location—smaller, quieter, less industrial grit and more intentional charm.
But somehow, it still held the same pulse.
The same feel. As if Mason and Garrett had managed to bottle the heart of their first brewery and pour just enough of it into this space to keep the legacy going.
She exhaled, letting the warm hum of the place settle in her chest. She hadn’t been sure what to expect. Something more country-fried-small-town, maybe. Less polished. But this wasn’t a side project or a halfhearted expansion. Garrett had poured his heart into it.
A powerfully built man in his mid-thirties walked out from the back room and stood behind the bar.
He had a bald head and a goatee, and his worn Harley Davidson T-shirt exposed muscular tattoo-sleeved arms. His movements were efficient, practiced—no wasted motion as he wiped down the counter.
His gaze flicked to her, quick and assessing, like he clocked new arrivals without thinking twice about it.
She made her way over and placed her bag on one of the industrial-looking stools. “Hi. I’m Madison Mitchell.”
“Ryker. Nice to meet you, Madison. Garrett said you’d be stopping in.” He glanced at her tee, which bore the words “I didn’t mean to push all your buttons. I was looking for mute.” She’d worn it to get a rise from Garrett.
Ryker lifted his chin. “I can’t wait to watch you push the boss’s buttons.”
Madison chuckled. She had to hand it to him; after quickly reading her shirt, he kept his eyes focused on hers.
Garrett walked in and she caught a hint of his warm, comforting scent, a mix of cedarwood and musk. Despite her deep-rooted adversarial feelings toward him, she couldn’t help finding him sexy, with his brown wavy hair and hazel eyes.
“Nice shirt,” Garrett remarked. A slight smirk lifted his lip.
“Thanks.”
“Come on. I’ll show you around.”
When they reached the back room at the end of the brief tour, he pointed at a stack of boxes. “The contents need to be placed on the stainless steel shelving we passed. Make sure you label the items. The labels and holders are on the shelves. Please write neatly so everyone can read them.”
“Understood, sir.” She gave a salute as he turned to leave, but he stopped and handed her a box opener.
The rest of Madison’s day was spent unpacking glasses, kitchenware, and other items, then categorizing them before labeling each shelf, a task she completed with the utmost precision.
Garrett approached her late in the afternoon. “Follow me.”
She wished that he had said something besides just the command. It would have been nice to get some sort of recognition for all her hard work. “Hey, Madison, looks great!” “Thank you, Garrett!”
She pulled the box cutter out of her back pocket and set it down next to the flight boards before hurrying to catch up to Garrett, who had already started walking away.
“This is my space,” he said as they reached his office. “When the door is closed, knock.”
“Right. Because you might have a girl in here?”
“No. Because I like my privacy.”
Madison made sure to nod in agreement. “Understood, boss.”
After an exaggerated eye roll, she glanced around the office. “Nice space. I’ll feel right at home.” That caused something close to a growl from Garrett.
She pushed around the mail on his desk to further irritate him and picked up an envelope from the city. Examining it, she noticed the postmark was from two weeks ago. “Too busy to open your mail?”
Garrett tried to snatch it back, but she was too fast. “It could be important,” she said.
He rounded his desk and opened the middle drawer, then held up a wicked-looking letter opener.
“Planning on stabbing me with that?” Madison asked. “Blood wouldn’t really match the décor.”
He gave the sharp object an impressive flip and it came to rest in his palm, point facing him. “Go ahead. Open it.”
“Really? You’re going to let me open your mail?”
He shrugged and waited.
She swiped the letter opener from him and sliced the envelope with vigor, then unfolded the letter to read. Her brow rose and she handed the bill to Garrett. He skimmed it over.
His eyebrows connected. “Freakin’ Morty. This is all I need.”
Madison stepped closer and pointed at the line she didn’t like and read, “ ‘We will close your doors if you do not pay by July fifteenth.’ ” Today’s date, July sixth.
“A drive-by inspection? Is that even a thing?” She looked to Garrett for an explanation.
Her face was too close to his. When their eyes met, he took a step back and swallowed.
“Hell if I know. I’m going to have to pay it. I can’t delay opening any longer.”
Madison grabbed the letter out of his hands. “I’ll take care of it. Point me in the direction of City Hall.” She started for the door. “Never mind. I’ll find it.”
“Hold up.” Garrett reached for his wallet and handed her the company card. “Oh, and Madison, instead of stocking shelves I have another idea to run past you, at our contractually obligated dinner.” A teasing smile tugged at his lips.
“Call me intrigued.” She held up the card. “I better get going. See you later.”