Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Garrett stood behind the bar, wiping down the already-sparkling taps. The place was quiet. No customers. No music. Just the steady hum of the cooler.
Ryker had left an hour ago after finishing the keg-line install. Garrett had stayed behind, telling himself he was tying up loose ends, but really, he wasn’t ready to head home. Not yet.
The front door creaked open.
He straightened, ready to remind the visitor they weren’t open. But instead of a curious tourist, it was Nick—out of uniform, shoulders relaxed.
“Place looks good,” Nick said, taking it in with a slow nod. “Smells like fresh hops and stubborn ambition.”
Garrett smirked. “You get poetic when you’re avoiding paperwork.”
“Only when I know you’ve got cold beer in the back.” Nick closed the door behind him. “I met Madison.”
Garrett paused and gave him a look. “At City Hall?”
“Mm-hmm. Leaving from a visit with Morty. Looked like she’d just chewed through a tactical folder and hadn’t swallowed yet.”
Garrett smirked and set his rag down. “I sent her.”
Nick whistled low. “That’s one way to kick off a welcome tour.”
“She volunteered,” Garrett said, which was only mostly true. “It was about the inspection bill.”
“I heard. The infamous drive-by.”
Garrett grabbed two beers from the cooler and set one in front of Nick before opening his own can.
Nick picked up the other beer and popped the tab. His brother nodded in thanks.
“I’ve had three of those fines in six months,” Garrett said. “Always vague. Always ‘routine compliance.’ And always conveniently timed right after I submit a permit or paperwork. The first couple were fifty dollars, but the last one, in the hundreds.”
“And instead of handling it yourself, you sent in NCIS?”
Garrett took a long drink of his lager before answering. “Morty and I don’t mix. Never have. If I went down there, I’d make things worse. Madison, though . . . she’s sharp. Level-headed. She knows how to push without looking like she’s pushing.”
“Sounds like someone’s impressed.”
Garrett didn’t rise to the bait. “She’s Mason’s sister.”
“And you think Mason would care?”
“He wouldn’t have to, if I keep my distance,” Garrett muttered. “He’s my best friend and business partner. I’m not going to screw it up over . . .”
Nick leaned on the bar, watching him over the rim of his can. “Over what? A woman who clearly has you spinning?”
Garrett didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up the rag again with his good hand and wiped down the bar, even though it was spotless.
“She’s here to help, and then she’ll be on her way, Nick,” he said quietly.
“She needs something more than stocking shelves. She’s used to having a purpose.
Intel work doesn’t just flip off like a switch.
So yeah, I’ve got her helping with the inspection mess.
And I signed her up for the festival committee, too. ”
Nick blinked. “You did what?”
Garrett grinned. “Think of it as community service. Keeps her sharp.”
Nick shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Story of my life.”
Nick tipped the can toward him in a casual toast. “Let me know if Morty tries anything else before you open. So far, I haven’t found anything illegal, but the timing of these ‘inspections’ stinks.”
Garrett nodded. “Will do.”
After they’d finished their beers, Nick headed for the door, adding over his shoulder, “For the record? That wasn’t a date she won in the auction. That was recon. You just didn’t know it.”
The door clicked shut before Garrett could come up with a comeback.
He stared at the empty taproom for a long moment, then muttered, “Yeah, I’m completely screwed.”