Summer Brew (Seasons in Colorado: Summer #3)

CHAPTER 1

GEMMA

I grab two bottles of the beer I made from the fridge, glad that I’m finally able to taste it now that it’s cold enough. Still, I have a feeling it’s not going to be right. Again.

This whole thing started as a hobby and now it’s taken over my garage and any spare moment I might have. But that’s just how it needs to be until I figure out the perfect recipe for Green Mountain High’s first in-house beer. It’s become an obsession at this point. Is obsession the right word?

If anyone asks, I call it determination. When you wrap obsession up in ambition, it sounds nicer. Right?

After handing Meadow the other beer in my hand, she smiles brightly at me. “Be warned,” I tell her.

“You always say that,” she teases me.

“I always mean it,” I tell her, just like I always do.

This has become our script, of sorts, whenever she comes over to try my latest failure. And they are always failures. I’ve gotten close, my hobby isn’t without merit, but it’s still not the result I want.

It’s kind of ridiculous that I can’t get this recipe right.

I’ve followed the directions and made a decent beer, but the problem comes in when I try to layer in any cannabis.

Every hops to cannabis ratio I try ends up tasting like a science experiment gone wrong.

I’ve approached it so many ways and in so many combinations, but it never tastes right.

I have no doubt it’ll be the same this time.

After clinking my bottle against hers, I give her a bright smile. I take a drink and my nose scrunches up right away. Not what I wanted. Not the worst thing I’ve made, but it tastes…muddled.

Again.

Still.

Again?

Fuck.

“This is good,” Meadow’s voice is bright, but maybe a little too bright.

I narrow my eyes at one of my best friends, unable to keep the scorn off my face. “It’s not good,” I sneer the words.

“You’re searching for perfection. Do you even know what it is you’re looking for?” Meadow’s question isn’t without merit. “This is good,” she emphasizes the words like if she says it with enough meaning then it’ll be true.

“It’s not the worst one I’ve made,” my tone is begrudging, at best. “That’s not saying much though.”

“You’re so hard on yourself,” Meadow grumbles as she takes another drink.

I do the same and I have to admit, it’s really not as bad as the last batch. Still, this one has too many floral notes for my liking. I’m just not sure if that means my ratio is off or if I used the wrong strain.

With a huff, I pout while flopping back against the couch dramatically. “I don’t know what to do. I just want it to be right.”

She looks at me for a long time. I can almost see her thoughts, and I know what she’s going to say before she says it.

“You don’t need to prove anything to us,” her words are filled with careful hope. “Why are you so hard on yourself over this?” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer, which isn’t surprising. “None of us think what you contribute to the business is less than anyone else’s contribution.”

I roll my eyes, trying to dismiss the way she hit the nail right on the head. I’m not running the bakery like Meadow. It’s a huge part of the business. I’m not running the dispensary like Greylin. Then there’s Mayer, the big kahuna.

There is no way I would ever pretend to be like Mayer. She’s the boss lady we need. I’m quite sure she’s the only thing holding us together most days. And we’re grateful for it. She needs an outlet for her control freak ways.

I’ve always been more go-with-the-flow.

It’s why I took on the event space and have tried to make it into something valuable within the business. It’s not used daily, and there’s not much I can do about that. Still, it’s used enough; I organize quite a few events every month where people can sign up and attend the evening’s activities.

Those are my favorite nights. It’s fun watching friends and strangers interacting and having fun without letting worry creep in. Having that time is a gift, and it’s something I completely appreciate.

It’s always entertaining to see what they end up painting or making, since most of the events I put together have some kind of activity.

Any craft has the chance of going off the rails.

I won’t have another wreath making night for a long time.

Hot glue guns were a mistake and that’s all I’ll say about it.

I put a lot of planning into our event nights and always change up the decorations of the space seasonally with frequent fluffing.

Because I can’t leave well enough alone.

It’s a habit, but at least in this case, it’s useful.

People who use the room always have wonderful things to say about the space.

Compared to what the rest of my friends do for the business though? I feel inadequate. It’s not enough. We don’t have enough events for my space to really be much more than a passing fancy when it comes to the business.

It’s one of the reasons I make myself useful anywhere in GMH that I can. Restocking in the dispensary? I’m there. I even do inventory nights, which is a pain, but it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something more.

Whenever Meadow needs help in the bakery, I’m there. Of course, I’m there considering I can taste things while I get some work in. Who doesn’t like a little sweet treat?

“Hey,” Meadow’s voice is gentle and brings me out of my thoughts.

I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here staring at the beer in my hand with disgust. But I know the way my face is screwed up right now can’t be hidden.

“It’s gross,” I whine.

Meadow’s laugh is bright and airy and hearing it, surprisingly, does help a little bit. “It’s really not,” she tries to tell me.

“It really is,” I toss the words back without even thinking about them. Because they’re true.

“I’m not going to go back and forth with you on this,” she sighs, like I’m the source of all her annoyance.

I know that’s not true though.

“How are things with Rook?”

My attempt at changing the subject lands like a fucking bolder. Meadow simply arches an eyebrow at me. All I can do is plead with my eyes.

She sticks her tongue out at me before taking pity on me. “He’s great,” her voice brightens and fills with a joy which can’t be manufactured. A serenity transforms her face, and I can’t help but smile right back at her.

“You’re glowing,” I tease her.

Even though she tries to hide her smile, it’s impossible to do so completely. “I’m not,” she tries to sound like she’s insistent, but the words come out too light.

I widen my eyes at her and purse my lips. Meadow giggles in response and I can’t help but join her for a moment.

Being with a man who adores her, who stands next to her while finding everything that she’s passionate about interesting and adorable equally, looks good on her.

The only problem is I feel like I never see her anymore.

Same goes for Greylin, but Aiden’s shifts make her schedule a little more flexible and open.

Rook is all about his farm, even more so now that his wife is living out there on it with him. She loves it out there and I can see why. The land is beautiful and Rook is growing something that parallels Meadow’s goals.

“Do you guys basically talk about growing and work all the time?” My head tilts slightly as I ask the question. “Or what is it you talk about? Or maybe you don’t talk much at all,” I tease her while wiggling my eyebrows at her.

Meadow giggles and scrunches up her face. “We might,” she pauses and grimaces slightly, “occasionally talk about work related things.”

I bark out a laugh and knock my shoulder against hers.

“I think it’s sweet that you can talk about something you both love and can benefit each other.

It makes the foundation of you strong. And it’s all tied to the life you want.

” I shake my head slightly. “Not the career, even though that’s part of it, but the life. ”

Meadow’s eyes well up with tears before she pushes her face far too close to mine and lets out a low sound of touched awe and a slight pout. “You trying to sweet talk me away from my husband? It might work.”

Our laughter fills the room and I’m able to put down my quasi failure of another attempt at a GMH beer. I don’t hurl the bottle against the wall at least. I’m taking it as a win.

“Anyway,” she sasses me, “I don’t think we should be talking about my married life when you’re single and have a massive crush on a man who could help you with your current project.”

The look she gives me is pointed. If I blush, I ignore it and so does she. Thankfully. Because my cheeks heat instantly and she does not need to say who she’s referring to. Which is probably a good sign that I’m in trouble.

“I’m not asking him,” my tone is not nearly as firm as I want it to be.

The look she gives me tells me she’s not buying my words either. Well, she doesn’t have to buy them for them to be true. I’m not asking him.

Him.

Keaton Shaw.

My brother’s best friend.

The only guy I’ve ever wanted.

The guy who has never looked at me as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.

Sure, he’s never said it that way, but I know.

I’ve avoided the man as much as possible, but Storyville is a small town and complete avoidance is impossible.

Especially considering how much time Keaton and Gary spend together.

Gary and Keaton are ten years older than me; I thought they were the best people in the whole wide world when I was little. I followed them around like a shadow. Thankfully, they never seemed to mind.

Well, Gary minded, but Keaton never complained once. I never even overheard him telling my brother that I was annoying or anything. As I got older, I realized just how special it was that they let me trail behind them, and that they tried to include me in most things.

His acceptance is what started the whole crush nonsense. He showed me the same kind of kindness Gary did. To my young little heart that meant he loved me. It didn’t.