I storm into the Spirit of Hops, anger fueling my every step. The mid-afternoon lull provides the perfect backdrop for my confrontation with Kendric. My emotions are raw, and I’ve long since lost any semblance of chill I may have once possessed. The almost three months of torment at the hands of him, his business partner, and the overgrown man-child they employ have taken a toll on me. I’m convinced they are behind this latest blow, and I refuse to let things slide to keep the peace anymore. This is the last straw, and I am going to make them pay.
“Kendric!” I shout as soon as I cross through the open garage door into the taproom, my voice dripping with frustration and desperation. “Come out here and screw me to my face if you’re so desperate to ruin me!”
Charlie almost chokes on his laughter, and I catch a glimpse of his phone, pointed discreetly in my direction. Great, he’s probably recording this little freak-out of mine. Just what I need–evidence of my momentary lapse of reason.
“Are we not doing phrasing anymore?” he asks through his laughter and I shoot him a glare.
“Don’t quote Archer at me, you dingbat. I am not in the mood,” I snap.
Finally, Kendric emerges from the back hallway, a mischievous glint in his eyes, struggling not to burst into laughter. He approaches me, his confident strides only fueling my frustration. “Well, well, Sloan,” he says, suppressing a grin. “I’d be obliged to screw you to your face, but I’m not sure if our first time should happen in the middle of the taproom. I have every intention of ruining you… but only for all other men, not in business, kitten.”
“Another stupid nickname?” I snap, his other words not penetrating my frustrated haze yet.
“Yep, and this one, I think, might stick. A little kitten, all claws and no bite. Fierce but too cute for its own good,” he says, his eyes alight with teasing amusement.
My face flushes, and I’m momentarily taken aback by his response. Did I really just say that? Did I honestly scream the phrase “screw me to my face” in a public place where other humans could hear me? I gape at him like a fish out of water, my mind racing to process the implications of my words. No wonder Charlie made that joke. It makes so much more sense now. I can’t believe I let my anger get the best of me. All I want to do is run away and hide from this mortifying moment. The only thing keeping me here is the tiny flicker of anger I am still desperately clinging to.
Sensing my discomfort, Kendric takes pity on me and gestures to follow him. I’m grateful for the momentary reprieve as he leads me to his office, leaving Charlie and the bar behind. As I follow him up the stairs and down the hall to his office, we pass Luka’s open door. Before I can disappear into Kendric’s office and hide behind the closed door, Luka is on his feet, buttoning his suit jacket with one hand in that pretentious way of his, and heading my way.
“Finally come to your senses and come here to sign over the building?” the slimeball asks, leaning in the doorway.
“Don’t start, Luka. Not the time,” Kendric snaps before I have a chance to respond. Stunned by him jumping to my defense like that, all I can do is watch as Luka registers Kendric’s tone and stands straight, ready to argue.
“What do you mean…” he starts.
“I said not now,” Kendric barks, glaring over his shoulder toward his business partner as he ushers me into his office and closes the door behind us, effectively cutting Luka off. I appreciate his intervention; the last thing I need is more teasing or judgment.
I take a deep breath, ready to lay into Kendric to let him know the gravity of the situation before I lose my nerve. “I know you both hate me, and I am in your way, blah blah blah. I have withstood your endless pranks, digs at my abilities, and Luka’s ever more insulting offers to buy the building, but this? This one is a step too far. I never thought you would actually stoop this low. Stupid me, I had more faith in you than that, that you had even a shred of humanity hiding somewhere in your overdeveloped, soulless body. My mistake.”
“Woah, woah. Slow down, Sloan,” Kendric says, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Take a seat and start from the beginning. What happened?”
“Don’t play dumb, Kendric. I don’t have the patience for it today,” I sigh, flopping down into one of the two chairs across from his desk.
“Humor me,” he says, settling into his chair across from me.
“Fine. My supplier, my one and only supplier, called and pulled out this morning. How could you do that? The shit you’ve been pulling is one thing, but going so far as to actually fuck with my business? How the hell could you?” I demand, barely holding back furious tears. Before I can stop myself, I find my mouth running away with me, recounting the call with the vendor this morning, explaining how they dropped my account and refused to work with me or deliver the products I had already ordered. My frustration pours out with each word, and the weight of the situation finally hits me. Tears threaten to spill over, and my anger morphs into desperate, frustrated sadness.
Kendric listens patiently, not interrupting or trying to fix anything. He simply offers me a comforting presence as I let everything out, reminding me I’m not alone in this struggle. And that’s exactly what I need at this moment–to be heard and understood.
When I stop for a breath, my word vomit finally over; only then does Kendric say anything, his eyes filled with understanding. “I’m sorry your morning has been such shit, Sloan. That supplier has a long track record of being flakey as shit. Your uncle had countless problems with them, too. This isn’t your fault, and I promise you, no one here had anything to do with it. We would never, and I mean never, stoop so low as to fuck with someone’s livelihood. Sure, we have had our fair share of fun and frustration over the last few months since you got here, but it’s all been done in the spirit of fun or, at worst, light-hearted competition. I would love nothing more than to see you and your bar do well. Just don’t tell that to Luka,” he says with a disarming smile and teasing wink.
Unsure of what to say, I simply nod. As I compose myself and attempt to process everything that’s happened in the last few minutes, Kendric suggests he walk me home, offering to sneak me out the back way to avoid crossing the taproom again. I agree, grateful for the fresh air and the chance to clear my head. We walk side by side, and the tension between us becomes palpable the closer we get to the carriage house. I can feel the electricity building, the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air by the time we reach my back door–am I the only one feeling this?
But just as the anticipation reaches its peak, Kendric surprises me by kissing my temple gently. It’s a sweet, tender gesture that catches me off guard. “Give yourself some time, Sloan. It’s been a rough morning. Take the rest of the day to chill and process, then you can hit the ground running again tomorrow. Take care of yourself, Rainbow Bright,” he says, pressing another quick kiss to my temple before turning away, whistling a catchy tune.
I watch him walk away, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. This unexpected connection with Kendric is filled with both frustration and comfort. Still, at this moment, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things will work out, and my bar will have the opening it deserves. I don’t know how, but somehow, I have faith that I can make it happen. And perhaps, with Kendric in my corner, the future won’t feel so daunting after all.
On a day filled with frustration and vulnerability, Kendric’s presence provided a much-needed sense of solace, something I hadn’t realized I had been missing since coming here. As I enter my apartment, I lean against the closed door and allow myself a moment to process everything that has happened.
The encounter at the Spirit of Hops had been unexpected. I had barged in, fueled by anger and desperation, ready for a confrontation with Kendric. But instead of meeting my hostility with more of the same, he had diffused the tension with his playful response and genuine concern. It was a stark contrast to the relentless torment I have had to endure from Luka over the last three months.
I replay Kendric’s words in my mind. “I have every intention of ruining you… but only for all other men, not in business, Kitten.” The heat in that line and the sincerity behind his quiet statement before he left caught me off guard. I realize Kendric may not be the enemy I initially believed him to be.
The weight of my struggles and the emotional release of my tears linger on me. I can still feel Kendric’s steady presence, his unwavering support. He didn’t try to fix everything or provide quick solutions; instead, he allowed me the space to express my frustrations and offered his empathy. It’s a surprising level of emotional maturity and understanding I never expected from him.
Feeling a renewed sense of determination, I decide to confront the challenges in front of me head-on. Opening a bar was never going to be easy, but now I know I don’t have to face it alone. With Kendric’s understanding and possibly even his help, I have a fighting chance.
The next day, I wake up with renewed energy and purpose. I gather my thoughts and start planning alternative solutions for my supplier dilemma. I make a few calls and reach out to other local businesses to see if they have recommendations. I hope to find a new partnership to provide the inventory for my opening. Even if I need to push the opening date back a bit, it will be worth it in the end.
The hours turn into a blur as I work tirelessly to secure a reliable supplier. The clock is ticking, and the pressure mounts with each passing moment. But I refuse to let the setbacks deter me. Kendric’s words continue to resonate, reminding me I can face any and all challenges thrown my way. By the end of the day, despite my tireless efforts and endless calls, no solution seems to materialize, and I’m left on the brink of despair.
When I am about ready to throw my phone across the bar in frustration, a knock on the door startles me. I turn, and there stands Kendric, a determined look in his eyes. He holds a Spirit of Hops growler in one hand and holds it up, a silent peace offering, through the window in the front door.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks after trying the handle, pushing through the unlocked door, a faint smile on his lips.
I nod, my curiosity piqued. Together, we sit at the bar, the work lights spread through the still mostly construction zone, casting warm shadows around us. Kendric cracks open the growler as I reach under the plastic covering my newly installed glass storage under the bar and pull out two pint glasses.
He expertly pours a rose gold colored beer into the glasses and slides one toward me. “I thought you could use a drink,” he says, his voice gentle and soothing.
As we sip our beer, which is admittedly delicious and unlike anything I have tasted before, Kendric shares stories of his struggles as a business owner. He talks about the challenges he and Luka faced when starting the Brewstillery, the late nights and early mornings, the struggle to get the community to understand what they were, and the sacrifices they had to make. His vulnerability touches my heart, and I realize we’re not so different.
Inspired by his resilience, I find a renewed determination within me. I pour out my frustrations and fears, unburdening myself to him. Kendric listens intently, his eyes fixed on mine, offering comfort and reassurance.
“I may not have a solution for your supplier problem,” he says, “but I want you to know I’m here for you. We’re in this together.”
His words ignite a flicker of hope that had burned out over the endless phone calls today, reminding me I’m not alone in this battle. It’s in that moment that I realize the depth of my feelings for Kendric. Wholly inconvenient and unexpected feelings. He’s more than just a sympathetic ear; he’s become an anchor in my life.
As the night wears on, we talk and laugh, finding solace in each other’s company. The tension between us remains, the unspoken question of what lies beyond friendship lingering in the air. But for now, we bask in the warmth of this newfound connection, content to let fate guide us.
When it’s time to part ways, Kendric jumps off the bar, offering his hand to help me back to my feet from where I had been sitting cross-legged on the bar top opposite him. With a teasing grin, he again offers to walk me to my door, this time with a sweeping bow. How can I resist something so ridiculous? With a smile and a nod, I let him guide me through the bar and into the back hallway to the stairs that lead to my apartment, where he insists on walking me to my door. This time, the atmosphere is charged with a different energy–an undercurrent of desire mixed with trepidation. We stand face to face, our breaths intermingling.
As I gaze into his eyes, I see the same longing mirrored back at me. The anticipation builds, the pull between us becoming irresistible. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand brushing against mine. Our fingers interlace, creating an electric current that courses through my veins.
In that moment, it becomes clear that the time for hesitation is over. I lean in, closing the distance between us, and our lips meet. The kiss starts slow, a simple press of his lips against mine, but after a prolonged moment, Kendric comes alive against me and takes control of the kiss, deepening the connection between us and ramping up the intensity.
As we finally break apart after long, slow moments, our foreheads resting against one another, Kendric whispers, “I’ve been waiting for that since the day I met you, Sloan.”
I want to argue, I really do, because we both know what a bald-faced lie that is, but a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I try to respond but can’t find the words to express the tangled emotions coursing through me. I settle on honesty, even if it most likely isn’t the response he expects.
“Kendric,” I begin, my voice laced with vulnerability, “thank you for your support through this mess. Your understanding and kindness were unexpected and mean more to me than you can imagine.”
He smiles down at me, his eyes filled with tender warmth. “You don’t have to thank me, Sloan. How could I resist being there for my little kitten when I have the chance?”
He surprises me again, gently pressing his lips to my temple. It’s a sweet, tender gesture, filled with promise and the knowledge that our journey, whatever this journey may be, is only just beginning. He wishes me a quick good night before turning and walking down the stairs, once again whistling, and I can’t help the smile it brings to my face.