THE PIGS HAD been an unexpected bonus and Finn had enjoyed the heck out of them. He’d had a good time touring the pink-and-turquoise barn and meeting the rescued horses, but Wilbur and Harley had been the highlight of the trip. There was no way he could imagine having one in Seattle, though, unless he moved to the suburbs and accepted a long commute to work.
By the time he and Chelsea left Peaceful Kingdom, it was almost time to meet Josie and Jack for dinner. He glanced over at Chelsea. “Unless you want to call and say we’ll be a little late, we need to drive straight over to Spirits and Spurs instead of stopping back at the Bunk and Grub.”
“We can go straight there. That’s fine.”
“Those pigs were something.”
“They were.” Chelsea was quiet for a moment. “Taking a wild guess here, but did you get hooked on Charlotte’s Web when you were a kid?”
“Yep. My grandfather and I watched the movie on bargain day. The next bargain day I begged him to rent it again, so we did. I kept that up until he said that was enough and we needed to get a different movie. So then I found the book in the library. I checked it out so many times that one day I came in and the librarian handed me my own copy to keep. I still have it.”
“It was one of my favorites, too.”
“My grandfather didn’t like it. He said it was too sad. But I loved it. To this day I can’t kill a spider.” He looked over at her. “Even Cade and Damon don’t know that, so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”
“Of course I will. I’m honored that you trust me enough to tell me. Besides, I can’t kill them, either. I put them in a jar and take them outside. But being soft on spiders is easier when you’re a girl.”
“I suppose it is.” He turned down the road leading to town. “Herb and Rosie aren’t going to want to deal with a pet pig. I have no right to try to convince them they should.”
“What about Cade and Damon, or even Lexi? Maybe one of them is a fan of the story and always secretly wanted one.”
“If Cade or Damon is, they would have backed me on my campaign when we lived there. Lexi might like the story, although I’ve never heard her mention it. I need to get over this and not expect someone else to adopt the pig I can’t have.”
“Or you can find out if there’s a potbellied pig rescue group in Seattle. You could have a charity event at O’Roarke’s to raise money for it.”
“Damn, Chels, that’s brilliant. Let’s do it.”
“You want me to coordinate it for you?”
“Who else? Nobody’s better at these things than you are. Name your price.”
“No price. I’ll do it for the pigs. For Wilbur.”
About that time he pulled into the parking lot of Spirits and Spurs. He shut off the engine and unlatched his seat belt. Then he laid his hat on the dashboard. “Lean over here. I have an urgent need to kiss you.”
She unfastened her seat belt and turned into his outstretched arms. “We don’t have time to stay out here and smooch, you know.”
“I know. But I can’t last another two or three hours.” He cupped the back of her head and felt the silky texture of her hair against his palm. “One kiss. That’s all.”
“Yes, but how long will it last?”
“As long as it needs to.” The console was in the way, but he managed to angle his head so he could fit his mouth over hers. Her sigh of pleasure filled him with joy. This wasn’t a kiss of unrestrained passion. Instead he simply wanted to let her know how much he treasured her.
He moved his lips gently against hers and slipped his tongue inside her mouth in one easy, unhurried motion. So sweet. So warm. So...oh, God, he was lost. With a groan he took the kiss deeper.
She pulled back, breathing hard. “Finn, we can’t—”
“I know. Sorry.” And he went back for more.
If she’d pushed him away, he would have abided by her decision, but she didn’t. Instead she grabbed the back of his neck and hung on while he plundered her eager mouth.
He wasn’t sure how long the tapping at his window had been going on by the time it finally registered. He lifted his mouth from Chelsea’s and gulped for air. “Somebody’s...outside.”
“Oh!” She scrambled away from him and looked over his shoulder. “It’s Jack.”
“Of course it is.” With a sigh he turned to see Jack giving him a Cheshire-cat smile. The windows were automatic, so he had to switch on the power to roll it down. “What?”
“Hate to interrupt.”
“Sure you do.”
“Josie sent me out to see if you were here yet. She’s made a small batch of what she hopes will be her signature beer and—”
“Already? I thought she was just thinking about it.”
“Oh, no. She’s been experimenting for a while, just for the hell of it, not sure if she wanted to do this. Then she saw the calendar and realized you were a brewer. She’s been extremely focused ever since. Your glass is poured and she doesn’t want it to get warm. This means the world to her, and because I love her dearly, I want you to lay off the tonsil hockey and come in and taste her beer.” He smiled again. “If you would be so kind.”
“We’ll be right there,” Chelsea said.
“Excellent. I’ll tell her.” Jack touched the brim of his black Stetson and walked back into the saloon.
Finn glanced over at Chelsea, who seemed to be trying not to giggle. “He violated the cowboy code, you know.”
“He did?”
“Well, not the big, superimportant code, but there’s a whole list of lesser infractions, and interrupting a hot kiss is right up there at the top.”
“Extenuating circumstances.” She flipped down the visor and combed her hair with her fingers.
“Like what?”
“The woman he loves is inside on pins and needles, waiting for your evaluation of her signature beer. He needs you to come in and put an end to her suffering.”
“Do you realize what an impossible situation this is? What if I hate her signature beer?”
“You’ll find a diplomatic way to suggest improvements.”
He dragged in a breath and picked up his hat. “Then let’s do this thing.”
She grabbed his arm before he could get out. “Whatever you do, don’t take a sip and make a face.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I have some sensitivity.”
“You’re right. You’re the guy who won’t kill spiders.” She patted his cheek. “I know. Imagine Josie as Charlotte. Instead of working on an amazing web, she’s been crafting this beer.”
“There are so many things wrong with that image that I don’t even know where to start. I’ll just have to fumble along on my own.”
She climbed out before he could round the SUV and escort her, almost beating him to the front door of the saloon. But he got there in time to open that door, at least. The oval glass inserts were similar to what he’d ordered for O’Roarke’s, but these were probably original.
The crowd was thin, probably because there was no live music scheduled. Josie and Jack sat at a far table in the same area where they’d all gathered on Friday night. Probably the designated Chance family corner.
As he and Chelsea approached, Josie gave them a nervous smile and her blue eyes were filled with misgiving. “I thought this would be casual and fun, but I’m rattled.” She gestured to the glass of beer sitting in the dead center of the table. “If it’s awful, you have to tell me. Don’t spare my feelings. This is business.”
Finn pulled out a chair for Chelsea before sitting. “I’m sure it’s not awful.”
“Jack says it’s not.” She flipped her blond braid behind her back. “But he’s required to pump me up. I’m counting on you to tell me the truth.”
“I had no idea you’d moved this far into the process.”
“I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure if I’d have the courage to ask you to taste this. But Jack convinced me that I need to take advantage of you being here. You’ll be gone in the morning, so...” She gestured toward the glass. “There it is.”
Chelsea spoke up. “Does it have a name?”
“It does if Finn likes it. If he doesn’t, then it shall remain nameless and I’ll go back to the drawing board.”
“No, no, that would be putting too much importance on one person’s opinion.” Finn prayed the beer would be good. “You shouldn’t give my judgment that much weight.”
“But you’re more of a beer connoisseur than any of us,” Josie said. “I’m sure you tasted hundreds of different types before you started brewing your own.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
“There you go.”
“But don’t throw out the recipe if I don’t like it. We can talk about modifications.” Finn decided to lay the groundwork for a potential negative reaction. “Hand-crafted beer is tricky. Some brewers work a year or two perfecting their product, some a lot longer than that.”
“I know. I’ve been reading and trying different things. I finally have something I like, but nobody’s tasted it except Jack.”
Jack waved a hand in the air. “And she doesn’t trust my opinion. Go figure. I may not be a brewer, but I’ve spent a lot of years drinking the stuff and I think—”
Josie clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say anything. I want Finn to go into this without any preconceived ideas.”
Finn eyed the glass of beer and thought that taking the first sip wasn’t so different from diffusing a bomb. He cautiously reached for the glass.
“Wait.” Josie held up both hands. “I forgot to say the most important thing. I don’t want you to worry that not liking my beer will somehow jeopardize the Chance family’s support of Thunder Mountain Academy. This is completely separate. Right, Jack?”
“Completely separate.”
Finn wanted to believe that, but Jack’s devotion to Josie was a powerful thing. Anyone who hurt Josie’s feelings might not be particularly popular with Jack. Finn was the official representative for TMA, so Jack’s good opinion of him seemed pretty damned important.
Once again, he reached for the glass.
“Wait.” Josie stopped him again. “I should explain that this beer was crafted with somewhat substandard equipment. That’s the other thing I want to talk about tonight. I’m ready to sink some real money into good equipment, so as you taste this, please imagine it being made with whatever you have, because that’s what I’m planning to get.”
“All right.” He had no idea how in the hell he’d make allowances for equipment. The beer either worked or it didn’t, but she was a beginner and might not realize that.
He reached for the beer a third time, half expecting that she’d stop him again for another disclaimer. When she didn’t, he lifted it to his mouth. He deliberately didn’t look at her, but he could feel her tension from across the table.
Closing his eyes, he took a sip. Then another. And one more, just to make sure. Opening his eyes, he smiled at her and put down the glass. “It’s great.”
With a whoop of joy, she leaped from her chair, overturning it and bumping the table. Jack grabbed the beer before it went over as Finn stood and Josie bear-hugged him. Then she pulled Chelsea out of her chair and hugged her, too. Finally she raced back around the table to give Jack a resounding kiss.
His smile was a mile wide. “We need food,” he declared, “and more of this beer, because I happen to know Josie has more of it chilling.” He glanced over at Finn with a look of gratitude. “This calls for another celebration.”
“I completely agree.” Chelsea’s face was flushed. “And by the way, is there a jukebox?”
“Sadly, there is not.” Josie glanced from Chelsea to Finn. “Are you two turning into dancers, then?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Finn said. “And it’s all Jack’s fault.”
“Glad to take the blame.”
“You were both a huge help Friday night and now we’re excited about dancing.” Chelsea settled back in her chair. “But we don’t have to have music tonight. I just wondered about the jukebox, because this saloon seems like a natural place for one.”
“It is.” Josie nodded. “You’re not the only one to ask, either. I need to get serious about installing one for the nights we don’t have a band.”
“Great idea,” Jack said. “In the meantime I’ll order us up some food. What’s everybody ready for?” They gave him their orders and he headed back to the kitchen.
After he left, Josie glanced over at Finn. “So the beer’s really okay? You haven’t had any more of it.”
“I was waiting until everyone had a glass. Sitting here guzzling it all by myself seemed rude.”
“But you would have guzzled it?” Josie’s expression was endearingly anxious.
“I would. We just need more so we can propose a toast.”
Josie’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I liked it, and Jack liked it, but I wouldn’t let anybody else try it once I knew you’d be here this weekend. Then I lost my nerve and almost didn’t ask you. Jack kept pushing me. I’m glad he did.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome. Best husband ever.” Jack appeared with a tray holding three more glasses.
“Best one I ever had,” Josie said with a grin.
“With excellent taste in both women and beer.” Jack put down the tray. “Food’s coming up soon.”
Finn waited until everyone was settled before lifting his glass. “A toast to the Spirits and Spurs signature beer, which is called...” He looked over at Josie.
“Galloping Ghost!” She raised her glass.
“To Galloping Ghost!” they chorused.
Finn touched glasses with everyone, lingering as he clinked with Chelsea’s. Funny how he’d thought he couldn’t get any closer to her than he had last night. How wrong he’d been.
Sex had knocked down the physical barriers between them, but in spending the day with her, he’d started chipping away at all the mental barriers he’d thrown up to protect himself. And not just from her, either. He’d asked her not to tell his foster brothers that he couldn’t kill a spider because of Charlotte.
Why not tell them? They might tease him, but so what? They knew he had that book. He’d kept it on a shelf in the cabin for years. They’d probably figured out that he’d lobbied for a pig because he loved the story of Wilbur and Charlotte.
Watching Josie take this courageous step also made him aware of how self-protective he’d been all his life. She’d let them all know that she was nervous. He would have bluffed his way through the situation by pretending he was totally cool with it. In fact he had done that several times.
Josie put down her beer and reached under her chair. “Before the food comes, I want to ask you about equipment.” She pulled out a couple of catalogs he recognized immediately.
Chelsea got up. “Josie, you should switch places with me.” She moved over to Josie’s seat and Josie sat next to Finn.
From the moment Josie opened the first dog-eared catalog, Finn was rocketed back to the days he used to sit under a large shade tree at Thunder Mountain Ranch, planning his strategy. He’d taken a course on brewing at the community college in Sheridan and he’d worked at a local bar from the moment he was of legal age.
And he’d saved—Lord, how he’d saved, although he’d known in his heart it wasn’t near enough. Chelsea had found a way for him to raise the rest. Josie would have more resources than he’d had, but after hearing that she wanted to do this without bringing the Chance family into it, he couldn’t assume she had unlimited funds.
So he didn’t recommend the top-of-the-line equipment. He didn’t have that, after all. Besides, he could honestly give her the pros and cons of what he’d invested in. She’d brought a pen and made notes as they talked.
He lost track of time and even where they were. He did love the process and that was a good thing to remember. Over the years he’d let worry about staying solvent take some of the joy out of doing the work. Josie’s excitement brought back what he’d lost.
They’d discussed most of the major items by the time the food arrived.
Josie closed up the catalogs. “That’ll get me started.”
He pulled out his phone. “Let me send you my email and phone number. You’ll have more questions. I sure did.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Finn.” She picked up the catalogs and stood.
“It’s been fun.”
“For me, too!”
“Hey,” Jack said from across the table. “Don’t move on our account. Chelsea and me, we’ve bonded over here. You two can stay put and talk shop. Chelsea’s filling me in on the wonders of Seattle. Now I’m hankering to go up in that Space Needle and take me a ferryboat ride.”
“You should come and visit,” Chelsea said. “It’s a beautiful city.”
“Then I want to hear about it, too.” Josie sat again and tucked the catalogs under her chair. “We’ve had enough beer talk for the night.”
“If you say so. And, oh, will you look at that? Here comes our entertainment, right on time.” Jack put his napkin beside his plate and got up to welcome two cowboys who came in carrying guitar cases. “Glad you could make it.”
“I’m just sorry our gig in Cheyenne kept us from being here for the barbecue last night.” The shorter one, who had a handlebar mustache, shook Jack’s hand. “Trey covered himself in glory. I was honored to be on the stage with him.”
“Congratulations.” Jack grasped the younger man’s hand firmly. “That’s great to hear. We missed you, but at least now you can both meet Chelsea and Finn.”
Finn stood to greet them as Jack explained that the two cowboys, both wranglers at the Last Chance, had become a popular entertainment duo in the area. Trey Wheeler handled the vocals and the older man, who went only by Watkins, played backup.
“And you’re here to play for us?” Chelsea looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “That’s so generous of you!”
“We love to play, ma’am,” Trey said with a winning smile. “When Jack called and said you’d like some dancing music, we were only too happy to oblige. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll go set up. We’ll play a few background tunes while you eat, but when you’re ready to dance, give us a signal.”
Finn glanced at their host after the two men left. “I appreciate this, Jack. It’s above and beyond.”
“Glad to do it.” His dark eyes flashed with amusement. “Can I have the first dance?”