12
AFTER LOCKING THE fence, Kelsey let the dogs off their leashes and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. She’d taken them on a three-mile walk, but did they have the decency to be tired? No, they did not. She, on the other hand, was wiped.
Sitting on her back stoop, she pulled out her phone while Romeo, Juliet, and Puck charged around her small backyard, loving life and confused as to why she wasn’t joining them. Puck darted over to her and nipped at her ankles, and she could practically hear him yelling at her to come play.
“Mama needs to rest,” Kelsey said, rubbing his head. “I only have two legs and get a whole lot less sleep than you.”
Puck cocked his head to the side, giving off the eerie impression that he’d understood her. Then he backed away and joined his siblings in stalking the squirrels high over their heads in the tree branches. The three huskies chased their shadows in the grass, waiting for an unlucky animal to fall.
Kelsey’s phone had alerted her several times on the walk about incoming texts, but she’d ignored them all. Opening the app now, she wished she’d continued to do so. Emily, Lauren, and Amy had been chatting about the rescheduled girls’ weekend and making plans without her. Well, that was partially on her for ignoring the conversation while she was walking, but her silence did not mean she consented to what they’d agreed upon. Particularly since what they’d agreed upon was making their girls’ weekend no longer a girls’ weekend.
She should have seen this coming. Emily had gotten married last year, and Lauren was in a long-term relationship. Amy’s status was less locked down, but she was dating someone at the moment. That left her as the lone, well, loner in the group—and now, the only one who wanted to keep the testosterone out of their vacation.
Kelsey scowled as she typed. Sorry to be the voice of dissent, but how are we supposed to bitch about men if there are men present?
Truthfully, she wasn’t sorry at all, and she was pissed off that the others cared so little about preserving their together time. It wasn’t just that the weekend was meant to be female-only; it had been their precious time to hang out like in the old days.
Romeo came over and set his head on her knees while Kelsey waited for a response. Poor, sweet boy. He understood group dynamics. Romeo was carefree around her and his siblings, but bringing anyone else into the mix raised his anxiety levels. It was why she’d had to abandon the idea of adding to their pack a couple of years ago.
It was also why Romeo wouldn’t be the best dog to help out with Ian’s therapy, although he’d been Kelsey’s original thought. Romeo would be just as timid around Ian as Ian would be around him, but that made Romeo more unpredictable. Puck was out too. His smaller size might help Ian feel more comfortable, but his unrelentingly puppylike energy made him too wild. Luckily, Juliet was more than up for the task that was hers by process of elimination. She was sweet and obedient, unless of course you were a squirrel, in which case she became a fearsome hunter. Kelsey watched her jump at a tree branch hanging ten feet over the fence whenever one dared step across the line dividing the yards.
You should bring someone! Lauren wrote back, so not-helpfully. It’ll be fun.
Right. She, the woman they knew didn’t date if she could help it, should bring a date.
So now she had a problem. She wasn’t about to drag some random guy with her, but if she went without anyone, it would be awkward. There was no win here. Continuing to press the issue would get her nowhere. It was clear they’d made up their minds, and she’d lose any vote on the matter.
Romeo whined questioningly up at her, and Kelsey scratched his soft ears. “If more men were like you, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
For a brief moment of madness, Kelsey imagined bringing Ian along to the no-longer-just-girls weekend. It was impossible to pretend she wasn’t attracted to him. Since Friday, when she should have been worrying about Ian spilling her secret, her thoughts had continuously drifted toward more pleasant subjects, most of which had involved Ian without clothes on. It had been six years since she’d last had sex, and Kelsey couldn’t deny that she’d thought about it more in the ten days since meeting Ian than she had in all that time. The last couple of days, specifically. Friday’s trip had done a number on her body, and Ian’s attempt to make her feel better had done the same to her head.
For the first time since her disastrous relationship with Anthony, she was contemplating the end of her self-enforced celibacy. The idea of it made her queasy, but in Ian’s case, her libido was more powerful than her anxiety. The thought of him naked, of acting out all the scenarios she’d been fantasizing about, had the ability to override her common sense. Anthony had messed up her head, but she was no longer the insecure, clueless girl she’d been in college. She might not have gained a whole lot of practical experience when it came to men since Anthony, but she’d most certainly learned a thing or two, as her readers would attest. Whether book learning could translate into successful doing, Kelsey had doubts, but in Ian, she might have found her perfect test subject. Just sitting in her backyard, in the cold wind, thinking about the possibilities was making her nipples hard and her underwear wet. It was already a foregone conclusion that she’d be breaking out Mr. Happy before bed.
Another friend group text arrived, snapping Kelsey out of these dangerous thoughts, but she didn’t bother to read it. She didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with her friends at the moment, but it was a good reminder that considering testing her sex skills with Ian was a dangerous fantasy. He held her most precious secret in his (strong, manly) hands, and she had no choice but to trust him with it. That was a precarious position to be in, and she didn’t dare disturb the balance of their relationship, such as it was. After all, when even the friends she’d known for years had no second thoughts about screwing her over, what hope did she have that a virtual stranger might not be tempted to do the same?
“THE GUYS JOSH recommended to help with the bottling this week seem solid,” Micah said as Ian checked on another of the brewery’s tanks. “We need to start thinking about hiring some people on permanently though. Once these next batches go out, we’re going to be operating beyond the scope where the two of us can handle everything.”
Ian entered the fermentation reading into his spreadsheet and sighed. Micah wasn’t wrong, but until this place was fully open—including the tasting room—there was only enough work for additional hands periodically. Those periods would just be coming faster and faster. The income they generated, however, was still far from reliable. Until it was, Ian hated the idea of taking on permanent help.
That said, he knew he should trust Micah on this. His friend was the one with the business background, and he was better suited to crunching those numbers. But so much was riding on the brewery’s success that letting any part of it get away from him, and that included taking on the additional risk of real employees, made Ian feel like vomiting.
Considering the thought of seeing Kelsey later for the first of what she’d dubbed his “dog therapy” sessions also made him feel like vomiting, his stomach needed a rest. And that didn’t even touch on the news they’d gotten from the town today.
“Yeah, I know.” Ian saved the spreadsheet and set his tablet aside. “Let’s see how these guys work out and whether they’re interested in more permanent work before we make any decisions.”
“Sounds good.” Micah tapped his fingers along the tanks as he headed toward the brewery’s main room.
Ian followed, contemplating the time and how much more work he could get done before dinner. Then how much he should drink at dinner to prepare himself for what came after. Namely, the dogs. Seeing Kelsey again came with its own excitement, but more of the pleasant kind. The conversation with Josh on Saturday had kept her in the front of his mind, and the longer she stayed there, the more he wanted her there.
Reading her book didn’t help. The story was entertaining on its own, but the woman could write sex scenes that burned up the page (or rather his phone screen). He inevitably got distracted while reading and started remembering how her body had pressed against his and imagining the curve of her ass beneath his palms and what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around him as he pumped inside of her. Then he’d have to stop reading and go take care of business.
The plan was to meet Kelsey at seven at her house tonight, and Ian still hadn’t told Micah what he was up to.
“We need to address the town problem,” Micah said, taking a seat in the tasting room.
The town problem—the third and final issue that was making him sick to his stomach. They’d gotten word today, from Kelsey’s father, of all people, that the SHS was petitioning the town to change their alcohol laws. Under the proposed new law, the brewery wouldn’t be allowed to serve beer unless they served full meals with it or served alcoholic drinks in addition to their own beer. Either would be a disaster. He and Micah weren’t trying to open a restaurant or a bar. These changes would force them to do so.
Ian rubbed his eyes. “Can they actually do that?”
“After consulting with our lawyer—yes, they can. Every town is free to impose whatever restrictions they want on top of the state’s laws.”
“Shit.” Ian grabbed the back of a chair, fighting the urge to throw it and let out some of the tension inside. His own cursory understanding of the state laws had told him the same thing, but he’d been hoping an actual lawyer would say he was wrong.
Micah’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. Ian rarely swore. “Relax. It’s unlikely this is going to go anywhere, and if it does, we’ll manage. We can strike a deal with another brewery. We’ll sell their stuff and they’ll sell ours.”
“We’ll need additional licenses to do that. It’ll cost more money that we didn’t budget for.” It would push them one step closer to failure. Ian swallowed.
“Probably. Or we can go with my idea and open this town’s first decent bagel shop. I’ve even come up with more names. Don’t say no yet; hear me out.” Micah spread his arms. “We’ll call ourselves Lox of Lagers. You got to admit—it’s catchy, right?”
In spite of himself, Ian snorted. “I don’t even make lagers.”
“And I don’t make bagels—yet. But there’s no time like the present to start.”