Chapter Eighteen

Peaches wished she didn’t feel so guilty about keeping Wiseass. Colin was absolutely right. The dog needed to stay with her. She’d have a much better home at Peaches’s house than in his cramped apartment above the Salty Goat.

But no matter what he said, she was pretty sure Colin missed his dog. He might have accepted it was best for Wiseass to be with Peaches, but she still felt like a dognapper every time she saw him. She’d left him the cookies and note out of guilt but maybe also because she needed to make him feel better.

Being a Guidry again, are we? Taking responsibility for making everybody feel better?

Not everybody. Just Colin. Making Colin feel good had somehow become a priority.

Even Wiseass seemed a little subdued when Peaches got home that night. Or maybe she was imagining it. Dogs were more adaptable than people, after all. And Colin was right—he’d see Wiseass a lot. Whenever he wanted to, in fact.

Peaches would invite him over to dinner regularly. And maybe more than dinner, if she had anything to say about it.

She wasn’t quite sure where they stood as far as the whole relationship thing went. He might have made love to her just because they were both willing and in the same place at the same time.

But she didn’t think so.

She’d had fleeting romances with fellow employees before, and usually they both went into it with eyes wide open and no illusions about permanence. But now she found herself wondering if it might be easier on both of them if he moved in with her—

Wait, what?

That particular thought had come out of nowhere, and now that it was there, she had a brief flare of panic as she contemplated the possibilities. They’d spent a lot of time together, but did they really know each other well enough to take a step perilously close to long term? Was long term where they were headed?

Long term with someone like Colin? Don’t get your hopes up. He’ll probably be moving on sooner rather than later.

She’d watched her mom pull herself together after her handsome, charming husband had broken her heart and left her with four kids to raise alone. Peaches had no desire to go through the same experience herself. Jerry Cox had been a sort of rerun, but Peaches had never really given him her heart. Just five hundred dollars or so.

Cheap at twice the price to get rid of him.

Wiseass batted her head against Peaches’s hand, bringing her back to reality. Where she belonged. Right now, Colin had his apartment, and she had her house. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Maybe they’d get together again, and maybe they wouldn’t. But by now she knew better than to push things.

Que sera sera was her mantra.

She scratched the dog’s ears then got up to fill her bowl. After dinner, they’d take a quick turn around the backyard and then have an early night. She was tired herself, since she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before.

Her cheeks heated briefly as she recalled just why she hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Apparently, she couldn’t stop thinking about Colin and sex even when she tried.

So maybe it was time to stop trying.

…

Colin finally managed to get back to the brewery the next day. He wanted to make another batch of the IPA and more of the American ale and then get started on the preparations for the honey wheat. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Liam yet about how much of each beer to make, but he’d head over there later in the week. For now, he wanted to get his brewing setup going again, so he felt he was actually doing the work he’d come back to Antero to do.

He was still hoping he’d produce a beer Liam approved so that the Dempseys would start seeing him as a part of the team again. He wasn’t sure how to convince them other than to keep trying. Fortunately, trying was what he really wanted to do.

The shed seemed a little forlorn and fairly cold. He turned up the baseboard heater to a livable temperature and checked his supplies. There was enough malted grain and hops for a run. He was a little light on yeast, but he could probably make it work, especially if he added a little extra piloncillo sugar to get the beasties going.

He filled the brew kettle with water and placed it on the burner then started measuring out the grain, weighing it on the digital scale to make sure the proportions were right. As he measured ingredients and added them to the pot, carefully checking the notebook where he’d jotted down his original recipe, he realized he was feeling good.

Good like he’d felt before he’d gotten sick, before he’d given up his dog, before he’d started falling for Peaches. Of course, falling for Peaches hadn’t made him feel bad. But it had made him feel different—unsettled, a little off center. Now he was back on his feet again, regaining the balance he’d lost.

Maybe the wheel was finally turning. Maybe his luck was coming back.

The mixture began to bubble, and he gave it a quick stir. At high altitude, it boiled at a lower temperature, but even that temperature would be enough. He’d learned to compensate over the past few weeks.

He was a brewer, after all, and he’d always done his best work in the mountains.

The door opened behind him, and he turned, expecting to see Liam. Instead, Bec stood in the doorway.

He hadn’t talked to her since their first meeting; in fact, he’d avoided her. Now she stood in the punishing fluorescent light and still managed to look like a Valkyrie, her red hair burning like vengeful fire.

He drew in a quick breath, steeling himself. “Hey, Bec.”

She nodded at him. “What’s in the pot?”

“My IPA. Nothing special. Liam said he wanted more.”

“Right.” She took a few steps into the room, looking around with a slight frown. “You were living here?”

“At first. Now I’ve got the apartment over the Salty Goat.”

“I know. I heard you were sick, too.”

“Tonsillitis. I got through it.”

She gave him a level look. “Angel called me.”

So now we get down to it. “She said she was going to.”

“You want to make a beer with honey?”

“I want to try it. Wheat beer flavored with honey.”

She glanced around the room again, maybe measuring the space in her mind. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to try this?”

He was tempted to answer why not, but that would probably piss her off. “It seemed like something to complement what we have at the pub and give us some new possibilities.”

“Brewing a beer like that takes some real savvy. Have you ever done it before?”

“No. But I know how it works.” And you know I’m not an amateur, Bec.

“If Liam approves it, you’ll need to create a steady supply so we can meet possible demand. You’ll have to stick around for several months.” She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He bit back all the irritation he was feeling. She had a right to doubt him. He still needed to prove himself. And she had a point—was he here for the long haul? Would he be able to stick it out without money or prospects? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t make any promises.

“I’d like to keep expanding what I’m doing, move into stuff that needs more time to develop. I’m going to try to find a wine barrel for aging some other brews. Maybe a whiskey barrel, too.”

Apparently, she needed to make her point more forcefully. “And you’ll be here for the next couple of years?”

He sighed, the last remnants of his good feeling slipping away. “I plan on being here as long as you’ll let me and as long as I’ve got anything to contribute. I’ve got nowhere else I want to be right now. But even if I’m not here, Liam can finish off anything I start. I’ll do all the preliminary work.”

It wasn’t the solid answer she was looking for. Bec raised her chin combatively, as if she was thinking of a comeback. He stood quiet, waiting to see what she’d say. Was she so angry at him she’d never back off, or was she willing to let him move on? To let them both move on?

After a long moment, she gave him a curt nod. “I’ll tell Angel it’s okay to sell you the honey. But I’m counting on you not to screw it up. If we’re going to do a honey beer, it’s got to be a good one.”

“Right.” He hadn’t planned on doing a half-assed version. At least now he’d have the honey he needed to get going.

Bec turned on her heel, heading back toward the door, then paused again. “What are you going to do once you have all that stuff aging here? Wine and whiskey barrels will take up extra space. Eventually, you’ll run out of room.”

Exactly what I’ve been asking myself. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure that out when it happens.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you thinking of using the main building to brew eventually?”

“Liam suggested I might do some work there at night when you weren’t around.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” she said stiffly. “You in the main building, I mean. I do most of my brewing there. And I still come over at night sometimes.”

“I know. I’m not asking for that.” So the main building was off the table. He’d have to discuss alternatives with Liam. He was pretty sure Bec would block any plans that invaded her space. Maybe there was somewhere at the pub he could use for some small-scale brewing if he needed more space—far away from Bec and her anger.

“I haven’t made any plans beyond the honey wheat, Bec. If it works out and Liam likes it, we might want to try more. Maybe even a sour. That really would require more space.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something else but then thought better of it. “Okay. Whatever.” She turned again and stalked out the door.

Colin blew out a breath. He wasn’t sure who’d won—maybe it had been a draw. At least he’d gotten the honey he needed and a lukewarm invitation to keep going.

He’d talk to Liam later to try to come up with answers to all the questions they’d left hanging. Liam was probably walking more of a tightrope than he was, trying to keep Colin producing beer without pissing off Bec any more than she already was.

One thing at a time, Brooks. The wheat beer was his main concern. He needed to get the honey from Angel and then start getting things ready for the first brew run. It should be interesting, if nothing else.

And the future? Where will you be in two years? Where do you want to be? Will you be able to stay here? He didn’t know. He wasn’t ready to think about it yet.

But he knew he’d have to eventually. Probably at night, when he had nothing else to occupy his mind.

…

Peaches was determined to stay out of Colin’s way. She’d give him a chance to get settled before she invited him over for dinner or to see Wiseass or anything else she could think of.

She didn’t want to hover. As far as she could tell, he was healthy. He didn’t need nursing. He didn’t need chicken soup. He didn’t need a substitute mom.

The real question was, did he need her for anything else? Did he want her for a lover? She was a little afraid to find out.

She saw him a few mornings later when he came down from his apartment for coffee and a muffin. She decided to keep it light. Seeing him seemed to inspire her—she couldn’t help grinning.

Of course, he grinned back, which made her work easier. “This is a great way to start the day,” he said. “I wake up looking forward to your muffins.”

She let her grin widen. “What a nice thing to say. I don’t know many people who look forward to getting up this early.”

“They would if they had your cooking waiting for them.” He paused. “And you. The cooking’s great, but having you around makes it greater.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Thank you.”

“I embarrassed you. I’m sorry. I just…” He paused for a long moment, staring up at her. His eyes were sad somehow, even as he smiled.

“Is something wrong? Did anything happen with your brewing?”

He shook his head. “The brewing’s fine. I think. Nothing’s gone wrong yet.” He gave her a more tentative smile, melancholy mixed in, as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden table.

“But something’s bothering you.”

He shook his head. “Nothing special. I’m just tired. Getting ready to start a new run with the honey beer.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes—he really did look tired.

She took a quick breath. Maybe waiting wasn’t as necessary as she’d thought. “Come over and see Wiseass. Nothing like a dog to make you feel better.” Particularly a dog who loved him. Still feeling a little guilt, are we?

He sighed. “I can’t make it until I finish tonight. Maybe around eight?”

“Eight’s fine. I’ll be around.” She’d have some food ready, too. Although he probably didn’t need feeding now as much as he once had.

Colin opened the door for Alicia as he left, sparing her hardly a glance. She turned to stare after him, raising her eyebrows. “Is he really living here?”

“He’s living upstairs. It gives us some extra security for the building.” Peaches began restocking the pastry cases depleted by the coffee break rush.

“I suppose.”

Peaches glanced up at her, brow furrowing. “You suppose what?”

“I suppose having someone on site makes the place safer. If you trust him, that is.” Alicia frowned as she hung up her coat.

Peaches bit back her irritation. She wouldn’t let Alicia get to her. “Why wouldn’t I trust him?”

“I don’t know. I guess he’s okay. I mean, he’s very good-looking.”

What does that have to do with anything? Peaches put her hands on her hips. “Do you have any reason to think Colin isn’t trustworthy?”

Alicia pushed her bracelet up her wrist. “Not really. I’ve just known a lot of good-looking men who got by on charm. Being good-looking means people forgive you for a lot of crap.” She headed into the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her.

Peaches leaned a hand against the pastry case, letting her anger fade. She doesn’t know him. She’s judging him on looks alone. And if Colin had been ugly, Alicia would no doubt have found a reason to dislike him for that, too.

But you don’t really know him, either. She blew out a long breath. She didn’t know much more about Colin than he’d told her himself. And the bits and pieces she’d gotten from Ruth.

But she still felt like she knew him.

Of course, she’d been wrong before.

She grabbed an empty tray and headed for the kitchen. Nothing like a little cooking to soothe the worried mind. Not that she was worried. Not really.

Not yet.