Chapter Twenty-Four

Colin wasn’t sure he was ready to take the honey beer to Liam. He thought it was good, but he wasn’t sure it was good enough. Was it up to Bec’s standard, to say nothing of Liam’s? He didn’t know.

But he couldn’t wait any longer. He had a wild impulse to swing by the Salty Goat first and let Peaches taste it, but he knew that would only be delaying the inevitable. Plus, it didn’t seem right not to speak to her for several days and then to drop in with beer for her to taste. When he was ready, he’d have more important things to say, but he wasn’t ready yet.

Liam had to taste the beer. And he had to think it was great. Anything less than great would probably mean Colin was out as a brewer. Yes, he and Liam were on a friendly basis now, although he wasn’t sure he’d call them friends yet. But a deal was a deal, and he’d agreed to it when he’d started brewing in the shed.

He tucked a growler full of honey beer under his arm and headed toward Main.

As he stepped inside the pub, he paused to take a quick survey. The main room was mostly finished. The sanded floors glowed golden. The wainscoting was a mellow accent.

The kitchen must be done, too, judging by the smells. Their new chef was testing recipes. Sample menus were posted on the chalkboard, along with a short list of beers, including his own American ale and IPA. The pub was on the verge of being good to go, as soon as the license was approved.

He hadn’t stopped before to think about how much he wanted this to work, how much he wanted to be part of the pub and the brewery going forward. But now it was an ache in his chest. What will you do if it doesn’t work? He hadn’t really taken time to think about it.

He didn’t want to think about it now. There’d be plenty of time to think if he bombed. There were too many ways to fail right now and only a few ways to win.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Liam stepped out, talking to someone behind him. When he saw Colin, he paused. “Hey. What’s up?”

Colin blew out a breath. Showtime. “Brought the honey beer for you to taste.” He lifted the growler.

Liam stared at him for a long moment, then he shrugged. “Let’s have it.” He reached behind the bar and picked up a couple of glasses. “You tasted it already?”

Colin nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

Liam’s lips curved up slightly. “Figured as much.”

Colin placed the growler on the bar. “It’s good. Anyway, I think so.” Might as well lead with confidence.

“Guess we’ll see.” Liam started to pick up the growler, then he paused. “You’ve been doing good work,” he said slowly. “You did the two workhorse beers. You brewed in the shed. You kept out of everybody’s way until Bec was ready. I could almost let this go.”

Colin sighed. “But you won’t.”

“No.” Liam gave him a level look. “This was the deal. You had to do something we don’t already have, that people will want to buy, that tastes good. Your ale and IPA taste okay, but we already have ale and IPA. You probably don’t have time to do anything else. So this is pretty much it.”

Colin nodded, feeling his shoulders tighten with anxiety. “Right.” Taste it. Get it over with.

“Just so we’re clear.” Liam unscrewed the top, placing it on the counter. He picked up a glass and poured.

Colin watched as the slightly cloudy beer formed a clean head. The color was deep gold, maybe a little darker than the average wheat beer. He liked to think it was Angel’s wild honey that made the difference, but that might be romanticizing.

Liam set the growler down then sniffed. “Little bit of honey smell.”

“Yeah. A little.”

“Is it sweet?” He raised an eyebrow.

Colin shook his head. “No more than it should be.” Just taste it, for God’s sake.

Liam brought the glass to his lips and sipped. He paused, frowning, then sipped again.

Colin held his breath, digging his fingernails into his palms.

“That’s not bad,” Liam said slowly. He took a longer swallow this time.

Colin closed his eyes, praying for patience.

“I can taste honey, but it’s not sweet. It’s like an extra note above the malt and hops.” He swallowed again then set the glass down on the bar. “Let me get Wyatt.” He stepped back through the door to the kitchen again.

Well, shit. Colin wasn’t sure whether he was out of the woods yet or not. That’s not bad wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. And if Liam was giving Wyatt a vote, he might be dead. Liam might be willing to stretch a point, to make believe his beer was better than mostly okay. Wyatt wouldn’t. And he had no reason to be charitable. Not when his brewpub was on the line.

A moment later, Liam was back, followed by Wyatt. “Honey beer?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes.

It’s not sweet. It’s better than it looks. Just give it a chance. “Honey beer.” Colin stared back.

Liam poured another glass from the growler, handing it to Wyatt, who took a careful sip. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Hmmm.”

Liam nodded. “Right?”

Wyatt took another sip, still frowning. “That’s…interesting. I’ve never had anything quite like it.”

So the beer met the something we don’t already have threshold. Still not a ringing endorsement. Did interesting mean they were going to take it, or was that something they said when they wanted to let somebody down easy?

Wyatt held the cloudy liquid to the light, studying it. “You didn’t filter it?”

Colin shook his head. “No. I guess I could fine it if you want.”

“Not necessary.” Wyatt took one more sip. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, we want this. We won’t want a big batch until we see how people react, but we definitely want it on the menu.”

For a moment, Colin was afraid that his knees would give way. He put a hand on the bar, holding himself upright. “It’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” Wyatt turned back to Liam again. “I’ve got to go find Bec before I take off for Montrose. You need anything else?”

Liam grinned. “Nope.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He glanced back at Colin again. “Good work. Keep it up.”

Colin blew out a long breath. He thought about collapsing into a chair but decided to do his collapsing elsewhere. “Are we good?” he asked Liam.

“Sure.” Liam nodded at the growler. “You want the rest of this back or can I share it around?”

“Go ahead and share.” Colin only had one person he wanted to share with. And maybe he’d bring her a growler of her own. Assuming she’d let him in the door.

…

Carol started working on a variation of the kitchen sink cookies as soon as she got to the Goat that afternoon, which Peaches figured was as soon as she got out of school. Peaches thought about asking if she’d done her homework, but that was Ruth’s job.

She’d limited the number of ingredients Carol was going to put into the cookies, mainly because they’d never make a profit if they used everything the original recipe specified. But they still used chocolate chips and oatmeal and brown sugar, along with some chopped pecans she happened to have on hand.

Carol raised an eyebrow as she checked the recipe. “No pretzels? No potato chips?”

“Definitely not.”

“Peanut butter?”

Peaches paused. “You can try a little, but don’t go overboard.”

“Of course not.” Carol looked vaguely offended then went back to adding ingredients.

Peaches went to fill the display cases with brownies and cheesecake slices before the afternoon rush began. Then she headed back into the kitchen in time to see Carol transferring the cookies to a cooling rack. “Those smell great,” she said. At least something had turned out right. These days she was counting every small triumph.

Carol gave her a satisfied nod. “I added a couple of tablespoons of peanut butter to your recipe. The dough tasted good.”

The dough had raw eggs, but giving lectures about not eating it wasn’t currently in Peaches’s wheelhouse. She picked up a cookie and nibbled. “Very nice.” She paused then nibbled again. “Very, very nice.”

Carol picked up a cookie of her own and took a healthy bite. She gave Peaches a crumby grin. “Yum.”

Well, some things worked out. Just because the rest of her life was in the dumper didn’t mean she couldn’t run her kitchen the way she wanted to.

…

That evening, Peaches took Wiseass into the backyard and then back into the kitchen. The dog was well trained now; she didn’t make trouble while Peaches cooked, and besides, she wasn’t planning on fixing much. Leftover beef and barley soup with a little of Angel’s bread. The bread had gone a bit stale, but soaking it in the warm soup helped. She could have had another cookie for dessert, but she didn’t. She wasn’t really in a cookie kind of mood.

After she’d washed the dishes and set them to drain, she fastened on Wiseass’s leash and took her around the block one more time. The dog was still enough of a California pup to dislike walking around in the snow, but she’d learned to tolerate it.

They came back into the house, and Peaches weighed her options for the evening as she rubbed Wiseass down with a towel. There was always TV, but she didn’t really feel like it. She could read a book, but she didn’t feel like that, either. She should try out some new recipes, but once again…

You need to get your shit together. Moping around does nothing but make you feel mopey.

She needed to get moving again, to get herself back in gear again. Maybe tomorrow.

The front doorbell chimed weakly. She pushed herself to her feet and started back through the house, with Wiseass bouncing happily at her side. “Maybe Girl Scouts. Might be cookie season.” She remembered Carol’s kitchen sink cookies and smiled. They just might work. She should look them up tonight—she’d go online and see what she could find about the recipe. At last, a purpose to pursue.

She pulled open the door without bothering to check the security peephole. Oh sweet Jesus. Colin stood on her doorstep. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry, either. Just sort of…waiting.

Wiseass reacted before Peaches did, with a frenzy of yips and excited leaps. Colin bent down to scratch her ears. “Hey, dog. I missed you. How have you been?”

He’s asking the dog for a status report instead of me. Great.

“She’s fine.” Peaches assumed she could answer for Wiseass.

Colin stood up, smiling a little tentatively. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Of course.” She stepped back to let him pass, catching a hint of dish soap as he did. So he’d probably been working at the Salty Goat.

He stepped into the living room then turned to look at her. “How are you?”

She shrugged. “Okay.” What did he expect her to say? I’ve been pining for you? I’m miserably unhappy? Even if it was true, she wouldn’t admit it.

“I missed you.”

She pondered what to answer, but honesty was best. “I missed you, too. I haven’t seen you around the Goat.”

He nodded. “I know. I had to work some things out first.”

“What things?”

“I had to get over myself.” He gave her a dry smile. “Bec sort of showed me how. But I had to do a little more work.”

She took a deep breath. Time to be a grown-up. “I’m sorry, Colin. Really sorry. I hurt you. And then I made it worse.”

He nodded. “It did hurt. Can we sit?” He gestured toward her couch.

“Oh. Sure.” She plopped down a little inelegantly.

He sat beside her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body but still not touching. “A lot’s happened over the past couple of weeks. Bec backed down. I can work in the main brewery now, along with the pub and the shed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do you have time for all of that?”

He nodded. “I’ll make time. I have more possibilities now. More things I care about. More people I care about.” He paused for a moment. “Liam approved my honey beer. So I’m off probation.”

She managed a genuine smile this time. “That’s great, Colin. I’m glad it’s all worked out for you. You got what you wanted.” If this was a goodbye, at least they could be friendly.

“Not exactly.” He reached for her hand.

Peaches’s heart was beating so hard she was surprised he couldn’t see it. “What else?” she asked.

He gave her a level look. “I don’t have anyone to celebrate with. Anyone I could tell. Bec and Liam aren’t pissed anymore, but they’re not my friends yet. That’s what I missed.” He stared down at his feet for a moment, as if he was working out what to say. “You’ve been the best friend I had around here. The person who meant the most to me. You’re what made this place home. If I lost you, I lost Antero. I don’t think I ever understood that before. That home is a person along with a place.” He turned to look at her, his eyes the color of twilight.

She gazed back at him. “I never thought about it, but I guess that’s right.”

He reached a tentative hand toward her, stroking his fingers along her cheek. “Can we be okay again?”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to keep her voice from trembling. “Maybe. I hope so.”

He brought his lips to hers slowly, then he rested his forehead against her hair. “Jesus, Peaches. I missed you so much.”

She took a deep breath. “I missed you, too.” And I was here. And you could have found me anytime. And you waited so long… For a moment, she fought contradictory impulses to punch him and to burst into tears, but she managed to get herself back under control. She tucked her head beneath his chin, resting against his chest. Home. He’s come home.

Finally.

…

There was no question of his going back to the apartment. Nor any question about what they were going to do. He let her lead him to her bed, undressing her slowly, kissing her slowly, entering her body like a prayer, relishing the feeling, the warmth, the charge of adrenaline and joy. I almost lost it. But he hadn’t.

Thank God.

He wouldn’t think about narrowly averted disasters now. All he’d think about was Peaches and the wonder of being in her bed again. The satin of her skin, the scents of cinnamon and lavender, the sound of her breath against his ear.

He’d missed it all. Missed it until it had made him dazed and stupid and wrong-headed. Thank God he’d managed to see reason.

She ran her fingers through his hair as he moved, gazing up at him. Just looking at her made him hard and aching. He drove himself deeper, the tension building at the base of his spine as she tightened beneath him.

She pressed her heels against his behind, bringing her body up so he moved deeper still. Then she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her body convulsed.

And he was flying, soaring, joining her in the glorious slide down from the summit. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, his lips pressed to the delicate skin above her collarbone. “Peaches,” he murmured.

She cuddled against him as he collapsed beside her, warm and silent. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Dangerous question. But he wanted to know.

“I missed this,” she said slowly. “I missed you. I don’t like hurting.”

“I don’t like it, either.”

“Let’s not do it anymore. Let’s promise each other not to do stupid crap like this again.”

“Works for me,” he said slowly.

“Would you like some food?”

He nodded, suddenly hungry. “Yeah, that would be good. Should we move to the kitchen?”

She shook her head. “I’ll bring it back. Stay here.”

He lay watching her move away from him, realizing again how much he’d missed her.

You should tell her you love her.

He should. He would. Only now didn’t feel like the right time. He’d wait until things were more settled to take the next step.

You’re not sure of her yet.

I am. I must be. We’re back, and it’s just like it was.

Sort of. Pretty much. Only not exactly. Because they’d screwed things up between them, and they hadn’t yet made things right again.

You should tell her you love her.

And he would. Only not right now.