Chapter Twenty-Five

After work the next evening, Peaches sipped Colin’s honey beer and tried to pretend that she knew what she was doing. It tasted fine—just the slightest hint of honey without overpowering the other tastes. But she had a feeling she should be able to say something more profound.

“I like it,” she said. “I really like it.”

Colin grinned. “You don’t have to worry about my feelings. I can take it.”

“I’m not worrying about your feelings. I like it. Honey’s a tricky ingredient, and you made it work.” She traced her fingertips along the glass. “And you’re a success. I’m so happy for you.”

“Me, too.” He grinned again, but he’d been doing that pretty much nonstop ever since he’d gotten to her place yesterday. “I don’t know what the future is exactly, but at least I know they won’t throw me out.”

If they had tried to throw him out, Peaches would have had words with several people, starting with Liam. She gave him another smile. At least one of them had had a good week. So what if she hadn’t yet come up with her wow dessert? So what if Ruth wasn’t sold on the necessity of expansion, which was becoming more obvious every day? It was enough that Colin had had a success.

And she was happy for him. Really. “Good for you. Let’s make this evening a celebration of your honey beer.”

He raised his dark blue gaze to hers. “It’s not either/or, Peaches. I’m happy I got over my hurdle, but I’m sad you still haven’t gotten what you want. They don’t cancel each other out. That’s the way it is. If we’re together. Things happen to both of us.” He brought her hand to his lips.

Peaches’s heart gave a thump. Could it be real, this couple thing? If it was real, it counted.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Could I have some more honey beer?”

“You can have anything you want. Provided I can get it for you. Getting honey beer is the easy part.” He poured her another glass.

Her heart did another of those funny flip things that seemed to happen when he smiled in her direction. She still felt sad, but she had to admit she felt good, too. Both/and was definitely better than either/or.

…

The brewpub license approval came through a few days later. That meant Wyatt and Liam could finally set a firm date for the opening, although it would be more of a “soft” opening that would be mainly for friends and family—and influencers. Colin found himself being pulled into the preparations at the brewpub more and more, spending much more time there than he had before. Without his being really aware of it happening, he was suddenly being asked his opinion on things like orientation of tables and the right font for the daily menu.

You’re a partner in the brewery, after all.

That was true, but he hadn’t exactly felt it before. Still, his beer was on the menu and he was part of the group. He wasn’t back to the level of friendship he’d had before with the Dempseys, but he wasn’t the enemy anymore. Any kind of movement was progress.

Wyatt’s large group of foodie friends had promised to head over from Denver, the ones Peaches wanted to impress with her wow dessert. Colin knew she was treating the opening as a kind of Hail Mary chance to convince Ruth about expanding the Salty Goat. She’d been working on desserts steadily for several days, but none of them were quite right, at least from her point of view.

From Colin’s point of view, they were some of the best things he’d ever tasted, but he knew his opinion didn’t count as much as Peaches’s opinion. Not about this, at least. One evening, he finished his cleaning early and headed for her place.

Somehow, without much discussion, he’d moved in. Not formally, since most of his stuff remained in the apartment at the Goat, but for all intents and purposes. He’d asked her to come to his place one night, but she shook her head. “I’ve got Wiseass to take care of, and my bed is softer than your sofa. And I like cooking for you in my own kitchen.” Then she gave him one of those sunny smiles that wiped his mind clean of anything approaching rational thought.

They hadn’t talked about who was going to live where. In fact, they hadn’t talked about anything as far as their relationship went, even though sometimes he wanted to. He’d never been much for relationship conversations, but he’d never been in a relationship like this one before. He wanted to talk to her about the way he felt, maybe even to talk about where they went next, what was waiting for them now. But every time he considered it, his stomach tied itself in knots.

He wasn’t sure why he was so uneasy. Maybe because of their fight. They were pretty much over it, but he was still wary. What if something else went wrong? What if they hadn’t put things back together the way they should be?

What would happen if he told her he loved her and it turned out she wasn’t interested? He thought they had something real together, but what if he was wrong? What if she gave him a pitying look and told him she was sorry, but she just didn’t feel that way about him? He knew how Peaches reacted by now. She’d be kind and friendly and say she was sorry for his hurt feelings, and then she’d close him off.

Jesus, when did you become such a wuss?

Probably when he’d fallen hard for a pint-sized blond cook with an attitude. One who kept her feelings very much to herself. If she turned him down, getting over it wouldn’t be in the cards. He was more deeply involved with Peaches than he’d been with any other woman in his life. He wanted to believe she’d fallen for him, too. But he wasn’t sure. She was also more independent than most women he’d known, and she wasn’t much into talking about relationships.

Did you tell independent women you loved them? Did that count as crowding?

He wasn’t sure how long he could keep avoiding the issue. He was happy just to be with her, and he didn’t want to push her further than she wanted to go. But he kept having this weird compulsion to talk to her about it.

At least you’d know where you stand.

Did he want to know that? Maybe.

Peaches had given him a key to her house, but he still felt a little strange opening the door without knocking. That strangeness disappeared, though, as soon as he saw Peaches standing in the doorway to the kitchen. That smile always managed to make him forget whatever he was currently worrying about.

“Carol and I saved you some cookies,” she said. “And I’ve got fresh churned ice cream from Donnelly’s.”

“God, that sounds good.” He slid into a chair at the kitchen table. “Carol’s getting better all the time.”

“These are called kitchen sink cookies, so you may want to withhold judgment. They’ve got chocolate chips and oatmeal and peanut butter, but I rejected the mini-pretzels and potato chips the recipe said to add. I’ve got my standards.”

He picked up one of the cookies. They were sort of lumpy but not nearly as lumpy as they would probably have been with pretzels. He took a cautious bite. Kitchen sink cookies deserved a little prudence. But these tasted of brown sugar and nuts, with a hint of butterscotch. “Nice. Very nice.” He dipped the cookie into the bowl of ice cream then nibbled again. “Wow. That combination.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Peaches paused for a long moment. “I was thinking…” She took another breath.

“What?”

“Ice cream sandwiches,” she said in a rush. “With these cookies. And that ice cream. I could make four or five dozen over the next week or so and put them in the freezer.”

“For the opening?” He grinned. “Why not? Works for me. Definitely.”

“It’s sort of plain,” she said slowly. “I mean, Wyatt’s friends are uptown types. I don’t know if they’ll be impressed.”

“It’s delicious. They may be uptown, but they’ll know this is good.” He paused. “Unless they’re idiots.”

“You really think so?” She looked more doubtful than usual, probably the result of lots of rejected recipes.

He took her hand, pulling her to his lap. After a moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “The cookies taste great. The ice cream tastes great. They taste great together. Stop worrying.”

“Not likely,” she mumbled, sliding her arms around his waist.

Now would be a good time to tell her you care about her. To tell her she matters to you. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite get the words out.

Later. Definitely later.

But he’d begun to wonder if later would ever come.