“We should ask her to come with us then,” I suggested, knowing she’d be thrilled.
Luke
Sundays were for rest, and most of Briar still observed the old rule, with the little shops downtown shuttered unless it was tourist season.
But there I was, installing the last of the brewing equipment instead of relaxing, a tight schedule sucking up every minute I had. With things up and running, the first batches could begin, right on schedule for our opening.
My head brewer, Tucker, would start in the morning. The Kentucky-transplant blew the competition out of the water even in the city.
Most owners liked to come up with all of their own mixes, but I was realistic with my skills. While great at drinking beer, I hadn’t perfected making it on my own yet.
Upstairs, things were nearing completion; the furniture arriving slowly but surely. I spent most of the morning putting bar stools together, kicking Marsh out after he griped about Alanna for hours rather than helping. I could deal with a lot, but I wouldn’t listen to the same story I’d heard a thousand times while working myself to death.
He was my best friend, but enough was enough. No pussy was worth an ashtray to the face, and the stitches on his brow boiled my blood. Yet he defended her, and I couldn’t take it anymore. If reasoning didn’t work, maybe tough love would.
Once alone in the big empty building, my mind whirled, nothing slowing the wind tunnel of thoughts. Spending all Saturday resurfacing the dock hadn’t helped, the heavy hammering barely stifled the rage. With each swing, the anger grew, and a plunge into the frigid water afterward barely cooled it.
Having Josie a walk away drove me wild, and not because of her. I hated myself, pissed that I blocked out the pent-up rage of the past to notice how beautiful she was. How she was everything I remembered and more.
I wanted to hate her.
I needed to.
But I couldn’t.
That was the danger of Josie Roberts. She was the worst of the worst, a savage that climbed into your heart to tear it apart from the inside out, looking angelic while covered in your blood, licking it off her fingers as she worked.
In a few weeks, she’d be dancing above, laughing the night away in the place I built, the place I busted my balls to make. She would do it all surrounded by people she loved.
Because everyone loved Josie Roberts.
I loved Josie Roberts.
And it was fucking disgusting.
She destroyed me, yet she still held me in the palm of her hand in knots for her, worried about what happened when she was out of reach.
The elevator dinged, making me jump, cracking my dome on the basin of the kettle, a loud bong humming across the room.
“Hey, Luke!” Abby greeted, her cheery voice skittering as my head seemed to vibrate.
“Here on a Sunday?” I tightened a bolt, grateful she hadn’t seen me clock myself. I wouldn’t live it down if she had.
Like Tucker, she was from out of town, a Portland girl with years of experience running venues in the city. Barrett would be a new animal to tame, a three-level hangout with an event space, restaurant, and tasting room. I knew she could handle it, her Type-A personality as helpful as it was annoying.
“Mama’s got work to do!” she laughed, rubbing her bump as she waddled towards the gift shop, her long braid swishing side to side.
I shook my head, wishing she’d take a day off before the craziness started. “Bagging and tagging?”
“Yes!” she shouted, disappearing into the small room, the bare drywall around its doorway a reminder that my little brother had a few last-minute projects left.
He’d already completed a colossal mural in the dining hall. It would have cost me thousands, but Ethan wouldn’t take a dime, designing everything from packaging to logos for free. His work was amazing, and for the millionth time, I told him he needed to pursue art professionally. He was too talented to waste time doodling between trade calls or whatever the hell he did all day.
I set down the wrench and wandered to the gift shop, spying Abby leaning over her laptop, glasses low on her nose as she read. “Tucker starts the first batches in the morning.”
She pushed her glasses up and smile. “That’s awesome! I sent out a social media blast, and opening day already looks like it’ll be insane. Did the mayor’s office call about the ribbon cutting yet?”
“Yes,” I grumbled, ready to run away from the subject. She’d kill me when she heard what I told the mayor what he could do with his ribbon.
“And?” she pushed. “That’s big news, Luke. The county paper wants to be here for it.”
Thousands in permits and lawyer fees made it happen, not them. “They can eat a bag of dicks. They fought me every step of the way. They can piss off trying to sell otherwise for a photo-op.”
She sighed, shoulders sagging as she rubbed between her eyes like Nan always did. “Luke, it’s a great opportunity.”
I leaned against the doorjamb. “It is for them to take credit. For me? Nope. Screw them.”
She laughed, a hand on her hip. “You’re salty today, boss.”
“Spicy,” I corrected, checking the time on my cell. I left Tally at the house, and she hated being alone for long.
Abby glanced over, raising a brow. “What?”
“Spicy,” I repeated, ready to head out to check on my pittie princess. “I’m spicy today. That’s the saying.”
She giggled with a hand on her belly, turning back to the monitor. “Is it? I’ve always heard salty.”
“Nope, it’s spicy.” I pushed off the wall, fishing keys out of my pocket. Pizza and the Red Sox game were calling my name, along with Tally, who would destroy me with kisses when I walked through the door.
“Who taught you that, old-timer?” she teased. She was only a few years shy of me at twenty-six,
