by Erin Bevan
“Yeah, that’d be great.” She glanced around the area one more time. “And I’ve got some fun ideas I’d love to toss your way about your grand opening.”
“Great. I can’t wait to hear them. Follow me.”
He led her around the spiral staircase to a black wooden door behind it. A gold nameplate stamped on the door said “Office.” As in, like, one.
“So… there’s just one office?” Kit asked. They would have to share? Every day? Together?
“Yeah, but you’ll have your own desk. And your own key, if you want to lock your valuables inside your desk.” Brant unlocked the door and held it open for her.
“Thank you.” Inside, the office held a striking contrast to the bar. Instead of more wood, a cheery cream paint color covered the walls. The two areas coordinated because of the three wooden desks, all lined up one in front of the other, matched the coloring of the walls outside,
Brant pulled a spare key off his keychain and handed it to her. “I figured you’d want the one by the window.” He pointed.
“You sure?” She cocked an eyebrow and took the key from him.
“Positive. I have this big desk here.” He pointed to the substantially larger desk in the corner. “Since I’ll have more paperwork, I need a bit more drawer room.” He ran his hands along the back of his wingback leather chair.
Crossing the room, she stepped to her own desk, which, thankfully sat at the very back of the room. At least if they had to spend every minute of the day in each other’s company, she could put a tad bit of space between them.
The only window in the office, positioned to the left of her desk, showed a view of Main Street. Brant’s small gesture of letting her take the window was appreciated, as spending all day in a bar so dark, no matter how gorgeous, could become a bit gloomy. She placed her purse on the desk and ran her fingers along the glossy, smooth surface. The edges were lined with carved indentions, reminding her of the trim inside the bar.
“Your laptop should be coming today, and of course there will be some employee paperwork you have to fill out, but we can do that later. Also, the printer is coming this week and it’ll go here.” He pointed to an area in the other corner of the room. “And you can make a run to the local office supply store for any items you may want for your desk, and before I forget…” He reached in his desk and handed her sixty dollars in cash. “Here. Until, I get you your own company card, you can use this to buy your supplies. Just bring back the receipt.”
Wow. A company card.
“A card?”
“Yeah, you’re going to need it to expense items for the opening. Just keep all receipts so I can verify with the card statement.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She stepped closer and took the cash out of his hand, placing it in the front pocket of her purse.
The city never let her near the expenses. In order to purchase anything for the event she coordinated, expenses had to be double and triple verified first. Brant trusted her. Even after tossing him on his butt, he trusted her. With his cash, with a card, with probably the biggest event of his life so far. A tear threatened to spring from her eye at the feeling of actually being an adult. Of course she was an adult. Had been for some time, but her old partying ways had caused her father to forget how old she really was, and apparently she had forgotten, too.
“Now, I want to take you on the tour, before the other employees arrive.” He bounced on his toes. “Remember I told you I crafted two beers?”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she stared at him. His whole body seemed to shake in anticipation and glee. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been excited about something so much. Except for landing this job. And maybe seeing him again.
“Well, how about a taste test?”
Drinking on the job. Who would pass that down? “Sure.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
“Good. Follow me.”
He led her down a hallway with exposed brick separating the main area of the restaurant from the back of the house. Brant really had put a lot of work into this place. No wonder he seemed excited to take her on the tour. He’d put a lot of time and effort into Betsy’s and she would make sure she devoted as much energy as she could into making his grand opening the best Stony Brook had ever seen. He deserved it, and for that matter, so did she.
“This way.” He stepped in front of her leading the way down a narrow hallway. “This is where the kitchen is.” He pointed to the open doorway at the back of the hall. Customers liked to see inside of kitchens at restaurants, and he understood why. Everyone wanted to know their food was being properly prepared. “Bathrooms are here.” He pointed to two doorways on the left side of the exposed brick wall. “And this,” he placed his hand on the door handle, “is my brew room.”
“You have a whole room dedicated to your beer?” She peeked around him and through the glass portion of the door.
He’d placed a door there for a reason. He wanted to allow his customers to see in the room without being able to enter. He couldn’t allow some intoxicated patron to mess with his beer. If they pushed a button or turned a valve wrong, his whole supply would have to be dumped. Not a chance he wanted to take.
“This will be locked pretty much at all times.” Brant unlocked the room, and allowed her to step inside. “If you should ever need the key, let me know and I’ll give it to you.”
“Sure. Wow. This is impressive.” She stepped into the center of the room and stared at all the equipment around her.
He had pots, pumps, tubes, pipes, bottles of hops, timers, everything he needed right here in this room. He smiled as she ran her hand over the stainless steel table his pots sat on.
“Brant, this is really something.” She turned and smiled, her eyes glistening as she took in her surroundings.
All the shine of the stainless steel and the metal in the room paled in comparison to her.
“Yeah.” He shook his head and slid across the floor. “Here. I’ll let you try my favorite. It’s a pale ale.” He reached for a glass on a shelf above an industrial style sink and poured her a tester sample from a wooden barrel with a spout, making sure to hold the glass at an angle. The subtle amber colors of the ale glowed in the dim lighting. The metaphorical cherry on top was nice white, frothy foam. “For you, ma’am. I hope you like it.” He passed the glass off.
“Thank you.” She took a sip, and an appreciative “ahh” passed her lips.
“Like it?” He held his breath, waiting on her response. Luckily, his whole bar wouldn’t fail if people didn’t like his particular brews, but one day, he hoped to bottle his own creations. However, if people didn’t like them…
“It’s delicious.” She nodded. “Man, I sure could have used a little of this this morning.”
This morning? It was still early. “Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “What happened?” Really, he shouldn’t pry. Her personal life was none of his business, but he wanted to know.
“Oh, nothing.” She played with the rim of the glass. “I just did the somewhat respectable thing after I ran out on the mayor this weekend. I called him to officially quit or let him officially fire me, whatever you want to call it.” She shrugged and glanced at the floor.
“I’m sorry.” Brant rubbed the back of his neck. “No one likes making hard phone calls.”
“You’re right.” She cocked her head and handed him her glass. “But if I never cross paths with that man again, it’ll be too soon. I’m sure he hates me.”
Never cross paths again? He and his father weren’t on the best of terms, but that man was still his father. One he loved despite their differences. And as crazy—and as fast—as it sounded, he liked Kit, too. If she didn’t like his father, how in the world would that work?
“Hates you? I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Maybe not, but I know his wife does. And that’s just not someone I want to run into if I can help it.”
She and him both.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, I guess
I shouldn’t say that.”
Shouldn’t say that? His stomach flipped. Why? Did she know his last name?
“Why shouldn’t you say that?”
“Well, he’s the mayor and as a business owner, I’m sure it’s in your best interest to be friends with him.”
Friends.
So she didn’t know.
“He’s coming to the grand opening, right? Of course he is, and I want you to know, I will maintain professionalism and do my job. I just, I’m sorry I ran my mouth.” Her cheeks flushed. “I felt so comfortable telling you everything and—”
“Kit, it’s okay.” He placed the glass on the counter and reached for her arms. A buzz tingled to his toes at their contact. She stared at the placement of his hands, and he quickly lowered them back to his sides.
Remember, moron, you could be sued for touching.
Geez, this was tougher than he thought.
He placed his hands in his pockets and took a subtle step back. “Listen, I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything….that …’er … should arise here at work.”
Nice save, idiot.
“And don’t worry. I do not believe the mayor and his wife will be in attendance.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Did you invite them? Should I invite them for you?”
“No,” he quickly answered.
She gave him a quizzical look.
Smooth.
“Umm…I mean I didn’t invite them because I know Mayor Fuller and his wife will be out of town celebrating their anniversary.”
That was the main reason he’d scheduled the opening when he did. The last thing he wanted was for his dad to make his opening a political function. If the man wanted to pay to rent one of the upstairs rooms for a gathering, then so be it. But this party was his dime and his time.
“Yes. I guess I do remember him saying something about celebrating his anniversary. Okay then.” She sighed, and a sense of obvious relief passed over her face. “It’s good he’s not coming. I mean not good, of course. We want as many people as we can get, and the mayor’s stamp of approval would be great for Betsy’s. I mean it’s just good we cleared that up, and I can gain a little more strength before I face him again.”
The past weekend’s event still hung heavy in her mind. He had to help her move past the accident and see into the future—her future at Betsy’s with him. “You know, what you did, calling Mayor Fuller today, was respectable.”
“Respectable? No.” She shook her head and stared at her feet. “I don’t think so. Respectable would have been if I faced the problem at hand Saturday instead of running off with a cute boy. Uh… I mean…” Her cheeks flushed that same red from before, and she bit her top lip in embarrassment as she stared back at him.
Cute? She thought he was cute? As her boss, the ball was in his court. He could scold her, tell her to keep her comments professional, he could ignore it like she’d never said anything—best choice—or, he could act on it. Damn, he wanted to act on it. His feet moved closer to her of their own accord.
“Cute?” he asked as he took another step closer. “Just cute?”
“Well, I mean…” she took a step backward, her backside hitting the table with his brewing utensils. She placed her hands behind her, causing her chest to lift as the rise and fall of her ribcage quickened.
His own heart pounded faster in his chest the closer he moved toward her. He thought of the tingles every time they touched. She felt them too. Had to. A couple of steps closer. Just a little closer.
“Yo, boss-man? You back there?” a burly voice yelled.
She jumped, taking a couple of quick steps to the side away from him. Damn it. He had a full day. A full next few weeks, and so did she for that matter. He had to keep his head in the game.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
One of the construction workers popped his head in the brew room. “We unloaded all the TV’s. Where you want them? And there are some people here. Said they’re employees.”
TV’s, employee training. Keep the right head in the game, Fuller.
“Right. I’ll be right there.”
“All right,” the construction guy gave a once over to Kit. “How you doin’?” He winked and smiled as he walked off.
Kit gave an amused smile to the guy before she would meet his gaze again. “Well, I guess I better go get started on ideas. I’ll just run to the office store and grab a few things. I can have you something by the end of the day.”
“Great.” He nodded.
“Okay, well I guess I better get going.” She pivoted.
“Kit.” He held out his hand to stop her. “There is something I need to tell you before…”
She held her hands up. “No worries. I already know.”
“You do?” He raised his eyebrow. “But with our conversation, I was sure—“
“No, really. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have called you cute. I’m sorry. It was unprofessional.”
What the hell? Yes she should have. He needed to know he wasn’t the only one feeling this chemistry between them. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not?”
“No, I meant, about me.”
“Yo, boss-man,” the construction man yelled again. “We really gotta get moving on these TV’s.”
“Okay,” he called then stared at Kit again. She’d just said she didn’t want to have anything to do with his family. If she found out who he was, would she quit? He needed her. Needed her to stay for the bar, needed her to stay for him. He had to explore this attraction. “You know what. It’s nothing, and it’s okay. I am pretty cute.” He gave her what he hoped was a playful smile before she returned it and walked out of his brew room, her heels clicking as she exited.
A few catcalls echoed throughout the bar. “Oh, stop it,” he heard her say playfully, as the sound of her heels grew farther and farther away. He straightened his shoulders and locked his brew room. Harry’s reminder over the weekend ran through his mind. No one would stake claims on his turf. He had some employees to reprimand.
Chapter 6
Brant stood in the doorway of his and Kit’s shared office and watched as she fluffed some large feather arrangement that sat on the bar. The grand opening was tomorrow, and they’d spent nearly every waking minute of every day together to have his dream ready. Her ideas and enthusiasm for the event and the bar had not only excited him, damn it, it had turned him on also. Finding her attractive was one thing. He could ignore an attractive woman, but she wasn’t just attractive, she made him ache. Ache in such a way no other woman ever had, and that annoyed the hell out of him.
He tried not talking to her one day, but that lasted all of thirty minutes one morning, and twenty-eight of those she’d been in a different room than him. He tried convincing himself the sound of her voice irritated him, or the way she twirled a piece of her hair when she let herself get lost deep in thought bothered him, but truth was, none of it bothered him. Well, that was a lie. Everything she did bothered him, and he couldn’t act on it. Had to keep his distance. And that’s what pissed him off the most.
What a moron.
You had to hire her, didn’t you?
If he hadn’t tried to rescue her, they could be tangled in sheets now instead of him standing afar staring at her.
Realizing he probably looked like a creeper just watching her, he pulled out his phone and stared at his calendar. She had taken it upon herself to add things to his planner. Important things, like the timeline for tomorrow’s opening.
Given free reign, Kit soared in her job. It was her idea for all the servers to dress up in Roaring 20’s garb, the waitresses as flappers, the men in black pants, white shirts, and black ties along with a matching vest, and even a feathered fedora.
Over and over in the past two weeks he’d had to work hard at hiding his last name. He’d instructed all the employees, except her, to call him Mr. Brant. He’d gone so far as to write the press releases using the last name
Forrest, and still he hid the paper from her when the article about the opening came out, in case they wrote Fuller anywhere in the article and he missed it by mistake. In a town like Stony Brook, he had no idea how he’d kept his last name a secret as long as he had.
For a few days, he thought she’d found out. The days after he’d tried to ignore her, she seemed to keep her distance from him. He’d asked more than once if something was wrong, wondering if she noticed his two-minute cold shoulder the day before and got irritated at him for his juvenile behavior, or worse, he feared she’d found out his last name.
Every time she would answer with a, “Nothing’s wrong,” and give a bashful smile as she turned crimson. Worse than finding out his last name, he wondered if she’d started dating someone. He’d paid close attention to her phone conversations, trying to see if he’d lost his chance. Yet, every time she got off the phone it sounded as though it were with her father or an old college friend. No beau.
Thankfully.
He should have come out and been honest when she started giving him the brush off, but a part of him had hoped she hadn’t found out yet. Brant needed to be the one to tell her. And while his short-lived fantasy of not living in his father’s shadow in Stony Brook had come to an end, he cringed to know how the truth would change their dynamic. Would she be as open with him? Would she even speak to him anymore? Perhaps if he opened with talking about his mom first, maybe then she would understand.
Brant glanced up from his phone to see his head bartender finish wiping down the bar.
“Mr. Brant, if it’s okay, I’m going to head home now.”
“Sure, Ace. Go on. I’ll lock up with Kit.” He waved to the man.
Finally. A chance to be alone.
Kit cast him a subtle glance as she continued fluffing and arranging the feathers in the large vase. Not able to reach all the flowers, she placed one knee on a bar stool and then sat on the bar, her legs held tightly together inside her pencil skirt—a skirt that had been stuck to her body like glue. All. Damn. Day. And not only had he noticed, but every one of his male employees had as well. And with her hair pulled up in the tight bun she had it in, she appeared more sexy librarian than event coordinator.
