Ian prided himself on being the kind of guy who could put up with a lot and get along with anyone, which was why his interaction with Kelsey earlier continued to burn him like a paper cut. Even after she’d left, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. He didn’t want to blame the fixation on her tight jeans, but it would be dishonest to claim the animosity was because she was the first person he hadn’t gotten along with in Helen. Not when the entire Save Helen Society had it in for his business.
The other SHS members he’d met hadn’t been so openly hostile though. Maybe that was the difference. They also weren’t supposed to be helping him.
There—he liked that explanation. The reason Kelsey was distracting was because the arrangement was awkward. If he were more superstitious, Ian would say having her work on the brewery website was a bad sign, but he wasn’t the superstitious one. That was Micah.
Of course, that didn’t stop Ian from staring thoughtfully at the hamsa Micah had hung on their living room wall. Ian had given him a good ribbing about that, but his friend had insisted they could use all the help they could get, and that was undeniable. They had their work cut out for them, even without an irritatingly hot blond getting in his face. Besides, Ian didn’t mind having one attractive decoration hanging on their otherwise bare walls.
With a sigh, Ian set the salmon he’d bought on the way home in the fridge, then showered and changed out of his sawdust-coated clothes. Two texts waited for him when he got out. One was from Micah, letting him know he was half an hour away in case Ian would be so kind as to make dinner even though it wasn’t his night to cook. The other was from his sister, who was still living in Naples, Florida, asking him to call.
Ian didn’t bother responding to Micah’s message, since his friend should be driving, not texting. But Isabel’s message was surprising. Ian called her back as he contemplated what to do with the salmon. He had the basics of cooking down fine. His bubbe wouldn’t have permitted anything else. But he wasn’t the world’s most adventurous cook, and after a while, even he got bored with himself. Tonight did not feel like an adventuring kind of night though. He had no problem doing the cooking, but he was too irritated by Kelsey to think clearly enough to make a big effort. Fortunately, salmon under the broiler was about as easy as it got. After several months of living in Helen, where the salmon was relatively cheap and plentiful, Ian could practically cook it in his sleep.
His sister picked up on the second ring. “That was fast.”
“Yeah, well, you called while I was in the shower. What’s up, Iz?”
His sister hated being called that, and Ian could practically feel her glaring at him from five thousand miles away. “Not much, but my spidey sense was tingling. I thought I’d better check in with you.”
In light of the day’s events, he had to admit that Isabel’s “tingling” was an odd coincidence. “Not much going on here either. In fact, life up here gets pretty boring. You sure you want to join me?”
He was only ever half joking when he teased Isabel about her plans to move to Helen after she finished school. His sister was something of a wild child who’d only gotten her life together in the past few years. Given their screwed-up family situation when they were young, Ian understood why she’d acted out, even if he’d taken the opposite approach. But as much as he’d like her closer, he wasn’t sure how well Isabel would adapt to small-town Helen life. And after his dealings with Kelsey today, he was even more apprehensive of anyone else he cared about moving here.
“I’m starting to think you don’t actually want me to move closer.” Isabel’s tone was teasing, but Ian winced at the suggestion. Being left behind was a theme in their lives, and as such, it wasn’t a thought he wanted to cross her mind.
“What brother wouldn’t want his bratty younger sister cramping his style? I just feel compelled to keep reminding you that life is different around here. We’re very much outsiders.”
“Something did happen today, didn’t it?”
Ian gave a disbelieving glance at his phone, which was totally missed by his sister, seeing as it wasn’t a video call. Since she was so psychic, however, he assumed she got the gist. “Nothing important. I had a run-in with one of the Save Helen Society people I told you about.”
A run-in with her and her dogs, but he didn’t see a reason to mention the dogs. Isabel was aware of his feelings about them.
His sister snorted. “Well, ignore them.”
“Of course I’m ignoring them.” He was trying to, anyway. Kelsey’s smug smile and tight jeans were putting up a decent fight in his head.
“Good. I can ignore them, too, when I finally make it up there. I’m very good at ignoring annoying people. So good, actually, that I forgot to mention what came in the mail yesterday.”
Ian got out a bag of potatoes and set them on the counter with a thud before realizing Isabel was waiting for him to ask something. “What?”
“A birthday card. I was going to make you guess, but I figured the odds weren’t good.”
“That’s because your birthday was two months ago.”
“Exactly.”
Ian started to ask who it was from, then he realized the answer and why Isabel hadn’t volunteered the information. She’d expected him to figure it out because there was only one person who would send a card two months late, if he bothered to send one at all.
Their father.
Ian’s grip hardened around the potato in his hand, and he forced his fingers to unclench. “Why?”
He asked partly to himself and partly to the universe, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the question. Why had their father forgotten Isabel’s twenty-fourth birthday? Why had the man taken the time to send her a card two months late when he couldn’t bother to do anything else for her?
Why did he continue to pop in and out of their lives at the most random times, like an unrelenting zit?
Isabel, unaware that the question hadn’t been directed at her, gave Ian the only answer he was likely to get. “Who knows? It’s kind of hilarious.”
Although Ian was glad she’d finally reached a point in her life where she could find humor in the situation, he couldn’t. Especially not after the reminder he’d gotten today from Kelsey of what he was up against to get the brewery running successfully. His father was out there just waiting for the brewery to fail so he could swoop in and say I knew it.
Ian would not let that happen, even if it meant taking on half the town. He didn’t only have some of his aunt and uncle’s money invested in Northern Charm Brewing—he had too much of his life invested.
He talked to Isabel for a few more minutes while he started the potatoes baking and got the challah out of the freezer. If he’d been living alone, Ian wouldn’t have taken the time to mark Shabbat, but Micah’s family had always done it and therefore so did his friend. Since there was no place to buy challah in Helen, Ian contributed by baking the bread. His bubbe’s recipe was easy, but the end result looked impressive, so Ian kept that secret to himself.
Micah opened the door about ten minutes after Ian had gotten off the phone with his sister, looking exhausted but triumphant as he spread his arms wide. “All of it. You can thank me now.”
“All of it? Really?” Despite his own less than stellar day, that news perked Ian up immediately. His father could shove his dire warning about his children never amounting to anything straight up his absentee ass.
Micah tossed his jacket on the sofa. “Every drop of our next two batches is sold. Am I not amazing?”
“Are you not the guy who brewed it? Oh wait, no, actually, you’re not.”
“But I am the guy who schlepped it all around the state to line up buyers. Did you want to do that part?”
“Nope.” Ian just wanted to make the beer. It was the creative part of the job that he liked. The selling of it and the dealing with numbers parts were best left to the g
uy who was good with both people and numbers. “Celebratory beer?” Ian pulled one that wasn’t their own from the fridge and held it out.
Micah grabbed it, nodding. “Thanks. Been on the road way too much today. Appreciate you making dinner. Is that salmon?”
“Of course it’s salmon.” Ian was positive the day would come when he got sick of salmon, but given how expensive normal groceries were, he was not looking forward to it.
“Of course.” Micah laughed into his beer and looked wistfully at the challah. “You know, since I was on the road so much, I had time to think. And I think we should expand the brewery to include a bagel and bread bakery to go along with the beer. I mean, look at this loaf. It’s beautiful. You have skills that are being seriously underused.”
“You are joking, right?”
Micah dropped onto a chair. “Completely serious. What’s the point in having so much salmon around if you don’t have good bagels to eat it with? We could call ourselves Breads and Brews.”
“No.”
“The Yeast Men.”
Ian shook his head, starting to wish he’d begun drinking earlier. “That’s horrible.”
Micah conceded with a shrug. “Okay, this is my favorite though—The Yeast We Can Do.”
“This is why I named the brewery, and hell no.” He stuck the salmon in the oven and put the bread that had started this entire bizarre conversation on top of the warm stove to speed up the defrosting process. “Besides, we have enough issues with this town as it is without starting yet another business. Case in point—I met Wallace’s daughter today.”
Quickly, he filled Micah in on the status of the website writing and Kelsey.
As Ian should have guessed, Micah focused on the important question. “Is she cute?”
“I don’t know. I was too busy staring at the SHS pin she was wearing.” Great. So he was lying to his best friend, but saying he’d been distracted by her large dogs did not sit well with his ego. And for some reason, admitting Kelsey was cute bugged him. The enemy should not be cute, and her scowling lips should not have any effect on his groin. “I’m not sure we can trust anything she writes.”
“Oh, relax. I’m sure it’s fine. Remember—I sold us out of our entire inventory before it’s even ready. We’re in good shape.”
That was true, and Ian relaxed slightly. They would be fine. With the skills he’d learned from his aunt and uncle, and with Micah’s gift for sales, they would make this venture work. So never mind Kelsey. As his sister could attest, he’d endured far worse than this town had thrown at him.
5
SOMEONE DID NOT want her to write. He rested his head on Kelsey’s knees and stared up at her with hopeful brown eyes as if to say, How dare you ignore me for that glowing screen when I’m so much cuter?
“Mama has a job to do,” Kelsey said to Puck, although she wasn’t sure why she bothered. She was emphatically not making any worthwhile progress.
The husky’s ears perked up, probably because he’d sensed he’d won the battle for her attention.
Groaning, Kelsey rubbed the top of his head. The bright yellow she’d painted her office walls glowed in the afternoon light, a cheerful and energetic color, which was why she’d chosen it in the hope it might rub off on her work. Except she was feeling neither cheerful nor energetic at the moment, and her work (or lack thereof) was reflecting that.
“Get your ball.” She pointed to the chewed-up tennis ball in the corner, and Puck scampered over to it, paws skidding on the hardwood floor in his haste.
There were a few reasons Kelsey had opted to adopt older rescue dogs. One was that she felt a kinship with them. She didn’t believe in reincarnation, but she considered herself to be an old soul kind of person. Dogs that had been there and seen that fit her style. Older dogs were also generally less likely to be adopted by others, and although she kept her bleeding heart well hidden, Kelsey understood what it was like to be less wanted, and she empathized.
But the reason she’d have given to anyone who asked why she adopted older dogs was that they were less energetic and demanding than younger ones. Alas, Puck had never gotten that memo. Not only was he a good ten pounds smaller than his siblings, he acted a good five years younger. Basically, he was a fully adult male husky stuck in a teen husky’s body with a puppy husky’s brain. Kelsey would never play favorites among her dogs, but she adored him for it.
Just not so much when she was supposed to be working.
Puck dropped the ball at her feet, and Kelsey obligingly tossed it into her narrow upstairs hallway. The wannabe puppy vanished after it like a supercharged snowball. Puck even fit his name. With pure white fur except for patches of brown around his feet, there was something fey about his appearance.
Her phone barked (a recording of Romeo’s voice) with the arrival of a text while Puck chased the ball. Grumbling, Kelsey picked it up, since it wasn’t like she was doing anything else productive. She should just give up. Clearly she wasn’t going to finish her current chapter today.
The message was from her friend Emily to their college friend group chat. I hate to do this to you guys, but can we postpone our girls’ outing for a few more weeks? Some idiot broke her foot last night.
Assuming the some idiot was none other than Emily herself, Kelsey snickered. Moving the date for their annual get-together, which was supposed to be next weekend, would actually be fantastic. This weekend already marked the beginning of September, making it unofficially fall, and she still had summer tasks to accomplish.
Her maternal grandparents in Wasilla had put aside some furniture for her, and she’d promised them she’d get it soon. That had been two months ago. Her grandparents wanted it gone before the winter so they could put their car in the garage, and Kelsey wanted the furniture in her mostly empty house. (Being able to afford her own place had negated being able to afford furnishing said place. Irony.) The problem was she needed help moving the furniture, and the two men she’d normally depend on for help—Kevin and Josh—had gotten caught up in relationship nonsense over the summer. All of that should be settling down by now though, so she’d just have to bully or bribe one of them into helping next weekend. No problem.
Sure, Kelsey wrote back to Emily. Name the date. It wasn’t as if her book deadline was going to creep any closer regardless of when she took a weekend off, and maybe this way she could knock out whatever crap she was supposed to write for Ian’s brewery before she left.
Ugh. Ian. He wasn’t helping her concentration either. She’d taken time yesterday to look up his family’s brewery website and email him a bunch of questions. In all, this task she’d been volunteered for had taken her about two hours, and she hadn’t written a word yet.
Some of that was her own fault. After she’d discovered a family photo on the About page with a younger-looking Ian, she’d gone poking around the rest of the site. That had eventually led her to a page called The Brewmaster’s Blog, and even though Kelsey didn’t care for beer, she’d mindlessly read a few posts until she’d found the one announcing the opening of their sister brewery in Helen. That post contained another photo of Ian, this time wearing a T-shirt with the name of the brewery on it. A tight T-shirt. One that made it clear that her assumptions about the body he’d been hiding under his sweatshirt on Friday were not at all wrong.
Kelsey had closed the website at that point, but the memory had remained as she typed out her list of questions for him, and it remained today when she was supposed to be writing about a guy who did not look at all like Ian. That was infuriating. She had an excellent imagination, but instead of picturing a rugged mountain man with brown hair and a barely trimmed beard, she kept picturing a tall, muscled beermaker with sandy hair and a puppylike expression.
By the time the girls’ weekend arrived, she was really going to need that vacation—just her and her three closest friends in a secluded cabin with alcohol, junk foo
d, and no internet access. The place belonged to Emily’s parents and was totally off the grid, powered by a generator and heated by a woodstove. Some people might call it a setup for a horror movie, but as long as it didn’t get too cold too quickly, Kelsey called it exactly the sort of break from reality that might keep her sane. There would be no family breathing down her neck, no feud to deal with, and definitely no men.
No hiding or lying either. Emily, Lauren, and Amy were the only three people among her circle of family and friends who knew about her writing.
Sometimes that made Kelsey nervous. What was that saying about how two could keep a secret if one of them was dead? But the three of them had been there during the incident that had set Kelsey down this path. They knew what a dickhead her ex Anthony had turned out to be and why she’d switched from dabbling in writing young adult stories to trying her hand at something steamier. They’d encouraged her, commiserated with her, and celebrated with her along the way. The idea that she should keep her pen name a secret from them had never occurred to Kelsey, just as the possibility that she would end up writing romance as a career hadn’t. Life had simply happened, and by then it was too late.
Puck barked at her, and Kelsey realized she was ignoring him. She promptly tossed his ball again. “Go get it!”
Puck charged down the ball, and oh, why couldn’t humans be as easily entertained as dogs? For that matter, why couldn’t they be as loyal and as friendly? If Anthony had been any one of those things, she might not be in the position she was today.
“Insufferable,” she muttered out loud, saving her file. But no, that wasn’t the correct word for Anthony. That word was more like asshole. Whatever Ian’s faults—and she was certain there were many beyond ruining her little town—he hadn’t earned that word from her yet. He would remain insufferable, however, for as long as he continued to occupy space in her brain that she needed for other endeavors.
Paws and Prejudice Page 4
