by Deanna Chase
He knew the answer to that but was unwilling to dwell on it. After Abby had left, he’d needed someone, anyone, to help him through the pain of losing her. And Val had been there. Too bad it took him far too long to figure out she was the polar opposite of what he was really looking for.
“Morning boss,” Rhys, his assistant, said as he made his way toward the front door. “Taking a moment before all hell breaks loose?”
“Huh?”
Rhys’s brow pinched as he frowned. “The Main Street festival. We’re hosting a tasting, remember?”
“Right.” Clay shook his head. He’d completely forgotten. After his infuriating calls with Val and seeing Abby again, it was amazing he’d managed to even remember to come into work at all. “We better get to it then.”
Rhys nodded and a moment later, Clay followed him into the pub.
“We need another keg of Caramel Fest, and believe it or not, we’re completely out of Pumpkin Spice,” Clay told Rhys as he poured yet another glass of Chocolate Stout from the tap.
“Geez. Those witches are really into their pumpkin, aren’t they?” Rhys asked, grabbing a couple bottles of Moon Pale Ale.
Clay laughed. “Why do you think I insisted on producing it? I swear we can add pumpkin spice to just about anything in October and make a killing.”
“Just don’t put it on my sweet potato fries,” Yvette said with a shudder from her spot at the end of the bar. “Enough is enough.”
“That’s a special order,” Clay confirmed. “No fries will be adulterated on my watch unless requested.”
“Good.” Yvette took a long sip of her Chocolate Stout then dug into her burger, ignoring the flurry of activity going on behind her.
Half the town must be here, Clay thought as he watched the crowd wait patiently for samples of his new beer. And so far, all the flavors had been a hit. He’d been a little nervous when they’d rolled out the fall lineup. Lincoln Townsend brewed a damn fine beer, but he’d been a traditionalist, preferring instead to put out classic pale ales, lagers, porters, and wheat beers. Before Clay had been made master brewer, the closest any of the Keating Hollow brews had come to a flavor was their porter, which naturally had a faint chocolate taste. At least one aspect of his life was going well.
He used a handkerchief to wipe his brow and then filled another tray of samples.
“You didn’t wait for me,” a familiar feminine voice said.
Clay jerked his head up and spotted Abby claiming the seat right next to Yvette. The two sisters were total opposites, one dark and one light. But the way they sat, both of their postures exactly the same, their heads tilted at the same angle, there was no mistaking they were from the same bloodline.
“I ordered your lunch, though,” Yvette said and signaled to Sadie, the brewery’s part time waitress. “She’s here.”
Sadie nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. A few moments later, she emerged with chowder in a bread bowl and a house salad. She glanced over at Clay. “I need a Chocolate Stout, please.”
“You got it.”
Abby stiffened slightly but didn’t turn to acknowledge him, and he nearly laughed. She was all too aware he was there and was doing everything in her power to ignore him. Well, he’d see about that. He shuffled down the bar and stood right in front of the two sisters.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He grinned at them. “Sluffing off again?”
Yvette rolled her eyes. “Sluffing off, my pink patootie. I was at work, but someone is giving out free beer, and apparently the people of this town would rather drink beer than shop for books. So I gave in and decided to meet my sister for a late lunch. As it is, I’m not even sure we’re going to bring in enough today to cover Brinn’s paycheck.”
Clay vaguely recalled the woman who Yvette had hired a few months ago. She was a new witch in town; a cousin of Wanda’s, if he remembered correctly. Another air witch, he thought, making her a perfect fit to stock books. They were skilled at moving things through the air. “I’m sure people’s pocketbooks will open up once they’ve downed enough hops.”
Abby laughed. “That always worked at the Art Market in New Orleans.”
Clay placed his elbow on the bar and leaned in close to her, unable to resist the ever-present pull. “And what about you, Abby? What are your plans while you’re in town? Beach? Hiking? Reckless golf cart rides with Wanda?”
“Actually, Clay, if you must know, while all of those things sound like a wonderful vacation, I’ll actually be working most of the time. I have orders to fill for the holiday season.”
“She’s taking over the brew shed,” Yvette said, her lips curving into an amused smile.
“You are?” Clay jerked back, nearly knocking over Sadie in the process.
“Watch it,” the petite blonde said, steadying him with both hands. “People are working back here.”
“Sorry,” Clay muttered and turned his attention back to Abby. “You’re going to be working here? For how long? A week? Two?”
Abby tilted her head to the side, studying him. “Why? Does it bother you that I’ll be here?”
“No!” he said too quickly, his voice entirely too high. Zeus and Hades, he was being an idiot. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, of course not. I was just wondering how long the brew shed would be occupied.”
“Why? No one uses it,” Yvette said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Clay knew what she was thinking. She thought he was trying to figure out how long Abby would be working less than ten feet from him. But it wasn’t that… or at least not entirely that. He actually used the brew shed when he was working on new recipes. It had been Lin’s original brewing building back when they’d first started the pub over forty years ago. Today, there was state of the art equipment in the main building, which rendered the shed obsolete. But it had running water, heat, a stove, and it was quiet, which was what he needed when he was working on a new recipe.
“I figure I’ll be here through the holidays,” Abby said. “And I’ll need to work while I’m here. So if my using the shed is a problem for you, I need to know sooner rather than later so I can make other arrangements.”
“No.” Clay shook his head, trying not to notice the thread of anticipation winding its way through him. Knowing he’d see her most days for the next three months stripped away the stress of the last year that had been wearing him down, and he felt like a damned teenager again, eager to just be near the pretty girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. “It’s not a problem at all.”
Her eyes sparkled under the lights as she smiled up at him. “Good.”
“Oh, hells bells,” Yvette said, rolling her eyes. “I’m out of here before the two of you burst into flames from all the sparks flying around.” She climbed off her stool, tossed a couple bills on the counter, and strode out of the pub.
Abby eyed the bills on the counter. “Are we paying for our meals now?”
Clay shook his head. “No. All the Townsends eat free here. That’s Sadie’s tip.”
“Right. Of course.” Abby rummaged around in her bag and matched the bills her sister had left. Then she raised her beer in a salute. “To working together for the next few months.”
Clay popped the cap on a bottle of porter, clinked it to her mug, and echoed, “To working together.”
They held each other’s gazes as they each took a long sip. For Clay, it was as if the pub, his fellow employees, and all the customers faded away and all that was left was Abby—until he heard a cry and the clatter of glass shattering on the tile floor.
He jerked upright, his gaze scanning the front of house. Then he spotted Sadie sprawled on the floor amidst spilled beer and a pile of glass shards. Blood stained her left arm and soaked into her white Keating Hollow Brewery T-shirt.
“Sadie!” Abby jumped up off her stool and ran to the woman’s side. After taking one look at her, she called, “Clay, get the first aid kit and some clean towels.”
He grabbed a stack of clean to
wels and tossed them to her. Then he rushed to the back room, retrieving the first aid kit. When he joined Abby at Sadie’s side, Abby had Sadie’s arm bandaged with a couple of towels. Blood had already seeped through both layers.
“Forget the kit. She needs a healer. Fast,” Abby said.
Clay didn’t hesitate. He just scooped Sadie up into his arms and started moving toward the front doors. Just before he walked through the threshold he called over his shoulder, “Abby, keep an eye on things until I get back.”
“You got it,” he heard her respond. Then he started to run.
Chapter 9
The sun had long since set when Abby finally locked the front doors of Keating Hollow Brewery. She hadn’t seen or heard from Clay since he’d taken Sadie to the healer, and she was more than a little worried. The only upside was that the pub had been so busy, she hadn’t had time to stress about them much.
She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen the pub so successful. Practically everyone who’d come in had proclaimed themselves regulars, and it appeared Clay’s brews were a huge hit with the town. But the thing that had put a smile on her face was that while they all expressed how much they missed seeing her father every day, they’d also made it clear they approved of the work Clay was doing.
For some reason, their praise filled her with a sense of pride as if Clay was still hers.
“Let it go, Abs,” she told herself and got to work sweeping up the floors. By the time she had the tiles mopped and gleaming, every muscle in her body was aching to relax. But she still hadn’t unloaded her dad’s truck, the entire reason she’d come to the pub in the first place.
“Looks good, Abby,” Rhys said from his spot behind the bar. Much to her relief, he’d volunteered to stay and make sure the kitchen was in order. The bar was spotless, the kegs restocked, and the cash register balanced. “Ready?”
“You go ahead,” she said, waving him off. “I still have a couple things to do.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Like what? I don’t think I’ve seen this place so clean since Yvette took over for a week while your dad went to visit you in New Orleans.”
Abby laughed. That was no surprise. Yvette was the type of person who couldn’t go to bed unless her kitchen was spotless and any clutter had been put away. “I just need to unload some stuff from Dad’s truck.”
“Need help?” he asked, already moving toward her.
“No, no. You’ve been here for hours. Go home. I’ve got this.” She gave him an encouraging smile and moved to unlock the door for him. “Rest up. I know you come in early.”
The yawn he couldn’t quite suppress proved her point.
“See there? You’re exhausted. Go on. Get out of here,” she ordered.
“I’m not going to wait for you to tell me a third time.” He gave her a grateful smile and disappeared into the night.
Abby walked over to the bar, filled a glass with stout from the tap, and slumped onto one of the stools, her entire body sagging with relief. Damn, when had she gotten so out of shape? Back when she’d been in high school, she’d spent many evenings waitressing and couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as exhausted as she did in the moment.
She sat back into the stool and jerked when her butt started to vibrate. Hopeful it was Clay calling, she grabbed her phone, and her heart sank when she saw it was Logan. She grimaced. That wasn’t the reaction she was supposed to have when her sort-of significant other called.
After mentally scolding herself, she accepted the call and said in a bright tone, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Check your email,” he said, his tone carrying an air of excitement.
“What?” Abby frowned. “Why?”
“You’ll never believe what happened today. It’s crazy.”
“Okay, what happened today?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Her eyes watered, and she wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed back at her dad’s and sleep for a good solid twelve hours.
“Guess. Go on. You’ll never guess.”
“Um, I don’t know. You sold some of your paintings?” There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment she thought the call was dropped. “Logan? You still there?”
She heard him let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, I’m here. It doesn’t have anything to do with my paintings.”
“Oh.” Frustration rose up in the back of her throat, and she wanted to scream just to let it out. She knew that tone. He wasn’t just irritated; he was pissed she’d brought up his paintings. Well, dammit, he was the one who’d told her to guess. How was she supposed to know what his big news was? For the first year and a half of their relationship, everything had revolved around art… or more specifically, his art. Was it any wonder she’d guess he’d had some success? “Um, you had a deal go through?”
“That’s better, but that’s not why I called.”
All of his excitement had vanished, and it was clear to Abby that he blamed her for taking the wind out of his sails. Well, that was just too damned bad. She wasn’t a mind reader, and it wasn’t like she’d said anything out of line. “I give,” she said, forcing some levity into her tone. “What’s the big news?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“It still is,” she said with a laugh, “since I clearly have no idea what you’re trying to tell me.”
“That’s obvious.”
“What?” She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. When she pressed it to her ear again, she said, “Are you seriously angry at me right now because I can’t read your mind?”
“No, Abigail, I’m frustrated because it seems you haven’t been listening to me for the last six months. It would be nice if you could just support my choices instead of always bringing up my failed art gallery.”
Shock rippled through her, and she suddenly remembered what Faith had said about him hiding dozens of his paintings from her. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically, even though she hadn’t said one word about the gallery. That hardly mattered when it was obvious he was harboring a seriously bruised ego. “I won’t bring it or your art up again.”
“Thank you.”
Silence hung between them, but this time Abby was determined to wait him out. She still didn’t feel like she’d done anything wrong. And if he wanted to tell her his news, she wasn’t going to waste any more energy on prying it out of him. Honestly, after her drive across the country and her long day working at the brewery, she just didn’t have it in her to work her way through Logan’s issues.
“You know what, Abby? I have a meeting to get to. Just check your email and call and let me know what you think.”
“Okay,” she said, but silence greeted her response, and when she pulled the phone away she noted the call had ended. Shaking her head, she glared at the phone and said, “Asshat.”
“Trouble in paradise?” a deep voice said softly from behind her.
Clay.
He was back. The tension drained from her shoulders, and when she turned around and looked into his concerned dark eyes, peace settled in her soul. All of the angst she felt from talking to Logan disappeared, and she felt right in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. She didn’t want to explore what it meant, but in that moment she was just glad she was in the presence of someone she wanted desperately to be her friend again.
“It would appear so,” she confirmed and gave him a weak smile. “Seems I’m not winning any girlfriend-of-the-year awards.” Why had she said girlfriend? She wasn’t even sure what she was anymore. Damn, she really needed to settle things with Logan and the sooner the better, for her own peace of mind.
“If you aren’t, I’m certain your asshat has no idea just how lucky he is.”
Her smile widened. “That’s sweet of you to say. Thanks.”
He shrugged. “It’s just the truth.”
“You don’t know that. As far as you know, I could be the biggest witch on the planet these days. What if I stole all the money out of h
is wallet before I left town?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Of course you didn’t. I bet you filled his refrigerator with his favorite pie and left him your famous lasagna in his freezer.”
She laughed, and her insides warmed with the knowledge he still knew her so well. “Close. Homemade caramel ice cream and étouffée.”
“See, you’re still the same sweet girl you were years ago, and if he doesn’t see it, that’s his problem.”
They held each other’s gazes for a beat or two then Abby whispered, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Abby gave him a grateful smile then frowned as she remembered the reason she was working in the pub in the first place. “How’s Sadie?”
“She’s doing better now that she’s stitched up. It’ll be a few weeks before she can work, but she’ll be fine.”
“Oh, good.” Abby let out a sigh of relief. That gash had been ugly.
Clay walked over to her and offered her a hand to help her down off the stool. “Now, why are you still here?”
After she gained her footing, she dropped his hand and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I still need to unload my dad’s truck. We were so busy here I never got around to it.”
“Well then, let’s unload it.” He started walking toward the front door, but Abby didn’t move.
“You don’t have to do that. You already moved it all from my car to my dad’s garage.”
“Abby, you just spent all day doing my job. I think I can help you unload a few boxes.” He unlocked the door and jerked his head, indicating she should follow. “Come on. You look exhausted. Let’s get this done so you can get some rest.”
Her feet seemed to move all on their own, and when she caught up with him, she touched his arm and said, “Thanks.”
His hand pressed against the small of her back and in a low, gruff voice, he said, “Anything for you, Abs.”
Chapter 10
Abby walked into her dad’s house with a warm glow in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so… light. Clay was exactly the sort of friend she needed right then—fun, supportive, and easy going. It was amazing that they could still slip into their comfortable friendship even after all the history they shared.
