Brew: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “I’m taking a break.” He leveled a stare at both of his brothers. “And I don’t owe either one of you an explanation. Watch the booth.”

  “Got it. We’re on it, big brother completely unaffected by the gorgeous blond life-saving and also funny doctor. You do you and we’ll keep an eye on things,” Cade managed to say all in one breath.

  Boyd wanted to flip all of them off, but there were families around and the booth next to them had baby chicks. Only a crazy man used obscene finger gestures in front of children and chicks. He felt dangerously close to crazy.

  Maybe Ella’s father was right. Maybe she was a silly woman because, despite a moment where she, Bri, and Thad clapped for the little kids dressed as various colors of chicks as they filed out of Copperfield’s Books for the Cutest Chick contest, Ella couldn’t take her eyes off the Foghorn Brewery booth. She was certain there were a lot of women drawn to that section of the festival, but she’d never thought of herself as obvious. The air was filled with barbecue, sunscreen, and spring. And of course, the cinnamon and sugar spilling out of Sift.

  When Ella left San Francisco, she’d vowed to steer clear of the ridiculous. But there was something about Boyd McNaughton. She nearly laughed at herself it was so cliché. He’d come into her ER. People didn’t meet like that. Maybe Bri was right—she needed to get naked with someone and start hating Mondays with the rest of the world before she entertained the idea that Boyd McNaughton and his fantastic son might be the type of people she’d been missing her whole life. She wasn’t certain if it was his eyes, aged beyond his years, his broad, almost hulking frame, or that beard. What the hell was with the beard?

  She glanced back one last time before agreeing to find a bathroom with Bri and caught his eyes. Eyes were cliché too. Damn it. He was walking away from the booth and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Not a word or a smile. Only a “yeah, I see you.” And then he was gone into the crowd. She’d avoided his booth on purpose, which was silly, but she wasn’t looking for trouble and she got the distinct impression the other day that Boyd wasn’t thrilled with his son’s new friendship. His life, their life, seemed self-contained. Ella both understood and respected his solitary purpose.

  “Hey, Ella,” Mason said, moments later after Pam arrived to give Vienna a break so she, Bri, and Vienna could go check out the pie contest. Ella waved them on and stayed put.

  “Mason. Great to see you. This is so fun, right?” She took in the pre-parade festivities and frenzy.

  “Yeah, you don’t think it’s lame?”

  “This is most definitely not lame.”

  “I guess it’s cool.”

  “Have you had the monkey bread? It’s bad how good it is. I wanted to buy two, but people were watching.”

  “Our booth is over there. My dad took a break, but my uncles are there. Want to meet them?”

  “Sure.” So much for avoidance. She followed Mason and saw the resemblance in Boyd’s brothers immediately. The taller one was a clean-cut and fancier-dressed version of Boyd. Same thick hair, but he was lean and his eyes were bigger. The other brother had a winding tattoo on his arm and his hair was cut short on the sides. He was built, lots-of-hours-at-the-gym built. And wearing a shirt that read “Foghorn Brewery—Cocks on Tap” above a sketched rooster on a bar.

  Ella smiled. “Great shirt.”

  “Thanks.” He extended his hand. “Cade.” Firm handshake. Ella appreciated that and his blatant comfort with standing out. Was there one of every kind in the McNaughton family?

  “I’m Ella, a friend of Mason’s.”

  Mason beamed and nodded at his uncle. Ella couldn’t explain it, but she was proud to be his friend. Honored that he wanted to be hers.

  “This is my other uncle Trick. Well, his name is Patrick, but we call him Trick.”

  Patrick extended his hand.

  “You must be the candy-ass.”

  “Sorry?” He chuckled.

  “When your brother was in the ER, he said he’d cut his hand because of his candy-ass brother. You’re marketing, right?”

  Patrick nodded.

  “Candy-ass.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” She was amazed at how easy it was to talk with all of them. “Are you the youngest?” she asked Cade.

  “Second youngest. Our other brother lives in San Francisco.”

  Ella nodded and accepted a sample of beer Patrick handed her.

  “My dad is the oldest. Then Trick and then Cade. My other uncle is a movie star.”

  “Seriously?”

  Mason nodded. “Westin Drake. He’s Nick Shot in the—”

  “Full Throttle movies.” She took a sip and nodded her appreciation to Patrick.

  “You’ve seen them?” Mason asked.

  “I have. A couple, but I can’t remember which ones. That has to be awesome having an uncle in the movies.”

  “It is. He’s cool.”

  “Hey, we’re cool too.”

  “No, you’re not,” a voice from behind them said. Once again, Ella turned as Boyd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Barely a smile on his lips and his hand on his squirming son’s head. Mason broke free.

  “Dad, Ella has seen Uncle West’s movies.”

  “That is impressive.” Boyd didn’t meet her eyes. It was as if he was having a conversation with only his son.

  “Yup, some of them,” she said, wanting to make her presence known. It must have worked because he finally met her eyes, sort of.

  “Nice. Do you like the beer?” He gestured to the now-empty cup in her hand.

  “I do.” The air crackled. Her shoulder barely brushed his and she willed herself to stay casual, comfortable. “Is this the famous brew you were mixing in the keggle?”

  She should not have said that, referenced that, because he smiled. Holy wow, slow and easy as if he saved this particular grin for a few times a week and he needed to make it count. Warmth and male. Ella had been around some sexy polished men in her time, and this wasn’t put on or practiced. It was almost organic and so rich that her head spun a little. Their eyes held.

  “Look at you remembering the lingo. Yes, this is the famous brew.”

  Ella nodded, but before she was reduced to a bobblehead, she homed in on what she knew.

  “Is the scar fading yet?” she said, instinctively touching his arm and lifting his hand as if they were back in the ER. Yet another mistake. Outside the security of the sterile walls of the hospital and without her rubber gloves, touching him felt like, well, touching. He twitched a bit at the contact, and she couldn’t blame him. There was a charge between them every time, but now in the sunlight surrounded by family and fun, it was more of everything Ella knew nothing about.

  Or maybe he felt nothing at all, she wondered. Maybe he thinks I’m a complete weirdo for grabbing a virtual stranger in public. She was clearly overdosing on contact and now needed to work on boundaries. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I grabbed you.”

  “It’s fine. The grab and the scar. Yes, it’s fading. Both are fine.” Boyd stepped behind the booth like he was afraid of her. Perfect. His brothers had returned to serving customers, but they were smiling as if they knew something she didn’t. Or they were smiling because they thought she was a crazy person who manhandled their brother. Either scenario made her uneasy.

  “Ella, want to go get more monkey bread?” Mason said, breaking her free of mortification.

  “Will you say it’s yours? Because I’ve already had one, and no doubt Vienna will give me a hard time.”

  “Okay.” He laughed. “No one cares. I thought all adults stopped caring what other people thought. Isn’t that like the only benefit of getting old?”

  “Yeah, well some of us are late bloomers,” she said.

  “Dad, can I have money?”

  “You have your allowance.”

  “Nice meeting you,” she said to Patrick and Cade, who both invited her back anytime. They were still smiling.

  “Boy
d.” She tipped her head in what she hoped was an I-can-take-you-or-leave-you gesture.

  “Ella.” He gave it right back, but she somehow believed him. As she and Mason walked away, he called them back. Mason turned and he handed him a ten-dollar bill.

  “Buy Dr. Walters some monkey bread. Keep her secret.”

  “What’s her secret?”

  “All women have secrets. Hasn’t she shared that little piece of advice?”

  Ella swallowed. Christ, he was easier to deal with on her turf. “A monkey bread addiction is hardly a secret,” she said.

  Boyd smiled again, and this time he knew the potency. Was she that transparent? Until that moment, she’d thought herself immune to all things male. Boyd was harmless, she told herself.

  Oh, you silly woman, her heart nearly cried out.

  “Want to come with, Dad?”

  “I think you’ve got this. Go easy on him, Doc.”

  Ella managed a smile, but almost tripped over her feet as she left with Mason, who she was beginning to think was the only safe male in the McNaughton family tree.

  Chapter Twelve

  Boyd’s breathing had returned to normal once they were back at the brewery. Somehow, standing in the familiar was grounding and gave him a sense of what was real. Ella didn’t seem real at all. He couldn’t figure out where she’d come from or how in the space of a few weeks he’d found himself needing something more—No, that was the wrong word. He needed to brew, needed to hear his son singing in the shower, or see his family gathered around a table. If he had to make a list of can’t live withouts, those would be his top choices. Ella was… she was a nagging craving that seemed more and more determined every time he saw her.

  There was no question she liked Mason. Who could blame her? But that was the extent of this. He was a great kid, and lots of motherly types liked Mason. Not that she seemed all that motherly. Aw, hell, he was getting trapped in his thoughts again. Stick with craving. Potato chips, Vienna’s sticky buns, and the local doctor.

  Boyd tightened the loose screw on the door that swung to the back of the bar and stored the toolbox below the stereo. Cade was pacing and not eating, two things completely out of character.

  “Pass-through fixed. I think that’s it. The band is warming up.”

  Cade still looked like he was waiting for bad news.

  “You okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m great, this is kick-ass, right?” Cade closed his eyes and leaned against the bar. “Any advice? Because I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  Boyd rested his elbows on the bar next to his almost youngest brother. “Advice. Hmm… let’s see.”

  He could tell Cade expected sarcasm. Sometimes it washed over Boyd—how old they all were, how much time had passed. He remembered when Cade got stuck in the seat belt in the back of their parents’ Suburban and they had to cut him out. He’d been squirming around and trying to sit closer to the center so he didn’t miss any of the action. The belt locked and trapped him in there. Their father had laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes until he found out it cost $350 to put in a new seat belt. Boyd didn’t know it at the time, but that one incident encapsulated who his brother was. Kid or man, the guy was always plugged in and entertaining, scared to death he might miss something.

  “You feeling the heat?” Boyd asked.

  Cade nodded.

  “There’s no pressure. Be you.”

  His brother snickered. “Not sure how many bills that’s going to pay.”

  “Oh, come on, you’re smarter than this. You’re the shit and you know it. You’ve built this and now it’s showtime.”

  “We’ve built it.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the yeast.”

  Cade lifted his brow. “Is there a punch line here somewhere?”

  “No. I’m serious. You could argue yeast is the most important part in making beer. You can’t technically have beer without water, hops, and grain, but without yeast, there’s no action. I’m mean hell, hefeweizen isn’t even hefeweizen without ale yeast. Yeast is the flavor, the style, and some would argue, the quality.” Boyd bumped his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about being something you think a fancy tap house needs. Do you and people will flock here, man. I promise.”

  Cade’s eyes welled up and he quickly turned away. “What the fuck was that?”

  Boyd laughed.

  “Get out of my bar.”

  “All right, my work is done here.” Boyd slapped his hands on the bar and backed away to go find Mason.

  “Hey,” Cade called to him.

  Boyd turned around.

  “You sure about all that stuff you said?”

  Boyd nodded. “I’m the oldest, little brother. I’m never wrong.”

  Cade let out a breath, and Boyd felt that buzz knowing he’d helped. It was heady.

  After about an hour of recon surveillance, as Mason put it, and no sign of Chloe, Ella went back to Sift to help Vienna and Thad clean up before the big brewery opening. Mason followed.

  “Are you coming to the opening?”

  “I might stop by,” Ella said, picking up napkins and paper cups from some of the outside tables.

  Mason pulled the trash bag from one of the metal cans and followed her around.

  “You’re pretty good at cleaning up,” she said.

  “Lots of practice.”

  When she glanced at him for confirmation, he added, “I help out around the brewery and I’ve got chores.”

  “What kind of chores?”

  “Stuff to earn my allowance. Take out the trash, pick up my room. Dad does the laundry, but I make toast in the morning.”

  “Every morning?”

  “It’s kind of our routine.”

  “Do you have lots of those, routines? I only ask because I like my routines too.”

  “Yeah, I guess. We don’t have lots of time in the mornings before school so I guess we do have a set thing. I pick out my own clothes though, thank God.”

  Ella laughed.

  “He’s fun, you know, and funny.”

  “Your dad?” Ella asked. She already knew who he was talking about, but she needed a minute to corral her thoughts.

  Mason nodded and handed her the wet rag from the table they’d already wiped down.

  “I’m sure he is. You all seem like you have a good time.”

  He kept nodding and seemed to go somewhere in his mind, as if he was searching for a way to help her understand.

  “Mase, I can see why your dad is the way he is.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure.” She threw the last of the trash away. “I don’t have children of my own, but it seems like an important job, you know. And he’s good at it.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sure he’s given you great advice on Chlo”—Ella glanced around—“on she. Your dad knows you far better than I do and even though he’s a dad, you might want to ask him all these questions you’re having.”

  Mason shrugged. “He’s good at a lot of things, but he’s not good at girls.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll stick with your advice.” Mason glanced back toward the Foghorn booth, which was now torn down, and Patrick waved him over.

  “I gotta go.” He handed her the trash bag.

  “Have fun tonight.”

  “Okay, see you there. There’ll be a pretty sick band and my Uncle Cade is a badass—well, he’s cool.”

  “I’ll try to stop by.”

  “Hey, thanks for calling me Mase. I think that means we’re officially friends.” He waved over his head as he ran back to his uncles. Ella hadn’t even noticed she’d shortened his name, nor did she expect it to mean so much to a thirteen-year-old.

  Ella drank wine. Her knowledge of beer extended to the massive beer aisle at her grocery store. She appreciated the funny names and the inventive beer labels, but as far as the taste, beer reminded her of medical school, specifically a bitter taste and all-day hangover. The sam
ple she’d had of Boyd’s beer was different, but she’d been too busy trying to regulate her breathing to pay attention. She didn’t need to go to the Tap House opening. It was probably better to leave well enough alone.

  “I’ll pick you up in about an hour?” Vienna said, turning off the lights behind the counter as Thad collected the remaining trash bags and the one from Ella to take to the curbside cans.

  “Isn’t Thad coming?”

  “He is. We’ll come by and we can all walk together. Ooh, and maybe you’ll need to stop by for a latte tomorrow to help your hangover after all of the partying and raucous fun we’re going to have tonight.”

  “I doubt that. I have work tomorrow. You know, I should shower. You two go and find Bri… I’ll meet you there.” Ella had no intention of being a third wheel, and she’d honestly had enough feelings for one day.

  “No, because you won’t go.”

  “Of course I’ll go. I attend all big events.”

  “Is this because of Thad? I can tell him to meet us there and you and I can walk over together.”

  “That’s silly. I’m leaving now.” Ella pushed on the door and allowed Thad, who was coming back from the trash, to pass.

  “Okay, but if you’re not there by six thirty, I’m calling.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I thought you were going with us,” Thad said, wrapping his massive arm around Vienna as they all made their way to lock up the front door.

  “I am. I’ll be there.” Ella went up on her toes and kissed Thad on the cheek. The man was a sweetheart.

  “You know how relentless I can be.” Vienna locked the door and turned to kiss Ella.

  “I do, indeed. I will be there, my dear Cookie Monster.” Ella took in a deep breath of cool early-evening air and reminded herself that change was good. It had brought her to this town, her new home. Change had given her true friends and peace.

  She’d been joined at the hip with Vienna and Bri pretty much from the moment she’d arrived in town. It was good that her friend had found someone. No doubt, it changed the dynamics, but it was time for Ella to slow down and figure out what lurked in the crevices of her mind when she wasn’t running from double shifts to exhaustion on her bike. Her stomach turned. Vienna hadn’t even said anything about not doing everything with her yet. She was projecting again, nothing had happened.