Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  He hammed up a dramatic frown as he scribbled out the plus sign and added a minus sign next to it on the chart. “Demoted! Does this mean I have to be suspicious of anything you call interesting?”

  “No, just the mango sour.” She paused, meeting and holding his gaze. “You, River Reeves, are quite interesting.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she said it, and he felt warmth pulse through him. He found her interesting too, and he was running out of reasons why he shouldn’t. She planned on staying, on restoring Beau’s brewery, and he had no doubt she had the brains and means to do it.

  But this woman had been to business school—she’d formed a business from nothing—and he was almost thirty and still a few community college classes short of a degree. He’d fumbled his way into the job that he’d quit a few hours ago. He doubted he was Georgie Buchanan’s type, or at least her type for more than one night. And for some reason, that wasn’t what he wanted from her.

  “I like the porter too,” he said, clearing his throat and reaching for his tasting cup. The moment shattered, like he’d meant it to. “We sold out at the brewery, but I brought a six-pack over to Beau’s. This one’s all that’s left.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she said, reaching for the bottle the porter had come in. “I think I’m going to claim the rest of this one for myself.”

  Her phone buzzed again, about the fifth time it had—he’d set his on silent mode after getting yet another message from Finn—and she glanced at the screen before setting it down on the table with a little more force than necessary. She took a big sip of her beer.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” he asked. Not to be nosy, or at least not just to be nosy. He’d confided in her, and he wanted her to do the same if she needed to unburden herself.

  “Just my brother Lee trying to talk me around. He wants to sell, or at least his girlfriend and my father have convinced him he does. But I think this could be good for Adalia, even if she doesn’t agree, and for Jack too.” Her face twisted up a little when she said it, and he felt sorry for asking. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. Tonight was about having fun, forgetting a few of their worries. “Maybe especially for Jack,” she added.

  “You’d really never met him before?” he asked, because despite himself he was interested.

  “No,” she said, taking another sip from the bottle, pausing a little to savor the taste in a way that made him smile. “Lee works with our dad in the real estate firm. I’d say the family firm, but I’d argue it can’t really be called that when it’s just the two of them. Anyway, he was looking for some files in my dad’s office, and he found a nondisclosure agreement. My dad made Jack’s mother sign it in exchange for a big one-time payout. My half-brother’s name was in there, but I had no idea where he lived or anything.”

  She paused, looking into his eyes. “Truth be told, I didn’t look very hard. I wanted to meet him, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I was ashamed of our father—of being one of the kids he acknowledged. Lee thought it best for us to both forget the whole thing, although he did tell me so we could decide together.”

  She glanced down, as if embarrassed, and he found himself staring at the freckles on the bridge of her nose. They almost looked like a constellation.

  “I shouldn’t be laying all of this on you. I’d blame the beer, but it’s my fault we kept Jack a secret. Well, Lee’s too. We could have sought him out and we didn’t. So I want to make sure he gets plenty of say in what we do. Although, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know the first thing about running a brewery. I’m not even sure there’s even room for four of us if we’d just be replacing Beau.”

  “You’d find a way,” River said, believing it. He reached out to touch her arm. “Beau had zero social media presence. Someone can handle that, maybe Adalia. And if you grow the brewery, there’ll be new jobs. Things like event management or opening a new location. Beau, he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, but he knew it wouldn’t last forever. He knew things would have to change. That’s why he trusted you to do the changing for him.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, and she smiled at him—a smile so bright he had to pull his hand away to keep himself from pulling her to him.

  “You’re right. And maybe they’ll have ideas for how they can contribute. I always think I need a plan for everything, but sometimes I need to be reminded to ask other people for help.”

  “I think we all need that,” he said. It was something Aunt Dottie had told him often enough in the days he’d struggled.

  “You know,” she said, setting down the bottle. “I came over here partly because I wanted to avoid talking to Jack. I know I need to do it, but I feel so guilty I can hardly stand it.”

  “Why don’t you ask him to come over?” he suggested on impulse. He didn’t really want to end their tête-à-tête, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. If someone else was added to the equation, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Besides which, he remembered the way Jack had sat in that meeting, his back rigid as he looked at the father who refused to acknowledge him and the siblings who didn’t know him. He’d felt sympathy for him—no, more than that, empathy. If Georgie wanted to talk to him, she should, and there was no time like the present. Waiting on something like that would likely only lead to more regret. “If you don’t sell, this is his house too,” he added. “He might as well see it before he makes his vote.”

  “He did text me earlier,” she said. “Said he was getting a drink at Buchanan, and I could join him if I felt like it.” She shrugged one shoulder. “At the time I didn’t.”

  “Tell him to get a car service,” he suggested. “Or walk. It’s not too far.”

  She lifted the beer again, took a drink, and nodded. “You know, River Reeves, I think I just might do that.”

  He picked up her phone and handed it to her, letting his fingers linger on hers longer than was needed. “I’m holding you accountable.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” she said, smiling up at him before she leaned down to send off a text.

  Her stomach grumbled then, a loud sound that hung between them. He wouldn’t have laughed except for the look of open horror on her face.

  “What kind of a house-squatting host am I? You’re hungry. When was the last time you ate something?”

  “It’s been a while,” she acknowledged, her cheeks flushing an adorable pink. “Should we go get something?”

  “Let me see what Aunt Dottie has in the kitchen. She spent some time getting the place cleaned up before you got here. I’ll bet she wouldn’t leave the fridge empty.”

  Her phone vibrated again, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of hope, before she glanced down at it. “He’s coming,” she said. “He’s going to meet us here.”

  “Good,” he said, opening the refrigerator door. Just as he’d expected, there were a few labeled glass Tupperware containers inside.

  Georgie joined him, leaning in close to look at the labels. He caught a whiff of her scent, something he’d been noticing over the course of the night. She smelled a little like the lemon bars Aunt Dottie liked to make, sweet but tart. It suited her.

  She laughed a little, low and husky, as if she noticed how close they were standing. “She didn’t label any of these for what’s in them. They’re all labeled with a mood.”

  And so they were. A large square container filled with what looked to be homemade mac and cheese was labeled “sorrowful.” Another container, which looked to hold some sort of red sauce with sausage and peppers, was labeled “aggrieved”—that one would be punishingly spicy, he knew from past experience. The “exuberant” Tupperware contained a fruit salad (nothing said happy to Aunt Dottie more than nature, and he’d bet some of the fruit was from her own trees), and then there was a final Tupperware with a label that read “wanton.” That one held a huge piece of chocolate cake. Sinful, as Aunt Dottie would say with delight. She’d likely wink to accompany it.<
br />
  “What will it be?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Georgie grinned, and was it his imagination, or was she leaning closer?

  “Would you think I was being greedy if I said I was feeling a little bit of each?”

  Had she just told him she was feeling wanton?

  But before he could ask, or even pull out any of the containers, he heard a yowl from the basement.

  Georgie’s eyes widened, and she pulled back from the fridge. “Oh no, River, I forgot to shut the door last time!”

  It sounded like Jezebel had found Beau’s stash of hops.

  Chapter 7

  “I take it that’s bad,” Georgie said, her head fuzzy from all the beer she’d consumed. It hadn’t seemed like a lot while she was partaking in River’s beer flight, but her lack of coordination suggested otherwise.

  River didn’t answer—he just bolted down the stairs. Georgie considered following him, but she wasn’t sure descending stairs in the dark was a good idea, and she wanted to be upstairs when Jack arrived.

  Jack was coming over.

  She was second-guessing her decision to invite him over. She was in no condition to discuss business. What was she thinking? Obviously, she hadn’t been. River had given her copious amounts of beer and weakened her with his charm. And his warm brown eyes. And the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, making her want to reach out and smooth it with her fingertips.

  No. Stop. She couldn’t think of River like that.

  Right?

  River appeared at the top of the stairs, pinning Jezebel’s back to his chest while the cat took wide swipes at his hands and wrists, drawing blood as she hissed and yowled.

  “Oh my goodness, River! I’m so sorry!”

  He closed the door to the basement and dropped the cat, who took off running to the living room. She worried he’d be pissed at her—her last boyfriend would have been; he’d been all about accountability—but River gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m told women admire war wounds.”

  “Not this one. Especially not when it’s my fault you got them. We need to clean those up,” she said, feeling almost guiltier because he didn’t seem to blame her. “You could get cat scratch disease. Do you know where Beau kept his first aid kit?”

  “Probably in the hallway bathroom.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She rushed down the hall to the bathroom and started opening cabinet doors, looking for bandages, antibiotic ointment, and antiseptic. She found a white plastic box shoved behind a half-used roll of toilet paper, and after confirming that it held what she needed, she stood, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was falling out of her bun, tendrils brushing her cheeks. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, but what caught her off guard was how happy she looked.

  When was the last time she’d felt truly happy?

  She turned at the sound of some rather aggressive meowing. Jezebel was blocking her exit from the bathroom.

  “Uh, River…” she called out, holding the first aid kit to her chest.

  The cat hissed and batted a paw at her.

  She started to call for River again but then decided she could deal with it herself. If she ended up staying in Asheville, the logical thing to do would be to live in this house—a house that Jezebel clearly saw as her territory. Now that she was better acquainted with the cat, there was no way she would attempt to saddle her little sister with the beast. The thought of Victoria dealing with the cat was funny, but she suspected Lee wasn’t about to adopt her.

  “Jezebel,” she said sternly, “we might end up becoming roommates, and this will go much better if we can reach an understanding. I follow a live and let live philosophy, so how about I leave you be and you let me live?”

  For a moment, the cat just stared at her, her green eyes glowing with an almost human understanding. Then she arched her back and hissed again, spun around, and slunk off.

  “Okay,” Georgie said, her heart racing. “I’ll take it.”

  She eased her way out of the bathroom and found River washing his wrists in the kitchen sink while talking to someone on speaker phone.

  “You’re sure Jezebel will be okay?” he asked.

  A woman answered, “I suspect she didn’t eat many hops, if any at all, but keep an eye on her. If she starts to act strangely…well, more strangely…you should call an emergency vet.”

  “Okay, thanks, Maisie.” He hesitated, then said, “Are you free for breakfast tomorrow? Something big happened today, and I need to get your opinion on finding another job.”

  “What?” she screeched.

  He must have sensed Georgie standing in the doorway because he said, “I’ve gotta go. I’ll explain in the morning. Text me when you’re ready.”

  Then he pressed his phone with his wet finger to end the call.

  Georgie started to ask him why he was looking for a job. Sure, he’d mentioned the situation with Finn, but it felt wrong to pry. If he’d wanted to talk about it more, he would’ve…right? Instead, he’d called someone else—someone he knew. For all she knew, the woman on the phone had been his girlfriend, a thought that made her feel surprisingly jealous.

  River wasn’t hers—she’d only met him hours ago—and she’d do best to remember that.

  “I called my friend Maisie to make sure Jezebel’s okay,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I’d read somewhere that hops are poisonous to some cats and dogs. She might be an ornery old thing, but Beau loved her.”

  Georgie gasped in horror. “I had no idea…”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, waving her worry away. “That cat is the terror of the neighborhood. A few hops aren’t going to bring her down.”

  She gave him a wry grin. “She did just corner me in the bathroom.”

  He grinned back, his eyes twinkling as he turned off the water and grabbed a couple of paper towels. “You survived a face-off with Jezebel, huh? I’m impressed.” Nodding to his arms, he said, “I figured I’d wash the scratches with soap and water.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “How about we sit down at the table, and I’ll put some bandages on them?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said.

  She pointed to a chair. “I risked my life defying the devil cat to get these supplies, so you’re gonna sit in this chair and let me put antibiotic ointment on your scratches to keep your hands from falling off.”

  He laughed and sat down.

  She turned a chair so she could sit facing him, then set the box on the table and opened it up. After uncapping the antibiotic ointment, she grasped his hand, pressing her thumb against his open palm. A swarm of butterflies unleashed in her stomach, and her gaze lifted to his face. She liked staring at him. He had beautiful eyes, his black hair was thick and just the right kind of long if you asked her, and his skin was a warm bronze.

  His gaze lowered to her lips before rising to meet hers again, and his fingers closed around her thumb.

  Her butterflies intensified, something she couldn’t remember feeling since she’d crushed on Brian Whitby her junior year of high school, and her breathing turned shallow as she leaned closer. Something about this man had a powerful draw, but while she was usually good at cutting to the heart of things and making lists, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made him so compelling. It was more than his indisputable attractiveness, or the way he teased her, or his genuine goodness. It was all of the above rolled into this man named River, and she realized she wanted more than just a beer tutor. She wanted him.

  The look in his eyes suggested he wanted her too. He leaned forward, his hand lifting to her face. She held her breath, wanting him to kiss her more than she’d ever wanted a first kiss, when a sudden knock at the door caught her by surprise.

  River sat back in his seat, his face unreadable. “I suspect that’s Jack.”

  Georgie couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. “Yeah.”

  “You go let him in. I’ll take care of the
se scratches.”

  She hesitated, then stood and headed toward the front door. She paused in the threshold to the living room, casting a glance over her shoulder. River was concentrating on smearing ointment on his wrist. Jezebel had resumed her post on top of the cabinets, and had hopefully stayed her vendetta against them for the night.

  She closed the distance to the front door, her heart racing for a different reason now. She was worried she’d already blown things with her half-brother. They’d had a very limited interaction at the will reading, and then she’d turned down his invitation to get a drink at the brewery. Would he hate her? Would he be aloof? She deserved it and more. How would she have felt if she’d been the odd one out?

  Steeling her back, she opened the door. “Jack. Thanks for coming.”

  He nodded, his back as stiff as it had been that afternoon at the attorney’s office. “I figured we should discuss this tonight…before the noon deadline tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” she said, taking a step back. “Come on in.”

  He glanced around the entryway and living room as he crossed the threshold, taking it all in.

  “This is Grandpa Beau’s place…obviously,” she added, feeling foolish, but the alcohol had weakened her filter. “We figured you should see it before we make our decision.”

  Surprise filled his eyes. “The others are here?”

  It took her a second to grasp what he meant. “No,” she said, shaking her head a little too vigorously, to the point where she had to catch herself to keep from falling over. “Just River.”

  He looked puzzled. Then understanding washed over his face. “The guy at the will reading. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

  “We don’t. Didn’t,” she said, then scrunched her eyes shut and slowly opened them. “Sorry. It would seem I’ve had a few too many beer samples. We didn’t know each other, but we do now.” She gestured toward the entryway to the kitchen. “Why don’t you come this way and we can talk.”