“Okay,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief, even as he seemed to brace himself for trauma.
“Hey.” She curved her fingers under his and squeezed. “It’s just a hot tub,” she said, repeating his own words. “Nothing to be scared of.”
His eyes crinkled. “Just a hot tub, huh? I’d be more comforted if I hadn’t been lying my ass off when I said that.”
If this were a real relationship, Olivia would circle the desk and give him a hug. She’d snuggle into his lap and tell him not to be worried, he’d be just as good at running a restaurant as he was at everything else. But they were only playing mentors. Granted, with a more delicious twist than usual. So Olivia only squeezed his hand one more time and let him go.
So far, the man had more than held up his end of the bargain. Now it was time for her to help make his dreams come true.
CHAPTER TEN
JAMIE SLIPPED THE MEASURING TAPE from his pocket with one last look around the kitchen area of the brewery. There wasn’t much equipment here: prep tables, a dishwasher, a fridge and a small oven and range used for the occasional catered events they hosted. There was definitely space for a pizza oven, but just how much space was the question.
He measured the empty wall of the kitchen for a start, then measured out the prep space. He thought there was more than enough usable prep area, but he’d have to ask Olivia about that. They’d need a much bigger fridge, but that stood on a wall by itself, so there was plenty of room to expand. The electrical needs he didn’t know much about. He’d need to bring somebody in. But when? Electricians didn’t work on Sundays, and his brother and sister were around the rest of the week. Maybe he could bring somebody at 8:00 a.m. before anyone else showed up.
“Hey!”
Jamie spun, fumbling the measuring tape before he registered that the voice wasn’t Eric’s.
“Where the hell is that spring barley I ordered last month?”
Jamie felt slightly dizzy with relief that it was only Wallace, the brewmaster. And that was a hell of a lot of relief, considering that Wallace’s huge, bearded face was crumpled into a scowl of fury.
“Well?” he boomed.
“Calm down. I told you when you ordered it that it wouldn’t be here for at least three months. It hadn’t even been harvested yet.”
“How the hell am I supposed to work on the new IPA when I don’t have barley?”
Jamie shrugged, used to the man’s temperamental rages. “I thought you were working on the spicy chocolate stout.”
“Yes! And the cranberry wheat and the dark ale. I work on more than one batch at once, in case you’ve never noticed, Mr. Donovan.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was up his ass today?
“What are you doing?” Wallace suddenly asked, his hot gaze dropping to the measuring tape lying on the floor between them.
“What?” Jamie croaked.
The brewmaster gestured toward the object in question.
“Oh. Right.” Jamie swooped down to grab the tape, then stuffed it into his pocket. “Measuring things.”
“I get that. But what—”
“Hey, is everything okay, man? You seem really tense.”
Wallace rolled his big shoulders and seemed to throw off his question about the tape. “Eh. You know. Personal shit.”
“Girl troubles?” Jamie asked, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. “Or boy troubles?” He could never keep track of who Wallace was dating.
“Yes,” the man answered, so Jamie just nodded.
Wallace put one of his giant hands on Jamie’s shoulder and leaned closer. Jamie found himself staring up into fierce gray eyes. The guy had to be at least six-eight.
“You know how it is, Jamie. Everybody thinks it’s all fun and games when you play the field. But I care about every single person I date. And sometimes…it gets complicated.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
Jamie nodded, and Wallace’s fingers squeezed his shoulder gently.
“I’m sorry I exploded. I’m just feeling tense. Maybe I need a good, hard workout.” He winked.
“Um…Wallace?” Jamie cleared his throat.
“Yeah?”
“Are you coming on to me?”
“What?”
Jamie slid his eyes toward his shoulder and the big paw that engulfed it.
Wallace’s bushy beard twitched. His grip loosened. “Good Christ, man,” he barked, then threw his head back to howl with laughter.
“What?” Jamie demanded. His only answer was a hard slap on the back that nearly toppled him. “What’s so funny?”
“You…You…”
Jamie crossed his arms. “What?”
“You’re hardly my type, are you?”
“Well…” Jamie scowled. “I suppose not.”
“I suppose not!” Wallace chuckled.
“Dude, it’s not that funny,” Jamie insisted.
“Oh, come on.” Another slap on the back, but this time, Jamie was ready for it and only had to take the barest step forward. He scowled down at his crossed arms.
“You know what?” Wallace said. “Thanks for cheering me up. But even if I was attracted to you, it wouldn’t be appropriate, since you’re my boss.”
“Well, sure—” Jamie started.
“Even more complicated than my normal love life. But thanks.”
He was all the way across the room before Jamie registered what he’d said. Thanks? “Hey—”
Wallace just gave a friendly wave before he disappeared into the tank room, still chuckling as the door closed behind him.
“What the hell?” Jamie muttered, his skin still hot with embarrassment, though half of his embarrassment was because he wasn’t sure what he was upset about: That he’d just been accused of inviting his brewmaster to come on to him, or that his brewmaster had rejected him out of hand? “Ridiculous,” he scoffed. He was not upset that his nonexistent come-on had been batted away. That was crazy. And he should be glad he wasn’t Wallace’s type. The man dated people who were petite and soft, regardless of gender. Jamie didn’t fall into either of those categories, thank God.
Totally thrown off by the conversation, Jamie turned in a slow circle, unsure, for a moment, why he was standing in the middle of the room with a pencil in his hand.
“Right. Measurements.” Still, he looked around in confusion one more time before turning his attention back to the numbers. He had what he’d come in for, anyway. Now he needed to make some calls about a pizza oven.
Olivia had given him homework, of all things, so he’d given her some, as well. She’d looked more than a little doubtful at the idea of being ready to go to dinner at nine.
“Nine?” she’d pressed. “That’s so…”
“Late?”
“Look, I’ve been out past ten before. You’re being silly.”
“All right. So it’ll be silly. Nine o’clock.”
Silly or not, she’d looked downright worried about it, and that made Jamie smile as he walked down the hallway that led to the brewery offices. He’d volunteered to take the smallest office, since he spent most of his time in the front, but he couldn’t help but feel that it represented his share of the responsibilities, too. Hopefully his office would soon be too small for him, and he could sit in there and complain righteously about the lack of space. Someday. But right now, his few papers and files didn’t come close to filling the available space.
“Jamie?”
Jamie froze in his tracks, then backed up a step to Eric’s open door.
“I heard you arguing with Wallace. What are you doing here? You’ve got Tuesdays off.”
“Just checking up on a few things.” The tape felt like a lead weight in his pocket.
“Did Wallace settle down?”
Jamie narrowed his eyes, looking for a hint of mockery on his brother’s face, but he didn’t find any. Maybe that part of the conversation had been too qui
et. “He’s fine.”
“Good. And you? You dealing with the rejection okay?”
“Fuck off.”
“Hey!” Eric called as Jamie stalked toward his own office. “Wait a sec. I wanted to talk to you.”
Gritting his teeth, he spun back toward his brother’s door.
“I’m serious,” Eric said. “It’s about Tessa.”
That wiped away all of Jamie’s outrage. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Do you think it’ll be okay? Her living with Luke?”
“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who gave the go-ahead. I thought you were good with it.”
“I’m not good with it. But she’s twenty-seven and the house is hers. She can do what she wants.”
“And she will anyway,” Jamie grumbled. “No matter what we think.”
“Exactly.” The one thing they’d always been able to agree on was their little sister. And up until this year, they’d agreed that she was sweet and innocent and likely to stay that way for a long while. Boy, had they been wrong about that.
Jamie shrugged. “I guess. Anyway, you seem to have warmed up to Luke.”
Eric didn’t miss the accusation in Jamie’s tone. Eric scowled and his hands fisted. “We were wrong about him. You were wrong about him.”
“I’m telling you, he was a player in college—”
“Yeah, well, he grew up. And he makes her happy. Even you said that.”
“Right. I guess.”
Eric sighed. “She’s with him, so we have to give him a real chance. Assuming, of course, that he treats her perfectly.”
“Of course,” Jamie agreed. “Did she say anything to you about when he would move in?”
“His lease is up in a month, so sometime before then, I’d guess. She was…a little vague.”
“So next week?”
“Ha!” Even without being there, Tessa was the one happy link that joined them together.
Jamie left his brother laughing—a rare occurrence—and walked to his own office, pondering his resistance to his sister’s new relationship. He and Luke had been friends in college. He liked the guy well enough. And while Luke had partied damn hard, he hadn’t exactly been a dog. He’d hooked up with lots of girls, but he’d never been that asshole feeding women shots to loosen them up. He hadn’t talked about them behind their backs.
And Eric was right. All indications were that Luke had left his days of drinking and dating behind. He’d grown up.
Maybe that was what pissed Jamie off. Luke’s youthful indiscretions were accepted as just that, while Jamie was stuck with the label of slacker playboy for all eternity. But, hell, that was as much his fault as anyone else’s. For a few years there, he’d thrown himself into that life with everything he’d had. Because…he’d believed that was all he was. A fuckup. A slacker. Way more of a disappointment than anyone else could even know.
So maybe that was what bugged him about his old friend Luke. Luke had long ago moved on from his youth, though he’d made other mistakes throughout the years. This was a possibility that Jamie needed to learn to accept: that he could put himself out there and fall flat on his face. And if that happened, it would be all right.
So he took a deep breath and fired up his computer. It was time to do a little homework. And then later…the fun.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OLIVIA GAVE JAMIE A KISS at the door and tried to pretend that the deepening dusk behind him wasn’t distracting. But it was distracting. It was nine o’clock. If they went out now, they wouldn’t get back here until after eleven. Assuming there were no post-dinner activities—and she didn’t assume that at all—she wouldn’t be asleep until midnight.
And if you’re lucky, you won’t get to sleep until two or three.
Olivia tamped down her anxiety. She could do this. If missing a few days of running was the price for a night with Jamie, she’d pay it. She’d pay the hell out of it.
He certainly looked worth it tonight. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, as usual, but he’d dressed it up with a green plaid button-down. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and the sight of them made her mouth water. They just looked so incredibly masculine, wide with muscle, rough with hair.
“Are you ready?” he asked, stepping back onto the porch to let her past.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a beautiful night. I thought we’d walk to a restaurant a few blocks over.” He glanced down at her heels. “Are you up for that?”
“Sure.” She paused to slip off her heels. “I can do that.”
“Wow. That’s extra credit, Ms. Bishop. Very impressive.”
“I must have an inspiring teacher. I’m already more fun.” When he took her hand, inspiration tingled up her arm and spread down from there. The sidewalk felt rough and cool beneath her feet. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the air nipped at her skin. And Olivia felt utterly, completely alive.
She tightened her fingers in his. “Tell me about the brewery.”
“Hey, I’m done with my work for the day.”
“No, I mean, who started it? How long has it been in your family?”
“My father started it twenty-five years ago. He had a brother who’d died in Vietnam, and he named the brewery in his honor.”
“That’s really lovely. Though I’m sorry about your uncle.”
“Thanks.”
“And your dad? I think you said he’d died….”
For a moment, Jamie’s hold on her hand loosened. She thought he was letting go, that she’d stepped over a line. But then his fingers tightened again. “Yes, he died when I was sixteen.”
“But you said your mom—”
“They died in a car accident.”
Olivia pulled him to a stop, too shocked to go on. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. You were sixteen? That must have changed everything for you.”
“It did, yes. But at least I was almost an adult. Tessa was only fourteen.”
“So, what happened to you? Who did you live with?”
He tugged her until she started walking again. She could barely see his face now in the dark, but maybe he preferred it that way. “My brother, Eric, moved back in to take care of us. He took over the brewery until Tessa and I could do our part. Now all three of us run it.”
“Is that why he has so much trouble letting you lead? Because he’s done it for so long?”
“I’m sure that’s a big part of it.”
This was a sore subject. She didn’t need to see his face to pick up on that. So Olivia dropped it. “Your sister seemed really nice.”
“She is. Too smart for her own good, but she held us together as a family, even when she was young.”
Olivia wondered what role that had left him, but she didn’t ask. That seemed an awfully serious question for a fun night. She’d accidentally stumbled into something deep and sticky. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you have an affinity for beer. I wonder what would’ve happened if you didn’t.”
“Not possible. It’s a gift passed through the blood.”
She bumped him with her hip. “A gift, huh?”
“Some of us are born with it, but anyone can be taught.”
“So there’s hope for me?”
His thumb rubbed the sensitive skin of her hand. “Oh, there’s hope. I know for a fact that you’re a quick learner.”
Maybe she was a quick learner, because she’d already dropped all her worries about the time, and she was just enjoying it. A barefoot stroll through the night with a sweet man. The nearly sure knowledge that they’d make love. The hot, heavy weight of anticipation low in her belly.
She’d experienced a lot of nervousness with Victor when she’d first started dating him. A lot of trembling, anxious want. But she’d never felt this languid melting. Not even close. This was a want so strong that she felt almost powerful with it.
Jamie took her to a restaurant she’d only been to once. They shared a bottle of wine
and managed to avoid any more sticky subjects. He didn’t ask about her divorce. She didn’t ask about his family. Instead they spoke of music and university gossip. Then Jamie told her ridiculous stories of customers who’d had too much to drink or simply wanted free therapy from a friendly face. By the time they stumbled from the restaurant, Olivia was breathless from laughter, her sides on fire from the workout.
“Please tell me that isn’t true,” she gasped.
“It’s true!” Jamie insisted. “She threw the ring back at him, dumped a bowl of peanuts over his head and walked out. And I’m not kidding about this—he turned to the woman sitting next to him at the bar and asked her to marry him. And she said yes.”
“No!”
“The woman was her best friend. Apparently, she’d been waiting on the sidelines for the chance to get into the game.”
“Oh, my God. Did they get married?”
“No idea. I never saw them after that. The other woman—the first woman—she came in a few times, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask.”
Olivia had to stop and lean against the wall of a bus stop, hands pressed to her stomach as she gasped for air. “That is the worst story ever!”
“Oh, I’ve got more where that came from, but I’ll dole them out slowly—keep you on the hook.”
She stood straight, grinning up at him, memorizing the sight of his face, blue in the night. The black sky behind him was full of stars, and they made her feel sparkly inside. Or maybe that was the brush of Jamie’s fingertips down her cheek.
“You should take off your heels,” he said. “It’s a long walk home.”
“I don’t want to take off my heels,” she answered, letting her head fall back against the glass. “I want to look sexy.”
His teeth gleamed when he smiled. “Oh, you look sexy regardless.”
“Not true. I usually just look like a teacher.”
“You do, actually, but—”
“Hey!” She gave him a little shove, but only his shoulder moved.
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