Love on Tap (Brewing Love)

by Meg Benjamin

  “A very important man.” Bec pushed herself to her feet. “Or anyway, he thinks so. I’d better get back to work.”

  She left Carol staring at Threadgood’s disappearing back. Ruth would undoubtedly have all the details within the hour.

  At lunchtime, Bec headed down the slope in back to the café table. As long as they’d gone to the trouble of dragging it out there, she figured she might as well take advantage. Particularly since she had a phone call that she didn’t necessarily want anyone else to overhear.

  Liam picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?” He sounded slightly wary, and she wondered if he was aware that Threadgood was making his own offers.

  “How could you try to sell the Zoria to Christopher Threadgood? You know I’ve got an understanding with Wyatt.”

  Liam groaned. “You turned him down, didn’t you? Jesus, Bec.”

  “Of course I turned him down. Talking to him is like talking to Darth Vader. How could you do that?”

  “I could do that because he was offering a shitload of cash. I’m guessing he still is. Enough cash to get the brewery back on its feet if that’s what you want. Enough to take care of our debts and then some.” Liam sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

  “I’m getting money from Wyatt,” she snapped. “I made a deal with him a while ago. I’m not going back on my promise.” And I’ll get the damn brewery back on its feet without you, brother dear.

  She could almost feel Liam shaking his head. “How much did Montgomery offer you?”

  “That’s between him and me. We agreed on a price. That’s all that matters.”

  “Like hell it is. How much did Threadgood offer? More than Montgomery, right?”

  “He offered more, but I don’t want to work with him, Liam. I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t sell him the Zoria even if I didn’t already have an offer from Wyatt.”

  “Oh, for the love of God…” Liam blew out a long breath. “You’re making a massive mistake here. Massive.”

  “I don’t think so.” She gritted her teeth against the desire to tell him what she thought of him right now. “Don’t send Threadgood back again, Liam. I won’t talk to him.”

  Liam snorted. “I don’t think you can ‘send’ Threadgood anywhere. He goes where he wants to go.”

  “Then he’s going to be disappointed again. Bye.”

  …

  Liam stared at the phone in his hand and briefly considered throwing it at the wall. It would be satisfyingly dramatic, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone except himself. Right now he wasn’t sure who he wanted to hurt more: Bec or Christopher Threadgood.

  Son of a bitch. If he’d told me he was going to talk to her, I could have explained why that was a lousy idea. But he’d guess Threadgood never discussed his decisions with anybody. He told you what would happen. He didn’t ask you what you thought.

  Actually, Bec’s description of him resembling Darth Vader was surprisingly accurate.

  But it didn’t matter if Threadgood was likeable or not. What mattered was the amount of money he was prepared to pay for the Zoria. Liam still didn’t know exactly what he’d offered Bec, but it was more than Montgomery had offered her.

  On the other hand, he was pretty sure she and Montgomery had something going on.

  Montgomery seemed okay, certainly better than Colin had turned out to be. But Liam didn’t figure Montgomery would be spending much of his time up in Antero no matter how close he got to Bec. Especially after he got what he wanted—the Zoria. He had a business to run in Denver, after all. He couldn’t go gallivanting off to the back of beyond in Western Colorado whenever he felt like it.

  Which didn’t matter a damn in the long run. Montgomery could be a prince among men and Bec’s one true love, and Liam would still want her to take the offer from Threadgood. Threadgood might be a bastard. Hell, Threadgood was a bastard; there wasn’t much doubt about that. But it didn’t matter. He could pay, and they needed the money.

  Like Darth Vader himself, Threadgood arrived with a lot of fanfare. He pushed open the door to the tavern so hard that it bounced against the wall, then strode across the room like an invading Visigoth.

  Liam picked up a glass to polish. He figured it was always a good idea to be unimpressed by bullies, even if they were bullies who could pay you a lot of money. Plus he had to agree with Bec about something else—he didn’t like Threadgood, and he didn’t trust him a damn bit.

  “You told me the Zoria was still for sale,” Threadgood snarled. “You didn’t tell me your sister had already closed the deal.”

  “My sister was the brewmaster at Antero. She made the Zoria.” Legally, Liam was willing to bet he was as much an owner of the Zoria as Bec, but there was no way they’d ever see the inside of a courtroom over this.

  “We had a deal.” Threadgood gave him a look that was clearly supposed to be lethal.

  “We had the beginnings of a deal,” Liam corrected. “And I did tell you my sister was involved. No money had been mentioned yet, as I recall.” He placed the now-sparkling glass back on the shelf.

  “Twenty thousand,” Threadgood said flatly. “Provided I get it now.”

  Liam managed not to blink, but he considered it lucky that he wasn’t holding the glass anymore, given that broken glassware was taken out of his paycheck. He’d been planning on asking for ten thousand, then negotiating down to a reasonable price once Threadgood stopped laughing.

  He shrugged. “Define now.”

  “No later than tomorrow morning. This has gone on long enough. Find the damn Zoria, tell me where it is, and help me transport it out. For that, you get twenty thousand.”

  Liam leaned on the bar, projecting a confidence he didn’t feel for a moment. “Tomorrow morning it is.”

  Threadgood narrowed his eyes. “You know where it is?”

  Liam shrugged again. “Of course.”

  “Then take me there now.”

  Liam met his gaze. “I’m working.”

  Threadgood’s lips moved into a derisive smile. “Oh yeah, sure you know where it is. Find out before noon tomorrow. Call me when you’ve got the location.”

  “I’ll do that.” He watched Threadgood move back toward the door again, ignoring the slightly sour taste in his mouth. The Zoria was as much his as Bec’s, even if she didn’t see it that way. And he’d split the money with her once he got his hands on it.

  After he got the damn Zoria onto a truck for Threadgood.

  …

  Wyatt didn’t stop to think about heading to Bec’s for dinner. They’d been eating together every evening for a week, and for the past few nights, they’d also been doing things besides eating. Things he was all in favor of.

  Now he watched Bec in her totally inadequate kitchen as she warmed up some chicken and rice in her various small appliances. He could have taken over for her, but she hadn’t said that she wanted him to. Besides, watching her move gracefully around the crowded space was a treat in and of itself.

  He’d spent the day lining up the malt delivery from Abe. He hadn’t been entirely sure where Bec wanted it, but Abe had a pretty good idea based on past experience. He’d also called Gabe Burkhardt, his partner back in Denver. Things were apparently holding steady at Quaff, but he sensed an undertone of worry in Gabe’s voice. By now Wyatt had been gone a lot longer than he’d originally planned. Gabe had every right to be worried. But Wyatt would be bringing home the prize, so to speak, and he could relax.

  He figured Bec had lined up the yeast herself during her coffee with Angel so he didn’t bother calling the bakery about it. He’d give Angel whatever amount she wanted for the yeast, and they’d be even.

  And he could buy the Zoria and head home.

  Which didn’t inspire the burst of satisfaction that he would have expected when he first arrived in Antero. He’d gotten what he came for and then some. But he was still trying to figure out how to make it a little more gratifying.

  Or at least how to feel a little happier about it.
r />   “Did you talk to Angel?” He figured that was a neutral topic. Bec didn’t seem upset, so he’d assumed the meeting with Angel had been okay.

  She nodded. “We had a nice time catching up. She’s going to sell me the yeast.”

  “Good,” he said automatically, waiting for that satisfied feeling again. Still not happening.

  She turned back to look at him after she set the slow cooker temperature. “Do you know a guy named Christopher Threadgood?”

  A sliver of ice slid down his spine. “Threadgood? Yeah, I know him. He’s one of my competitors. Owns a gastropub called the Red Wolf in Denver. Why?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes. “He came by the Salty Goat today. To talk to me.”

  The ice sliver coalesced to a load of ice cubes in his stomach. “And?”

  She grimaced. “And he wanted to buy the Zoria. Who is he, anyway?”

  A first-class son of a bitch. A lying, cheating asshole. “My competition,” he repeated dully. If Threadgood was bidding, Wyatt might lose, even this late in the game.

  “Right.” Bec nodded a little impatiently. “I got that. But I mean, who is he?”

  Wyatt rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to try to stave off a headache. “Trust-fund baby. Lots of money from his family back in somewhere or other, I don’t know where exactly. Thinks he knows a lot about beer. I’m not sure he does, but he obviously has some expert help. He opened his place last year, and he’s sunk a lot of money into it since.” And the Red Wolf had been very successful. He had to give Threadgood that.

  So successful it was driving Quaff onto the ropes.

  Wyatt drew in a long breath. Might as well get it over with. “What did you tell him?”

  Bec’s forehead furrowed. “Tell him? About what?”

  “About the Zoria. You said that’s what he was interested in, right?” He didn’t scowl, but he couldn’t manage a smile, either.

  Bec shook her head. She looked confused. “I told him no, of course. I’d already sold the Zoria to you. I couldn’t sell it to somebody else.”

  Wyatt closed his eyes for a moment to let his pulse rate return to normal. We live to fight another day.

  “You really thought I’d sell the Zoria to someone else?” Bec was staring at him now. She no longer looked confused. She looked pissed.

  “He has a lot of money to spread around,” Wyatt said carefully.

  “I don’t care about that. I agreed to sell it to you. Jesus, Wyatt. What kind of person do you think I am?” She rested her hands on her hips, her expression sliding a little closer to hurt.

  Never argue with a woman who has her hands on her hips.

  He pushed himself to his feet, cupping her face in his hands. “I was an idiot. And clearly, I’m not used to working with decent people.” He brought his mouth down to hers, tasting the slight remnant of salt on her lips.

  For a moment he thought she was going to keep her mouth closed, but then she opened slightly. He slid his tongue inside, dropping his hands to her waist.

  At least her hands weren’t on her hips anymore. Instead they were pressed against his chest, her palms warm against the knit fabric.

  He raised his head slightly. “How long until dinner?”

  Her eyes looked slightly dazed. “Maybe a half hour.”

  “That’s enough.” He reached down to gather her into his arms, sweeping her off her feet.

  Bec gave a faint gasp. Maybe she wasn’t used to being swept anywhere, but even if that were true, it was definitely time she got some experience in the whole swept-away thing.

  He bent his head to kiss her again, tasting her, nibbling lightly on her lower lip, shuffling until he felt his knees touch the edge of her bed. There were some advantages to having an apartment where everything was basically within easy walking distance. He lowered her to a suitable space then let her drop to the mattress, joining her as she bounced.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down against the pillow as he moved his body across hers, then brought his tongue along the seam of her lips again. He swept inside as she opened. Beneath him, her body trembled slightly, just enough that he noticed. Good. Things seem headed in the right direction, at least.

  His fingers fumbled with the bottom of her shirt. Then he pulled it up and off, tossing it somewhere at the side of the bed. Clothes could always be found later. Or not. Nude dining didn’t sound that bad right then.

  Bec dug her fingers into his shirt, yanking it over his shoulders and head so that she could toss it with her own. “I still haven’t exactly forgiven you,” she muttered.

  “You will.” He flipped open the catch on her bra so that her lovely breasts slid free.

  “That remains to be seen.” She caught her breath as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. He scraped his teeth across the tightening areola, feeling it pucker. Her breath came out in a whoosh, her fingers tangling in his hair. He cupped his hand over the other breast, taking the nipple between his fingers then squeezing tight, pulling up slightly to tug the nipple as he did.

  Bec moaned, pulling on his hair so that he raised his mouth to hers. She tasted of desire, sweet and hot, and he was suddenly desperate to be inside her.

  He tore at his jeans, pulling the button and fly open in a single motion, then pushing jeans and underwear down to free himself. His arousal pressed hard against her belly as he reached for the bedside table and grasped a condom.

  Bec’s heels rubbed across his ass, and he felt himself go another degree of hard. She did that to him, drove him higher than anyone he could remember.

  He ran his fingers through her folds, feeling the wetness, the heat. Ready. So ready. He pushed forward, guiding himself into her body.

  Her heat enfolded him, fogging his brain as it energized his body. He took her hard and fast, staring down into those sky blue eyes as he did. “Bec,” he managed to groan. “You feel like burning velvet inside.”

  She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, tipping her hips so that he was thrusting deep. The sound of their bodies coming together, her breath, his groans, the smell of it, all joined together to send him soaring over the top and down, wanting her, needing her, loving her.

  Loving her?

  What was left of his brain did a quick step back, but he found he didn’t care. Loving her. For possibly the first time in his life, the words sounded right.

  Loving. Yes. He loved Bec Dempsey.

  As for what he was going to do about it, he hadn’t a clue.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wyatt was quiet during dinner, but Bec didn’t find that too surprising. So was she. Their last bout of love-making had left her a little dazed. Sated, happy, but dazed. Dazed beat unhappy, after all.

  He’d accomplished every task she’d set out for him at the beginning of their partnership. The money he paid her for the Zoria, plus the ingredients he’d found, would help her get another batch of brews ready to go and let her pay off the last of their debts.

  And she’d promised herself she’d concentrate on one thing only—moving forward. Getting Antero Brewing open again.

  Not thinking about how empty her bed would seem without Wyatt to share it.

  The truth was that she wasn’t very good at flings. She wasn’t sure how to behave. Was she supposed to pretend there was nothing going on between the two of them? Was she supposed to send him off with a grin and a wave, then head back into the Salty Goat and press curds as if nothing had happened?

  Actually, she was pretty sure that was exactly how she was supposed to behave. She just wasn’t sure she could do it. Maybe she’d ask Ruth to keep everybody away from her for a couple of days. Except for Carol. She figured Carol would carry on as if nothing had happened, and that was fine with Bec.

  Maybe nothing had. Maybe she was back to the beginning again, a little farther along than she’d been when Colin had pulled up stakes and left without saying good-bye.

  “Good chicken and rice,�
�� Wyatt said from the other side of the table. “What’s the sauce?”

  “It comes out of a jar. I’m not sure what it’s called.” She took a quick breath. Time to be an adult. “So when do you go back to Denver?”

  His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Soon, I guess. Whenever the Zoria is ready to go.”

  “It’s ready.” She managed a smile that might convince him she wasn’t whimpering inside. “Whenever you need it, it’s ready to go.” She started to gather the dishes together.

  Wyatt pushed back from the table and picked up the dishes she couldn’t reach. “I’ll dry.”

  “I thought I’d use the dishwasher. There are probably enough dishes for a load this time.”

  He shook his head. “Come on. It won’t take long.”

  And they could stand side by side and maybe talk a little. That actually sounded good now that she thought about it.

  She stacked the dishes on the counter while Wyatt placed the two dishpans in the sink. After a moment, she took a breath and dove in again. “When do you want to load up your truck?”

  He paused, then turned on the water. “Any time, I guess. How much does it weigh?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Around two hundred pounds, I think.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Good thing I brought the truck. I wouldn’t want to try loading that into the trunk of a car.” He stacked dishes in the drainer, then pulled a dishtowel off a hook by the side of the sink. “How will we get the barrel out of the warehouse to the truck?”

  She shrugged. “We’ve got a forklift. I was going to sell it, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  Wyatt grinned, wiping down a glass. “A forklift? Why are you standing here when you could be playing with your forklift?”

  Bec gave him her own slightly dry smile. “It’s not nearly as much fun as you think it is, believe me. After a while, it’s just something else to learn how to use.” Particularly when they’d had to lay off all the brewery workers who knew how.

  He shrugged. “Still. Where is it—in the warehouse?”

  “I don’t have a warehouse exactly. We used to rent space in town, but once our inventory dropped down, I started storing things over here. The Zoria’s actually down on the main brewing floor.” Which would make it relatively easy to forklift out once Wyatt got his truck lined up at the loading dock. Suddenly everything seemed to be coming together much too quickly.