Any Luck at All: Asheville Brewing #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  He leaned down to kiss Georgie again, in front of everyone, and they all whooped and cheered.

  Epilogue

  “Oh, my God,” Adalia groaned. “If I’d known you two would be so disgusting, I never would have orchestrated getting you back together.”

  Georgie and River were sitting hand in hand in the wicker chairs on the back porch, watching Hops romp around in the backyard. Jezebel, who was surprisingly tolerant of the puppy, sat in a dry bird bath watching like a prison yard guard.

  Laughing, Georgie said, “From what I heard, Dottie had a lot to do with it too.”

  River raised his free hand. “I’m pretty sure I should be included on that list.”

  Georgie shot him an ornery grin. “Of course you were.” She turned to her sister, who stood in the open doorway. “And we’re not even doing anything.”

  “You’re holding hands.”

  River chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to look at her. “You’ve never struck me as a puritan, Addy.”

  Georgie smiled to herself. River had taken to Adalia’s nickname almost immediately, as had most of the staff at Buchanan, but Dottie was quite adamant about calling her Adalia, saying her name fit her too well to alter it.

  Adalia shuddered. “Gross. Why would you insult me like that?”

  Georgie turned to face her sister, a huge grin on her face. “I’m confused as to why you’re upset.”

  “You’re like an old married couple, content with just sitting together. Watching your dog. It’s gross.”

  Amusement lit up River’s face. “So what would you have us do?”

  “You can start by coming inside. I have something important to show you. You know, before you officially give up the ghost and check yourselves into an old-age home.”

  Georgie glanced at River, and she saw something knowing in his eyes. He had some idea of what Adalia intended. Interesting. Well, she was grateful for whatever had caught Adalia’s interest. So few things did, lately.

  Adalia had become a near hermit, something completely unlike her. Other than the parties two weeks ago and going to the brewery, she hadn’t ventured out at all. Her sister wouldn’t even give in to Dottie’s persistent coaxing to “make something fabulous with her.”

  Georgie wasn’t sure what to do or how to help. She’d already cornered Alan Stansworth into dropping the legal charges against her sister. The Monday after the party, she’d called him up and coldly informed him that Adalia had photographic proof that she had created the sculptures he’d appropriated, and unless all charges were dropped, she would be hiring the very best attorney the Buchanans could find to ensure the art community knew exactly who he was and what he’d done. The charges had been dropped that very afternoon.

  When Georgie called Adalia into her office to tell her as much, Adalia had said, “Georgie, I don’t have any photos of me making those sculptures.”

  Georgie had given her a conspiratorial grin. “You know that, and I know that, but apparently Alan Stansworth doesn’t know that.”

  “You bluffed him,” Adalia had said, gaping at her. “I never knew you had it in you.”

  Georgie had winked. “Did I mention that I considered going to law school? There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “So I’m finding out.” Adalia had given her a rare serious look. “Thanks, Georgie. For everything. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Georgie had gotten up from her desk and given her a hug. “That’s what sisters are for. I’m here, Addy. I’m not going anywhere.”

  And apparently neither was Adalia. Which meant Georgie would have plenty of time to figure out how to draw her out. She’d hoped that making the Stansworth problem go away would do it, but what had happened obviously left scars.

  So of course she would do Adalia’s bidding.

  She shot her sister a look. “Okay, I’ll bite. But only if you do the dishes from dinner.”

  River laughed. “I love your devious side.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Adalia lifted her hands in front of her face. “Now you’re really being gross. Are you going to leave Hops back here, at Jezebel’s mercy?”

  “He’ll be fine,” River said, glancing at her over Georgie’s shoulder. “He knows better than to mess with her, and if anything she’s happy to have a minion.”

  “Which seems fitting since they’re the new mascots for the brewery,” Georgie said. It had been her idea to use Hops, who was surely cute enough to sell beer, and Adalia’s suggestion that Jezebel would be an inspired choice to market the sours River was making. “Speaking of which, are you still good with handling the photo shoot next week, Addy? We’ll need to buy a thousand sardines for Jezebel.”

  An emotion Georgie couldn’t name flickered in her sister’s eyes, but it passed just as quickly. “I’ve got it covered. Now, get inside before I have to lasso you. I really don’t feel like watching a YouTube tutorial right now.”

  Georgie laughed at that, but that look weighed on her. She’d been seeing variations of it for weeks.

  Adalia preceded them inside, and Georgie got up before River did and held out her hand to him. He grinned at her as he accepted the boost. “I love it when you go all knight in shining armor on me.”

  “I know you know what this is about,” she murmured, without any heat. She liked River’s surprises, the side of him that was a little more like Dottie than he realized. Just last week, he’d given her a long silver necklace with a beautiful pink crystal pendant. Made, he told her, from the pink crystal she’d thrown at his head that first night.

  When she stepped inside, hand in hand with River, it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing on the kitchen table. Adalia stood in front of a six-pack of bottled beer, which was something of a mainstay around her house these days. But when she took a closer look, she gasped…

  The label had an artistic rendering of Hops on it in bright, almost psychedelic colors, and it read, Hair of Hops, Buchanan Brewery. It was eye-catching, it was gorgeous, and it was 100% Adalia. Except that name…

  River squeezed her hand, his eyes alight with pride. “Your first beer,” he confirmed. “Adalia helped make it special. I thought we could try it for the first time together.”

  “What he means is that I did the most important and vital part,” Adalia teased.

  “You haven’t tried it yet?” Georgie asked in bewilderment, looking up at River. “Not even when you were bottling it?”

  “No,” he said, “which felt extremely weird, I won’t lie, but I wanted to do this with you. It’s our first collaboration beer.” A slow smile stole across his face. “It’s the beginning of an era.”

  “Which will really be a bummer if it sucks,” Adalia said. She grabbed one of the bottles and nodded to the porch. “I’m going out there to puppysit my nephew.” A pause. “And also because I have a feeling some PDA is going to come out of this.”

  “Oh, you’re right about that,” River said, gazing at Georgie as he said it. That look was all heat, and it sent tingles through her, but she snagged her sister into a hug as she walked by. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice. “It’s beautiful, and I know the rest of them will be too. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “So am I,” Adalia said, and from the emotion in her voice, it was obvious she meant it. “Now go have your beautiful moment with your perfectly adequate boyfriend.”

  “Aw, Addy, I knew you liked me,” River said. He hugged her too, though, and Georgie felt the gratitude of knowing that at least one person in her family had accepted him with open arms. Lee and her father were furious, and Jack didn’t necessarily approve, but he’d been pacified by whatever River had told him. She was surprised by how little it fazed her. Her family had a long history of toxic relationships, but she was breaking the mold.

  After the door shut behind Adalia, River went to the table. Georgie assumed he’d gone to ge
t the bottles, but instead he started up a drumroll, just like he’d done the day they made the beer. Funny how it was obnoxious when her father did it and perfectly charming when River did it.

  “The moment of truth approaches,” he said in an announcer’s voice.

  “I suppose this means I have to open them?”

  “I suppose so. I can one-handed drink, but only Finn can open a bottle that way,” he said, continuing with the drumming.

  She sighed dramatically as she popped two of the bottles open and handed him one. The smell was right, but she didn’t let herself hope too much. She’d liked the smell of certain beers and hated the taste.

  River stopped the playful drumming and clinked his bottle to hers.

  “What if it’s no good?” she asked, suddenly worried. Obviously, anything River made would be good, but she was the one who’d gone through the steps for this one, and then there was the whole issue about the possible hair contamination.

  “Impossible,” he said, his tone absolute. He put his bottle down and pulled her to him. Setting her own beer down so quickly it nearly splashed, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her, deep and passionate, as if she were something to be savored, and when he finally pulled back, she wasn’t thinking about the beer, or her worries about the brewery reopening, or about anything other than River.

  “We made this together,” he whispered in her ear, “and that means it’s going to be the best beer ever. Until the next one, and the next one, and the next one. Because we, Georgie Buchanan, are meant to be together in all things.”

  He pulled back, his eyes gleaming, and grabbed the two bottles, handing one to her.

  This time, they both took a sip at the same time, their eyes on each other.

  The flavors were in perfect balance, the carbonation at an ideal level, the beer utterly drinkable.

  “The perfect balance,” she said, feeling the happiness fizz through her. “Just like us.”

  River set his bottle down, and she did the same, and they were reaching for each other just as Adalia called out from the porch. “Um, guys. I thought this was a twist top. Can you come help a girl out?”

  And because River really was the perfect man—perfect for Georgie—he pocketed the bottle opener with a flourish, grabbed the beers in one hand, and put the other around her.

  “I think this means we might have to put dog hair in all of our beer,” he whispered.

  And somehow it was the perfect thing to say.

  Better Luck Next Time

  Asheville Brewing #2

  Adalia and Finn

  November 17, 2020

  Click here to read a Georgie and River bonus scene!

  Acknowledgments

  My heartfelt thanks to Denise, for being my kind of crazy. I LOVE all of our collaborations, and our friendship most of all. Working on this series with you has been the experience of a lifetime.

  Thanks also to my sister, Jennifer, who read this book in short installments and provided some much appreciated cheerleading. To my parents, for being super fans, and to my husband, Devin, for bragging about it shamelessly. You’re a pretty good crew—I think I’ll keep you.

  I’m also grateful to everyone who helped make this book happen, including our copyeditor, Carolina Valdez Schneider; our proofreader, Shannon Page; and our audiobook narrator, Joy Nash.

  —Angela

  I’ve written so many books in such a short period of time that writing had become a chore. But then I started writing with Angela, and it was fun and exciting again. Thank you, Angela, for bringing the pure joy of writing back into my life. I’m so grateful for this experience and hope we co-write many more books together.

  Thanks to my kids, as always, for putting up with my crazy schedule and my “just one more minutes” that turn into an hour. I’ve been trying to do a better job of being present—I hope you think so too.

  And also, as always, many thanks to the people behind the scenes who make my books shine—Carolina Valdez Schneider and Shannon Page. You two and Angela are my team. I couldn’t do this without you.

  And I say this every time, and I mean it just as much—thank you dear reader, for choosing OUR book to read. There are millions of books out there, yet you choose this one. Thank you.

  —Denise

  Also by A.R. Casella and Denise Grover Swank

  Asheville Brewing

  Any Luck at All

  Better Luck Next Time

  (November 17, 2020)

  Getting Lucky

  (January 2021)

  Bad Luck Club

  (March 2021)

  Also by Denise Grover Swank

  Asheville Brewing

  Any Luck at All

  Better Luck Next Time

  (November 17, 2020)

  Getting Lucky

  (January 2021)

  Bad Luck Club

  (March 2021)

  The Wedding Pact

  (Humorous contemporary romance)

  THE SUBSTITUTE

  THE PLAYER

  THE GAMBLER

  THE VALENTINE

  (short story)

  Bachelor Brotherhood

  Spinoff of The Wedding Pact series

  ONLY YOU

  UNTIL YOU

  ALWAYS YOU

  Bluebird Bay

  Women’s fiction

  Cowritten with Christine Gael

  Finding Tomorrow

  Finding Home

  Finding Peace

  Young adult contemporary romance

  ONE PARIS SUMMER

  Off the Subject Series

  (New adult contemporary romance)

  AFTER MATH

  REDESIGNED

  BUSINESS AS USUAL

  About the Author

  A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.

  You can find out more at www.arcasella.com

  About the Author

  Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomad, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.

  For urban fantasy: dgswank.com

  For mystery and romance: denisegroverswank.com