“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” I should probably think about checking the fermentation tank, but I can’t tear myself away from Mari. Blame the scent of citra hops or the way she looks at me like she genuinely gives a shit what I have to say.
Memory flickers in my brain, reminding me of a different time, a different conversation.
“How about we try again?” I reached for Gabby’s hand as the kind-eyed couples’ counselor with the gray beard peered at us over the top of his glasses. “You can spend another year here doing community theater,” I urged. “Then when I expand the brewery—”
“It’s too late for that.” Gabby drew her hand back and glanced at the tired-eyed therapist. “Is there really any point in rehashing all this?”
The shrink glanced at me. “Perhaps your husband would like a chance to feel heard.”
Gabby sighed, a strong clue she was way beyond listening to anything I had to say.
Shaking myself back to the present, I focus on Mari instead. On the very real, very beautiful woman watching me like she has all the time in the world to wait for me to pull my head out of my ass.
“Dinner,” I blurt.
Mari cocks her head. “I’m sorry?”
I drag my fingers through my hair, grateful the cameras are long gone. “What if you came over for dinner sometime? I wasn’t kidding about wanting to see your crochet stuff. Besides, maybe you could observe some more with Soph. Give me pointers for being a better dad.”
She looks startled for a moment but recovers quickly. “That could possibly be arranged.” A small smile tugs the edges of her mouth. “Would you make me eat my vegetables, too?”
“Absolutely.” The playful note in her voice has set something simmering inside me. “I won’t feed you dessert until you do.”
“Harsh.” Mari takes a step back, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “But I can cope. I can also bring brownies.”
“You bake and crochet? You’re a regular Martha Stewart.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Brownies would be purchased from the café. I have zero culinary talent to speak of.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of other talents.” The instant I say this I want to cram the words back down my throat. “Uh, I didn’t mean that to sound sexual.”
Mari stares at me a few beats, then bursts out laughing. “I never in a million years would have thought that.”
Probably because I’m alone in having sex on the brain. I should definitely dunk my head in the brite tank or go home and take a cold shower.
“Right,” I say, ready to move on. “So, dinner sometime.”
I hate when people do that. Say “sometime” or “one of these days” to avoid making concrete plans. “Friday,” I say as she takes a step back. “How about Friday for dinner?”
She hesitates. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” I pat the side of the tank. “I’ll have beer. Juice and milk and probably soda for Soph. If there’s anything else you want to drink, just tell me.”
Again with the hesitation. Something’s crackling between us, or maybe that’s just me. Does she think I’m hitting on her?
Hell, maybe I am. I’ve just opened my mouth to blurt some inane reassurance when Mari responds.
“No, this is great,” she says, her face oddly flushed. “A good chance to interact with a community member.”
“Okay.” I flash a self-deprecating grin. “You sound like you’re trying to talk yourself into it.”
“Not at all, I just—” She bites her lip. “What time do you want me?”
My brain zings on those last words.
You want me?
You want me?
You want me?
Every atom in my body aches to scream “yes!” and it’s all I can do to croak out “How’s six thirty?”
“Great!” She takes another step back, eyes still locked with mine. “I’ll be there.”
She spins away, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I step forward, remembering I need to check the temperature on my hazy IPA. I swear I’m not chasing her. Not desperately moving to step into her orbit.
But when she whirls back around, she crashes against my chest with a solid “oof.”
My hands slide up her arms, and I tell myself it’s just to steady her. But as her golden eyes lock with mine, she makes a sound as soft as the breasts pressed against my chest.
“Griffin, I—” The words die in her throat as she licks her lips. “Jesus.”
Yeah. My thoughts exactly. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why I can’t seem to let go of her. I don’t know why my mouth is descending on hers or why hers seems drawn to mine like we’re pulled together by gravity.
Our lips touch, and I swear to God an arc of lightning cracks inside the brewery. She’s warm and soft and smells like—
“Smoke.” Mari jumps back, blinking. “Is something burning?”
Oh, shit.
My hands drop from her arms like I’ve been burned. That’s exactly what’s happening in the back corner of my brewery.
“Extreme brewing.” I sprint toward the tank, kicking myself for ignoring the timer that buzzed two minutes ago. “It’s a process where malt and hops are subjected to high temperatures to concentrate the flavors.”
And like a dumbass, I took my eye off the tank. Flicking switches to shut things down, I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything looks okay.
But now Mari has seen me at my careless worst, which I swear never happens. “All good,” I say as I turn back to where she’s standing a safe distance away. “Everything’s okay.”
But it’s not okay because holy shit, I almost kissed her. Kissed a goddamn psychologist, which is the last fucking thing I should be doing.
She’s standing there looking as dazed as I feel, which is saying something. “Good,” she says at last. “That’s great. Um, I’d better go.”
She starts for the exit. Like an idiot, I call after her. “We still on for dinner?”
She freezes with her hand on the door. “Dinner.” She licks her lips again, and it’s all I can do not to reach for her. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
Then she turns and sprints outside as my heart fumbles to find some way to restart itself.
Chapter 3
CONFESSIONAL 641.5
Judson, Marilyn, PsyD (Psychologist: Juniper Ridge)
Socialization is key to health and human development. It’s the reason Juniper Ridge offers so many opportunities for community members to interact at cookouts or painting nights or festivals or—what? No, I don’t typically attend. I mean, if there’s some aspect that requires a psychological analysis or contributes to the research aspect of—[sigh] Yes, Lana. I’m aware we’re talking about a community water balloon fight.
How about I sit this one out?
I dress carefully for dinner at Griffin’s, reminding myself it’s not a date. Yes, there was that misunderstanding where I thought he might try to kiss me, but that’s all it was. A misunderstanding.