I laugh again. “He looked like Henry?”
“Yes, I took a picture.” She pulls out her phone and taps at the screen and then thrusts it into my face.
A little goat smiles for the camera. “Great picture.” I study it, a little closer this time, and fuck, she’s right. “He may resemble Henry a little.” I can’t agree with her and tell her she’s marrying a guy who looks like a goat. “But, it isn’t an exact replica.”
She takes her phone back and plops it into her handbag. “Well, I didn’t say he was an exact replica. I, well...never mind.”
Oh, I need to know the rest of her sentence. “What?”
She shakes her head, grabbing her fork and piercing the cake with it. “I can’t. It’s too mean.”
She’s piqued my interest. “You know I can keep a secret.” Obviously. I’ve never told anyone I’ve kissed her. Well, except my brother, but he doesn’t count.
“Promise you won’t tell Henry?”
I cross my fingers over my chest. “Yes.”
“Well, every time I look at Henry…” she sighs, “now, all I see is the goat.”
This is bad. This is way worse than what I thought she was going to say. “I’m sure that will go away with time.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
“But, what if it doesn’t.”
I can’t not let her marry Henry because he resembles a goat who ate her ring. Seriously, I can’t make this shit up. But, it still doesn’t change the fact I can’t be the one held responsible for breaking up this wedding. Even if I’ve tasted the bride's lips and can’t forget the sweet flavor.
I need to find some faults in this woman, and right now I can’t find a single one. I don’t like to say things are perfect, because I feel like that’s just asking for something to go wrong, but she makes me almost believe in perfection.
But, I can’t think this way. “Kiki, you’re getting cold feet. It’ll go away. Henry is a person, not a goat.” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation.
“What if it doesn’t?”
She looks so distraught, I want to make it all better. “I promise you, baby, it’ll go away.” And that baby was just a figure of speech.
Her eyes widen. “You shouldn’t call me things like that.”
“I know.” My heart bashes inside my chest, making my breathing erratic. “I know, Kiki.”
Silent, we stare at each other. I should look away, but I can’t. Her caramel-colored eyes call to me, like a siren calling to a long, lost ship.
And then I do stand. “I forgot, I’ve got to meet my brother at the brewery.”
But, like she doesn’t want this moment to end, she stands too. “Brewery?”
“It’s my family’s brewery. It’s not too far from here.” And then I say something I’ll most likely regret, “Want to come?”
She smiles. “I’d love to.”
TEN
Kiki
Never waste a beer…
Confession: I’m a beer girl. I’m realizing in the whirlwind romance that took place with Henry, I somehow forgot that. Maybe because the fancy places he frequents would probably frown upon me ordering a beer.
I order the vanilla cake with buttercream frosting before we leave, and then we make our way to the Bearded Goat Brewery a few blocks over. A thought hits me on the way over about Ellis saying he’s more of a beer guy. This is what he meant.
“I can’t believe you own this,” I say, as we enter the iconic brewpub.
“My father started this brewery, and now my brother and I run it.”
“That’s so interesting. Can I tell you a secret?”
“You don’t like beer?” He smiles.
I shake my head. “I don’t. I love it. Your I’d Tap That double IPA is my favorite”
He gives me a lop-sided grin and grabs my hand, sliding our palms together. “Let me show you around.”
My hand feels tiny in his—and right. I can’t tell you how confused I am about everything. The cake tasting made me a million times more confused about my life. I thought I always wanted to get married. And that’s still a dream. One day, I do want to be married with some kids and such but being around Ellis makes me think maybe marriage is too big of a step for me. Maybe I should date more people. People like him, preferably. Ugh, I did not just think that. But what would a date with him be like?
Is it bad that I kind of want to find out? Yes, yes, it’s very bad. Got it. I promise, I won’t think that thought again.
He shows me all the cool things about this place, and trust me, it is very cool. I mean, the way the machines pump liquid gold really gets my adrenaline flowing. Or maybe it’s the way Ellis leans against the stainless-steel tank, arms crossed, and green eyes stuck to me.
“This is where the magic happens,” he says.
“How exactly do you make beer?”
“Well, it starts with barley. We use a mixture of barley and wheat and then throw a little oat into the mix. Shh, old family secret.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Then we add hot water over here.” He shows me the machine where it all begins. “It’s almost like porridge.” His knowledge makes him more attractive. He’s not just a pretty face, dammit. “Once the mash is at the right temperature the sugar is extracted. Then from there we add hops and there’s a little more to it, but that’s the gist of it all.”
“Very impressive.”
For the next thirty minutes, he leads me around, explaining all the different types of hops and beers they make.
“So, that’s the whole place. There will be a quiz to see if you were paying attention,” he jokes.
At least I think he’s joking, until he continues, “What’s the name of this tank?” He thumbs over his shoulder.
“Bob?” I guess.
He laughs. “Someone wasn’t paying attention.”
He slips his hands into his pockets, and how can you pay attention to someone when all you can think about is that same person putting their hands all over you? Hard to do, huh?
Well, that’s me. My whole brain is all disjointed, and all the normal thoughts I should be having about boilers, kettles, and kegs are replaced with sexy images of Ellis while he pours beer over me and his tongue drags down my neck, licking it off.
“Sure, I was,” I pipe out.
“We also have a little pub around front. Want a drink?”
“Yes,” I say, a bit too eager. “I could really use one.”
He leads me back through a door and down a narrow hallway. “What do you think of the place?”
“I love it.”
He opens another door and leads me into a dimly lit pub with a few people drinking at the bar.
When I turn to head in the direction of the bartender, Ellis touches the small of my back, gently, and leads me toward a secluded booth in the back.
With sweaty palms and a racing heart, I slide into the padded leather bench seat. “It’s really nice here.”