Angel, Inc. started with a sophomore discovery in college, something I managed tinkering around in the lab. A tasteless chemical is added at the very end of the brewing process. Later, a pill antidote reacts with this chemical to reverse the alcohol’s effects on the body. Hayden pushed for us to patent and sell it, and his father gave us financing. Years of testing and licensing followed. FDA approval. Then finally, our first line of products, Angel’s Brew, hit the market. We started in the Northeast, but it quickly spread nationwide. Now, we’re going international. When we added wine to our offerings two years ago, things got even more out of control.
I could have never imagined Angel, Inc. the day that I first told my professor and Hayden about my findings. But here we are, and there’s no going back.
“Celebrities have it much worse,” I suggest.
Gian looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Two Angel lagers,” I order, the bartender smiling at us.
“What if I want something else?”
It’s a familiar joke—Gian always ribs me about drinking my own beer, but I just grin. “Are you driving home?”
Gian drove us here, so I know he has his car.
“Smug bastard.”
I take the beers and hand one to my brother. “Just drink it, asshole.”
Music floats out from inside. Tris hired musicians for the evening; it’s a nice touch.
“I’m proud of all of you,” I say, hit by an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Gian’s marketing knowledge came in handy for the opening, and I’m glad he’s still in Bridgewater so Dad and Tris have someone they can count on. I can imagine standing in the pizza shop, surrounded by my siblings, as this exact song blasted from the speaker near the ovens. We all worked before it was legal, but I never minded. Except on Fridays during Lent, when the line went out the door and going out with friends wasn’t even remotely possible.
“Which is it? Are you proud of me, or am I an asshole?”
Gian and I walk toward the end of the deck. Normally there would be tables out here, but Tris put them in storage for the opening to give people room to mingle. They’re sending around finger food, the soft opening more of a reception than a sit-down dinner.
“Both,” I answer, wondering if she has arrived yet. Trying not to think about it. “He was smart to cover this,” I say, tapping the temporary plexiglass coverings that serve as temporary walls lining the deck. Although not completely impervious to the elements, the deck boasts several space heaters, making it almost as warm as the restaurant inside.
“I still can’t believe this is happening.”
Neither can I. After three years of offering Tris money and being refused, I finally bought this place without his permission. He was pissed, of course. He’d been looking closer to town. This is a much more desirable location, though, and it’ll definitely be more profitable. Something he knows, of course, but like the rest of my stubborn Italian family, Tris wanted to make it on his own. It was only after I explained that giving him this property was as much for me as it was for him that my brother finally agreed to take it.
If I can’t always be there in person, at least I can do something important with the oodles of money I’ve earned and don’t have time to enjoy.
“He’s going to kill it,” I say.
“There you are.”
We turn, my gaze shooting to Devon before taking in the rest of the guests spilling onto the deck behind us.
“Hey, Dev,” I say, sticking out my hand. “How’s it going?”
Devon shakes Gian’s hand too. If nothing else, I know how to pick my friends. Devon Atwood is a hell of a guy.
Did your sister come with you?
I want to ask, but he’ll see right through me. And I’m trying not to flirt with Chari, right? If that’s my objective, I’m not off to a great start after this morning.
How can I help it?
She’s all at once as adorable as a ten-week-old kitten and so fucking sexy. So unassuming. So different from the women I meet these days.
“Earth to Enzo.” Gian is watching me.
“Sounds like a TV show,” Devon says.
And maybe it’s crazy, but I have to know if she’s here.
“Hold the fort out here, you guys. I’m going to check on Mom and Lus. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t wait for a response. Greeting the gathering crowd on the deck as I walk by, I enter the main dining room and look around. Nothing. Loads of people, but no brown-haired beauties. At least, none that I want to talk to tonight. But I have no choice. So I make small talk. Answer questions. Ask Mom if she wants me to hang out by the door with her. Get shoved away by my sister, who says I’m too intimidating.
Whatever the hell that means.
I need another drink.
And then I finally see her near the kitchen door.
She’s dressed in a long-sleeved cream dress. From here it looks like lace, but as she moves toward the crowd, I realize the dress just gives that appearance. I head to the bar and order two beers and head over to greet her. So much for playing it cool.
“Saved you the trouble.” I hand her one of the beers. “Did you come alone?”
Since she didn’t arrive with her brother, I assumed she would be with Lisa or her mom.
“Nope, I came with Devon. Just ran into the kitchen to congratulate Tris.”
She’s always been thoughtful like that.
“Why isn’t he out here?” she asks, then takes a sip of the beer. My beer.
“You know him. Tris is more comfortable in the kitchen than out here greeting guests. I told him he’ll have to come out every once in a while since he’s the owner. Poor guy turned pale when I suggested he give a speech tonight.”
I look toward the door. “Is your mom here?”
Chari and Devon are incredibly close to their mother, so I’m surprised not to see her.
“She sends her regrets. She woke up with a sore throat this morning and feels like crap. Looks like it too. I feel really bad for her.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
With the gentle buzz of conversation around us, music playing in the corner, there’s an atmosphere of celebration. Chari is all smiles, and I’m pretty sure I am too. If we were still kids, that would be the end of the story—two friends enjoying a fun night out.
But we’re not kids. Not anymore.
Chari is a full-grown woman, and I’m very much attracted to her.
And something has changed tonight. She’s no longer looking at me like her brother’s friend. So last night’s veil of indifference toward me was a front. Interesting.
We’re at a stalemate.
If she were any other woman, I wouldn’t hesitate. By the end of the night, her perfectly applied maroon lipstick would be a distant memory. Neither of us would have to wonder if our sexual tension was as off the charts as it felt at this moment.
That cream dress would sit in a heap on the floor, alongside every other piece of clothing we’re both wearing.
“There you are.”
Ah, there it is—the very reason I can’t do or say what I want to Chari has come up behind me, breaking the spell.
“Found your sister,” I say to Devon as if any other topic in the world were more interesting. Her expression, soft and inviting just a few seconds ago, morphs into confusion. I don’t blame her. I’m confused as hell too.