Her lips parted slightly, and a little smile tugged at her lips, but the next moment it was gone, and she was looking down.
“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what we would have done without you. Or maybe I do.” She bit her lower lip, drawing his attention to it. He’d come so close to kissing those lips last night—just like he wished he could now. He shifted forward a little, drawn toward her despite himself. “I probably would have let my brother and sister convince me to sell. Jack would have wanted to keep it, but I don’t know how he would have managed on his own. And I would have gone on knowing about my brother but not knowing him. So thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Georgie,” he said softly, letting himself put his hand next to hers on the table but stopping short of taking her hand. “You did this all on your own, but if I can guide you in any way, it would be my pleasure.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And I suppose it’ll also be my job.”
He thought again of the way Georgie and Jack had acted before the whole bubble extravaganza. Jack had been strangely accusatory even before everything had fallen apart.
“That is, of course, if the offer is still on the table.”
She’d been sipping the water, and she snorted a little, choking on it. He was about to get up to pound her back, but she finally did take his hand, stopping him. A zip of awareness shot through him, much stronger than it should have been from such an innocent touch.
“I’m okay,” she said through coughs. “I was only laughing because not even five minutes ago I was thinking you were the irreplaceable one in this equation, not Jack and not me. We’re lucky you want to work with us.” Her lips pursed in a worried look. “From what I can tell, Beau was paying Lurch a lot less than the average salary for a brewmaster.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” he said, feeling the heat of her small hand over his. She must have noticed too, because a horrified look filled her eyes and she snatched it back so fast she toppled the water pitcher, the water splashing all over his shirt and lap.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, River!”
“It’s okay,” he said. And because he wanted her to erase words like “replaceable” from the vocabulary she used about herself, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling of her hand, he found himself saying, “A little beer on my shirt yesterday, a little water today. It’s almost like you want me to take my shirt off.”
Her cheeks went bright pink at that, and she stopped what she was doing, feverishly grabbing napkins from the holder in the middle of the picnic table. His shirt was soaked through, and those napkins would do nothing to help. The downward glance she gave her hands told him she knew it.
“I’m just teasing,” he said softly. “But I think I will grab some of the merchandise, if you don’t mind.” He nodded to the counter of the bar, where a few of the brewery T-shirts were on display, and headed over to grab his size. The only design left was one Aunt Dottie had put together last year. Do it the Buchanan Way! it said. The image was of a beer can in the center of a starburst, which he’d always thought made it look like it had just exploded. Maybe not so inspiring.
He pulled off his shirt to change into the fresh one, which was, of course, when Jack came back in.
He did a double take—which, fair enough, River had just taken off his shirt during what had to be one of the strangest business meetings of all time. “I’m gone five minutes, and now River has his shirt off.”
“Little accident with the water,” River said, nodding to the table. He was about to pull on the brewery shirt, but his gaze shot to Georgie. She’d taken a seat again, but her eyes were fixed on his chest, and the heat in them shot straight below his belt. Well, shit, he’d better get sitting again.
He pulled on the shirt and returned to the table, but instead of sitting opposite Georgie, he sat next to her, telling himself he could use the water as an excuse. She didn’t move away.
Jack sat opposite them, avoiding the water spot.
“I think we might need to design new shirts too,” Jack said wryly.
“Too bad Adalia’s not much interested in the business,” Georgie said. “She’s an amazing artist.”
“Oh?” Jack said, tipping his head. There was genuine interest in his voice, and River could tell that Jack had spent time thinking about his sisters and brother, wondering what they’d be like. He put on a tough front, but he wanted to know his family, that much was clear.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind if it’s something that interests her,” River suggested. And having a joint project could help draw the siblings together to do something other than argue.
Although what did he know? Maisie was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he’d met her for the first time when he was thirteen.
“I hope you’re right,” Georgie said, turning to him with a smile. “I’ll talk to her.” Happiness shone in her eyes, and he was grateful to have put it there. It had seemed impossible just a half hour ago.
“Good plan,” Jack said. Some emotion passed through his eyes, but River couldn’t pin it. “Georgie, something’s come up in Chicago. I wanted to stay in Asheville for at least a few days longer so we could get things moving, but I have to go back immediately.”
Based on what little he was saying, it was obvious it was personal—and even more so that he wasn’t going to tell them who’d called or what was said.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Georgie said after a moment of silence, and River could hear a hint of hurt in her voice.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not,” he said bluntly. “But it will be. I’d rather not think about it, though, and I’m even less in the mood to talk about it, if that’s okay. But we can figure some things out over the phone and email while I’m away. I still plan on being back in about a month. Plenty of time to plan for the reopening.”
River admired him for being direct—too many people would have lied and given the all clear. At least he hadn’t blown her off. That was something.
“Sounds good,” Georgie said. Another pause. “But I’m here to listen if you ever do want to talk.”
Jack just nodded, but he seemed almost embarrassed.
Since one of the new owners was about to leave the state, River figured it was as good a time as any to talk direction for the brewery.
“We’ll probably need to move forward with putting together our first beer list, Jack,” he said. “Any ideas you wanted to add? I was thinking we’d make some changes seasonally. So we might want to focus on fall right out the gate.”
“Actually, I was thinking about this last night,” Jack said, his tone brightening. “Before I was a manager, I spent years making drinks. What do you say we do a line of beers inspired by classic cocktails?”
“That’s a great idea!” Georgie said, catching his excitement, and River could tell it was a mix of genuine appreciation for the idea and her desire to bolster her brother. She turned a little to River as if to say, Is it?
“It is,” River said. “We can have one or two specials a season.” He told them a little about his own thoughts—the beers that had worked best at Big Catch, which he could mimic without copying, plus a couple of more experimental ones he wanted to try. Some of the barrel-aged ones would take months.