Jack’s phone made a buzzing noise, and he flinched. “My car’s here,” he said. Georgie’s eyes rounded with surprise, and she shot another look at River. Whatever that phone call had been about, it had lit a fire under Jack, enough so that he’d summoned a car immediately.
They all got up, and River shook Jack’s hand. Georgie and Jack had an awkward moment where she went in for a hug, and he tried for a handshake.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” he said, and then he left. Georgie’s gaze followed him as if he were a puppy running off and she wondered if he’d ever find his way home. Once the last of him disappeared from view, she turned to River.
“So what now?” she said. “What needs to happen first?”
A slow grin stole over his face. “Let’s hire some cleaners. Then it’s time for you to make your first batch of beer.”
Chapter Fifteen
“This is it,” River said as he put his key into the lock of his heavy wooden front door. He looked relieved when the lock turned. “Well, at least I know that Aunt Dottie won’t be here waiting to ambush us.”
“What?” Georgie asked, wondering if she’d heard him wrong.
They’d called an outside cleaning crew to come clean up the bubbles and empty and sanitize the tanks. Georgie hadn’t had the stomach to stay and watch, but Aunt Dottie, who had shown up in response to a call from Josie, had insisted on supervising the cleaning. She’d assured Georgie that everything would be okay—Mercury was rising and the stars were aligned for a change. Georgie was nervous about leaving the task to the older woman, especially since she’d shown up with her pink sea salt lamps and started some chants to disperse bad energy with a sage stick. But River had assured her that while his aunt had some odd beliefs, she was a stickler for cleanliness. They would be better served working on their new brews.
Now, standing in front of his front door, he gave her a wry grin that held a playful look. “Nothing. Go on in.”
He pushed the door open, and she took a hesitant step over the threshold, surprised at the smell of fresh bread, but then she recognized it from Beau’s house and realized it was the smell of brewing beer. She was surprised, and more than a little bit pleased, to discover that she liked it. She associated it with River now.
Her gaze wandered around the open living room and dining area, curious about River’s home. You could tell so much about a person from their personal space, and she was relieved to see that River’s loft was warm and homey…and littered with shredded toilet paper and pillow stuffing.
“Oh shit,” River said, coming up short behind her.
She was about to ask him if he had a rat infestation when a tiny bundle of fur came bounding out of the kitchen and slammed into River’s feet. He bent down and scooped up the furball, holding the cutest puppy she had ever seen up in front of his face.
With a mock scowl, he said, “Hops, how did you get out of your kennel?”
She laughed. “I didn’t know you had a puppy.” But then she felt foolish. How would she have known he had a puppy? She barely knew him, yet for some reason, she felt like it would have come up in conversation during their multiple discussions about Jezebel the night before.
A grin lit up his eyes. Had she ever met a man with more expressive eyes? His were always so full of humor and kindness, even at the brewery today when everything had gone to hell. But she shouldn’t notice things like that. Especially given their professional relationship. She told herself that good bosses made sure their employees were happy, but she knew that was a stretch.
No good boss made her employee happy the way she wanted to make him happy.
Boy, was she in trouble.
“I didn’t until this morning.” River balanced the fluffball’s belly on his palm and turned the puppy to face her. “Georgie, meet Hops; Hops, this is Georgie.” The puppy’s feet began to paddle as though it were swimming. River laughed and held the puppy close to his chest. “Hops is a foster. Maisie caught me at a weak moment this morning and twisted my arm into taking him.” But as Georgie watched him rub the puppy’s head, she wondered how much arm twisting had really been involved.
“And you named him Hops?” She couldn’t help grinning. Somehow it fit.
His gaze darted to the puppy’s head, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s kind of a tribute to Beau.”
Guilt nipped at her momentary happiness. It felt like she was stealing River’s inheritance. Still, she’d made a promise to Jack, and that was important to her too. She didn’t want to break her word to him, particularly not when things were still so fragile between them.
“Hey,” he said, misinterpreting her sudden somberness. “I didn’t mean to upset you about Beau. After this afternoon…” He grimaced, then gave her an earnest look. “It’s going to be okay, Georgie. I won’t let you fail. I promise.”
His words and his tone, so earnest, brought tears to her eyes. How could she keep this from him? “Um…can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” he said, worry crinkling the bridge of his nose. “But I’m concerned about what you’ll find there. If he pulverized all of the toilet paper, there’s some under the sink. I’m going to take him out anyway, so that will give you a moment to yourself.” River grabbed a leash off the kitchen table and headed out the front door, the puppy still cradled in his strong arms.
Like she wanted to be.
Don’t be a fool, Georgie. She went to the restroom, smiling a little as she changed out the toilet paper, and when she washed her hands, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. If she could see the guilt in her eyes, would he?
When she returned to the living room area, River still hadn’t come in, so she took a moment to survey the space. He definitely couldn’t be accused of buying his pieces from a furniture showroom floor, but while his furniture was obviously older, each piece looked well-worn and loved. He was a man who found value in things others might discard, and she sensed he had a deep loyalty to those he cared about. More guilt washed over her.
She needed to get a handle on that or she’d never make it to the Brewfest Competition next March.
Torn, she ran her hand over a cracked leather side chair, letting herself think about River sitting there, reading one of the books from the case. Multiple photos lined the fireplace mantel—Dottie and Beau with a mountain view behind them. River with a man around his age, both beaming. They stood in front of a banner that said Brewfest Competition, and River was holding a blue ribbon. An older photo of a beautiful woman with long blond hair and River’s eyes, only hers looked troubled, taken in what appeared to be a jungle. But it was a photo of River with a cute woman with curly red hair that triggered an unexpected surge of jealousy.
Georgie was falling for him, something she could not do. Coming here had been a bad idea.
The living room and dining area were strewn with the puppy’s mess, so she started picking up the ripped tissue and fluffy batting. She had a good portion of it scooped up when the door opened.
“Georgie, you don’t have to do that,” River said apologetically as Hops trotted in next to him on the leash. They were a funny sight—the six-foot-tall River walking a puppy who was all of nine inches tall. He looked all kinds of adorable…and the puppy was cute too.