Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I watched him go, wondering how my independent brother could tolerate being driven around, always under guard. He was essentially a prisoner again. It made me wonder how bad actual prison had been, if this was tolerable.
Dave came through the door, and I waved, ready to hand off the bar to him and disappear into my office or go home. I stared at the screen of my phone, thinking. I could text West, ask if he could talk. Or I could go by his place. I could do something other than wallow, feeling like a brat for taking out all my frustration on him when he was just trying to do his job.
As I stared blindly at the screen, a text message popped up. It was Bob James from Wild Haven Brewing.
Do you have time to talk? I’m in my office until 6.
There are things you should know.
Bob had replaced me with Bear Run Brewing for the kids’ Christmas charity event. Did he want me to come back? No, that couldn’t be it. He would have said in the text. But maybe not. What did he know that I should know? It had to do with Matthew. I was sure of that. When it came to Matthew, I could use all the ammo I could get.
Be there in 15.
Seconds later, a thumbs-up emoji popped up on the screen. Maybe Bob could tell me something I could use to shut Matthew up once and for all.
And then afterwards, I could pop by West’s. And we’d talk.
Chapter Twenty-Two
AVERY
There are things you should know.
Bob’s text ran through my head on repeat as I made the fifteen-minute drive to Wild Haven Brewing. My mind was racing, trying to figure out all the things he could tell me. He’d changed his mind again on the holiday event—Matthew was out, and I was back in. Or Matthew had told him some outrageous lie, and he wanted to know if it was true. Maybe Matthew had been fired from Bear Run Brewing.
Wishful thinking. There wouldn’t be a satisfying resolution to the situation with Matthew. I’d made my bed, and I’d used poor judgment in who I’d invited into it. Now I was dealing with the fallout.
It wasn’t just that I’d broken up with Matthew. Knowing him, my guess was that being fired was a bigger hit to his ego than the end of our relationship, but the fact that I’d dumped him first couldn’t help. I’m sure in his mind that’s not how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to fall in line, happily providing him with sex and my business to run, while I did what I was told and brewed amazing beer. There was only one part of that I was interested in, and it was the part about brewing amazing beer. Not Matthew.
One thing I could say about myself—I wasn’t perfect, but at least when I made mistakes, I tried not to repeat them. No more workplace romances. Of course, that thought sent my brain ricocheting straight to West.
After I talked to Bob, I was going to hunt down West Garfield, apologize for being a jerk, tell him to stop trying to boss me around, and hope we could put this bullshit behind us. I felt a flush of shame at the way I’d overreacted. I was on a hair trigger these days when it came to being told what to do by men who thought they knew everything. But my issues with my father weren’t West’s fault, they were mine. It wasn’t cool of me to make West pay for my bad judgment with Matthew, or my instinctive pushback when it came to being told what to do.
Anxiety tugged at my gut. West might not give me another chance. I hadn’t said anything unforgivable, but I’d been a jerk. But everybody was sometimes, right? Mentally, I crossed my fingers, hoping West was as forgiving as I thought he was.
The parking lot of Wild Haven Brewing was deserted except for a single car, parked on the edge of the lot. I didn’t recognize it, but I didn’t know what Bob drove. Since Wild Haven didn’t have a taproom, do tours, or sell beer on-site, it made sense that no one would be here on a Sunday. And I knew better than anyone how much paperwork I could plow through when no one else was around. Still, there was an abandoned air to the place. If that was Bob’s car, why had he parked so far from the door?
I shook my head. I was just looking for trouble, that’s all. I pulled in, choosing a spot a few spaces from the door—unlike Bob—and hopped out. The glass door sported a colorful logo with illustrated hops and wheat spilling from a basket. I tugged at the handle. It swung open in silence to reveal the cavernous interior of the brewery. With concrete floors and high ceilings, the building was basically a big warehouse divided into sections. In one corner, tall stainless-steel vats were lined up in neat rows. On the other side, Bob had set up his bottling and labeling equipment. Wild Haven wasn’t a rival to one of the big commercial breweries closer to Asheville, but it was a whole lot bigger than Sawyers Bend Brewing. I looked around with envy.