Page 70 of Best Served Cold

“Working here isn’t my dream, Dylan,” I blurt out. It’s probably not the right time to admit that, given that he just did something nice for me, but I don’t want him to burn any bridges for Buchanan Brewery if I’m only going to be here temporarily. Also, I can’t stand the thought of lying to him.

He gives me a strange look. “Uh, yeah, pouring beer isn’t most people’s dream. This place may just be a stop in your journey, but that doesn’t mean you’re not part of our family. And, hey, I shared your recipes for the NA drinks with the owners. They want to put them on the menu. Good work. Youcan come up with the names if you’d like, but no swearing. The Buchanans will get on my case.”

My heart swells in my chest as I get back to work, and it’s a good night. Acrowdednight. But I won’t lie. I’m happiest when my shift ends. I want to see Rob’s golden-hazel eyes light up when he catches sight of me. I want to see his lips and remember what it felt like when they brushed over mine, lighting me up with a fire I didn’t know I could feel with a man.

Which is why it really sucks when he doesn’t show up.

I sweep the floors a second time. Wipe the counters a third. I text him, but he doesn’t text back. I call, but it goes directly to his voice message. I’m torn between being upset and worried that something happened to him. What if Jonah hurt him or his father did something to him or…

What if he realized this is insane, and he figured out another way to help Emil? Or maybe there never really was an Emil, and it was all a lie. He and Jonah may BOTH be liars.

Maybe he realized you want him, and he’s embarrassed for you. Because you’re too vanilla.

I pretend to clean some more, feeling like an idiot for putting on this dress. The staffers who worked with me probably knew exactly why I was wearing it and felt sorry for me, because I’m the last person any man would want to sleep with. Certainly the last woman any man would want to marry.

I inhale a few deep breaths and then close up the brewery and drive home.

I find Otis watching a dirty movie on the couch while eating burnt popcorn. It doesn’t look like porn, necessarily, but it’s definitely close—even if the dick the woman on screen is about to suck looks like a stack of quarters covered in Play-Doh.

“I didn’t think you were going to be home,” Otis says frantically. He fumbles to turn it off and somehow increases the volume, blasting the living room with deafening moans.

I press my hand to my chest to calm the lurching sensation there. The pull of bad luck must be more powerful than good fortune. Maybe this is the kind of mishap I’m doomed to suffer again and again. Thinking I’m going to have a late dinner with a guy I like and instead walking in on my cousin about to jerk off.

A voice in my head suggests that at least I got here before and not during, but it’s not much of a silver lining.

Finally, Otis gets the movie turned off, and I grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and a fork.

“What about the spoons?” he asks, his expression alarmed, no doubt having flashbacks of all of my low moments over the last couple of weeks.

I sigh. “A spoon just doesn’t have the same gravitas.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ROB

Conversation with Sophie

Sophie? I’m sorry I’m late.

Are you still there?

You’re not at the brewery.

I’m coming over to check on you.

Dammit.Dammit.

I missed my Not-a-Date with Sophie.

I didn’t even have a good reason for it, other than that the incident at Tea of Fortune this morning had progressed into an epically bad afternoon.

My father had kept calling me, and finally I’d called him back after grabbing lunch with Travis.

He’d asked me to meet him for coffee, and I agreed. It was a highbrow place I hadn’t been to before, where all the lattes are named after political figures and cost twice what they should. Fine, he was probably trying to put me in my place by making it clear that I didn’t belong.

When I arrived, he was already there with two drinks on his two-top table, so apparently he’d already decided on my drink order.

I sat down across from him, feeling a familiar tightness in my chest. I used to want his good opinion, even though he didn’t have mine. Part of me still does. Maybe it was my lot in life to always want the things I couldn’t have. His good opinion. A successful career in music. My brother’s girl…

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