Page 2 of It Happened in Vegas

I took a few steps closer to him. Big mistake. The man brewed beer, and immediately I could pick up the typical scents of citrus, pine, and earthiness that were all hops, perfectly matching his style, like he was a solid tree in the center of the earth. But I had a job to do here, not a man to climb.

“Paris’ drawing got you started. But this new logo gets you noticed. This says you’re not just a brewer—you’re a brand. You’re a guy who knows craft brewing, and you want to be taken seriously. The goal is to take your business nationwide, and based on informal research I’ve conducted at the Hops, people love your beer. You hold the power here to make that happen, but only if you say yes to what I’m presenting here today.”

Richard gave an approving nod. I held my breath. My body stood at the ready, armpits sweating like crazy, and I hoped they couldn’t tell.

Keaton stared at the table for a full minute. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, he muttered, “The logo is... not terrible.”

Richard chuckled. “That’s practically a standing ovation coming from him.”

What was that on Keaton’s face? A lip twitch? A hint of a smile? Probably just a muscle spasm.

What I wanted to hear, what my marketing geniusneededto hear, was how darngoodit made him feel. Good was my word. Everything we touched, experienced, tasted, heard, smelled... it all produced a reaction within the body. Reactions translated into enjoyment or displeasure, and I tested those responses, much like the way my neuroscientist best friend Maisy spent the past few years measuring human responses to stressful situations.

My job was to create the right marketing that would reach the right people, so that when they drank Keaton’s beer they received extreme pleasure from the entire experience—from the point they saw the logo, picked up the bottle, drank it, to howgoodit made them feel.

I clicked to the next slide. “And, to make this even more fun, I’ve brainstormed five new brew names for the relaunch. Market-tested with a very elite panel of twenty-somethings whomay or may not have been bribed with pizza while I was at the Hops one night.”

“I don’t recall you doing that?” Keaton asked.

I shrugged. “You weren’t there that night.”

I rattled them off with dramatic flair. “Reality Star, Hoppy Field of Dreams, Flirty Nature, Buzzed & Bitter, and Dark Romance were the most favored in my informal analysis.”

I winked as I finished, and Richard laughed out loud. “Those are great,” he said.

Keaton raised a brow. “Were these twenty-something females? Because they don’t sound like me andmyvibe.”

I crossed my arms to challenge him. “You don’t think they are more original names than your Beer #4, Keaton’s Amber, Barley Bro, One Hop Wonder, and Brown-ish Ale?”

Richard snorted and shaked his head. “No comparison.”

“What? Brown-ish Ale really is kind of brown,” Keaton took a defensive stance. And then... he looked at me. Not glared. Not squinted. Full on planted his blue eyes on me and I felt it radiate through me to the back of my spine.

Was it an attraction? As handsome as he was, I wouldn’t think I’d be his type based on all the women I watched him connect with on his season of Brewed for Love, not to mention the looks and flirts he gave to other women patrons at the brewery. Although he certainly flirted with me enough, too, every single time I visited.

I clicked to the final slide and read the slogan.

“Holly Creek Hops—Brewed with love. Served with swagger.”

A beat of silence. Then—just for a second—he smiled. Not full-on. Not enough to claim victory yet. But enough that my heart performed a pitiful little somersault.

Crap.Do not fall for the broody brewer who was a relatively recent reality TV star, who had blonde bombshells fawn all over him in front of millions in the viewing audience.

He had arguably been one of the favorites in the show Brewed for Love, which put craft brewing men in the same house as beautiful women without a brain and forced them into situations to see who would couple up. One by one, couples got eliminated each week. The last couple who remained won. Unfortunately, Keaton finished as the runner-up.

I’d been glued to the show long before I ever met Keaton in person. And when we did meet, I had to sit on my hands at the bar to keep from draping myself all over him as his biggest fan-girl. I hoped he never found out that I’d been the most vocal on social media about the fact his female companion on the show, Starla, had cheated him out of winning the whole thing.

“Humph. Brewed with love is kind of too similar to BrewedforLove, isn’t it? What would the producers think if I came out with this slogan? Talk about taking advantage of my ten minutes of fame.” He asked a valid question.

“Which is why I took the liberty of reaching out to Melanie at their studio to clear it before presenting it to you.” The head producer and I had a lovely conversation about how adorable Keaton was and how she’d wanted him to win, but at the time the front runners, Vanessa and Ben, were fan favorites and earned more votes.

“Well, I’m very impressed, Sophie. Nice work.” Richard stood. “I have another meeting to attend. So, Keaton? What do you think? With this new branding and the marketing and advertising under Sophie’s lead, if we can improve the image, improve sales, then I know we can attract the attention of major bottling and distribution companies.” He leaned his hands on the back of a chair, once again, waiting for Mr. H.C. Hops himself to weigh in.

Keaton scratched his beard, fingers scraping his jaw. “Sounds like we have a plan.”

I had to hold myself back from jumping up and down and screaming,Keaton Kingston chose me… Me!This was not the time to be a raving fan. Nope. I was a professional and would take this win with a demure, polite, albeit enthusiastic smile.

“Great. Sophie, I’ll look forward to regular reports on the progress.” With that, Richard walked out, leaving me on my own with Keaton as I tried hard not to gush about how happy I was.

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