Page 6 of Some Like It Hops

There’s no sign of Stephen, so I head upstairs. It’s pretty packed for a Friday afternoon, but not as busy as it could be. People still haven’t completely gotten on board with the pour-it-yourself craze, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the other breweries nearby are getting more business. It’s a bold move to let customers pour for themselves, but the gimmick can’t be what brings them in—the beer has to stand on its own.

I’m vaguely familiar with Evans’ selection, though when I’m not working, I tend to spend my time at Storyteller’s or Wick’s. I’m one of those people who’s not quite on board with having to pour my own beer. At the end of a long brewing day, I want someone else pouring for a change. It’s part of the whole package.

I give the beer hostess my debit card and she hands me a pint glass, then I make my way to the long row of taps. There’s a new seasonal sour on tap. Blackberry kiwi. I scrunch my nose; I have my doubts. But I do love creative flavor combinations, and I’ll try anything once, so I reach toward the tap—

“You have to tip the glass,” a man says behind me. His voice is deep and velvety, but ear candy doesn’t negate the fact that he’s about tomansplainhow to properly pour beer.

My jaw tightens and I turn around to let him know I don’t need his help… and my breath catches in my throat, my retort dead on my lips.

Hello,Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

He’s well over six feet tall, which means my five-three ass has to crane my neck up to look at him. But it’s not a bad view. He looks down at me with piercing green eyes, his dark brown hair is short on the sides and slightly longer on top, perfectly styled without a hair out of place. The beard stubble across his strong jaw is a rugged—and sexy as hell—contradiction to his tailored suit and clean-cut appearance. It’s a struggle, but I resist the desire to trail my fingernails through the scruff.

His suit fits him like it was custom made, and even though he’s fully dressed and covered up, the lean,tonedcondition of his body is apparent in the way the slacks hug his thighs…

Hmm. Maybe I could become a suit girl after all.

I force my gaze back up to his eyes and he smiles, looking down at me like maybeI’mabout to be the seasonal selection on tap.

I don’t think I’d mind.

But Idomind being told how to pour a beer, so I smile sweetly and say, “Thanks for the tip, but this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He smirks. “So you’ve ridden a lot of studs?”

My eyes widen briefly, but I recover quickly. “I’ve definitely dealt with a lot of bull.”

He flashes a devilish grin and inclines his head, then motions for me to continue.

My pulse speeds from the closeness to this beautiful man and the little flirt we just had. Something about a man who can banter makes me want to rip his clothes off. I give my head a quick shake as I fill the glass only halfway, then slowly turn back around.

“Not much of a drinker?” he asks, still dangerously close to me.

I pause and look up at him, careful not to let my gaze linger too long on his full lips and that devious smile. “Actually, I’m not really sure about this flavor combination. Blackberry is great in a sour, but kiwi tends to encourage a bitter flavor profile.”

His eyebrows slowly creep up his forehead. “She’s cuteandshe knows her brews.”

I smile coyly. “I knowlotsof things.” A rush of heat warms my cheeks again.

“I bet you do.” He slowly drags his gaze down my body, leaving a trail of fire over my skin as though he touched me with his fingers instead of his gaze. Don’t I wish.

I clear my throat and try to get back to my seat as quickly as possible. I’m dangerously close to asking him to samplemenext instead of the beers available on tap. I pull myself up onto my barstool and don’t look back, taking a sip of the blackberry sour. I grimace. Damn. So close. But that bitterness on the back end can’t be ignored. I’ll wait a few minutes before I go help myself to another pour so I don’t risk bumping into him again and helping myself tohim. The fluttering in my chest still hasn’t recovered from the last interaction and my cheeks are probably still bright red.

It occurs to me as I sit hereforcingmyself not to look back at him, that he was wearing a black suit and a crisp indigo shirt. I was too busy ogling him to make the connection.

Hopefully Jo lands this client.

So, you know, then maybeIcan land him.

Chapter Four

Griffin

The little brunette doesn’t look back again once she sits down, so I return my focus to the taps. It’s a shame, but I’m not here to pick up beautiful women; I’m here to get my warehouse.

She’s a little firecracker though, and my mind has already spun all kinds of scenarios, all of them with one or both of us naked. She’s not much more than five or so feet of sex appeal and sass. And a woman who knows beer is a definite weakness of mine.

Oh well. I need to stay focused.

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