Page 30 of Trusting You
I instantly fell silent when I saw what she was editing. It was a photo of me, standing on a platform next to one of the large fermentation tanks, taking a test batch. My ever-present hat was on backwards, and I was wearing my standard uniform of old T-shirt and jeans under my brewer’s apron. But the photo was really something else. I was in profile, my face a mask of concentration, and my body was bathed in the diffused light coming through the large warehouse windows and then reflecting off the copper tanks. It was a really good photo. And also kind of embarrassing.
“You took this? With your old camera?”
“Yeah.”
I took a big step back, instantly missing her heat and floral smell, but it seemed appropriate to put some space between us. “It’s really good. You are talented.” Not to be vain about it, but it was a good photo of me. I looked capable and strong. Was this how she saw me?
“Thanks,” she replied sheepishly. “I was just editing this shot to post to our social media. I’ve found posts that talk about the art and science of brewing get a lot of engagement from our followers.”
I admired how hard she was working. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I don’t think people want to see me testing a batch.”
She rolled her eyes at me, and suddenly, sassy Cece was back. “Oh, bless your big dumb heart.” She patted my hand like I was a child. “Um, yes they do. Photos of you get more likes than any others I post.”
This made my head spin. Me? Who wanted to see photos of me? “How many people see these photos?”
“Well, it depends. When I started here, your Instagram account had six hundred forty-three followers. Since then I have grown the account to over four thousand.”
“What, you grew it that much in the last month?”
“Yes. Beer and brewing are really popular on social media. I connected with some others in the space, started churning out content, and found some great hashtags.”
While I had no idea what she was talking about, I was really impressed. She seemed engaged and passionate about what she was doing.
Since arriving here Cece was becoming more and more comfortable. She was outspoken with the guys and engaged in our meetings. Her ideas were great and it was like she was finally realizing that she had a lot to offer. Gone was the timid woman I interviewed. In her place was a self-confident marketing whiz. She had learned more and more about brewing and beer and seemed to be really enjoying herself.
“So wait. Does that mean four thousand people will see that photo?” Why on earth would that many people want to see my ugly mug?
“Well, actually more,” she replied, typing away on her laptop. “If I use the right hashtags, hopefully a lot more will see and be interested in our content and potentially follow us.”
“I have no idea what kind of magic you are working, but wow. So…do likes translate into selling more beer?”
She stopped typing and looked at me like I was an idiot, which I absolutely was. “Yes. Both directly and indirectly. My goal is to raise the profile of the brewery and highlight the work we are doing here as well as the incredible events.” She stopped talking to save something and then continued. “We want visitors, and we want people to go seek out the product at their local stores. We also want to be influential in this space online so we can potentially develop and sell merchandise or form partnerships with relevant brands.”
I’ve been brewing beer for a long time and I wasn’t bad at it. But this? Social media marketing and engagement? I had been maintaining the brewery accounts for years, and clearly I had no idea what I was doing. “Okay, that all sounds awesome. How do we get more likes?”
She laughed. “The only way I could get more likes was if you were shirtless in this photo.”
That caught me off guard. “What?” I sputtered. “That would be unsanitary!”
I moved behind the bar to get myself a beer. I needed something to get me through this conversation which had started out professional but had veered hard into awkward territory.
“Of course it would. But I don’t think the Internet cares about the sanitation standards of this brewery—they just like hot, bearded dudes.” She gave me one of her saucy smiles, and I almost dropped the glass I was holding.
Now I was the one blushing. I put my head down as I poured from the tap. “You think I’m hot, Leary?” I raised my eyes to meet her gaze and threw her a wink.
Her face instantly flushed, and I could tell I wasn’t the only person feeling embarrassed.
“You know what I mean.”
I was feeling bold. Cece challenged me and excited me, and it was hard to deny the feelings she was creating inside me. “Idon’tknow what you mean, actually.” I walked back around and leaned on the side of the bar next to her. She tilted her head up to look at me, and her brown eyes were blazing.
I could see she was breathing heavily. It felt good to see that she was just as worked up as I was. It wasn’t in my head—this connection between us was real, and she could feel it too.
I smirked and caged her in with my arms. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Leary. Lots of women are powerless to my charms.”
My bluster broke the spell because she pushed me hard. “Get over yourself,” she said as she stood up from her barstool.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back toward me. She hit my chest hard, and I snaked my arm around her waist. “Maybe you can help me with that?”
