Page 4 of Trusting You
“To new opportunities,” everyone echoed.
I took a deep gulp of wine, wondering just what the hell I’d got myself into.
3
Liam
I wasknee-deep in a fermenting tank when my phone pinged. It was the security system I set up. After some break-ins last year, I decided to install some cameras. I had a really large space and work late nights, so it seemed like the responsible thing to do. I turned them off when the taproom was open, but since it was only nine a.m., I was a bit confused.
I pulled up the app on my phone. Someone was outside the loading dock entrance. It looked like a woman, all dressed up. Probably a rep trying to sell something. Since Trent was bottling, I decided to deal with it myself.
Climbing out of the tank and down the ladder, I trudged out to the door still wearing my rubber waders and boots.
The sunlight hit my eyes and I was temporarily disoriented. When I opened them, I was greeted by a strange sight. A beautiful woman, all dressed up, staring at me like a deer in headlights. She was wearing a power suit and sky-high heels while clutching an expensive looking leather tote, and her hair was severely pulled back into one of those huge donut buns at the nape of her neck. She looked like a business Barbie—if Barbie had sexy librarian glasses and a little more meat on her bones. I was momentarily stunned. Brewing was, unfortunately, a bit of a boys’ club, and most of the people I dealt with were men. It was a bit unsettling to see a gorgeous woman hanging out behind my building. My eyes were drawn to her tight skirt which left nothing to the imagination. Damn. Those were some serious curves.
“Can I help you?” I tried to stand up straight and look authoritative, but I realized I just sounded like an asshole. I was so off my game right now.
Get it together, jackass. You own this place.
“Um, yes. I am looking for Liam Quinn.”
I give her a quizzical look. “I’m Liam.”
“Oh my God! Wow.” Her posture relaxed, and a big smile spread across her full lips. “I’m Cecelia Leary. I don’t know if you remember me from high school. I didn’t recognize you with the, ah…” She gestured to my beard and strange outfit.
“Holy shit.” I took off my baseball cap and then put it back on when I realized my hair probably looked insane. “Cece? It’s been so long. My mom told me you were living in New York. You’re so grown up now. It’s great to see you.” And I meant it. The Learys were our family friends for decades. Cecelia was a couple of years younger than me, but she was always around when we were little. I remember a small, determined girl with wild, curly hair and a pretty, chatty teenager with even more wild, curly hair. “Ah. What are you doing here?”
Her shoulders slumped, and her face fell. “Oh. Um. Sorry.” She looked down at her shoes. “Um…I’m here for the job interview?”
“Sorry, what?” I had no idea what she was talking about. Why was this woman standing here all dressed up at my brewery, looking for a job?
Now instead of depressed, she looked thoroughly uncomfortable. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. Your mom told me you were hiring someone to help with marketing and said I should be here at nine a.m. sharp. I thought you knew.” She stared at me with large, brown eyes, and I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to hug her. She seemed pretty shaken up by my confusion.
“Sorry. My mom can be a bit of a flake sometimes. I am sure she meant to tell me but forgot.”
Her eyes widened even further and she shifted on those insane heels. “You look busy. I should go.”
“No,” I shouted, a little too forcefully. She should go. I don’t know what my mom told her, but I guarantee she has no idea what we need here. “Come inside. I can show you around, and we can chat.” My mouth kept saying things I knew I shouldn’t say. I felt this strange pull toward her. I wanted to keep her here. Show her what I’ve built. Get to know her.
I gesture toward the door and repeated, “Come inside. I’ll show you around.”
She gave me a sheepish smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose. I feel like an idiot.”
“No. Please.” I begin to sound desperate. “My mom will kill me if she finds out I turned you away. You’d be doing me a favor.” I needed to get it together and find my balls. I was basically begging this woman to hang around my brewery at nine a.m. on a Tuesday.
She relented and walked in.Keep your eyes off her ass, Quinn. She is not a piece of meat. She is a family friend and potential employee.But I was a weak man. And damn, she had a nice ass.
Clearly, I had no idea what I was getting into.
* * *
“So, what is it you do? What is a Field Marketing Director?”
Her face flushed. “Well, I was responsible for a large territory selling a pharmaceutical product for arthritis. I targeted rheumatologists and internal medical providers and blah blah blah.”
“So you sold drugs?” I smirked, attempting a joke.
“Yes and no. I sold legal, FDA approved drugs that drastically improved the lives of patients all over the world. But if you want to trivialize the last eight years of my life, then yes—I sold drugs.”Way to go Quinn, you just insulted the overqualified job applicant. Awesome.
