Page 54 of Good Vibes Only
“You’ll get there, babe,” I said confidently. “I’m sure of it.”
“How do you know?”
“Greatness recognizes greatness.”
She laughed. “You know … you’re really something.”
“I’m serious, Mac. I really mean it. You just have to believe you’ve got it in you.”
“Thanks. I gotta hand it to you, Brett. Your confidence is infectious.” She stared into my eyes, but it wasn’t long before her smile began to fade. “Still. It’s hard to be positive when things aren’t going well.”
“I get it,” I said, bobbing my head with disappointment because we were back at square one. I hated the fact that my brewery was giving her trouble. “I wish there was something I could do about the noise.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said with a heavy sigh.
A silence came between us, and with it, an ominous sense of hopelessness.
But I wasn’t one to dwell on the negative for long—and just like that, an idea popped into my head. It seemed so obvious, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Excited, I snapped my fingers.
“Dude. Mac! I just got an idea.”
“Hm?”
“You know those egg cartons made out of foam? The stuff musicians put on their walls?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Soundproofing panels?”
“Yeah, exactly. I can buy a ton of those for my brewery. And they only have to stay up until the work’s done.”
She leaned back, skeptical but intrigued. “You really think that’d work, though?”
“Can’t hurt to try. They can’t possibly make the noise any worse, ya know?”
“That’s true,” she said, and her sweet smile slowly but surely returned. I loved the way she looked at me, her beautiful eyes sparkling. “You’d really do that for me?”
“Hell, after all the trouble, I think it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you, Brett.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulder, pulled herself closer, and pressed her lips against my cheek. “You’re sweet.”
I put my arm around her, and we relaxed.
McKayla glanced at her watch, and a tiny groan of disappointment escaped her.
“Gotta get back to work?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I can’t keep Raven stranded there all alone.”
“No prob.” I nodded at the bartender, who swept by with the bill and whisked away our empty plates. I cracked open the wallet and left him a couple crisp bills. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said, and we slid out of our stools.
We made for the exit, my arm slung around her shoulder.
“Thanks for lunch, Brett. That was so good.”
“Right?” I said, and held the door open for her. “Thisisexactlywhat I always wanted.”
“You should talk to your project manager guy, then! Because I, for one, fully support you in going afteryourdream business,” she said. “And really: what’s not to love about classic American bar fare? There’s nothing to be ashamed of at all. It’d gogreatwith your beer. You can still seat people at tables, too. You just want the food to match your vibe! You don’t want a menu with a bunch of experimental or expensive cuisine, because thebeeris what people are coming for, not the food.”
