Page 21 of Keeping Guard
“Thank you, Miss Peyton. You have a nice day.”
“You take care of yourself, Joseph.”
“I’ll do that.”
When she’d first met him, she’d tried to bring him food every day, but he’d refused to have any part of that. “Not your charity case, Miss Peyton,” he’d said. So, after some intense negotiations, they’d agreed that she could occasionally bring him something and he would play a song for her. That had evolved into the guess-the-name-of-the-song game, one they both enjoyed.
As for the five dollars she dropped into his cup four or five times a week, when he’d fussed about that, she’d told him to get over it. When he’d still resisted, she’d held the bill up, and then had let it go to blow away with the wind.
“That’s your two choices, Joseph,” she’d said. “It either goes in your cup, or I give it to the wind.”
“Guess in the cup then, but I don’t have to like it.”
She’d laughed. “Thought you’d see it my way.” She’d never figured out why he didn’t want to take her money when it didn’t bother him that other people dropped bills or coins into the cup.
“You’re a stubborn one, Miss Peyton” had been his only comment on the matter.
As she headed for her loft, she thought about that long-ago remark. If ever there was a time to be stubborn, it was now. To keep the life she loved, to stay in the city of her heart, and to keep the loft she adored, all she had to do was find a job. If that meant continuing down her list, even to the last one—a place she really didn’t want to work at—so be it, because she was going to stubbornly refuse to move.
You could start your own brewery.
Huh? Where the devil had that thought come from? Crazy as it was, as she rode the elevator to her floor, her heart beat faster at the idea. Could she? It had never occurred to her to do such a thing since she’d thought she would always brew beer for Elk Antler, and that when her father decided it was time for him to retire, the brewery would be hers. But what if?
Excited about the possibility, she’d start researching the cost of doing it as soon as she finished her lunch. Could she even get a bank loan? What would rent run for a downtown building? And equipment, that wouldn’t be cheap. Then there was the inventory—the grains, yeast, bottles, and other stuff. It was probably a pipe dream, but dreams didn’t cost anything. What would she name her brewery?
Beer names these days were crazy cool and the bottle labels outrageous. It wasn’t going to be easy to come up with an awesome brewery name that wasn’t already in use. She discarded names as she unlocked her door. When she stepped inside her loft, she came to a dead stop. Dalton stood at one of her windows, looking out.
“Still feeding your friend?” He turned and raised his eyebrows. That was one of his idiosyncrasies that she hated, those eyebrows going up when he thought she’d done or said something stupid.
Joseph’s corner was visible from her windows, and if she’d known Dalton was watching them, she would have sat her butt down on the sidewalk and spent another hour with her friend. Dalton had never come out and said so, but his body language always indicated that he disapproved of her giving Joseph money or bringing him food.
Well, screw him. She’d be friends with whoever she wanted, feed whoever she wanted, and give money to whoever she wanted. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to save you from yourself.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Not you, that’s for sure.” Because she had trouble being mean, she about bit her tongue off to keep from telling him that he’d never made her tingle like a certain sexy SEAL.
“Don’t be a witch, Peyton.”
Witch?The name of her maybe brewery flashed right in front of her eyes.Wicked Witch Brewerywas perfect. She laughed. “Well, turns out you’re good for something anyway.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I’m fixin’ to eat my dinner, so goodbye.” She headed for the kitchen.
“Fixing to?” He shook his head. “Do you know how ignorant you sound when you say that?”
“Don’t care.” She set her to-go bag on the counter, then strode back to him and held out her hand. “I want the keys to my loft back.”
“Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation? Why did you disappear from our wedding? And who was that man you were at the waterfall with? Are you having an affair?”
She wished she was having an affair with Noah. “You’re right. You do deserve an explanation. You don’t love me, so I’m not going to marry you.”
“Of course I love you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Where’s this ridiculous notion coming from?”
“From you. I heard you, Dalton. You told Ron that you were marrying me because my father promised you shares in the brewery.” She held out her hand again. “I want my keys, and then I want you to leave.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “No to both. We’re going to settle this today, and then we are going to get married. I’m thinking a quick trip to Vegas will work just fine.”
