Page 65 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Gia clamped a hand over her own mouth.
“Shit. What’s it going to take to make sure that never gets repeated,” Eva hissed.
“Five-hundred bucks,” Joey shot back.
“That’s extortion!”
“Okay, fine then. Dedicate your next book to me.” Joey steepled her fingers, her long legs stretching out under the table. Joey devoured Eva’s novels like chocolate-covered pretzels.
“Arg. Fine. Deal.”
“I can’t believe all this time we were allowed to contest our matches,” Summer muttered.
26
The cabernet was a rich red in the tasting glasses Davis distributed. “This particular blend is heavy on the currant and vanilla.”
Beckett Pierce held up the glass to the light and swirled the wine, his apocalypse-earned black eye from Sheriff Cardona had faded to a dull yellow. Jax knocked it back like a shot. Carter shoved his youngest brother.
“Don’t you know anything about wine tasting, Hollywood?”
Jax ignored his brother’s ribbing and opened the tap to fill a sample glass with a dark ale. “This is our Joey’s Porter,” he said, passing it over the bar. “Smooth. Strong. A kick in the ass, just like its inspiration.”
The Pierce brothers may have started the brewery to honor their late father, but the beers themselves were inspired by the women in their lives. Davis wondered what kind of wine would bear Eden’s name. Something red, sinfully smooth, with a full body—
“You gonna drink it or moon over it?” Jax joked.
They’d all known each other since forever, as was the case with anyone born and raised in Blue Moon. He’d been closest in age to Carter, but the Pierce brothers came as a package deal and Davis had spent a good deal of his high school career being entertained by all three.
Davis sniffed and then sipped, tasting the beer much the way he would sample wine. The notes of coffee and chocolate caught his palate. They were in the midst of a very friendly negotiation on serving John Pierce Brews at the winery and Blue Moon Wines at the brewery. Apparently, his new truce with Eden had lifted an unspoken business embargo for anyone who didn’t want to be perceived as choosing sides.
“Look, I vote that we all just say yes now instead of pissing around,” Jax said, tossing back a sparkling wine. “Ooh! Bubbles.”
“What’s your hurry, Jax?” Beckett, the attorney and Blue Moon mayor, hedged. Beckett liked to think through decisions, weighing all the angles.
“We’ve got, what? Two hours allotted for this meeting, right?”
Carter shrugged and waited.
“We wrap this up now with handshakes, and we can sit back, order up a bunch of wings, and watch the game without wives or kids.”
Carter and Beckett shared a look of longing.
“Deal?” Beckett said, standing and offering Davis his hand.
“Good with me.” They shook, sealing the deal and sticking a fork in the business portion of the evening.
“We’ll work out the specifics later,” Carter promised.
Jax got on the phone behind the bar. “What kind of wings do you want, Gates?” he asked.
They placed an order with the kitchen for an astronomical amount of bar food.
“I’m texting Vulkov and Cardona,” Beckett suggested. “The wives are all out together working on some fundraiser or something, and the kids are spread out with an army of babysitters. It’s Man Night.”
Davis started to stopper his bottles. “Hang on. We’ll double fist to celebrate,” Carter insisted, pulling down wine glasses from above the bar. They were in the private bar area on the second floor of the brewery. Used mainly for special occasions or Pierce family meals, it was a generous space with its own bar and restrooms and a dozen tables spread out. There was a steel cabled railing overlooking the main bar area below.
Davis poured himself a merlot and accepted the lager Jax poured for him. He planted himself on a bar stool and wondered when he’d last watched a game with friends. The winery had kept him busy, had basically consumed his life. And the fire had been a major setback. And then there was Eden picking up all of his spare time and confusing him with a fake relationship that felt way too real.
