Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Even if that’s true and I’m not risking my job, it’s still unprofessional,” I challenged, leaning forward, my voice low.
Ford leaned in until his face was only inches from mine. “I’m not going to kiss you while you’re working, Paige. But you aren’t working all the time.”
“That’s not the point,” I whispered, feeling the conversation sliding out of my control. He was so close, his breath warm on my lips, his eyes so green.
“It’s exactly the point,” he said, his voice quiet and smooth, flowing over me, erasing my objections. “I don’t want to interfere with your responsibilities with the kids, and I’m not your employer. I have no power over your job.”
“Okay,” I said, my heart thudding behind my ribs. “Assuming that’s true, what do you see happening here?”
Ford straightened, leaving me feeling cold in his absence. “I don’t know,” he said. “I know that it’s been a long time since I kissed a woman. And longer—if ever—since I’ve had a kiss like that. I think you’re smart and warm and beautiful, and I really liked kissing you. I didn’t plan it, but it happened. And now that it has…”
That slight eyebrow lift again, that light flashing through his eyes.
Dammit. I was on the same page. I’d been kissed before, but not like Ford Sawyer had kissed me.
“Now that it has,” he said, “I want it to happen again. If you don’t, all you have to do is say so. And if you do, then I guess we’ll see. I’m not offering a relationship, Paige. I don’t know if I have that in me anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how to be whatever this new version of me is. I have a lot of mistakes to atone for and a life to figure out. I’ve got nothing to offer a woman like you.”
“That’s not a great sales pitch,” I said, fighting a smile.
“Just being honest,” he said. “I’m not going to bullshit you. You deserve better than that, and you’re smart enough to see through a lie.”
“True.” I let out a sigh, searching my heart for the resolve to tell him to try his luck somewhere else. “I should tell you absolutely not, never again.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But you’re not going to.”
“No, I’m not,” I admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone, either. And I’m not sure I’ve ever had a kiss like that.” He had given me the truth. I owed him the same back. Or at least as much of the truth as I could. “It’s worth seeing if the second kiss is as good as the first. Maybe you’ll be a dud.”
“Possibly. We’ll just have to find out.”
His eyes flicked to his right as the door between the brewery and the taproom swung open, giving me a glimpse of high ceilings and stainless steel as Dave pushed through.
Ford sighed under his breath. He raised a hand in Dave’s direction in a silent hello before turning to give a low shout. “Finn, Dave’s here.”
Finn emerged from the kitchen in a dusty, grease-stained T-shirt, his dark hair pulled back in an ancient bandana, his faded jeans threadbare. “Goddamn, that kitchen is filthy. It’s going to take me at least another two days to get it cleaned properly.” His eyes scanned the bar and landed on me. “Hey, Paige. What’s up?”
More flustered than I wanted to admit by the conversation with Ford, I put on my professional face. “You guys are giving me a ride home. My car conked out on me,” I said.
“Oh, good timing at least. You had one of Avery’s donut hole stouts?” he asked, his eyes landing on the half-finished refill in front of me. “Fantastic, right?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed.
“Let me wash my hands, and then we can head out.” Finn glanced at the newcomer. “Hey, Dave.”
Dave raised a hand and flashed a grin at Finn before he went back to talking to Ford about the status of the kegs and the cash register.
A few minutes later, they were both ready to go. I rounded the bar, following them through the door to the brewery.
“I parked on the side,” Ford said over his shoulder, “so we don’t use up spots for customers.”
“Have you ever been back here?” Finn asked me.
“No,” I said slowly, looking around, my eyes absorbing the business end of the brewery: clean concrete floors and high ceilings in the warehouse-style room, Avery’s shiny stainless-steel vat and copper kettle, crates of bottles, the smell of hops. It was ruthlessly organized and squeaky clean but still somehow warm and welcoming. “It’s so cool back here.”
“I know,” Finn agreed. “So different from the taproom, but somehow not.”
“Yeah,” I said, following Ford out the side door, looking back over my shoulder for a last glimpse of the brewery.
Finn led us to a Jeep parked a few spaces from the door. “Take the front,” Ford said, opening the passenger door and holding it for me.