Page 19 of Tempting Max

I avoid the woman making eyes at me by turning my music up and closing my eyes. It’s probably rude, but I don’t have anything to say to her that she is going to want to hear because she’s not my type.

And by type, I mean Gus.

The thought of Gus makes my entire body tense again and I have to mentally walk through every part of my body to make sure it relaxes.

Twenty minutes later, I slump out of the sauna, take a hot shower, and make my way back home.

After all that work, I don’t feel even a little bit better.Goddamn it.

* * *

“Hey,”Liam pokes his head into the brewhouse later that night. “Stella is sick, and we’re slammed tonight. Think you could come out and help until Trace gets here? Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

It’s the last thing I want to do. Because Gus is out there and I’m having a hard enough time keeping my shit together just occupying the same city block as her. But this is my brewery too and we all agreed we’d work when necessary. Liam and Elliot have both rolled up their sleeves to help when I need it, so I set down the rag I was using to clean the mash tun. “Of course.”

“Awesome,” Liam says, clearly relieved. “At least we only serve our stuff. I’m pretty sure I don’t have what it takes to mix drinks.

I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I remember that swill you tried to make once when you came home during college break, what did you call that? Sex in The Car?”

Liam shudders. “Ugh, I’ve tried to forget that. I’ve never been so sick.”

“None of us have. I still remember the exact color of the toilet in my apartment. Intimately.”

“Me too. I can’t believe we let Elliot get so drunk. He was far too young.”

As we enter the bar area, we see Elliot slinging beer next to Gus as if it were his life’s work. Just like everything else in the world, it seems to come easy for him. “It looks like he’s recovered fine.”

“Mmm,” Liam makes a face. “Not sure if his brain ever recovered,” he says, before wandering off to grab empty pint glasses and beer cans off tables.

I take a deep breath and head behind the counter where Gus is conducting the evening like a maestro and looking like a fucking beauty queen in the process. She has on a dark green top that makes her eyes pop, dark jeans that look as if they’ve been painted on, and her luscious copper hair is piled on top of her head in a sexy, loose bun.

My hand twitches at the thought that it had rested right there on her hip, just last night. That I nearly had her pink lips against mine.

I fumble with the apron strings as I wrap them around my waist and when I look up, I catch Gus looking at me. It’s only a fraction of a second before she turns back to her customers, but I felt every emotion she’s feeling. Confusion, worry, stress, anger, desire,hell, I don’t know, there’s probably some murder baked in there too.

Whatever it was, it knocks the wind out of me, and I spend the next hour hustling drinks next to the only woman I ever think about, not talking to her, but being angry when she and Elliot poke fun at each other.

“Oh, thank God,” Elliot sighs when Trace shows up. He looks directly at me, “You can get your grumpy ass out of here and take your raincloud with you.”

I glower at my brother. I know he’s just trying to be funny, but I’m not amused. I open my mouth to say something nasty back, but when I catch sight of Gus’ wide, worried eyes, I let it go. She’s had enough stress for one night without having to keep two idiot Suttons from burning the bar down.

“I’ll be in the back if you need more backup.” I say, but I direct it at Gus, not Elliot.

She reddens and nods and before I get too caught up in the pout of her lips, I retreat to where I belong. The brewhouse.

It’s well after close when I hear a crash coming from the storeroom. I shoot out of my chair, worried it’s Gus, and come to a screeching halt when I find Trace shaking his head over a dropped case of beer.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, looking truly distraught. “I was trying to get ahead for tomorrow and it just slipped out of my hands.”

My heart slows down, and I have to remind myself more than once that it’s agood thingit wasn’t Gus. But I can’t deny that I’m disappointed.

“No worries,” I tell Trace, bending down to help him clean it up as if I don’t have a worry in the world. “Happens to the best of us.”

13

GUS

“Oh my God, has anyone told you how gorgeous your hair is?”

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