“You haven’t tried it yet?” Georgie asked in bewilderment, looking up at River. “Not even when you were bottling it?”
“No,” he said, “which felt extremely weird, I won’t lie, but I wanted to do this with you. It’s our first collaboration beer.” A slow smile stole across his face. “It’s the beginning of an era.”
“Which will really be a bummer if it sucks,” Adalia said. She grabbed one of the bottles and nodded to the porch. “I’m going out there to puppysit my nephew.” A pause. “And also because I have a feeling some PDA is going to come out of this.”
“Oh, you’re right about that,” River said, gazing at Georgie as he said it. That look was all heat, and it sent tingles through her, but she snagged her sister into a hug as she walked by. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice. “It’s beautiful, and I know the rest of them will be too. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Adalia said, and from the emotion in her voice, it was obvious she meant it. “Now go have your beautiful moment with your perfectly adequate boyfriend.”
“Aw, Addy, I knew you liked me,” River said. He hugged her too, though, and Georgie felt the gratitude of knowing that at least one person in her family had accepted him with open arms. Lee and her father were furious, and Jack didn’t necessarily approve, but he’d been pacified by whatever River had told him. She was surprised by how little it fazed her. Her family had a long history of toxic relationships, butshewas breaking the mold.
After the door shut behind Adalia, River went to the table. Georgie assumed he’d gone to get the bottles, but instead he started up a drumroll, just like he’d done the day they made the beer. Funny how it was obnoxious when her father did it and perfectly charming when River did it.
“The moment of truth approaches,” he said in an announcer’s voice.
“I suppose this means I have to open them?”
“I suppose so. I can one-handed drink, but only Finn can open a bottle that way,” he said, continuing with the drumming.
She sighed dramatically as she popped two of the bottles open and handed him one. The smell was right, but she didn’t let herself hope too much. She’d liked the smell of certain beers and hated the taste.
River stopped the playful drumming and clinked his bottle to hers.
“What if it’s no good?” she asked, suddenly worried. Obviously, anything River made would be good, but she was the one who’d gone through the steps for this one, and then there was the whole issue about the possible hair contamination.
“Impossible,” he said, his tone absolute. He put his bottle down and pulled her to him. Setting her own beer down so quickly it nearly splashed, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her, deep and passionate, as if she were something to be savored, and when he finally pulled back, she wasn’t thinking about the beer, or her worries about the brewery reopening, or about anything other than River.
“We made this together,” he whispered in her ear, “and that means it’s going to be the best beer ever. Until the next one, and the next one, and the next one. Because we, Georgie Buchanan, are meant to be together in all things.”
He pulled back, his eyes gleaming, and grabbed the two bottles, handing one to her.
This time, they both took a sip at the same time, their eyes on each other.
The flavors were in perfect balance, the carbonation at an ideal level, the beer utterly drinkable.
“The perfect balance,” she said, feeling the happiness fizz through her. “Just like us.”
River set his bottle down, and she did the same, and they were reaching for each other just as Adalia called out from the porch. “Um, guys. I thought this was a twist top. Can you come help a girl out?”
And because River really was the perfect man—perfect for Georgie—he pocketed the bottle opener with a flourish, grabbed the beers in one hand, and put the other around her.
“I think this means we might have to put dog hair in all of our beer,” he whispered.
And somehow it was the perfect thing to say.