Page 17 of Any Luck at All

He hammed up a dramatic frown as he scribbled out the plus sign and added a minus sign next to it on the chart. “Demoted! Does this mean I have to be suspicious of anything you call interesting?”

“No, just the mango sour.” She paused, meeting and holding his gaze. “You, River Reeves, are quite interesting.”

Her eyes sparkled as she said it, and he felt warmth pulse through him. He found her interesting too, and he was running out of reasons why he shouldn’t. She planned on staying, on restoring Beau’s brewery, and he had no doubt she had the brains and means to do it.

But this woman had been to business school—she’d formed a business from nothing—and he was almost thirty and still a few community college classes short of a degree. He’d fumbled his way into the job that he’d quit a few hours ago. He doubted he was Georgie Buchanan’s type, or at least her type for more than one night. And for some reason, that wasn’t what he wanted from her.

“I like the porter too,” he said, clearing his throat and reaching for his tasting cup. The moment shattered, like he’d meant it to. “We sold out at the brewery, but I brought a six-pack over to Beau’s. This one’s all that’s left.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said, reaching for the bottle the porter had come in. “I think I’m going to claim the rest of this one for myself.”

Her phone buzzed again, about the fifth time it had—he’d set his on silent mode after getting yet another message from Finn—and she glanced at the screen before setting it down on the table with a little more force than necessary. She took a big sip of her beer.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he asked. Not to be nosy, or at least not just to be nosy. He’d confided in her, and he wanted her to do the same if she needed to unburden herself.

“Just my brother Lee trying to talk me around. He wants to sell, or at least his girlfriend and my father have convinced him he does. But I think this could be good for Adalia, even if she doesn’t agree, and for Jack too.” Her face twisted up a little when she said it, and he felt sorry for asking. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. Tonight was about having fun, forgetting a few of their worries. “Maybe especially for Jack,” she added.

“You’d really never met him before?” he asked, because despite himself he was interested.

“No,” she said, taking another sip from the bottle, pausing a little to savor the taste in a way that made him smile. “Lee works with our dad in the real estate firm. I’d say the family firm, but I’d argue it can’t really be called that when it’s just the two of them. Anyway, he was looking for some files in my dad’s office, and he found a nondisclosure agreement. My dad made Jack’s mother sign it in exchange for a big one-time payout. My half-brother’s name was in there, but I had no idea where he lived or anything.”

She paused, looking into his eyes. “Truth be told, I didn’t look very hard. I wanted to meet him, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I was ashamed of our father—of being one of the kids he acknowledged. Lee thought it best for us to both forget the whole thing, although he did tell me so we could decide together.”

She glanced down, as if embarrassed, and he found himself staring at the freckles on the bridge of her nose. They almost looked like a constellation.

“I shouldn’t be laying all of this on you. I’d blame the beer, but it’s my fault we kept Jack a secret. Well, Lee’s too. We could have sought him out and we didn’t. So I want to make sure he gets plenty of say in what we do. Although, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know the first thing about running a brewery. I’m not even sure there’s even room for four of us if we’d just be replacing Beau.”

“You’d find a way,” River said, believing it. He reached out to touch her arm. “Beau had zero social media presence. Someone can handle that, maybe Adalia. And if you grow the brewery, there’ll be new jobs. Things like event management or opening a new location. Beau, he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, but he knew it wouldn’t last forever. He knew things would have to change. That’s why he trusted you to do the changing for him.”

Something flashed in her eyes, and she smiled at him—a smile so bright he had to pull his hand away to keep himself from pulling her to him.

“You’re right. And maybe they’ll have ideas for how they can contribute. I always think I need a plan for everything, but sometimes I need to be reminded to ask other people for help.”

“I think we all need that,” he said. It was something Aunt Dottie had told him often enough in the days he’d struggled.

“You know,” she said, setting down the bottle. “I came over here partly because I wanted to avoid talking to Jack. I know I need to do it, but I feel so guilty I can hardly stand it.”

“Why don’t you ask him to come over?” he suggested on impulse. He didn’t really want to end their tête-à-tête, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. If someone else was added to the equation, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Besides which, he remembered the way Jack had sat in that meeting, his back rigid as he looked at the father who refused to acknowledge him and the siblings who didn’t know him. He’d felt sympathy for him—no, more than that,empathy. If Georgie wanted to talk to him, she should, and there was no time like the present. Waiting on something like that would likely only lead to more regret. “If you don’t sell, this is his house too,” he added. “He might as well see it before he makes his vote.”

“He did text me earlier,” she said. “Said he was getting a drink at Buchanan, and I could join him if I felt like it.” She shrugged one shoulder. “At the time I didn’t.”

“Tell him to get a car service,” he suggested. “Or walk. It’s not too far.”

She lifted the beer again, took a drink, and nodded. “You know, River Reeves, I think I just might do that.”

He picked up her phone and handed it to her, letting his fingers linger on hers longer than was needed. “I’m holding you accountable.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she said, smiling up at him before she leaned down to send off a text.

Her stomach grumbled then, a loud sound that hung between them. He wouldn’t have laughed except for the look of open horror on her face.

“What kind of a house-squatting host am I? You’re hungry. When was the last time you ate something?”

“It’s been a while,” she acknowledged, her cheeks flushing an adorable pink. “Should we go get something?”

“Let me see what Aunt Dottie has in the kitchen. She spent some time getting the place cleaned up before you got here. I’ll bet she wouldn’t leave the fridge empty.”

Her phone vibrated again, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of hope, before she glanced down at it. “He’s coming,” she said. “He’s going to meet us here.”

---