Page 29 of Any Luck at All

Georgie wanted to cry with happiness. Their mother would be so proud.

Chapter Ten

It’s on. Will you meet Jack and me after our meeting with the lawyer? One o’clock. We can do a walk-through of the brewery together.

There was a pause after Georgie’s text came through. Then she added,Thank you again for last night. I’m excited to do this with you.

River gusted a sigh, and lifted the little animal carrier Maisie had given him. “Well, pup, there goes that. I guess I should be happy.”

He wasn’t, not totally, but he’d decided to accept anyway.

He went to unlock the door of his loft, but it was already open. The only two people who had keys were Maisie and Aunt Dottie, so he wasn’t terribly surprised to see his aunt sitting at the table opposite his open kitchen. Whatdidshock him was that Finn sat across from her. His hand fisted around the handle of the animal carrier, his knuckles turning white. Part of him wanted to turn around and leave, but he wasn’t a coward, and he didn’t run away. He was the type of person who established roots rather than broke them. He’d promised himself that a long time ago.

As soon as Aunt Dottie saw the animal carrier, she cooed and hurried over. She went to take it from him, and he let her, eliciting a little whimper from the dog.

“Goodness, Maisie finally broke you, and none too soon,” Aunt Dottie said. “I made a sweater for Jezebel, but wouldn’t you know it, she refuses to wear the darn thing. It’ll look perfect on your pup.”

“Don’t get too used to him, Aunt Dottie. He’s just a foster,” River said, but his gaze was on Finn.

Finn looked terrible, like he’d stayed at Buchanan Brewery for the whole night and staggered home. He had on a Big Catch T-shirt and jeans, which was like someone else wearing pajamas out of the house. Maybe it was foolish of River, but it made him feel a little better. At least Finn cared about selling him out, not that it changed anything.

“You know, I didn’t give you that key so you could let in anyone you want,” he said, shifting his gaze back to Aunt Dottie. She’d already lifted the puppy out of the carrier and was fitting him into a bright pink sweater with pom-poms. He knew better than to dissent, and from the way the puppy was wagging his tail, he didn’t seem to mind. Part of him wanted to share a look—and a silent laugh—with Finn, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Well, dear, I was under the impression you gave it to me to be used at my discretion, just like Beau and I told you where he kept his spare key.” She gave him a wink as she said it, which made him wonder just how much she knew, or thought she knew, about what had happened last night.

Of course, Jack had seen her at Buchanan, hadn’t he? So she at least knew Georgie might make him an offer.

“I just want to talk, River,” Finn said. He ran a hand through his hair, which was almost too short to be messy, but it was messier than River had ever seen it. Again, it made him feel a little better, although the part of him that was still Finn’s friend weirdly hated to see it. “I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be. I should have talked to you first.”

“Damn straight, you should have,” River growled. He set down the things Maisie had given him for the dog and moved toward the table, staying several feet away. Even if Aunt Dottie had brought over fresh cinnamon rolls. “It was something we built together. You always said that. Shouldn’t I have had some say?”

“Yes,” Finn said. “Of course. And I would have, but then Beau got sick, and I knew you’d feel—”

“Betrayed.”

Because he did. In a way he’d only felt one time before and had never wanted to feel again. What was worse, he’d expected it the first time, at least a little—he’d thought he could trust Finn.

Finn’s face lost a little more color, and he looked to be just this side of puking.

“Did Aunt Dottie make you any of her hangover cure?” he asked. He told himself he was just asking because he needed to get this conversation behind him, the sooner, the better, but again there was that awful feeling of caring. You couldn’t just shut it off, even if you wanted to.

“How’s something with a raw egg in it going to make me feel better?” Finn asked dubiously.

“You’re questioning the wisdom of my aunt?” he asked, feeling the corners of his lips twitch up a little in spite of himself.

“Exactly what I said,” Aunt Dottie offered. “His color is so peaky, and the energy in here… You fixed that right up, though, didn’t you?” she cooed to the puppy, who was literally eating something out of her hand.

“I know,” Finn said, drawing River’s gaze back to the table. “I guess I’m making all sorts of dumb calls lately.” He rubbed his nose. “The thing is, River, I was always going to walk at some point. I wanted to build the biggest brewery in the state, and we did that. Where else is there to go from here?”

“We could have become an anchor in the community,” River said. “The kind of place people can count on.” The last words sounded a little sharp, like some of his hurt was leaking out, and he patched it back in. “And yeah, maybe I knew you’d walk at some point, but I didn’t think you’d sell to the devil. And I definitely didn’t think you’d do itnow.”

They both knew whatnowmeant, and he saw a flash of pain in Finn’s eyes. Yeah, he knew he’d messed up good.

“Like I said, I made some bad calls. But selling to Bev Corp was the right move.”

River started to say something, but Finn cut him off. “I know what you and Dottie think about them, and hell, maybe you’re not altogether wrong, but they offered a good deal to you, and to the rest of my people. That’s what mattered to me. I don’t want to screw anyone over. I’m just… I got bored.” Finn met his gaze then, and he held it. “And be honest with me, River, because I got the impression that you were getting bored too.”

River’s first instinct was to rage at him again, but then he found himself thinking of how he’d felt last night, sitting with Georgie and Jack, talking about their plans for the future. He’d felt more excited about work than he had in at least a year, maybe two. And it wasn’t because he lived for challenges—he and Finn weren’t alike in that. It was because Buchanan Brewery was a different kind of place. It was a family business with deep roots. It wasn’t a flashy new thing, but something well loved that had been pushed to the back of the drawer. And he and Georgie and Jack could polish it up and make it new again. There was something special in that, something sacred.

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