Page 63 of Better Luck Next Time

“I’ll have a Blue Whale IPA, and a Lake Trout Lager for the lady. We’ll both have burgers.”

Bryan practically launched himself away from the table.

“I think you frightened him half to death,” Finn commented.

“We’ll tip him well,” Adalia said. “I guess I should have mentioned the fact that while I’m not a saladatarian, since it doesn’t exist and all, Iama pescatarian.”

“Oh shit,” Finn said, getting to his feet. But Bryan had pulled off an admirably quick retreat and was nowhere to be seen. Settling back down, he shrugged. “We’ll break the news to him when he brings our drinks.”

“So, you were saying?”

Her teasing had taken on a slightly antagonistic edge, and he suspected it had something to do with his partial revelation about Bev Corp.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said. “I’d never do anything to hurt River and Georgie, not again, and the art show has nothing to do with Bev Corp. It’s a completely separate project.”

A corner of her mouth tipped up. “For a man in search of his next big idea, you sure have a lot going on. So what are you doing for them,Big Catch?”

Oh, God. The way she said that, her gaze raking over him…the last thing he wanted to talk about was work. He wanted to convince her—and himself—the slow approach was not working, and they should take this back to his house, or hers, but first he needed her to understand.

He told her about his ideas for Gretchen, Bryan arriving with their beers sometime in the middle of their conversation.

When Finn told him one of the burgers would need to be switched to a veggie, Bryan apologized tohim. If that wasn’t confirmation enough that someone had confirmed his identity to Bryan, the server called him Mr. Hamilton. And sir.

Adalia grinned at him the whole time, her eyes bright with repressed laughter.

“Hey,” he said when Bryan walked away. “It’s not like Iaskedhim to say that. But I’m not going to lie—it feels better than being called a jerk.”

“Fair enough.”

He finished up his spiel about the beer festival right after Bryan brought out the burgers, practically bowing as he backed away, and Adalia thought for a minute, tapping the side of her glass in a way that increased Finn’s suspense.

“This is good. Similar to our Hair of Hops lager but different,” she said. “River’s super talented.”

“No kidding,” he said. “So, what’s the verdict? Tell me what you think.”

“You need to talk to him sooner rather than later. He’s going to flip if he finds out from someone other than you.” He’d rested his hand on the table, and she put hers over it. “And no, I’m not going to tell him. I’m not sure they’ll go for it, but I think they should. You’re right. It’s a win-win.”

He released a breath. “Thanks. I was planning on telling him as soon as Gretchen gives me an idea of whether they want to move forward with the event. I figured…”

“No need to cause trouble if it’s not going to work,” she finished for him. “Practical. You’re good at this, you know.”

He met her gaze. “It’s what I like best. Figuring things out. Troubleshooting. The day-to-day stuff doesn’t interest me as much.”

She was quiet for a moment, and he was about to shift the conversation when she said, “You would have sold the brewery a long time ago, if it weren’t for River.”

It wasn’t a question. She’d seen it in him somehow. He found himself thinking again about Lola, and the tarot cards all lined up in a neat row.

“You’re right,” he said simply.

She moved her hand off of his. For a moment, he regretted its loss, but she lowered it onto his thigh instead, the heat instantly driving him mad. “What are we doing on Wednesday?”

“I’ll never tell,” he said, leaning into her touch. “Well, except for on Wednesday morning, when it will, of course, become need-to-know information.”

“Youarebeing covert. Now, let’s see what you have in that man purse.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Based on the portfolios he’d compiled, some handed to him by Dottie, the rest found through his own research, they decided to invite three of the artists to participate in the show, to visit five others, and to (hopefully) forget the last one, whose realistic clown paintings would probably haunt Finn for the rest of his life. Had Dottie known about his irrational fear of clowns?

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