Page 15 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

He’d stumbled upon kombucha brewing looking for something new to try, which had led him back into Poppy’s life. He wasn’t a man to look for signs—in fact, he usually ignored them—but there was no denying that he’d felt something more than coincidence when he stumbled upon her online tea group and found advice and camaraderie in his hard kombucha experiments.

Despite her presence in the group, he treated her like a professional acquaintance. He was all about respecting her and her boundaries.

But the core of who he was couldn’t ignore that he still wanted her. He’d never stopped being attracted to her. Kissing her last night had simply reinforced that.

But this time it had to be more than sex. This was a chance that he’d never expected. One that he would make the most of. But he needed to appear cool, as if whatever she decided was fine. Itwastotally fine. If Poppy closed the door on them for good, he would respect it. The plan was to go with the flow.

Ha.

Right now, the flow had him hanging with his new friend, Owen. There was no reason not to enjoy this moment. Even if Owen’s first batch of hard kombucha hadn’t turned out at all.

“I’m not sure where I went wrong, but it smelled horrible. Probably bacteria. Lars wouldn’t even try it, and he’s usually up for anything,” Owen said.

“Did you?” Alistair asked.

“Nah. Decided it wasn’t worth tearing up my stomach. How’d your batch turn out?”

“I haven’t had a chance to check. I’d just brewed the kombucha when I came here. It should be ready to add the champagne yeast when I get back home. Did you use ale?”

“Yeah. I think the seal wasn’t tight and bacteria developed. I’m not sure where. Are you adding any flavors?”

He was, which was why he’d joined Poppy’s tea society. The people in that group were experts on blending and knowing what flavors worked well together. “I want something that is specific to Kent and also tasty. I’ve been exploring different blends right now. I figure I have about a week or two to make up my mind.”

“Good luck with that,” Owen said. “I’m going to stick with the original flavor for now. I think I need a new airlock for the kombucha. I didn’t want to use my ale ones, but had an odd one lying around.”

Owen was a big lumberjack of a man with thick hair and a beard that he kept well trimmed. The kind of guy that Alistair never would have talked to in the past, much less listened to advice from. What a yob he’d been.

“I hadn’t thought about that.” Pulling out his phone, he ordered some airlocks from his supplier to be delivered in two days.

“You said you had a brewing journal?”

Alistair pulled it out and handed it to Owen, who took his time going over the notes in the columns of each recipe that he’d tried. There were times when he thought that he’d gotten nothing from his years at Lancaster-Spencer, but his father had insisted that he and George work in every department. He’d picked up a lot of skills as a result.

His six weeks in the tasting department had really served him well with beer brewing. He understood the importance of sampling and making notes at different stages of the process. Each new batch of ale was stronger and better tasting.

Ali still felt like he had a long way to go. But he liked it. Even his fuckups were just chances to try again and get better.

God, if things with Poppy were like brewing a new ale, then he’d have a better understanding of what he needed to do next.

People weren’t beer. But frankly, it had been years since he’d felt like he understood anyone or anything. Beer might not be the answer, but it was pushing him closer to it.

Owen had to take a call from Lars. When he came back, he looked stressed. “Lars isn’t going to be back until tomorrow. I need to go and call around to get someone to staff the bar.”

“I can do it.” Alistair had an afternoon of trying to stay away from Poppy, which meant hanging by himself. “I’ve pulled a few pints but never worked behind the bar. So I’m not unskilled.”

“Sounds perfect to me. Can you start at noon, when we open?”

Alistair agreed and then went to change into jeans and the Bootless Soldier Tavern T-shirt that Owen gave him. The Earl of Winfield would be aghast to see his second son pulling pints. Ali was tempted to take a photo and send it to his dad just to get a reaction.

Brewing a proper cup of tea could cause arguments. There were so many ways to go about it, and everyone believed the way they made their cuppa was the proper way.

Tea brewing and blending was deeply personal. Take Poppy’s best friends and co-owners of WiCKed Sisters; for Liberty, the flavors had to be bold and brash. Poppy ordered a brick of huang pian sheng pu’er from Lao Man’E in China. The tea blend was from an old tree, and it sweetened as it steeped, much like Liberty did once you got to know her.

Serafina, on the other hand... Well, when Poppy made special blends for her, they contained black tea, which had higher caffeine and antioxidant levels to fuel Sera’s late-night reading habit, but Poppy also added in something floral and sweet, like rose petals. Though her friend’s comfort tea was Earl Grey.

For herself, she was always changing. Trying to find the brew that suited the woman she was. When she was younger, she was always on trend with her teas, like the fruit-inspired blends from France she was obsessed with at uni. Young, moldable, not really sure enough of herself as a tea drinker or maker to stand on her own.

It was only when Lancaster-Spencer Tea Makers had approached her that she’d cracked open Gran’s massive buckle book that housed every tea-blend recipe that the Kitchener family had made since 1790.

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