Page 81 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

He shoved his hands in his hair and leaned forward, over his legs.This man.Walking to him, she touched the back of his neck, and his arms snaked around her torso, pulling her into a hug and burying his head against her shoulder.

“I don’t know. That’s the answer to all those questions,” he muttered against her shoulder. “I just want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Do I have a plan? Nope.”

As he held her so tightly, those words settled into her heart and soul, making the joy she’d felt earlier bloom again. Warmth from the late summer evening wrapped around her, and inside, that small, cold part of her soul that had always felt alone wasn’t alone anymore.

“Promise?” she whispered.

He lifted his head, their eyes met. “On my very soul. I’m not kidding myself that this will be easy. I live in another country, and who knows how long it will take me to figure out how to move to this one. But I want that if you do.”

He’d move here. That was big. It was the kind of gesture she hadn’t believed him capable of making. “You won’t be Alistair Miller here. I’m mean, the one you are in England, where everyone knows who your family is and your money makes them want to be around you.”

“No great loss. That’s not me, moon fairy. So do you want to try to figure this out?”

As nice as this was making her feel, this was Ali. The only man she’d ever allowed herself to love. The one man that had taken every ounce she’d had to give and thrown it back in her face. The single man that had humbled himself, coming to her and asking for her help by offering her things that she hadn’t known she’d needed in return.

It was there right on the edges of her being, that love she’d never really lost. But this time, it was new. It felt solid and real and like it could last.

“Or we pretend I didn’t say anything and keep doing what we have been until I leave,” he said.

“I want to be with you too,” she said. “I’m not sure how it’s going to work. Can we take it slow?”

“I’ll take you anyway I can get you,” he said.

With that, her heart squeezed in agreement, and she looked up at the moon, silently thanking her.

Waking up alone in Poppy’s bed was becoming his best habit. It had been two weeks since the night he told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Still, the wordsI love youwere unspoken. He glanced at his phone and saw she’d left him a cute little video.

“Hey, sleepyhead. I have to get to work. Pickle’s been fed, so don’t let her con you into feeding her again.” She smiled at him on-screen. “I’m so tempted to crawl back into bed with you, but I’m already late, and Liberty and Sera will probably show up here to get me. See you tonight.”

Her video ended, and he rewatched it. He had the day off at the tavern so he’d offered to bottle their kombucha and send it to the other members of the Tea Society for tasting. So far, two other bottles from other members had arrived at Poppy’s house. His were being held at the tavern for him. Owen had declined to join the society, telling Alistair he wasn’t big into groups, which made sense. The man was on the quiet side. Even so, Ali was glad he’d invited him.

His phone rang and he glanced down to see that it was the tavern.

“Miller here.”

“Owen. A pipe burst in the basement, and dude, if you’re not doing anything, we could use some help moving everything up.”

“On my way.”

The basement was in bad shape, and Ali got right to work moving things up the stairs. There was a small area that they had been using as a beer garden for the summer, but now it would serve as storage for all the items from the basement. Everyone who worked for the Bootless Soldier had come in to help, and they were making quick work of the task.

As Ali worked side by side with everyone, he realized that this would never have happened at Lancaster-Spencer. He might have worked in each department at some point, but he never would have pitched in with the workers to do anything. There were days, or rather nights, like the one when a burst of anger had him speeding down the country roads in the UK to the point of a near collision, when he doubted that he’d really moved forward at all.

But the fact that he’d woken in Poppy’s bed that morning... Those were things the old Alistair wouldn’t have. He never could have conceived of the importance of moments like this. Being part of something bigger than himself.

The day was mercifully cool. Clouds covered the sky, and Lars and Owen were both praying it wouldn’t rain. Alistair realized his friends needed someone to manage this operation, and organizing was something he was damned good at.

He called Poppy to get the name of where they stored their excess stock.

“We use Hadley’s. Why?”

“Flooded basement at the tavern.”

“I’ll text you the number. It looks like rain,” she pointed out.

“Duh,” he teased, making her laugh.

“Merle isn’t working for me today. I’ll text him to come help. I have some space in my backroom. Tell Lars and Owen they are welcome to bring stuff down here,” she said.

---