Page 12 of Pitcher Perfect

Tyler leveled me with a hard stare. “Ethan and Dom were new in town. Should the townies not have given them a chance?”

I squirmed under his glare. “But we vouched for them.”

“We could vouch for Caleb too. He’s pretty hot, you know. The town could use more eye candy.” Tyler waggled his eyebrows. “I bet his incredible skills aren’t limited to the kitchen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you hit on him yet?”

“No.”

Of course he had. “I take it he turned you down?”

Ty huffed. “I’d have to ask him out for him to turn me down.”

That piqued my interest. I couldn’t remember the last time I met a guy who didn’t fall for Ty’s charm. “Someone immune to your pheromones? Witchcraft.”

“Tell me about it.” He pouted.

“Aww. Poor Ty gets shot down like the rest of us mere mortals. One guy out of a hundred who passed.”

“You make me sound so crass.”

“If the cock cage fits.” I smirked.

Tyler tipped his head back and laughed. “That was epic.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, his eyes went as wide as saucers. “C’mon, man.”

The day just got better. “You know the rules.” I pointed to the whiteboard next to the door between the brewing area and taproom.

“Bro, we’re family. Don’t do this.”

I shook my head. “Not gonna work on me this time. The foundation of our friendship and business is honesty. You know that.” I barely held back my laughter.

Tyler dropped his head forward and shuffled over to the whiteboard. Tyler used the edge of his fist to haphazardly wipe off the nine scrawled in blue. He grabbed the dry-erase marker hanging from a string and wrote “0” between “It’s been” and “days since Tyler said ‘epic.’”

“Fuck.”

“Your own fault you have the vocabulary of a thirteen-year-old.”

“Well, I’m rubber, and you’re glue.”

I shook my head and glanced at the wall clock.

“Be nice to him,” Ty said as he walked toward the door.

“I’m nice to everyone,” I grumbled.

After cleaning a few more things, I mustered every ounce of professionalism and patience I could and walked out to the taproom. I was surprised to see Dom behind the bar instead of Ethan. He chatted with one of the guys I’d grown up with—Bailey, from the dahlia farm—and Ty, who both sat on the other side of the bar.

“No fucking way. A flamethrower is the best weapon in a zombie apocalypse. It would obliterate those brain-eating bastards.” Ty gestured wildly as he spoke and nearly knocked over the beer in front of Bailey.

“What happens when you run out of fuel or it malfunctions? You need a more sustainable weapon, man. A machete or a hammer,” Bailey said.

Dom caught my eyes and shook his head. It was like arguing over stupid shit at the high school lunch table all over again.

“A hammer? Are you kidding me? What happens when the claw gets stuck in Zombie Dom’s skull then Zombie Austin sneaks up and bites you? Fuckin’ dead.” Ty swiped his thumb across his neck.

“Whoa. Why am I the zombie in this scenario? I would crush you in zombie apocalypse survival.” Dom crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, all that number crunching and spreadsheet making would really come in handy.” Ty blinked innocently while Bailey snickered.

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