Page 13 of Pitcher Perfect

Before I could catch Dom’s reply, I spotted Ethan sitting over at a table with someone whose back was to me. He had broad shoulders and close-cut, dirty-blond hair.Must be Caleb.

Ethan spotted me and waved me over, smiling. “Here’s our brewer, Austin Hewitt. Aus, come meet Caleb Larsen.” He gestured to the empty chair next to him.

My steps faltered when the guy turned around.No way. No goddamn way.Am I hallucinating after passing out from cleaning fumes?The guy from the stationery store? What are the odds?I didn’t need to be a math genius to know they were smaller than the probability I would give my dad a World’s Greatest Father mug next Father’s Day.

He’s even hotter than I remember.I licked my lips. He—Caleb—probably didn’t remember me anyway. It was one conversation a few months ago.Play it cool. Don’t act like a hung-up creep or stalker.I would never admit that I’d checked the location feed for the stationery store on Instagram just in case he was the kind of guy who did Instagram posts about his paper purchases.

“It’s you.” His gorgeous smile went so wide I thought his cheeks might crack. It highlighted the distinguished dip in his chin. “Thanks for helping me pick out ink. I think it worked because my neighbor started cleaning up the poop. Either that or it was my doodle of an angry turd.”

I barked a laugh. “Glad it worked out for you. I’ve considered lobbying citizen’s arrest for canine fecal infractions but”—I shrugged—“been busy.”

And I just attempted to flirt with a guy using the word “fecal.” Jesus. Good thing Ty isn’t witnessing this.

Ethan looked between us, and I caught the moment he realized who Caleb was. Thankfully, he had enough tact to keep his mouth shut, but his eyes said we would talk later.

I reached out to shake Caleb’s hand. “It’s great to officially meet you, Caleb.” When our hands met, a shiver raced down my spine.

He looked at our joined hands then up at me. “You too. I hear you’re the beer wizard behind the curtain.”

I reluctantly let go of him and took the empty seat next to Ethan. “That I am. I’ve considered wearing a velvet robe with stars and moons on it, but it would be a bitch to clean.”Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?

Ethan choked on his laugh then gave me his aww-Austin-you’re-so-awkward-and-weird-it’s-charming smile.

“I wonder if they sell velvet robes with steins on them instead. You could wear it on days you release a new beer,” Caleb said with a straight face.

“That’s a damn good idea.” I held his eye contact.

The moment suspended as we smiled at each other.He remembers me!

“Dorks, the pair of you. Good thing you’re both wizards at your jobs,” Ethan said. “Austin barely paused to chew the sandwich I brought him from your truck.”

“It was great,” I said to Caleb after shooting Ethan a warning glare.

“So is your beer.” He saluted me with his glass. “I love the names.”

“One of our favorite hobbies is to get drunk off a new beer until we’ve reached that perfect mindset for brainstorming queer puns.” Ethan grinned.

“The Lipstick Lesbi-lager is inspired.” Caleb gave a chef’s kiss.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.” Ethan winked at me as he stood. “I’d better get back before they come to blows.” He jerked his head over at the bar.

I looked over and saw Dom and Ty in a heated argument.

“Everything okay? Do you need to go?” Caleb looked concerned as he glanced behind him.

“Nah. They’re arguing about zombies. It’s fine. I can’t imagine it’ll get as bad as the great Backstreet Boys versus N’Sync argument we had in college.”

“Backstreet Boys all the way,” Caleb said.

“Don’t let Ty hear you say that. I’m a Howie man myself.”

Caleb hummed. “I was, too, until I started following AJ on TikTok. He wins.”

I laughed. “Makes me wish Lance was a Backstreet Boy. They should make a hybrid supergroup.”

Caleb laughed. “That would be amazing.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I blurted then groaned inwardly.We’re not long-lost lovers or anything. Jesus.We’d had one conversation, thirty minutes tops. It didn’t matter anyway. Even if I had the time to date, I wouldn’t be masochistic enough to date a chef.

---