Page 83 of Pitcher Perfect

“I’m sure we could take turns.”

Take turns? Thatmeant he wanted to keep having dinner together. A sense of peace settled within me. We were going to be fine. We had some things to talk about, but knowing “it isn’t working out” was not top of the conversation list made me feel tons better.

We chatted for ages about the competition, what we could do with the PR of participating, my restaurant dreams, his brewery dreams, so many things.

Eventually, I glanced at the clock on my oven and saw it had been nearly two hours. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Yes,” he said against my lips.

Wordlessly, we packed up the leftovers and did the bare minimum cleanup. I grabbed his hand and walked him to my bedroom. I gave him a pair of pajama pants to wear, and we both changed, shooting shy smiles at each other.

We climbed under the covers and lay on our sides, facing each other, our fingers loosely intertwined between us. Neither of us pushed for sex. Something about simply lying there together was more intimate.

My heart was as full as my stomach as we shifted so I became the big spoon. With Austin in my arms, I thought about how I would rather fall asleep with him every night than win the world’s biggest food competition.But maybe I could have both?

CHAPTER26

AUSTIN

I hadno idea how I was still standing. I clutched the edge of the folding table after setting down another tray of food samples that were eagerly snatched up by people milling around Portland Pairing for the public voting round. The buildup and excitement from the day and long hours we’d already put in were threatening to pull me under like a sneaker wave, but I would fight it off. Nothing was going to stop me from enjoying the day.

“You okay?”

I looked over my shoulder at Caleb. “Yup. Doing great.”

He grinned at me.

Aside from being dead on my feet, I really was doing great. People seemed to be loving our beer and food, which I had to admit was a huge relief. Not that I didn’t trust the opinion of Caleb and the guys, but the validation of strangers hit differently.

My lack of sleep on the eve of Portland Pairing hadn’t been nerves over our performance but purely fourteen levels of bullshit about my daddy issues. I had myself half convinced that despite Portland Pairing being the pivotal point in my dad’s career, it was different for me since I was there as a brewer not a chef. The other part of me didn’t buy any of that.

Dom, Ty, and Ethan had each pulled me aside at some point yesterday to give me pep talks as though they’d planned some sort of support coup. I appreciated that they cared so much. It had helped to talk about it with Caleb. It shocked me how easy it was to talk to him. Yet another example of how he was different than other guys I’d been into before.

I handed out a few more samples of the pecan-crusted cardamom and ginger salmon to eager event attendees and gushed about Caleb’s skill. He’d really done something amazing. We all had.

After unloading the tiny plates of bite-sized salmon to empty the tray, my eyes wandered to the big display of posters featuring each of the past winners on the other side of the large hall at the Expo Center. My dad’s smiling face taunted me—or a version of him at about my age, smiling and holding up his winning trophy with the brewer he’d teamed up with.

I’d considered calling my dad before the event in hopes he would wish me luck or give me a pep talk, but I knew it would only upset me when he didn’t deliver. It wasn’t worth risking anything that could derail me. He hadn’t even wished me well before our brewery opened or accepted my invitation to the grand opening.

Caleb squeezed my shoulder. “You have a better smile,” he whispered in my ear.

My laughter broke the tension creeping in.I’m not going to let my dad ruin something else. I’m here with my family, and I’m going to enjoy every second of this.

Our gazes lingered on each other for a moment before Ethan’s voice cut through.

“How much do you guys have left? We’ll be running out soon.”

“Not much. We’ll be out soon too. About two tasting trays left. I’m cutting up the last of the salmon now,” Caleb said.

My lips curved up into a smile at the memory of my and Caleb’s stolen kisses that morning as I helped him prepare the salmon. He caught my eye and winked.

“Hell yeah!” Ethan fist-pumped into the air.

It was fun to help Caleb with the food. I received a healthy amount of ribbing when I told the guys I would help Caleb, but it didn’t take four brewers to fill and pass out tiny cups of beer. Being stationed next to each other made it feel like we were all working together anyway.

About twenty teams had entered the event. I had expected more, but I supposed it wasn’t the easiest competition for many to participate in. Team up with another business, and find new recipes to test out. It was a luxury many couldn’t afford. The brewfest after the Portland Pairing winner was announced was probably the better deal for most breweries because they were able to sell their beer and make money instead of us giving it away for free.But for a new brewery like us?The grand prize and PR were too good to pass up. Hopefully, next year we could come back and sell beer.

We received a lot of encouraging comments about being openly queer and queer friendly. Quite a few people had commented on the pansexual pride pin Ethan wore above the blended logos of our and Caleb’s businesses. The black T-shirt read “Team Eggcellent Taps” underneath the silhouette of a man with a sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. Our names were written on the backs of our shirts in rainbow print. It wasn’t the best team name, but it beat out Ty’s suggestion of Team Bilf—Brewers I’d Like to Fuck. When Ethan pointed out that the name excluded Caleb and Team BCILF was impossible to pronounce, Ty gave up.

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