Page 24 of Relief Pitcher

“Yup. I’m trying to line up some meetings for the next few weeks.”

“What kind of meetings?”

Tyler grew even more animated when he talked about the brewery. “My focus this year is on placing our beers in niche and community markets. We’ve been focused on selling to taprooms, grocery chains, and restaurants, but it’s time we deepen our reach. It’ll help with brand recognition.”

I listened to him talk about marketing things I didn’t fully comprehend since marketing was never part of my job. The boss had someone else at work doing that, thank god. And my art? Marketing required showing it to people.

I considered offering to connect him with Danita since she owned a popular market, but that was too much. Tyler didn’t need my help when it came to his business, and doing that would probably come off as a clingy attempt to entangle us when all he probably wanted to do was wish me well and move on to the next guy. No hard feelings. Thanks for the great sex.

Tyler asked me about my upcoming “tree patients” as we rolled into Dahlia Springs. It was a charming town with its Victorian homes and brick downtown buildings. I liked that it was rural but close enough to go to Portland for a better selection of activities and shopping.

After growing up in Houston and moving to Portland for a football scholarship, I’d expected I would want to stick to cities. A place like Dahlia Springs would’ve been too small to consider back then, let alone where I lived now, which wasn’t even a town but a series of addresses assigned to a zip code at the base of the Oregon Coast Range.

Tyler navigated me to a cute neighborhood filled with personality homes from historic Victorians to seventies ranch style to modern two-levels. He had me park in front of a two-story Victorian home painted light blue with white trim and a red door. It was in decent shape but could use some cosmetic work. I itched to work on the wooden railing around the porch.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Four men stood on the porch with expressions ranging from dour to eager.

“I take it those are your friends and co-owners?” I tried to keep the laughter from my voice, but I’d clearly failed, given the glare Tyler shot my way.

“Andformerbrother who’s got one hell of a noogie coming his way.”

A laugh burst out of me as I parked along the curb in front of the house. “What are you? Twelve?”

“Hey, don’t knock my sibling torture techniques.”

“I’m nearly a decade older than my brother, so I missed out on my sibling torture education.” And he was in the middle of a Peace Corps stint, so we weren’t in contact often. My family had been there when I lost Aleck, but we weren’t particularly close.

“Assholes. We’re closed Mondays, and they’re usually scattered.” He stared at his phone as it buzzed again in his hand.

“Your friends?”

“Not for long,” he muttered. “They want to meet the infamous Cooper, and they’re going to be obnoxious. Fair warning. You can back out now.”

“I’m infamous after two days?” That pleased me more than I cared to admit. A selfish, dark part of me wanted to leave a mark on Tyler’s life.

“Took one photo.” He winked.

I laughed. “Let’s go. You promised me beer.”

Tyler’s mouth curved into a teasing smile. “And I always deliver on my promises. Let’s go.”

After everything Tyler had told me about his best friends-turned-business partners, I wanted to meet them.

Four very different men greeted us as we stepped onto the porch. One wore a flannel shirt, was average height, with dark hair and bright-blue eyes that studied me shrewdly. Next to him was a smiling, shorter man with lighter brown hair. He looked like the friendliest of the motley crew. A guy with hair the same color as Tyler’s was next. He was shorter and wore a bow tie and snug vest over his thicker torso. Last was a guy who looked like he wouldn’t entertain an ounce of anyone’s shit. He also wore flannel and his arms were crossed over his chest.

Tyler sighed. “Seriously, guys?” He turned to me. “This is Austin, my cousin and head brewer. You can thank him for the great beer.” He pointed at the first guy as he spoke, then went down the line. “Ethan runs our taproom. Seth, my brother, used to eat crayons. Might still eat crayons. My parents put up with a lot,” he stage-whispered.

“Our parents wanted to try again when they didn’t get perfection on the first attempt. Then they had me and stopped.”

Tyler laughed. “Well played, bro. And this is Dom. He’s not as much of an asshole as he looks.”

“Debatable,” Austin said.

“Fuck you,” Dom said gruffly.

“How the hell did you guys know I was so close? Or were you creeping out the windows for the last hour?”

---