Page 14 of Some Like It Hops

I’llbe havingmyway withhim.

“Charlie? Are you still there?”

I release a breath and nod. “Yes. Friday night is fine.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

My eyes widen. “It is absolutelynota date.”

“Noted.” That amusement is back in his tone. “Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at seven. Enjoy the rest of your week.”

“Mhmm.” I pressendand stare at the wall. What the hell just happened?

I have plans with the worst man in the world.

And I’mexcitedabout it.

Chapter Eight

Griffin

My cell vibrates so I set down my scotch and pause the news show I’m in the middle of. I haven’t saved her number yet, but the 951 area code on my phone screen tells me the message is from either Charlie or her real estate agent. Probably just Charlie sending me her address for our date Friday night.

I open the text and frown at the screen.

(Possibly) Charlie:How about tomorrow instead of Friday? Lunch.

The excitement I had just moments ago diminishes quickly. She’s blowing off a Friday night dinner for a mid-week lunch date. Did she just friendzone me? Hmm. Maybe I did misread the sparks between us. Could those feelings have been one-sided? I’m pretty damn good at reading women, so I find it a bit hard to believe that she wasn’t as attracted to me as I was to her. That spark between us was explosive.

I send a reply:How about both?

I smirk as the little thought bubble pops up then disappears, then pops up again as she texts, then pauses, then texts again, trying to get it right.

Charlie:It’s interesting you think I’d want to spend that much time with you.

Me:It’s cute the way u pretend u don’t

The bubble pops up again, then her response comes through:Let’s start with lunch. Meet me at your place in Corona.

I raise my eyebrows. She wants to meet at Fast Lane? She made it pretty clear what she thinks of my peacock of a company. I shrug. All right. I’ll bite.

Me:Noon?

Charlie:Sure. See you then.

With a smile, I close out of the text thread and pull up Brad’s number, then send him a quick text to let him know I’ll be absent for tomorrow’s weekly lunch meeting. We reschedule for Thursday and I take a sip of scotch, irritated and intrigued by how excited I am at the prospect of seeing Charlie tomorrow.

I pull up her Facebook profile again, even though nothing’s changed. She’s a closed book with barely an online presence. From that article I read about Pops & Hops, I learned that she’s passionate not only about the craft, but also about homeless dogs. Her dream for the brewery is unique, I’ll give her that, but I’m not sure it’ll take off.

From further investigating, it’s safe to assume she’s worked for a couple smaller breweries throughout Orange and Riverside counties, but other than that, there’s nothing online to tell me who she is. I can’t even figure out where she works now, or what her actual brewing experience is. Was she a brewer at those spots, or a beertender? The internet is a literal smorgasbord of information… except where Charlie Harper is concerned.

All I know about her can be ticked off on the fingers of only one hand.

She’s not interested in money.

She thinks my brewery is tacky.

She’s passionate about beer. (And dogs.)

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