Page 39 of Some Like It Hops

I just want to focus on the fact that I’m damn proud that I’ve made it this far. That I’ve proven myself time and again in what is pretty well known as a man’s world. That my microbrewery is good, my craft stands up to the greats. I’ve earned a spot among those who came before me, and tonight I’ll prove it.

While getting a shit-ton of dogs adopted in the process.

I take one last look in the mirror, then grab my phone off the charger. Josie’s already at the brewery with my dad, my brothers, and everyone else we were able to convince—beg—to help us set up for this event, so I’m on my own getting ready. She let me slip out for one hour to come home and get ready because, as she put it, “You’re the star of the show, babe, you can’t wearthose.”

So,those—my ripped boyfriend jeans, the one item in my closet I think my best friend hates the most—are now in a pile on the floor in the corner of my room. But I like to think Josie’s taught me enough about fashion to know I look damn good in the outfit I picked out. Dark blue jeans, tan booties, and a sheer cream button-up shirt with long sleeves and a deep v neckline. There’s a barely-there glimpse of my ivory lace bra beneath the sheer fabric of the shirt, but not so much that it’s distracting. I slide a simple gold necklace over my head, then run the brush through my hair one last time and turn off the light in my room.

The doorbell rings. I bite my lip, fighting my smile. Only one person rings my doorbell.

I open the door and Griffin looks me up and down slowly, nodding his approval.

I do a little side turn, give him a shot of how good my ass looks in these jeans, then smile up at him.

“You’re a knockout, Ms. Harper.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Lane.” Dressed in tailored, navy slacks, pristine tan wingtips, a crisp white dress shirt and a matching tan belt, he looks like he’s either just stepped off a yacht in the South Pacific or he’s just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Either way, no complaints here.

Amusement lights up his features like he follows my thoughts.

“What?”

“We match.”

I look down at my outfit and laugh.

“People are going to think we’re together.”

I gasp dramatically. “I hardly even know you.”

“You hardly evenlikeme.” He steps toward me, sliding his arm around my waist.

I let him pull me into a hug, reveling in the way it feels to be pressed up against him. I breathe deeply, the scent of his cologne enveloping me. “Mmm.”

“Careful, Charlie, you moan like that again and we may miss the big event.”

I push out of his arms, desire tightening my belly. “Tempting.” I spin around, doublecheck that I have everything, then look at Pops and giggle. He’s standing by the couch, his leash in his mouth, looking at me with the sad eyes of someone who’s about to be left behind.

“You big dork, come on. This is your night too.”

Pops bolts past me, nearly knocking Griffin over in his excited rush to the car. I pull the door closed, lock it, then slide the key into my purse and turn to Griffin. “You’re sure you’re okay to drive us?” I cock an eyebrow. “He’s not exactly a lapdog.”

Griffin chuckles. “Don’t tell him that.”

We reach the parking area and Pops stands excitedly next to my truck, waiting for the door to magically open for him to jump inside.

“I’m over here,” Griffin says, motioning toward that sleek black car I saw him in when he left the brewery that day we met. I look over at him and raise my eyebrows, pointing at Pops. “You want this guy to get into that?”

Griffin shrugs. “It’s just a car.”

I snort. “Well, that’s not just a dog. That’s a Great Dane. Known not for his grace.”

“What’s going to happen?”

I scoff. “Um… he could wreck the seats?”

“Then I’ll get them replaced?”

It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. “You really do just throw money at your problems, don’t you?”

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