Page 28 of Good Vibes Only
“Ya think?” Connor said sarcastically as Brock read aloud the list of beers from the signage: “Captain, Grinder, Journeyman, Enforcer …”
I explained to the girls. “All of our beers were inspired by a hockey archetype, and specifically crafted to capture the very essence of those athletes.”
“Ooh, he knows a couple big words,” McKayla whispered to Sofia, but loud enough for me to hear it.
“Hey, I might only have a high school education, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb,” I said as I filled a pint glass. I handed it to Brock.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Playmaker is a heady West Coast IPA. Galaxy and lemon drop hops get the noggin joggin’ with deep waves of lemon zest and passion fruit.”
Brock chuckled, amused. The second the beer touched his lips, though, his eyes immediately lit, and he took another sip. “Whoa. Brett, man, that’s the best beer I’ve ever had.”
“Not bad, right?” I poured Connor a glass that matched his on-ice archetype. “Sniper is an easy-drinking, unfiltered lager that never misses the mark,” I said, handing him a glass of the cloudy, copper-colored beer. “Careful. It’s easy to run up the score with those.”
Connor took a pull and, in the blink of an eye, swallowed half the pint. “Okay, yeah, that’s stupid good,” he said.
“Showtime, I really love this idea. It’s so cute.” Sofia smiled from ear to ear. “What do you think, McKayla?”
McKayla’s pursed lips didn’t reveal a whole lot—at best, a begrudging sort of respect, maybe. “I don’t know … seems like the boys like it, at least.”
“Am I still totally doomed to failure?” I teased.
“Well, that’s not for me to say,” she demurred. “All jokes aside, though, running a business isn’t easy. And the craft beer market is pretty saturated in Las Vegas.”
“Fair enough.” I knew that was probably the highest praise I could get from her. “Can I pour you a beer, McKayla?”
“Sure,” she said, and looked the list over. “Which one are you, Brett? Oh, wait. I already know. You’re the Pest, aren’t you?”
I grinned. “How do you know me so well?”
“The name gives it away. Go on, pest, do your thing. Pour me a glass while you give me the spiel about your Pest.”
I reached for a glass and started to pour. “Pest is a light-bodied tropical sour infused with peach and guava. It’s refreshing, delicious, and guaranteed to get you off your game.”
“You’re a cornball,” she said, still trying to hide that smile.
I passed her the snifter glass.
“Aw, it even comes in a cute li’l glass!” McKayla said. “It’s little, just like you!”
“But don’t take it lightly,” I warned with a wink. “Pest packs a lot of punch in an eight-ounce glass.”
She groaned and sipped her beer.
I turned to Sofia. “Sofia? Can I pour you one?”
Sofia narrowed the choice down to two. She tapped her chin, apparently torn between Playmaker and Sniper. McKayla and I watched intently, curious to see which beer Sofia picked. Becauseobviously,that would indicate which of her two boyfriends she loved more, right?
“Can I pour my own?” she asked at last.
“Of course.”
Sofia grabbed a pint glass and filled it with one part Playmaker and one part Sniper. She took her beer and sandwiched herself between Brock and Connor, who each wrapped an arm tightly around her.
“I call this one the Dreamy Duo,” she said, and smugly sipped her beer. “Two strong, passionate brews come together to create a heavenly mix that will have your eyes rolling into the back of your head again … and again … and again.”
Brock and Connor looked touched.
