Page 96 of Small Town Firsts
Not a single inappropriate touch.
Completely professional, as if we hadn’t lost brain cells from hot, bone rattling sex recently. Eleven days ago, to be exact. Eleven long nights of staring at my ceiling having stupid flashbacks to what he did with his mouth and those big, very capable hands.
The same hands that were currently using a level to make sure the swing was perfectly straight as Kain bolted it in place.
Jerk.
I balled up my fists and stalked back into the taproom, leaving them to the swing. It wasn’t like I didn’t have my own to-do list. Lennon had convinced me to rearrange the shelves behind the bar to showcase a few local distilleries as well as add a spot along the top for the hard ciders—when they were ready.
Hopefully it would be soon.
For the last week and a half, Ronan had been helping in the taproom as much as he’d been in his workshop. And when he wasn’t in the workshop, he and Kain had their heads down over plans. Whenever I got near them, they always put them away, so I didn’t know exactly what they were working on.
I hated not knowing.
I hated that I didn’t feel like I could ask.
“Kira?”
“What?”
Annette’s eyebrows shot up at my tone. “You okay?”
“Sorry.” I sighed and lowered my voice. “Sorry. Just a little crazy today.”
She glanced past me. “Ohhh.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets of my shorts. It was a dusty and dirty day with no interviews, so I hadn’t bothered dressing up. And now I looked like the unprofessional one, mooning over the man. Ugh.
“Did you need something?”
“Lennon changed the order for glasses. Just making sure it’s okay.”
I closed my eyes. “How much more?”
“Cheaper this time.”
My eyes snapped open. “Oh. Well, that’s new. Sounds good.”
She grinned. “I figured, just wanted to be sure it was okay. I’ll finalize the order and pick them up on my way in tomorrow. Unless you want them to deliver?”
“If you don’t mind picking them up, I could use a break on the shipping fees. As well as their less than careful delivery guys.”
“No kidding.” She rolled her eyes. “Matt had to request a return for the last delivery of pint glasses.”
“Great.”
“Always something.” She patted my arm. “We’re getting there. That dishy artist from Kensington Square dropped off a bunch of goodies.”
“Now that’s two bits of good news. Can we make it a trend?”
“Don’t say that too loud.”
I laughed in spite of my annoyance. “Ain’t that the truth. Thanks, Annette. Why don’t you knock off early? You’ve been working long days.”
“Oh, and like you haven’t?”
“Comes with manager status. Take Matt with you.” I walked over to the bar where I’d stashed a few gift cards just for this purpose. “Have dinner on us.”
