Page 106 of Small Town Firsts
He leaned a hip against his workbench and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hayes has been trying to revitalize an older part of the orchard that went dormant.”
“Yeah, I vaguely remember the pears when I worked in the fields. They were too erratic to produce steadily.”
He straightened and went around his bench to a cooler to pull out a jug. He rescued a glass that had rolled to the end of the bench and filled a third of it before he held it out to me.
I took the glass. “I’m not exactly an expert.”
“Maybe that’s what I need.”
I nodded. “All right.” I raised the glass to my nose and the sharp tang of pears made my mouth water. I took a small sip and my eyes widened. It was a bit dryer than I preferred, but the apples and pears were strong and aromatic. Which was saying something since pears were often hard to taste.
I took a larger sip and felt my taste buds lift at the back.
“It’s good, right?”
I met his gaze. “Very. Why are you so worried?”
“Because it’s missing something. I’ve tried to back sweeten it with a few things, but it keeps overpowering the pear.”
I took another drink. “So, why add anything?”
“Maybe a brewer would be excited by it, but the average drinker wouldn’t find it special. They’ll go for a beer instead.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Most beer tastes the same to me.”
“I’ll give you that. But if you tried the microbrews, you’d say there’s a difference. And if we want to build a whole menu around the damn cider, it needs something to make it special.”
The frustration burned in his voice. Was this living under him all this time? And why was he hiding it?
“Okay, I can see that. And the others?”
“I’ve got one final brew. Just no name.”
I chose my words carefully. “Do you think staying in here alone is the answer? If it’s driving you crazy, you might need to share the tastings with oh, I don’t know…the people who want to help?”
“Beckett brought me in here because I’ve got the magic. I’ve always had the ability to find a way around the flavors I’ve been given to make something stellar. I’ve got everything at my fingertips, and I’m sitting in Blandsville, for fuck’s sake.”
My blood hummed at the annoyance in his voice. This was the Ronan I’d been missing. “Maybe you have too many options?”
He leaned toward me. “And maybe I don’t look like I’m worth my paycheck. Why else do you think I’m out there helping? At least I’m useful there.”
Tempered Ronan wasn’t who we needed.Take one for the team, Kira.Time to poke the bear. “Now you’re just pouting.”
He came around the bench and stalked toward me, the lion replaced with aggravated male. “Pouting?”
“Yes, pouting. Instead of coming out and asking for help, you’re hiding away.” I tipped my head to the side, my eyebrow cocked. “Licking your wounds. Poor Ronan can’t do his job.”
He nudged me aside and the heat of his skin made my skin prickle and my heart thump louder. He jerked a box out from under the bench and slammed it on the top. Tongs, beakers, and glasses bounced and clattered.
“I’ve got three dozen styles of honey here.” He went over to the white shelves and came back with another box. “Thirteen different fruits I’ve cooked down to a syrup here.”
Now I noticed his big hands were scarred with burn marks and his arms were splattered with something that looked like one of the syrups. Again he brought more boxes over full of anything from coffee syrups to vinegars until there was a massive pile ready to topple.
“I have all this and no fucking answers.”
“Did you try them all? Or are you just showing me all your discarded toys?”
He stepped to me, his boots a millimeter away from the toes of my sneakers. He towered over me, his ginger scent rolling over me, making me want to soothe. But I couldn’t back down now. He needed the tantrum and maybe I did too.
