Page 26 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“No, you must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“Ah, I remember. Secret billionaire.”
“And you’re the heiress, right?” He winks at me, like he did the last time he said those words. There’s that dimple again.
The other man slaps Cam on the shoulder before exiting the taproom. Cam and I have nearly finished our script. It was at this point in the conversation that my bubble tea order was ready.
“Where have we met before?” he asks. “It’s strange that I can’t remember.”
I name the tea shop. “We’ve talked there a couple of times. I occasionally stop in before boarding my private jet.”
He laughs. “Of course. Any good heiress has a private jet in case she has to make a quick escape—or an impromptu trip to Paris.”
“Exactly.”
“I ordered the Iron Goddess just an hour or two ago, but I hadn’t been in a while.” He shakes his head. “I guess that’s why I can’t remember, but it’s still odd.”
Yeah, it certainly is.
I tell myself to just go with the flow. After all, Cam is unlikely to recall the details of any conversation we have.
“Why is it so odd?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
“Because you’re a very striking heiress,” he says with a smile, and I can sense him trying to feel me out, trying to figure out where to go with this because he doesn’t want to overstep.
“Is that so?”
He gestures to the chalkboard. “What do heiresses like to drink?”
“We usually go for wine of very exclusive, uh, vintages. I’m open to trying something new, but I don’t know much about beer.”
“Hm.” He picks up a small glass and pours me a tiny amount. “Try this.”
I knock it back and make a face before I can stop myself.
He chuckles. “Okay, no pale ales.” He gives me something else to try.
I take a sip. “That’s not bad.”
“It’s the Annex Pilsner.” He points at the chalkboard and grabs another small glass.
I hold up a hand. “The pilsner’s good. I’ll have that. I’m sure your boss wouldn’t like you giving away more beer. Or I can buy a flight. I’m an heiress, remember, so I have money to throw around.”
“I’m the boss. It’s fine.”
“Yeah? Do you own this place?”
He nods. “With my friends. I’m the taproom and events manager—and I do various other things too,” he adds with a laugh. “Whatever needs to be done.”
Opening a brewery. Wow. That’s the kind of risk I can’t imagine taking. I’d rather just be an employee, though as Madison pointed out, being an employee at a different engineering firm might be something to think about.
He hands the third sample to me rather than putting iton the surface of the bar. When our fingers brush, my breath hitches.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“The Corktown Hefeweizen.”
I take a tentative sip. The beer is a bit cloudy and has a slightly odd taste—I don’t have the words to describe it—but it quickly grows on me. “I like it.”
