Page 39 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

“All of his restaurants are in great cities—Atlanta, LA, London. Asheville is hip and trendy but I don’t know if it’s sophisticated enough for a Traverser,” Mack stated, his brow furrowed.

Damn.

“But you’re right. An excellent restaurant could bring guests to Moonlight Ridge.”

Molly watched as Mack paced the room and saw the intense look of speculation on his face. His face held the same expression it did when he was ten and contemplating building a ramp for his BMX bike, plans for the treehouse, how to raise enough money to buy the F-150 truck he’d been eyeing since he was twelve.

Mack had hit on a plan; of that Molly was certain.

Mack paced out the width of the barn, then the length, coming back to stand in the middle of the room, his expression thoughtful.

“Are you going to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Molly asked, leaning her back against the stone wall and lifting her booted foot to rest its sole on the wall.

Mack turned around to face her. “Actually, I was thinking this would be a perfect spot for a Corkscrew Craft Beer brewery.”

“I never understood why you chose that name.” Molly wrinkled her nose. “I mean, a person associates corkscrews with wine bottles, not craft beer.”

When he looked at her, his face was inscrutable. “It has nothing to do with wine or corkscrews.”

“Then I really don’t understand.”

Mack took two steps, lifted a strand of her hair and wound it around his index finger, watching as the curl hugged his finger. “Corkscrew curls, Mol. I’ve always loved your hair.”

Molly sucked in her breath, completely blindsided by his admission. He’d named his company after her? What the hell? Why? “I don’t understand why you would do that.”

Mack dropped his hand and turned away. Ignoring her silent plea for an explanation, he pointed to the back wall, where there were no windows. “I’d add on space at the back, for the processing and distribution of the beer, but I’d put the tanks there where the diners could see them. In front of them, a really long statement bar. A small, open kitchen in the corner, and we’d have a small, beer-inspired menu. I’d go for an industrial look inside, to contrast with the wooden beams and the stone walls. Heavy tables, a concrete floor. I’d leave the stonework exposed. Maybe we could open up that far wall, make a deck and put tables out there, too. The customers would enjoy the view.”

Forcing herself not to grab his shirt and demand why he felt the need to name his company after her hair—her hair, for goodness’ sake!—Molly struggled to think. It wasn’t easy when she wanted to beat an answer out of him.

Pulling up her business brain took far more effort than she expected.

“And how, exactly, would your brewery benefit the resort?”

Mack took a moment to digest her question, his thoughts obviously a million miles away. “Well, I’d have to buy the building, giving Jameson an immediate and rather substantial cash injection.”

Which would be lovely but she needed more than cash; she needed guests, as she’d told him.

“I don’t own and run Traverser-like restaurants but actually, people do travel to visit my breweries. I have no doubt that some people would choose to stay at Moonlight Ridge. Some would stay over, visit the spa, want to take a hike...maybe we could do joint promotions between Moonlight Ridge and the brewery. The point is, we want to up the visibility of the resort, and the brewery would be a good way to do it.”

Molly wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t we looking at two different segments of the market? The resort caters to the very rich while the brewery is more middle-of-the-road, isn’t it?”

Amusement flashed across Mack’s face. “Actually, you would be surprised at the demographics of who visits my breweries. According to the expensive company I recently hired to do consumer research, the young and wealthy account for at least half of my customer base. And isn’t that the segment of the market you are looking at attracting?”

He had her there. “Fair point.”

Mack looked around the space again and Molly could see his mind working at warp speed. “I’d need an architect to help me plan the space.”

Molly had spent too much time taking virtual tours of his many breweries on the Corkscrew Breweries website—and really, every time she remembered that he’d named his business after her hair, her heart did a strange triple thump—and all his places carried the same subtle branding and design elements.

He’d call in his usual design team and within months the brewery would be up and running. When Mack wanted something, he didn’t let anything get in his way.

“I need to talk to Jameson and if he agrees, I’ll get my senior management team out here to do some market research and viability studies. Asheville has many craft breweries but my gut says mine will be a welcome addition. But I’d like the research to confirm my hunch. Once we make the final decision, I’ll get Vanna out here to inspect the building, to start working on some design plans.”

“Is she an architect?”

“Yeah, she’s worked on most of my breweries,” Mack responded, his thoughts miles away.

Molly knew that she was wandering into a minefield but they couldn’t keep avoiding the subject forever. “Why did you never ask Grey to do any work for you? I mean, he is one of the most in-demand, award-winning architects around.”

---