Page 3 of Golden Hour

Today is going to be a great day.

“Shiloh, hey,” Emily says, walking from behind the bar.

Emily is older and taller than me. At our interview, her hair was sleek and smooth but today, in a ponytail with a similar frizz to mine. Aw, a fellow curly girl. She shakes my hand again. I hold myself back from tackling her in a hug.Bad News!used to get annoyed that I had to hug everyone.

“I see you met our star employee, Ramon. He can change a keg in fifteen seconds flat.”

He places his hand on his chest. “I’m gifted.”

“You are,” Emily says. “Shiloh, let’s go meet the family.”

“Excellent,” I say. I already feel right at home. The Dog Hall of Fame in the hallway calms me. I stopped in my tracks when I left my interview and saw it. It was a sign that Woody Finch Brewery was the place for me.

Growing up, I was the weird girl who had to pet every dog. Big, small, young, old, it didn’t matter to me. The minute I got a house with a yard, I rescued Rory, a ten-year-old mutt who was my soul dog.

I miss him terribly.

Emily humors me when I stop at the wall to admire all the dog photos. There’s a large portrait in the middle of the entire family, with a German shepherd in the middle. I didn’t see this before, but I’m glad they’re a dog family. Another great sign.

I point and ask, “Who’s that handsome boy? Or girl?”

“Boy. That was my parents’ dog. Woody.” Emily’s lips straighten to a line. “He passed away around New Year’s.”

My heart is squished. “I’m so sorry. My dog died a couple months ago too. Rory.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s so hard to lose a pet.” She nods. “Woody was definitely my dad’s dog, but the whole family misses him.” Emily notices my chin droop but adds, “There’s plenty of dogs that come through here so my dad can get his fix.”

Lots of dogs come here. Heaven.

We pass by an open office where a man sits at a computer screen. His oak-colored hair sweeps his broad shoulders.

“Don’t mind him,” Emily whispers. I stop anyway.

“Who is that?” I whisper.

“Jackson. You don’t need to meet him.”

“He’s your sibling, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but…”

I just walk in. Even if everyone says to stay away, he deserves aHello, nice to meet you, good morning.

“Hi,” I say in my most cheerful voice. He stops typing, and the air shifts. Emily makes a tiny intake of breath, and I just keep smiling although he hasn’t turned to face me yet.

“I’m Shiloh. Today is my first day. I love the Dog Hall of Fame. Emily says lots of dogs come in and I just love dogs.”

You are such a nerdcrosses my brain, but then I replace the thought withLoving dogs makes you you, Shiloh. You’re the best.

He grumbles and turns around. His eyebrows crease as he looks me up and down, taking in the braids and the polo shirt. He is more handsome than I expected with light green eyes, like peridots, behind thick-rimmed glasses. He’s wearing the same polo shirt I am, but it fits him so well, I gulp air. This gorgeous man now sees me as the dog-loving psycho who’s saying hi to him when everyone told her not to.

This awkward train is already moving so I shoot my hand out toward him. He studies it, and I bite my lip.

“She comes highly recommended. Say hi,” Emily whispers.

Jackson doesn’t look at me, but stares at my shoes. I try not to fidget, although it’s growing more awkward as I stand there like a mannequin, modeling a bracelet. The longer I stand here, the higher chance I’ll turn to mush.

After what feels like ages, he takes my hand and shakes it. His hand is warm and smooth as it engulfs mine. Touching him feels like the one time in middle school I square-danced with my crush, Aaron Hanson. Aaron looked at me similarly to how Jackson is eyeing me now.

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