"I don't trust either of us to be objective. We'll both have favorites. This way, we let the beer speak for itself."
"Good point." He snaps his notebook shut and slides it into his pocket. "When do you want to start?"
"The beer is ready, so bring the coffee by today. I'll infuse the batches tonight, and we can try them on Saturday."
He nods. "That works. I'll get my best stuff and be back in a bit."
We stare at each other for a beat, and then—impossibly—we both smile. It's a small truce, but it's there.
"This is going to be interesting," I comment.
"That's one word for it." Wyatt drops his gaze to Admiral, who manages to lean against both of us at the same time. "At least someone's staying neutral."
"Admiral's always been the smart one in any room."
"Can't argue with that."
I snag the breakfast burritos on our way to the taproom, and don’t miss how Wyatt eyes them with obvious interest.
"You should eat these before they get cold," I say, trying to sound casual. "They're from Mario's."
"You don’t want one? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Consider it a peace offering."
He grabs a burrito, unwrapping it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts. "Peace offering accepted." He takes a bite and closes his eyes. "God, these are good."
I pour myself some of his coffee, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a sip. It's perfect—smooth and balanced, with just enough complexity to keep it interesting. Damn him and his stupid talented palate.
"This coffee is really good," I admit reluctantly.
"Thanks." He takes another gargantuan bite of burrito, then adds, "These are fantastic."
We stand there in the taproom, drinking coffee and eating breakfast burritos, and for the first time in years, it doesn't feel hostile. It feels comfortable, almost friendly. Like maybe we can actually pull this off without destroying each other.
"So," Wyatt says, breaking the silence. "If my calculations are correct, our base beer—which is currently fermenting—will be ready once we decide the right combination."
"Plus or minus a few days, yes. Don’t worry, Wyatt. Our beer will be done within the competition’s timeline."
He eyes me for a moment, then nods. "Have you heard from your brother lately?"
"Yep. He said something about taking leave to visit soon."
"I heard. It must suck that the rest of your family moved away. I was surprised you decided to put your brewery here and not in Charleston where your folks are."
I fight a sneer, trying my best not to dive back into hostility after we established this tenuous ceasefire. "I’ve been on my own for several years now, Wyatt. I don’t need to live with mommy and daddy anymore."
He holds his hands up. "I wasn’t insinuating anything, Merri. I just know how close you guys always were. And now with Danny stationed in California, you’re all alone here."
I shrug. "I can handle myself."
His deep chuckle resonates in my belly, and I absolutely hate it. There’s no way I find this guy attractive.
"I’m well aware of that, Merri."
"Good." I take another sip of coffee, studying him over the rim of my cup. He’s scanning the taproom with that same assessing expression he had in the production room, like he's cataloging every detail. It should annoy me. Instead, it makes me curious.
"What?" he asks, catching me staring.
