"The next batch of Sandbar Ale should be ready for the coffee infusion in about a week," Merri says, setting her glass down.
"I'll have the coffee ready. Same blend, same roast profile." I hesitate, then add, "Can I be here when you add it? I want to see the process."
Her brows shoot up. "You do?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'd like to see how it all comes together."
She nods slowly. "Sure. There’s not a lot to it. But you can help me fill the bags with the coffee."
"Okay." I take another sip, watching her over the rim of my glass. She's relaxed now, her shoulders loose, her expression open. It's a side of Merri I rarely see, unguarded and genuine, without the defensive walls she usually keeps up around me.
And Ireallywant to kiss her.
The thought comes out of nowhere, slamming into me with the force of a freight train. I want to lean over, cup her face in my hands, and kiss her until neither of us can remember why we've been fighting for the past two decades, which is absolutely insane.
This is Merri Gallagher. My arch-nemesis. The woman who's made it her life's mission to drive me insane in every possible way. And I'm sitting here thinking about kissing her.
"Wyatt, are you okay?" Merri asks, frowning as she waves a hand in front of me. "You've got a weird look on your face."
"I’m good. Just thinking." I drain the rest of my beer. "This competition is going to be intense."
"I disagree." She finishes her own pint, lifting the glass. "And this reinforces it. If this beer had sucked, we would have been in trouble. But we’ll beat the juice boy and the kombucha lady without breaking a sweat. The only difficult part for you is not being a jackass for the next few weeks. Think you can handle that?"
I chuckle. "I'm a Marine, babe. I can handle anything."
She tilts her head, studying me. "Are you sure about that, Wyatt? Even working with me?"
I stare at her, as if seeing her for the first time. For once, I don't have a smart-ass comeback. "Yeah," I say quietly. "Even that, Merri."
Her expression shifts into something I can't quite name. But before either of us can say anything else, Admiral wakes up with a snort and stretches, his tail thumping against my boot, and the moment is gone.
"I should get back," I say, standing, rubbing my hands on my pants. "I have a bunch of weekend orders to fill. Lots of work to do."
"Right. Me too." Merri stands as well, tucking her notebook under her arm. "Nice job with the coffee, Dalton."
"Thanks for the beer, Gallagher. You're pretty damn talented yourself."
We stand there for a beat too long, eyeing each other, and then I force myself to move toward the door. Admiral follows me halfway, then seems to remember he lives here and trots back to Merri's side.
"See you in a week," Merri calls.
"One week," I confirm.
I step into the bright Florida sunshine and take a deep breath. A grin stretches shamelessly across my face. Surprisingly, I don’t really care if I survive this thing anymore.
Chapter 6
Merri
One week after the blind tasting, Wyatt stands in my production room cradling a five-pound bag of ground coffee like it's the Holy Grail. And honestly, when it comes to our collaboration, it actually is.
"Ready?" he asks, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement as he sets the bag on the stainless-steel counter with careful precision.
"I was born ready, Dalton," I fire back, gesturing to the fresh batch of Sandbar Ale waiting in the brite tank. "Let's make some magic."
The weird thing about the past week is how irritatingly cordial we've been to each other. There have been no pranks, no passive-aggressive comments about parking spaces or dumpster usage. In fact, Wyatt was downright reasonable when I accidentally took up more than my share of our joint dumpster a few days ago when I had to toss some packaging. He didn't even leave one of those snippy notes written in precise military script.
It's unnerving as hell, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the peace. It’s nice not having to constantly watch my back or plan my next move. Now I’m wondering if we couldactually be normal business neighbors who aren’t at each other’s throats all the damned time.
