"Ladies, I regret to inform you that today's tasting has been canceled." I don't regret it at all. "But since you drove all the way from Hibiscus Harbor, I'll let you each grab a bag of coffee on the house." I gesture toward the display. "Pick whatever you want, and quickly, please. I have beans to roast."
And unholy vengeance to wreak upon a certain pain in my ass.
Instead of fallen faces as one would expect, they each grin brazenly, not even pretending disappointment.
"Well, that's a darn shame." Neon Pink is already shuffling toward the display, her tone suggesting it is not, in fact, a shame at all. "But I'd love to try this one."
What follows is the longest coffee selection process in recorded history. They sniff. They compare. They consult. One of them puts a bag back, picks it up again, then switches it for a third option. The sound of my teeth grinding can probably be heard in the next town.
Finally, they make their choices, and I herd them out with a wave that probably looks more like a shooing motion. Because it is.
I flip the closed sign behind them and snarl in the direction of The Sassy Siren. A dozen revenge scenarios flash through my mind, each pettier and more satisfying than the last.
Actually, screw planning. That’s for people with patience, and I have none. I unlock the door and storm out, heading forthe brewery’s entrance. The taproom is dark, warm, and smells of hops and malt. It’s not unpleasant, I'll admit, though I'd sooner drink motor oil than tell Merri that. I scan the space, ready to unleash hell, and stop dead in my tracks.
There they are. All four of the Neon Brigade, sitting at the bar with pint glasses in hand, cackling like a coven of witches. And across from them, behind the bar and laughing hardest of all, is Merri Gallagher.
She spots me, and her light green eyes sparkle with glee. "Wyatt! What a lovely surprise. Ladies, you remember my neighbor, don't you?"
"Oh, yes," Blue Raspberry says, raising her glass to me. "Such a charming young man. Very handsome and burly if you ask me. And generous with the free coffee."
A vein pulses in my temple. "You enlisted civilians, Gallagher. That's a new low, even for you."
Merri props her chin on her hand, all innocence and guile. "I have no idea what you're talking about. These lovely ladies are part of my Aunt Patty's walking club. They just happened to be in the area and wanted to check out the local businesses." She bats her eyelashes at me. "Is it my fault you advertised a tasting event you couldn't deliver?"
"I didn't—" I clench my jaw so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. "You know damn well I didn't advertise anything."
"Hmm." She taps her finger against her lips that are a lush, soft pink today, not that I'm noticing. "Sounds like quite the mystery. Maybe you should hire a detective to get to the bottom of it."
The ladies titter, and tension coils at the base of my skull.
"This isn't over," I growl, pointing a finger. "You’ve crossed a line. Bringing in outside help violates the rules of engagement."
Merri slides around the bar and saunters toward me. She's wearing khaki shorts that hug her trim curves and highlightthose long, toned legs. The Sassy Siren t-shirt she’s sporting is tight enough to be distracting.
She stops about a foot away, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. Even in her work boots, she barely reaches my chin.
"There are no rules, Wyatt the Riot." Her voice is low, meant just for me. "Did you think I wouldn’t figure out who plastered my phone number all over the men’s bathrooms in Pelican Point?" Her fingernail digs into my chest. "There never have been rules, so don’t pretend you’ve been following any. Besides, if you can't handle a little creative warfare, maybe you should surrender now."
I lean down until our faces are inches apart. I can smell her perfume—something citrusy that has no business smelling that good. "Marines don't surrender, babe. We adapt and overcome." I take another step closer, angling my head. It’s impossible not to notice how easy it would be to reach in for a kiss. "And Rectal Roasters? Really? That’s low, even for you."
She presses those lush lips together as if she’s holding back laughter and lifts a shoulder, unconcerned. But I spot the pulse hammering at the base of her neck. She’s not as unbothered as she’d like to seem. Interesting…
"What can I say? It had a nice ring to it." The glint in her eye holds no remorse.
"I’ll remember that for next time. And for the record," A slow smile stretches across my face as I edge even closer, not bothering to keep my voice down. "You just made this very personal, Merri So Hairy."
It’s juvenile, I know, but sweet satisfaction slides through me at the choked laughs from the Neon Brigade and the way Merri’s nostrils flare. It’s one of the many nicknames I’ve given her over the years and one of my particular favorites.
Her eyes narrow, those pink lips curling in a delicate snarl, and I brace for her impending insult. Then she relaxes and rollsher eyes, and I’m strangely disappointed. "Oh, please. You've been making it personal since you put a frog in my lunch box in third grade."
I snicker. "You screamed so loud the whole school heard."
"I waseight, you jerk."
"It was the best day of my life."
She shoves my chest, not hard enough to move me, but the contact sends a jolt through my body that I resolutely ignore. "Get out of my brewery. Some of us have actual work to do."
