She finally senses my presence and turns, catching me mid-stare. Her brows shoot up.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Just walked in," I lie.
"Uh-huh." She climbs down from the step stool, a knowing smirk on her face. "Were you checking out my ass, Dalton?"
A month ago, that question would've been laced with venom. Now, there's a playful tone in her voice.
I decide to lean into it. "Maybe I was admiring your tank-cleaning technique. It’s very thorough."
"Sure. My technique." She crosses her arms, drawing my attention exactly where it shouldn't go, but she's fighting a smile. "That's what you were looking at."
"I would never objectify my business partner, Gallagher."
"Business partner?" She laughs, the sound bright and genuine. "Is that what we're calling this?"
"Temporary collaborative associates?"
"That sounds very official," she teases.
I hold up the bag of coffee like a peace offering, suddenly feeling awkward. "I brought you something. It’s my latest roast, and probably my best. I thought you might want to try it."
Her expression softens. "You brought me coffee?"
"Don't make it weird. It's just beans."
"It's never 'just beans' with you." But she takes the bag, examining the label. "Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Natural process."She presses her nose to the bag and hums low. "This smells incredible, Wyatt."
I shrug, trying my best to be nonchalant and not seem so damned pleased at her praise. "I know what I'm doing."
"I know you do." She meets my eyes, and the warmth there nearly unravels me. "Thank you. I'll brew some later and let you know what I think."
"You'd better. I want detailed tasting notes," I joke.
She snorts. "Of course you do." She sets the bag carefully on the counter, then gestures to the brite tank. "Are you ready to taste our baby?"
I rub my hands together, excited to see how it’s turning out. "I was born ready."
We move to the tank where the coffee bags are still steeping in the beer. Merri opens the valve and pours a small sample of golden liquid into a single tasting glass.
"We can share," she says, holding up the glass. "You don’t mind my cooties, right?"
"Not much scares me anymore, Gallagher."
She rolls her eyes at my joke then takes the first sip. My gaze lingers on the way her lips wrap around the rim of the glass, the way her throat works as she swallows, and I have to force myself to think about literally anything else.
Global warming. Inflation. Baseball statistics. Anything.
She hands me the glass, and I take a sip from the exact same spot her lips just touched. The beer hits my tongue with its crisp blonde ale base, and underneath it, the faintest hint of coffee. But it's not quite right yet. The coffee is there, but too weak.
"It’s not ready," I say.
"Agreed." Merri takes the glass back, takes another small sip. "Another twelve to eighteen hours should do it. The coffee needs more time to fully infuse."
"Tomorrow afternoon, then?"
She bobs her head. "Yes."
