We finish the tank and turn to the empty kegs in the corner. The whole time, we're talking about beer, coffee, and the businesses we've built. And somewhere in between discussing fermentation temperatures and roast profiles, I realize I'm having fun.
Real, genuine, not-trying-to-one-up-each-other fun. With Merri Gallagher.
What kind of alternate universe is this?
"So," I hear myself say, "you want to grab dinner?"
Merri freezes, a rag in her hand. "What?"
"Dinner. Food. For research purposes, of course." I'm talking too fast, trying to sound casual. "I mean, we're collaborating on this beer. We should probably know more about each other's palates, right? What flavors we like, what we hate." I shrug. "It's practical."
She stares at me like I've grown a second head. "Are you asking me out on a date, Dalton?"
"What? No. Like I said, it's research for the competition." But even as I say it, I know it's bullshit. And from the look on Merri's face, she suspects it too.
"Research," she deadpans.
"Exactly."
"For the competition." She draws out that last word.
"Mmmhmm…"
She stands, wiping her hands with the towel, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You're asking me to dinner, and you're trying to pretend it's for professional reasons."
"I'm not—" I stop, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, fine. Maybe I just want to have dinner with you. You’re my best friend’s baby sister. Is that so weird?"
"Considering we've been at each other's throats for twenty years, it's pretty fucking weird."
"We don't hate each other."
"We did just three weeks ago."
"That was three weeks ago. This is now." I hold her gaze, leaning forward to make my point. "Come on, Gallagher. It's just dinner. What's the worst that could happen?"
"We could kill each other before dessert."
"I'll risk it if you will. Either way, we’ll give the town gossips something to talk about."
"As tempting as that sounds, I have plans tonight."
"Tomorrow, then."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her weighing the decision. Finally, she nods.
"Okay. But I'm picking the place, and you're paying since this was your idea."
"Deal."
"And we're still calling it research."
"Absolutely." She can call it whatever she wants. I don’t give a damn. Merri Gallagher agreed to dinner with me and it's taking every ounce of self-control not to grin like a complete idiot.
"Right." The corner of her mouth tilts up. "What time?"
"After we do the second tasting?"
She shrugs. "Works for me."
