"This isn't over," I repeat, backing out.
"It never is with you." She waves her fingers at me, an infuriating smirk still on her gloating face. "It’s been great to see you, Wyatt. Please come again. Bye now."
I leave before I do something stupid, like notice the way the afternoon sun catches the blonde highlights in her light brown hair or how her green eyes shine like gems. Strolling out, I ignore the heckling from the Neon Brigade and barely resist the urge to throw them all the bird.
Inside my roastery, I lock the front door with a bit more force than necessary and make my way to the back. Leaning against the cool brick wall—the same one I share with her—I take deep calming breaths, trying to get my head straight. But it takes several minutes. Merri Gallagher manages to push every one of my fucking buttons.
We've been business neighbors for a year now, and it’s been nightmarish at best. The woman has made it her personal mission to drive me insane, and to say that she’s succeeding would be an understatement.
But hell, that's nothing new. She’s been driving me nuts since we were kids. As my best friend Danny’s baby sister, Merri followed us around like a lost puppy and tattled on us every chance she had. The frog incident was one of many in those earlydays. And to be fair, Merri gave as good as she got. She managed to pull off a few tricks that left a mark.
Our feud took a hiatus when I joined the Marine Corps. With over eight years of deployments in special ops, the only time I thought about Merri Gallagher was when Danny mentioned her in passing. She went to college for business, then moved to Colorado for a few years to learn brewing. As for me, I drank enough bad coffee in a dozen countries that I dreamed about opening my own roastery when I got out.
When I finally returned to Pelican Point, I was thrilled to find the perfect space for Recon Roasters. So focused on the location, with great foot traffic, affordable rent, and the perfect size for my equipment, that I didn't notice what and who was next door until it was too late.
The Sassy Siren Brewery, owned and operated by one Merri Gallagher.
Our first conversation as business neighbors was borderline hostile and we've been at war ever since, locked in an endless cycle of retaliation.
I'm still plotting my next move when I hear the faint scratch of nails on concrete. I glance over to see a familiar black shape pushing through the back door I’d left ajar. Admiral, Merri's black lab, shuffles in like he owns the place, his thick black tail wagging slowly and gray muzzle lifted in greeting.
"Hey, old man." I crouch down and the dog ambles over, pressing his head against my knee. "Did she forget to feed you again?"
Admiral chuffs in response, which I take as a yes, despite clear evidence to the contrary around his middle.
This isn't the first time he's wandered over. He showed up about a month after I opened, sniffing around, and I made the mistake of giving him a treat. Now he's a regular visitor.
"Don't tell your mom," I mutter, pulling a dog biscuit from the jar I keep specifically for him. "She'll accuse me of bribing you."
Admiral takes the treat delicately, then flops onto his side, exposing his belly with shameless expectation.
"You're pathetic," I tell him, but I'm already rubbing his stomach, grinning as his rear leg starts to kick. "Yeah, that's the spot, isn't it?"
"Admiral!"
The sharp voice makes both of us jerk, and I glance up. Merri stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking like she's seconds away from strangling me. Her gaze is locked on her dog, who’s currently splayed out on his back getting the belly rub of his life.
"Seriously, Dalton?" She stalks toward us, those sexy legs closing the distance fast. "I've been looking everywhere for him."
I continue rubbing Admiral's belly, feeling that familiar sense of peace at irritating her. It’s the best dopamine hit in the world. "Maybe you should keep better track of your dog."
"Maybe you should stop luring him over here with treats. He’s on a diet," she snarls.
"I can't help it if he has excellent taste in people." I give Admiral one last pat and stand up, brushing dog hair off my jeans. "He wandered in on his own. I'm just providing hospitality."
Merri glares at me, then at her dog, who is making absolutely no move to get up. "Admiral. Come on, it’s time to go home."
Admiral thumps his tail in response but remains stubbornly planted where he is.
"He has no sense of loyalty whatsoever," she mutters, but there’s no heat to her statement. "His judgment of people is obviously questionable."
"Funny. He says the same about you." I lean against my workbench and cross my arms, grinning at her indignant expression. For a second, I think she might actually throw something at me. Instead, she marches over and clips a leash to Admiral’s collar.
"Come on, you big baby," she grumbles affectionately. "Let’s get out of here."
Admiral lumbers to his feet and follows her out, giving me a long look over his shoulder. Merri pauses at the threshold, turning back. The afternoon light catches her face, highlighting the scatter of freckles across her nose that she's always hated. Her cheeks are flushed, probably from irritation, though it looks good on her. Not that I'm paying attention.
"Stay away from my dog, Dalton."
