"Goodnight, Wyatt."
"Goodnight, Merri."
I get out of the truck and walk up my porch stairs, acutely aware that he's watching me. When I turn back to wave, he's stillthere, waiting until I'm safely inside. I close the door and lean against it, my pulse racing.
Admiral lifts his head from his bed, his ears perked as he watches me with a patient stare.
"Don't start," I tell him. "It was research for the competition."
His tail thumps once against the cushion, then he settles back with a long exhale through his nose. He doesn't believe me either.
Chapter 9
Wyatt
The scent of spice bread hits me as I walk into The Sassy Siren Brewery. I feel like I'm on top of the world, and I'm pretty sure it shows.
"Well, someone's in a good mood," Tommy observes from behind the bar, grinning at me. "Let me guess, the coffee roasting went well this morning?"
"Something like that." I head toward the production room, unable to peel the smile off my face.
The truth is, I've been in a good mood since I dropped Merri off last night. Sitting across from her at Sal’s, I realized I don’t just find her attractive, but I actually enjoy her company. Her sharp wit was there, as usual, but I saw her passion for her craft and the way her face lights up when she talks about brewing. And now, I’m hungry for more.
I push through the door and find Merri checking the brite tank, her braid swinging as she makes notes on her clipboard. She glances, and I swear I see a rosy blush bloom on her cheeks.
"Good morning, Gallagher." I don’t bother to hide the warmth in my tone.
"You're early, Dalton."
"I couldn't wait to try our masterpiece." I edge closer into her personal space, testing her boundaries. "You ready for this?"
"I'm always ready." She frowns, her green eyes narrowing. "Though I'm surprised you're so chipper. You’re usually a little more… rigid."
I lean against the counter, watching her. "I had a great time last night."
Her blush deepens. "It was just dinner."
"Right." I grin, letting the words hang in the air between us, loaded with everything we're not saying. "So, do you think the beer's ready?"
She shrugs, pouring a sample in a small glass. "There’s only one way to find out." I study her face as she sips, watching for any hint of disappointment or concern.
Instead, her eyes widen. "Oh my God."
The words hit and my back goes board-stiff, like someone just dropped ice down my shirt. "Is that a good 'oh my God' or a bad 'oh my God'?"
"Just try it." She hands me the glass, and I take a drink from the exact same spot, maintaining eye contact the whole time. The beer hits my tongue and…
Holy shit. It's perfect.
The blonde ale base is crisp and the coffee flavor is distinctive without being overwhelming. And like we predicted, those fruity notes from the Central American blend play beautifully against the malt. It's balanced, sophisticated, and dangerously drinkable.
"This is incredible," I say, taking another sip. "Merri, this is competition-winning fantastic."
"I know!" she shrieks, clapping her hands. She's practically bouncing with excitement. "The flavor profile is exactly what we wanted. This is it, Wyatt. This is our beer."
Our beer. I like the sound of that.
"Tommy!" Merri calls over her shoulder. "We're ready for carbonation!"
