Chapter Ten
DEAN
If I had writtena playbook for the world’s most backward, inefficient, and emotionally chaotic path to a first date, it wouldn’t have matched what happened between Brynn and me. Yet this playbook was perfect. It started with a lie at a wedding mixer, escalated to a public kiss, and ended right back where the whole charade began.
Tropical Hops was the same cozy craft brewery on a breezy island, with the cheery turquoise walls I always mocked but secretly liked, and that battered longboard mounted above the taps like it was the Ark of the Covenant. Once again, Braden Coleridge was tending bar. The place was slow this afternoon, just a couple of retirees at the far end and a sunburned couple making out like they’d invented kissing.
Braden spotted us, grinned, and headed our way. “Hey, you two look familiar. Brynn, definitely. Weren’t you at the same wedding?” he asked me. After a very abbreviated explanation that she was a new Dove Key resident and Iwould be soon, he lit up. “In that case, first round’s on the house. Unless you want something top shelf, in which case, I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”
“We’ll take one of your IPAs,” I said with a grin. “Surprise us.”
“You got it,” Braden said, then turned to Brynn as he pulled the tap. “You keeping him out of trouble?”
“No,” she deadpanned. “But I’m documenting every moment for the trial.”
He laughed and indicated he’d bring our beers to us.
After we settled into a private booth, I couldn’t stop looking at her. The lighting was criminally flattering, and she’d let her hair down, signaling we were done pretending to be responsible. Even her smile was looser.
Braden arrived, setting down two frosty pint glasses with a flourish. “Tidal Hops IPA. My flagship beer. Let me officially welcome you to Dove Key, Brynn. And Dean”—he clapped me on the shoulder—“congratulations on discovering life in the slow lane.”
“Sounds like a great toast to drink to.” I raised my glass. The IPA was all citrus and pine, cold enough to bite. For a while, we sat, soaking in the lazy drift of conversation from the bar, where Braden had returned and was chatting with a regular.
Brynn’s eyes scanned the pub, a smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe we’re here again. It still doesn’t feel real. Doris is giving me three months to learn the ropes before I’m fully on my own.”
“You’ll be fine. You might even be overqualified.”
Brynn grinned, then her expression turned serious. “I’m scared I’ll fail. That it’ll go south like all the other times I’ve tried something for myself and crashed.”
I set down my beer. “That’s not how I see you at all.”
She raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to say more.
“You’re the opposite of a quitter,” I told her. “Even when some idiot like me tells you it doesn’t matter, you stick to your guns.”
She looked away, blinking quickly. “What if it isn’t enough?”
“Then I’ll catch you. And if I fail as a small-town financial advisor, you can throw ice cream at me until I’m unrecognizable.”
Brynn laughed, then lifted her pint for a toast. “To new beginnings.”
“And to hoping we don’t suck at them.”
We clinked glasses again. This time, it felt like a promise.
Then the front door clattered open, and in walked Austin and Eli Coleridge, looking like they’d just rolled out of a beer commercial. Austin’s shirt was clean but somehow already untucked, and Eli wore a rash guard and board shorts, his hair a sandstorm of cowlicks. They headed Braden’s way and the three heads converged. Then surprise flitted over Eli’s and Austin’s faces.
They beelined for our booth, Eli in the lead, a massive grin spreading across his face.
“Mercer!” he boomed, sliding into the booth next to me with enough force to rock the whole table. “Braden just gave us the rundown. A fake relationship that turned real? That is the most ridiculously romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Austin slipped in next to Brynn. He nodded at her, then me, with a flicker of something like approval in his cautious gray eyes. “So you’re sticking around, huh?”
“That’s the plan.” A warmth spread through my chestthat had nothing to do with the IPA. “Assuming the town will have me.”
“Oh, we’ll have you,” Eli declared, clapping me on the shoulder. “We’re always looking for new talent for the annual conch-shell-blowing contest. You look like you’ve got strong lungs.” He waggled his eyebrows at Brynn, who couldn't hide her smile. “So, when’s the grand opening of the new Scoop?”
“We’re having a low-key opening next week,” Brynn said. “If I survive Doris’s training boot camp.”
