“Yeah.” I was already moving.
I stepped into the space between the two men.
“All right,” I said. Not loudly. I didn’t need to be loud. “Let’s bring it down.”
Beckett’s eyes cut to me. Up close, he looked younger, angrier, and more exhausted than he had from a distance. Whatever this grievance was, he’d been carrying it for a while.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he said.
“It concerns everyone within earshot, which, right now, is most of the festival,” I said evenly. Beckett was a human, so he had no idea how much this concerned me. “Whatever this is, is between you two, and a crowd of strangers isn’t going to solve it.”
Roy had the grace to look uncomfortable. “He’s right, Beckett. Here in front of everyone isn’t the place.”
“Oh, now you want privacy.” Beckett laughed, short and humorless. “You weren’t worried about that when you submitted my recipe under your name.”
“I told you?—”
“Later,” I said. The word came out with the alpha weight that I had no right to have, but both men stopped. I held Beckett’s gaze until I felt him recalibrate. “This can be dealt with properly. Not here.”
A long beat.
Beckett glanced at Roy. Then at me. Then back at Roy, and something in his expression settled into something colder and more deliberate than the hot fury of a moment ago. He took a step back.
“Fine,” he said. He smoothed the front of his jacket with one hand, the gesture oddly precise. “Fine.”
He turned to leave. I almost let out a breath.
Then he paused. Just for a moment. Just long enough to look back over his shoulder at Roy with an expression that had nothing impulsive in it at all.
“You’ll pay for this,” he said quietly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Then he walked away into the crowd and was gone.
Chapter Three
Brewing Trouble
Declan
We’d confronted a murderer not long ago, so Beckett’s ominous threat sent an icy shiver snaking up my spine. I didn’t even realize I was seeking comfort from Gideon until I leaned closer to him and he wrapped his arm around me. As soon as I was pressed to his side, my dread eased. I loved how he was always there for me.
“Well, uh… that was…” a middle-aged man with a remarkably bulbous nose muttered from Roy’s side as Beckett disappeared into the crowd.
“Don’t worry about it, Flash,” Roy said, although his face was pinched, suggesting he was more bothered than he pretended.
Flash–that couldn’t be his actual name, right?–was average-looking, so much so that I probably wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t opened his mouth. But, yeah, Mr. Average’s awkward mumbling had pretty much summed up what we were all feeling.We stood awkwardly for one long moment. I had no idea what to say, and apparently, no one else did either.
The accusation was serious. Would a company like Kettlebrook change its mind about going into business with Roy after that kind of allegation hanging over him? Or were they of the “all publicity is good publicity” school of thought?
Roy forced out a deep chortle, as if he’d heard the best joke ever, even though no one had said anything. He clapped Gideon on the back. “I told you you’d be carrying my beer before the summer was out, didn’t I?”
“Congratulations, Roy,” Gideon said with a smile.
It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but I doubted anyone else noticed. I suspected he’d be looking into Beckett’s accusation before long. That was just the kind of guy Gideon was. He didn’t like it when people were used and tossed aside. Not in his town.
Okay, so we didn’t know for sure that’s what Roy had done, but…
“Roykins,” a syrupy-sweet voice rang over the crowd. “Where are you, babykins?”
