Page 6 of Summer Brew

“They don’t find it creepy?” My question is half serious, half tease.

Aiden is the one who chimes in, “Greylin doesn’t.”

Elwood makes a face and bites out, “Don’t. She’s my sister.”

“I’m glad none of you are looking at my sister,” Gary throws out there and my heart halts for a beat.

I look away from the table because I was looking at Gemma without even realizing I was doing it. It’s like I can’t help myself even though I know it’s the last thing I should be doing.

Gary’s suddenly asks, “Hey, do you guys know anything about Gemma and her mysterious home brew?” He gestures toward me. “I mentioned it to Keaton because I know she’s been stressed out even though she doesn’t talk to me about it.”

“I don’t know much, just that she’s been trying to find the right balance with the hops and the cannabis flower,” Elwood is the one who speaks up. “I helped her do some research at the library when she was just starting out. The girls do tastings when she lets them, but it’s all very strict and there is blood pact level secrecy around it all.”

Rook chuckles and nods. “She had a tasting with Meadow not long ago. Gemma said it wasn’t right, but Meadow disagreed. I wasn’t allowed to know anything more,” his tone is serious.

“I didn’t even know she was doing this,” my word are filled with disbelief.

“She beats herself up about every batch,” Elwood adds in.

I nod slowly and even though I want to ask more questions, I’m not sure if I should. Then the conversation shifts around the table, and I know I can’t pull it back without it being weird. Still, those questions burn in my gut.

Elwood and Rook grab the next round, and they make sure to walk by the table where their women are sitting when they do. I can see the scolding looks, as if they didn’t know their men were here already, but the appreciation on their faces is sincere.

When they come back, Aiden asks Rook, “Have you had any more issues out at the farm?”

“No,” Rook shakes his head, “it’s been quiet. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

They share a long look, and I have to wonder if some of the rumors I heard around town after Rook’s grandfather died are true. News from the farms surrounding our little town moves through the gossip mill at a much slower pace. I’m sure there are things we never hear about as well.

Since I don’t know the man very well, I never heard the full story. I did hear about him and Meadow getting married and he’s been around town more because of her, but other than that I’m in the dark.

If Gary knew all the details, I think he would have filled me in already. Then again, maybe not. He’s oddly secretive about some things in the name of loyalty. Or maybe Gemma never told him the details to begin with.

She’s exactly like him in so many ways.

Her loyalty runs just as deep as her brother’s does. There was a time when she was six and we were sixteen. I don’t know how many times we were told not to dribble the basketball in the house, but we did it anyway.

The whole incident ended badly. More than one fragile thing was broken. It was an entire crime scene, honestly.

We fessed up to it, but the first person Gary’s parents looked toward was Gemma. She didn’t say a word. Her face was screwed up with a stubbornness that bordered on terrifying. I think I cracked first after seeing her determination to keep quiet when it would have been easier for her to speak up.

When I glance back over at her, there’s something about the set of her shoulders that reminds me of that day. If she’s been struggling with her project, why wouldn’t she come to me?

She has to know about my own home set-up, at least as much as Gary understands. It’s not something I guard and it sure as hell isn’t a secret.

For the rest of the night, even after I watch the guys go and collect their women, giving Gemma a ride like it’s natural, I can’t help but wonder—will she ever ask me for help?

And if she does, can I handle being close to her for the first time in years without doing something we’ll both regret?

CHAPTER 3

GEMMA

It’s official—I’m a coward. I’ve driven past Keaton’s house about five times now and I haven’t stopped once. I haven’t even slowed down. How could I? If I slow down, if I stop, then I’ll have to do what I came here to do.

I’ve been stewing over asking Keaton for help for days now. I saw him the other night when we were having a girl’s night out and it made me realize how silly I’ve been. We didn’t even talk, only passively acknowledged each other from across the room and then categorically ignored the other. Still, I was very much aware of his presence.

And his gaze.