“And that would be a bad thing?” What was she thinking? If she left it open, the cat might descend into the basement, looking for her portal to hell.
She shut the door, making the staircase even darker. The smell of yeast hit her nose, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for hours.
“I think the light bulb’s burnt out,” River said. “I’ll change it before I go.”
“And here I was about to ask if you were a serial killer luring me down to your killing room, but the light bulb offer has me second-guessing.”
“No self-respecting serial killer would offer to change a light bulb,” River joked. “Not very intimidating.”
Georgie reached the bottom of the steps and came to a halt when she saw a worktable covered with multiple glass bottles the size of watercooler jugs filled halfway full with pinkish liquid. It looked like a homegrown science experiment.
“Grandpa Beau wasn’t making meth down here, was he?”
River chuckled. “No, it was a beer competition.”
“Really? I thought he made beer at the brewery. He showed me the tanks and everything.”
“This was a competition between me, Beau, and Finn.”
“Who’s Finn?”
His smile faltered, making her regret asking. “My partner.” He shook his head, and when he spoke again his tone was darker, angrier. “My boss. Or used to be.”
He walked past the table toward a fridge so old it looked like it had come from the set of a period piece, but he didn’t open it, instead looking in a cabinet above it.
“No wine, dusty or otherwise. I take it you’re not a beer drinker?” He closed the door and turned to face her.
She scrunched up her nose. “I haven’t had beer since I went to a kegger in high school. I suppose I should be ashamed to admit to that, my situation being what it is. Beau did offer when I visited, but he didn’t seem to mind too much when I declined.”
He snorted, but his eyes lit up with mischievousness. “Then I guess tonight’s your lucky night.”
Georgie couldn’t help laughing. It sounded like a pickup line, but she could tell that it wasn’t. River really was that excited about beer.
“What kind of wine do you like?”
“Whites—Pinot Grigio, Riesling.”
He opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles. He popped off the metal tops and handed one to her. “Try this. It’s an amber. It’s what I was drinking before. A good entry-level beer.”
When she took the bottle, her fingers brushed his, and she tried to ignore the flutters in her stomach. She remembered what it had felt like shaking hands with him earlier, his grip so strong around hers. What did he do to get those muscles? Something told her he didn’t belong to a CrossFit gym. River’s gaze held hers, and even though his face didn’t give much away, she thought she saw something in his eyes. Like maybe he felt that spark of attraction too.
She lifted the bottle to her lips, but her attention was still on River and that little spark between them, and when the beer filled her mouth, the taste caught her by surprise. She started to cough, spewing a mouthful of the brew on his chest and face.
He instinctively leaned backward, and she reached for him in horror. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
A grin spread over his face. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just said so.”
Even though she was still horrified, laughter burst from her throat. When was the last time she’d had a good laugh, let alone with a man she found attractive? Her last boyfriend had been far too serious. He never would have teased her, and he would have had a heart attack if he’d gone longer than six weeks without a haircut, let alone allowed it to grow as long as River’s.
He grabbed a kitchen towel from the worktable and wiped his face.
“River, I’m so sorry.”
He laughed again. “Try it again, only this time sip it slowly.” He took a couple of steps toward the refrigerator. “And I’ll stand back here.”
Georgie laughed despite her mortification, then took a sip of the beer.
“What do you taste?” he asked, the task of cleaning himself up seemingly forgotten as he watched her.
“It’s sweeter than I expected. And a bit citrusy.” She took another sip, a bigger one this time. “And maybe a hint of caramel?”
“Come on,” River said, gesturing toward the stairs. “It’s a nice night. Let’s go sit on the porch.”
She cast a glance at the glass jugs. “You said that was a competition?”
“And an experiment,” he said, tossing the towel on the workbench. “Beau and I used to come up with new flavors in small batches like this, but you’ll never see this particular one on a line,” he said with a chuckle. “I doubt the special ingredients would fly.”
Georgie had heard of people brewing beer in their basements, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Beau or anyone else who ran a brewery might do so. It seemed so old school.
“So how does this work?” she asked, gesturing to the table.
Surprise filled his eyes. “You really want to know?”
“Well…yeah. If I’m going to help run a brewery, I guess I should know how it works.”
His jaw dropped and he blinked. “You’re not selling?”
She shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant. “I haven’t decided yet, but if I—I mean we—keep it, will we have to do this?”
He grinned. “No… I mean, you can if you want, but you don’t have to. Finn is capable of making beer, but he’s not good enough to create really interesting and layered flavors. That’s where I came in.” Some of his easygoing attitude faded.
“And Finn was your old boss?”
He took a long pull from his bottle—his first, she realized—then said, “Yep.”
Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it, and although she was curious about what had happened, she didn’t know him well enough to pry. She really needed some levity, at least for tonight. She suspected he did too.
“So you create beer recipes?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she studied the bottles and tried to put it all together. “This is a test kitchen like you see on those Bon Appétit videos.”
His brow shot up. “I don’t know what those are, but yeah.” His back straightened. “This was Beau’s testing ground.”
“And where is yours?”
He took another drink, then said, “At Big Catch. We had our own testing area.” He flashed her a tight smile. “A testing kitchen, but I work on some at home too.”
Georgie resisted the urge to ask him what had happened. “You said Finn used to be your boss. Where are you now?”
He sucked in a breath and turned his attention to the table. “I’m currently exploring my options.” When he looked at her again, she saw a flash of pain in his dark eyes, but he covered it with a grimace. “Let’s head out to the porch. I’m getting a little claustrophobic down here.”
He headed toward the steps but waited for her to go up first. When she reached the top of the stairs, she gingerly cracked the door open to make sure the cat wasn’t about to pounce on her. Jezebel was still on top of the cabinet, surveying her kingdom, a good ten feet away, although she let out a little hiss to tell Georgie she was watching her.