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If the guys are students in the wine science program at the university, I’m guessing they will be at the vintage dinner at the school on Friday night. They’ll be anxious to showcase their wines. I wonder if she’ll be there as a guest.
I pull another bill from my wallet and hold it up for Blondie to see. “This is yours if you can find out what their plans are for the vintage dinner at the university on Friday night. I want to know if the brunette will be there.”
She smiles again. “I could play this game all night.”
Ten minutes later, she returns with another Shiraz and an update. “The guys will be presenting their wines at the dinner, and both girls will be guests.”
I slide the well-earned bill across the table. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“It’s been my pleasure. Would you like me to keep the Shiraz coming?”
“Yes.”
I spend the next hour stealing glances at the beautiful American through the crowd of people between us as they shift. I’m disappointed when the foursome gets up to leave, but I see the perfect opportunity for a convenient face-to-face encounter when she moves toward the restrooms.
I migrate in that direction and wait for her to emerge for our chance meeting in the hallway. When the door to the ladies’ room opens, I walk toward her, but she’s looking down into her purse. She attempts to dodge right, so I move with her. “Pardon me.”
Her accent is so unusual. And endearing.
She steps to her left and I move with her like a mirror image. “So sorry, Miss.”
Look up at me.
“Wanna dance?” she laughs as she lifts her eyes from her purse.
“I’d love to.” Her smile spreads with my reply. We lock eyes and I try to identify the color of hers, but I can’t. It’s too dark in the narrow hallway.
I was right. She is the one.
She seems embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Asking someone to dance is an expression we use where I’m from. You know? Like when two people try to get around one another as we just did.”
“I’m familiar with the expression, but one can always hope.” I step around her toward the door to the men’s room. “I think I would have enjoyed a dance with you.”
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EXCERPT: TAP
A LOVIBOND NOVEL: BOOK 1
From New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal best-selling author of The Beauty Series comes The Lovibond Collection––a series of stand alone novels.
Craft beer and the sexy men who brew it. Both, always a good idea.
A faceless name. That’s all she was when I agreed to play a part in deceiving her. But then the unplanned happened.
We met. And all I wanted from her was a dirty weekend . . . until that wasn’t enough and I longed for so much more.
Lawrence Thorn suddenly means the world to me. And that’s a problem. She’s my business partner’s sister. Forbidden fruit. Pursuing her can mean trouble for me at Lovibond Brewery. But I don’t care.
I yearn for her skin against mine.
I crave her smell on my body.
I want to make her laugh and then hear her moan my name.
And she does for a brief moment in time.
But Lawrence wants more than I’m able to give. And it’s a damn shame because there’s no one on earth I want more than her.
An epic love.
A miserable ending.
Unless it’s not.
TAP is the first book in a collection of Lovibond stand alone novels.
Each novel will feature a different couple.
No cliffhangers.
CHAPTER 1
LUCAS BROUSSARD
This quarter’s sales are profitable. Damn profitable. Buying into Lovibond Brewery as a partner four years ago has proven to be a wise decision. Oliver Thorn, Porter Beckman, and I are becoming three increasingly wealthy men.
The opportunity to financially back this company during its infancy couldn’t have presented itself at a better time. My life had been in a shambles.
Miserable in my business.
A failed marriage.
My wife and my business partner in love . . . with each other.
My world was a complete clusterfuck.
A knock on my office door steals my attention from the numbers. And the past. “Hey, Tap. You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Stout enters, shutting the door behind him. He never does that.
Oliver Thorn, aka Stout and my business partner, shrinks into the chair across from me. He’s hunched with his forearms resting on his thighs. His face is nearly hidden in his palms. This isn’t the typical carefree Stout who launches himself into the chair opposite me and kicks up his heels onto the edge of my desk to annoy the fuck out of me. The disheveled guy in front of me looks . . . defeated.
I’m silent as I wait for him to look up at me. But he doesn’t. This is weird. Stout never acts like this.
Maybe I should prompt him to say something. Anything. “I was just going over the numbers. They’re up again. This time by thirteen point nine percent. That’s almost two times what they were last quarter.” Unbelievable how quickly this company is growing.
It began with two college guys brewing beer in their apartment. They dreamed of turning their hobby into a multimillion-dollar company. I was taken aback when Porter approached me about buying in as a partner. I was his boss. Although I wasn’t much older, he and Stout had seemed like a pair of naïve college graduates with zero business experience. Dreamers. But then I sampled the product and knew these guys had something marketable on their hands.
That was four years and several million dollars ago.
The founding fathers of Lovibond Brewery have been called many things. Lords of the hops. Masters of the craft. Top hops. Brew brothers. Boot keggers. The list is endless. The pair know and understand the science and production behind manufacturing high-quality, good-tasting ale. Money-making beer. Interesting direction given their backgrounds in chemical engineering and graphic design. And that’s where I come in. I’m the business and finance guy. Supply and demand. Numbers. Dollars. Evaluation. Return. Those are the things I know and understand. They need me. And I need them.
I trust Stout and Porter to produce a top quality product. They have confidence in me to manage all business and financial aspects. Each of us does his part. That’s why we make a great trio.
Stout still isn’t talking. Guess I’ll have to probe. “I’m assuming you shut the door because you want to speak privately.”
“Yeah. I’ve been having a hard time since things ended with Eden.” No shit. He’s been on a three-month party streak. Booze and women.
“The last few months haven’t been your finest.” I’m pretty sure Stout has partied harder the last few months than his entire college career at Alabama.
“I have a problem.”
Stout turned to the party life to numb the pain of an ugly breakup. I guess most guys have done that at one time or another, but he took it beyond anything considered reasonable. Not the best way to deal when you have beer within your reach at any given time. “I’m glad to hear you’re taking charge before it spirals out of control.”
“Got a little out of control already. I spent the night in the slammer last weekend. Got a DUI.”
Oh, hell. A DUI conviction stays on your record for five years in the state of Alabama. “I can’t believe this shit, Stout. You’re a partner in a company advocating responsible drinking with a designated driver. Do you understand how that looks?”
“Trust me. I know.” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m working with an attorney. He’s almost certain he’ll be able to get me out of it.”
“Avoiding a conviction only fixes part of the problem.” This could mean bad publicity for Lovibond if word gets out.
“My attorney says he’s certain we can divert my case out of the court system and avoid a criminal record if I go through a rehabilitation program.”
&nbs
p; “That’s your only option?”
“I can fight it. Maybe I win. Maybe I don’t. But one thing’s for sure if I don’t do the program: I’m fucked if I lose the case.” That’s not good for anyone involved.
“Then you don’t have a choice.” Stout is going to rehab. Probably not a bad place for him, considering the amount of partying he’s been doing. He’ll have time to dry out.
“There’s a hitch.” Isn’t there always? “There isn’t a place for me in an outpatient program. I have to enter a thirty-day inpatient program.”
“Inpatient for thirty days?” Fuck.
Porter will have to pick up Stout’s load. I’m not sure how he’ll handle more work at this point; he’s already snowed under with his own responsibilities. We all are. “You think Porter can take on your work load as well?”
Southern Taste Beer Festival is just around the corner, and we’re in charge of hosting the event this year. Sixteen breweries will be traveling to our home turf in Birmingham for the festivities. It’s a ton of preparation even when we join forces. Being short a partner won’t be helpful.
“I’ve arranged to hire an assistant for him while I’m away, even if he doesn’t like it. Molly is working with a temp service to line up interviews.”
