“More than once.”
He pulls me toward him, and this time it’s slow. His kisses snake down my throat as he glides inside me.
“I love you, Sydney.”
Pressure builds inside me, and with his words, I shatter. My nails dig into his shoulders, and I release four years of need as I cry his name.
He growls against my throat and shudders, pulling me tight towards him.
We cling to each other for a long beat. His forehead rests on mine, our breaths and heartbeats syncing.
“On long nights in the desert, this is what kept me going—thinking about this.”
Gently, he lowers me from the barrel and pulls my skirt down. I steady myself, brushing a soft kiss over the scar on his forehead.
I ignore the warning in my head and give in to my heart.
“We can make new memories,” I whisper. “Together.”
10
VIKING
As the clock above the bar in the tasting room rolls over to nine o’clock, I watch the door with my arms folded across my chest. Footsteps sound outside, the handle turns, and the door pushes open as Rio and Marcus shuffle inside.
My gaze flicks to the clock. They’re right on time. A smile curls the corners of my mouth.
“Good morning, boys.”
They murmur their greetings. They’re in the same clothes they wore on Saturday night, but this time they’re dry.
“This is the front door of the brewery. From now on, this is how you come and go. Got it?”
They both nod.
“If you earn our trust and want to keep working here, someday you might get a staff pass that will let you in the staff entrance. But trust has to be earned.”
Rio scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Too late to change course now.
“Right. Follow me, boys. We’re going to see the boss.”
They exchange frightened glances as I lead them onto the brewery floor. The floor is alive with activity while a new brewgets underway. Workers have been here since five o’clock this morning, and the smell of fresh hops hangs heavy in the air. Arlo and Hops are chatting by one of the tanks, and they give me a curious look. Up on the mezzanine, Sydney watches with her hands on her hips.
We head up the metal stairs, and I march the boys into Barrels’s office. He sits behind a wooden desk, stony-faced, channeling his former army sergeant days. The boys shuffle in behind me, and I don’t offer them a seat.
Barrel’s leans forward. “What’s this?”
“I caught your thieves.”
His eyes narrow, and he reaches for his phone. “I’ll get Badge.”
The boys share a frightened look, and Marcus’s eyes dart toward the door.
I raise a hand. “Hear me out, Barrels. I’ve got a better idea.”
Barrels sits back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Start talking.”
With some encouragement, I get Rio talking. As he explains the keg scheme and their reasons for it, Barrels frown deepens. He didn’t grow up in foster care like I did.
