When she’s finished, I take the paper and look over everything closely. Under education, she putEnough, and in her previous jobs, she wroteDoes it matter? I’m here now.
Part of me wants to call her on this, but can I really do that when I find them amusing? Besides, I’d bet she’d have a comeback, and it’stoo fucking early to be dealing with that now. My workload is maxed out today. I have much more important things to do than argue with Summer.
“Well?” she asks. “Did I pass your test?”
I glance back up at her. “You did.”
“Good.” She grins, and it almost looks like she’s genuinely happy about that. “So, what’s first,boss?”
The single word is so loaded, and it gives me the perfect idea for what I need her help with this morning, after I get her acquainted with the layout of the place.
“You’ve never been here before, right?”
“No. I was already in Chicago when this place opened.”
There’s that mention of Chicago again.
Just like the first time, I pretend I hear nothing, then motion for her to follow me. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour.”
We leave our now-empty coffees on the bar top, and I show her around the cidery. I stick to just giving her a tour of the place. No personal questions, no anecdotes. It’s all very straightforward and cold.
Summer can tell.
“And I’m guessing this is where you stash the other victims of your thrilling tours?” she asks once we stop in front of a closed door with a plaque that readsEmployees Only.
“No. It’s where you’ll be spending the rest of your shift.”
I push open the door, and I see the moment irritation fills her eyes.
“The stockroom?”
“Yep. The stockroom.”
“And what, exactly, am I supposed to do in here?”
“Organize it.”
“Organ—” She purses her lips, her brows pinching together tightly. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“I thought I was working in the taproom.”
I knock my fingers against the wall above the door. “This is the taproom.”
“Thisis a room in the basement.”
“In the taproom.”
Her eyes fall to slits, and I justknowshe wants to keep arguing, but she doesn’t. She just blows out a heavy breath and mutters “Fine” before brushing past me and into the storage room.
I’m a little disappointed. Even though I don’t have time for it, I kind of wanted her to fight me. I want her to argue. I want to spar a bit longer.
Instead, she gets to work, and all it does is put me in a worse mood than I was already in.
With one last glance at her, while she’s already pulling stuff off the shelves, I head back upstairs to my office and bury myself in my work, putting Summer out of my eyeline and my mind.
Chapter Four
