Page 2 of Summer Brew

It’s always entertaining to see what they end up painting or making, since most of the events I put together have some kind of activity. Any craft has the chance of going off the rails. I won’t have another wreath making night for a long time. Hot glue guns were a mistake and that’s all I’ll say about it.

I put a lot of planning into our event nights and always change up the decorations of the space seasonally with frequent fluffing. Because I can’t leave well enough alone. It’s a habit, but at least in this case, it’s useful. People who use the room always have wonderful things to say about the space.

Compared to what the rest of my friends do for the business though? I feel inadequate. It’s not enough. We don’t have enough events for my space to really be much more than a passing fancy when it comes to the business.

It’s one of the reasons I make myself useful anywhere in GMH that I can. Restocking in the dispensary? I’m there. I even do inventory nights, which is a pain, but it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something more.

Whenever Meadow needs help in the bakery, I’m there. Of course, I’m there considering I can taste things while I get some work in. Who doesn’t like a little sweet treat?

“Hey,” Meadow’s voice is gentle and brings me out of my thoughts.

I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here staring at the beer in my hand with disgust. But I know the way my face is screwed up right now can’t be hidden.

“It’s gross,” I whine.

Meadow’s laugh is bright and airy and hearing it, surprisingly, does help a little bit. “It’s really not,” she tries to tell me.

“It really is,” I toss the words back without even thinking about them. Because they’re true.

“I’m not going to go back and forth with you on this,” she sighs, like I’m the source of all her annoyance.

I know that’s not true though.

“How are things with Rook?”

My attempt at changing the subject lands like a fucking bolder. Meadow simply arches an eyebrow at me. All I can do is plead with my eyes.

She sticks her tongue out at me before taking pity on me. “He’s great,” her voice brightens and fills with a joy which can’t be manufactured. A serenity transforms her face, and I can’t help but smile right back at her.

“You’re glowing,” I tease her.

Even though she tries to hide her smile, it’s impossible to do so completely. “I’m not,” she tries to sound like she’s insistent, but the words come out too light.

I widen my eyes at her and purse my lips. Meadow giggles in response and I can’t help but join her for a moment.

Being with a man who adores her, who stands next to her while finding everything that she’s passionate about interesting and adorable equally, looks good on her. The only problem is I feel like I never see her anymore. Same goes for Greylin, but Aiden’s shifts make her schedule a little more flexible and open.

Rook is all about his farm, even more so now that his wife is living out there on it with him. She loves it out there and I can see why. The land is beautiful and Rook is growing something that parallels Meadow’s goals.

“Do you guys basically talk about growing and work all the time?” My head tilts slightly as I ask the question. “Or what is it you talk about? Or maybe you don’t talk much at all,” I tease her while wiggling my eyebrows at her.

Meadow giggles and scrunches up her face. “We might,” she pauses and grimaces slightly, “occasionally talk about work related things.”

I bark out a laugh and knock my shoulder against hers. “I think it’s sweet that you can talk about something you both love and can benefit each other. It makes the foundation of you strong. And it’s all tied to the life you want.” I shake my head slightly. “Not the career, even though that’s part of it, but the life.”

Meadow’s eyes well up with tears before she pushes her face far too close to mine and lets out a low sound of touched awe and a slight pout. “You trying to sweet talk me away from my husband? It might work.”

Our laughter fills the room and I’m able to put down my quasi failure of another attempt at a GMH beer. I don’t hurl the bottle against the wall at least. I’m taking it as a win.

“Anyway,” she sasses me, “I don’t think we should be talking about my married life when you’re single and have a massive crush on a man who could help you with your current project.”

The look she gives me is pointed. If I blush, I ignore it and so does she. Thankfully. Because my cheeks heat instantly and she does not need to say who she’s referring to. Which is probably a good sign that I’m in trouble.

“I’m not asking him,” my tone is not nearly as firm as I want it to be.

The look she gives me tells me she’s not buying my words either. Well, she doesn’t have to buy them for them to be true. I’m not asking him.

Him.