Page 8 of Summer Brew

“You have me there.” He leans against the doorframe as he looks me over.

Literally, the only option I have is to ignore just how sexy he looks. I shift from one foot to the other before blurting out, “I know you make a home brew and I’m trying to make one too, but mine is awful and I need help.”

Keaton blinks at me a few times before a huge grin takes over his face. “I should be mad at you,” he throws out the words.

I look at him with confusion written all over my face. “What are you talking about?” I sound as bewildered as I feel.

He shakes his head before standing upright and pushing off the doorframe to step back into his house. With a wave of his hand, he welcomes me to step inside. My body is screaming at me to take a step, but I find myself pausing.

I don’t even know why.

“I had no idea you were interested in home brewing. I just heard about it the other night when Gary mentioned it.” Even though Keaton is smiling at me, I can see the disappointment and hurt in his eyes. He tries to mask it, but he doesn’t quite manage it. “You know it’s a hobby of mine.”

Ah. Understanding dawns on me and I nod my head slowly. “I know,” for some reason shame washes over me and my tone matches the feeling.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me about it before now? Like any time before now?” Hurt laces his words and it does something to my heart.

He’s not wrong. I could have easily brought it up. At some point. During one of the conversations we’ve had, even though I try to keep them brief.

I never did.

It was because I didn’t want him to misunderstand. My interest has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the need I have to bring more to the table when it comes to GMH. I convinced myself that if I told him about it then he would think I was only doing it to copy him.

Maybe he would have never thought that. I convinced myself he would which was more than enough to keep my lips sealed.

If I said something, then we would have had to talk for longer. I can only handle so much.

However, I can’t say any of that to him. Hell no. Nope. No, thank you. Pass. Hard fucking pass.

I’m shaking my head without even realizing it. “I guess it just never came up?” The words come out as more of a question than I intended, and I sound unsure as fuck about the flimsy excuse I’ve barely cobbled together.

Keaton’s face does something I’ve never seen before, and I can’t even start to explain it. I blink a few times right before he insists, “Come inside. Really. Are you here to talk shop?”

The easy grin on his face has me relaxing slightly and I take my first step inside his home. It’s masculine, which I expected, but it’s also cozy and homey. The sharp edges of the modern pieces are softened in ways I wouldn’t expect from him.

He has a lot more plants than I would have ever thought the man would have. I guess it makes sense, maybe, in a science adjacent way. Botany? He didn’t seem like the type.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a plant daddy,” I blurt out.

The moment the words leave my lips, I slap both hands over my mouth and spin around to where Keaton has frozen while closing the door behind me. My eyes are wide and the silence thickens for more heartbeats than I’m comfortable with.

Keaton’s face breaks first and then his laughter fills the living room. I’m frozen in place, my hands still covering my mouth, while I take in the man in front of me. My heart stutters strangely in my chest and I take a deep breath while forcing myself not to jump into his arms and wrapping my entire body around him like a lunatic.

Would he even catch me? I doubt it.

“How about you just ignore I ever said that,” I suggest while my face heats. I’m sure I’m bright red right now.

Keaton’s gaze sweeps over my face for a moment, his smile turning my insides to goo. I scurry over to the couch while forcing myself not to look at him. My lips are clamped together so tightly that I know my lips are turning white.

“So,” I hold the word out, trilling the sound of it slightly while I fully commit to ignoring my own outburst, “anyway. I came here because I do know about your slight home brew obsession. I’m kind of at a loss. I don’t understand all the science behind what I’m doing which means it’s been mostly trial and error. I’ve been able to successfully follow the directions and make a standard beer. The problem happens when I infuse it with cannabis. I’m not getting the results I want at all. Every combination I’ve tried, every ratio, isn’t right,” the words tumble out of me.

“Now you’re coming to me for help?” His tone is light, but there’s curiosity written all over his face.

“Yes,” I squeak out the word, finding it just as difficult to admit as I knew it would be. “Not only do you know the science behind what you’re doing, which would help me, but it’s something you do yourself. I don’t know anyone else who could help me at this point.”

Keaton settles on the couch, not too close but more than close enough, and looks at me for a long time. I start to squirm in my seat, but I force myself to hold still.

“Of course I’ll help you, Gemma,” Keaton’s voice holds a softness which reminds me of the years I spent following him and Gary around. “You’re like a sister to me; all you have to do is ask.”