Page 4 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“And your mind immediately went to her bringing men home?” Milo questions.

“And why would they be strange?” I tack on.

“Don’t know, don’t care, just keep them out of my bed.”

OMG…

“And with that, I think it’s time you go.” I push at him, trying to start the process. We’ll be here all day if I let him, and he’ll miss his flight.

“Be good, kid. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Brandt wraps his arms around me in a big bear hug, squeezing tight.

“That doesn’t take very much off the table,” Milo tosses over his shoulder, walking outside.

I laugh into Brandt’s shoulder, still holding on for a moment, making sure I pass off as much love as I can in a single hug. We break apart a moment later, and with a simple nod, he’s off. And I’m all alone in the loft.

Here’s to the best summer of my life.

2

MILO

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?”

For fuck’s sake…

That’s the third time Brandt has asked that question since we left Hickory Hills, and we’re barely halfway to Atlanta. I’ve lost count how many times he’s asked since the university reached out last year, hoping that Southern Brothers would come be a part of the special summer program they’re offering.

It’s a great opportunity, one that both Brandt and I agreed we couldn’t turn down. It’s also one that I don’t feel both of us need to be a part of. Someone has to stay here and make sure that Southern Brothers runs properly. And I’m more than happy for that someone to be me.

“One thousand percent.”

“It’s not too late. We could get you a ticket at the airport. Have Brenna ship your clothes. Spend the summer having a Rocky Mountain adventure, just like old times.”

Just like old times…

For a second, my insides perk up with a pang that is indescribable. Because when he puts it that way, it’s hard to deny that a little adventure might be nice. Don't get me wrong—I love my life. Brewing beer with my best friend is a dream come true. But every now and again, it feels like something is missing. Don’t ask me what, but something.

“Who you calling old?” I snark back, trying to change the subject.

“Us,” Brandt laughs. “Hard to believe Southern Brothers Brewing is fifteen years old. Speaking of, did you figure out a name for the anniversary brew yet?”

“Nope.”

I answer honestly, kicking myself for the umpteenth time for not being able to come up with something to name our newest product. Our other three—Party Mode, Sob Story, and Silver Lining Sour—all came easily, their names and stories appearing in my mind like a gift from heaven above. This one is a little more…elusive.

“You’ll think of something. You always do,” Brandt reassures. “Maybe what you need is some time away from the brewery. Say, a trip to the Fort…”

“A visit to Fort Collins is not the answer,” I say with a laugh. “Not when we have the new brew to still name, plus dealing with everything to celebrate the anniversary at Rhythm and Brews this year, Rhythm and Brews in general for that matter, finishing up construction of the picnic shelter and tables so we can kick off Drafts and Dig In this fall, plus you know, day-to-day operations.”

“Rhythm and Brews runs itself,” he scoffs. “And Rose can handle all the rest.”

My head whips around to look at him, the rest of me taking special care not to swerve my truck right along with it. Rhythm and Brews does not run itself. The massive festival takes over our entire small town every Labor Day weekend and has an entire committee that works year-round to plan and execute it. It’s a major undertaking, but also the pride of Hickory Hills. Well, Rhythm and Brews and local boy turned country star Dustin Wild.

“Don’t let Willa hear you say that,” I reply, a shiver running down my spine at the thought of my sister’s reaction to his statement. “And we are not putting Rose Adler in charge of day-to-day operations. Or overseeing construction. Girl can market and sell the beer with the best of them, but I’m not letting her anywhere near the accounting. Sure, once the shelter is up, I will absolutely hand off the booking of food trucks to her for Drafts and Dig In, but the actual hammer-and-nails part? Nope, not happening. Not to mention, Pierce has the All Snowed Gin booth this year, so she’s going to be working on that.”

“All Snowed Gin—damn, that’s a good product name. Glad he agreed to come under the Southern Brothers umbrella.”

I nod, agreeing it was a good move, on both Pierce’s and our parts. When Rose got snowed in with a stranger last Christmas, the whole town was a bit concerned. After all, there’s two ways that kind of thing can go—Hallmark or Alfred Hitchcock. Thankfully, it was the former. But to find out the guy was also a fermentation nerd who was working on his own gin distilling was extra exciting. At least for Brandt and me. Rose didn’t seem to care too much. At least until we made him an offer and brought him into the fold.