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“Sure.” She stepped back from the door to let him pass, then followed him into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
He placed his paper sack on the kitchen counter, then withdrew the bottle he’d filled at the brewery. “I’ve got something I want you to try.”
Her forehead furrowed. “What is it?”
“It’s a saison I made a while ago. Lemon and basil.”
“Then I’d say it’s time.” She turned to the cupboard and pulled down a couple of glasses. They weren’t beer glasses, but he didn’t care at that point.
He picked up the bottle and poured carefully. Pale gold with a good cap of foam. He waited for her to pick up her glass, then raised his own to his lips and sipped.
Clean, crisp, with the faintest trace of basil on his tongue and the shimmer of citrus at the end. Just as good today as it had been last night.
“Oh my God, that’s good,” Ruth murmured.
“Good for a hot day,” he said slowly. “On a shady patio. With somebody sitting beside you that you really care about.”
She gave him a long look. “Poetic.”
“True. I made it for you. I thought it was for your cheese, and it sort of is. But it’s mostly for you. I want to call it Ruth’s Saison.”
She sighed. “You know we can’t serve it. The Goat doesn’t have a liquor license.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll serve it at the pub. And if anybody asks, I’ll tell them to check out the real Ruth down the street.”
She took another sip of saison. “What pub is this?”
“That’s another thing I need to tell you about. It’s looking like I’m going to stay in Antero. Maybe we can do dinner. Where’s Carol?”
At least Ruth was smiling. He hoped it was because of the news he’d just blurted out. “Probably about to Denver by now.”
His eyes widened. “What did I miss?”
“Just about everything, but that’s another thing we can discuss over dinner. Or maybe before.” Her lips curved up. “You’re staying, and suddenly I have the evening free.”
“By coincidence, so do I.” He placed his glass on the counter, then reached for her, pulling her into his arms to feel the warm weight of her body against his. He rested his forehead against her hair. “You really like the saison?”
“I love the saison. Thank you so much for naming it after me.”
“I didn’t just name it for you. I made it for you.” He pulled back to look at her again. “A lesser man would have given you roses. I’m giving you your own saison.”
“I promise I’ll make you some special cheese.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “Thanks for being here, and for putting up with me for the past week. I don’t think I could have gotten through all of this on my own. I definitely couldn’t have gotten through last night.”
He turned his head, pressing his lips to her palm. “You don’t need to get through things on your own. I’m here. And I’ll stay here. That is, if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll let you. I want you, too. I think I’m in love with you.” She swallowed hard, as if she wasn’t sure telling him that had been a good idea.
Which was purely ridiculous. “That works out well then, because I know I’m in love with you.” He pulled her close again, running his hand down the smooth curve of her spine as he pressed his lips to hers, tasting saison and sweet essence of Ruth.
She pulled away. “It’s not going to be easy. I come with lots of baggage, you know. A soon-to-be-teenage daughter and an ex-husband who’ll probably show up regularly. Not to mention, Peaches and a ton of goat cheese.”
He brought his hands to her hips, pulling her body to his again. “Is that all you’ve got? Because that’s easy. I’ll raise you a struggling brewery and a hypothetical brewpub with a hypothetical job. Bring it on, babe. Just bring it on.”
“That’s all I’ve got at the moment. I’ll think about it.”
“Maybe we could come up with some other things to think about if you’re up for it.”
