AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 4
I only drink beer on days that end with a y.
Igroan when my doorbell rings the next evening. I’m laying on my sofa in my flannel pajamas while wrapped in my fuzzy blanket. Obviously, I’m not expecting company. And I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care if it is Saturday night. I was up most of last night and this morning brewing. I’m taking the night off from playing happy-go-lucky klutzy Suzie.
There’s a knock on the window. I startle and nearly fall off the sofa. “Come on, Suzie. I know you’re in there.”
Who was the idiot who didn’t shut the curtains? Oh yeah, it was me.
I wave at Grayson and shout, “Go away!”
He puts his hands against the window to peer in. “I’m not leaving.”
I throw off my blanket and stomp to the door. “What?”
“Someone’s grumpy.” I grunt. He’s not wrong. “I guess someone doesn’t want her present.” He practically shoves a wrapped package in my face. “Not interested?”
As soon as I reach for it, he yanks his hand away. “Nope. Get dressed. I’m buying you dinner.”
My stomach rumbles in response to his proclamation. “I’m not in the mood to go out.”
“Your stomach disagrees. Come on. I’ll take you to McGraw’s for a bite to eat and then let you beat me in a round of pool.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Let me beat you?”
He chuckles as he looks me up and down. “Love the pj’s.”
My face heats. I’m wearing my beer bottle pajamas. They’re men’s pajamas, meaning they’re about a mile too long for me. I have to roll the pant legs up to stop myself from tripping. It’s ridiculous. I’m only two inches shorter than average for freak’s sake.
Grayson waves the present in my face. “Come on. Get dressed. You know you want to.”
I don’t. No, really, I don’t want to spend the evening with Grayson. And it’s a good thing my flannel bottoms are flame retardant because I’m a big fat liar.
“Fine.” I twirl on my heel and march toward the stairs. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I take the fastest shower a woman can take. I leave my hair wet and throw it into the shortest ponytail known to man. I’m growing my hair out from the short spikes I used to sport, and it’s barely long enough to put up. All I need is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and I’m done.
When I walk into the living room, Grayson chuckles. “Cool t-shirt.”
He’s not wrong. It’s a totally cool shirt with the words Hoptimist A person who believes everything is better with a good craft beer on the front.
“You ready?”
At his question, I hold out my hand. “Present first.” I wiggle my fingers in a gimme gesture.
He chuckles but hands me the gift. “I wanted to apologize for ruining your word yesterday.”
“Wort,” I correct absently as I rip into the gift. “A leather-bound brew journal.”
I caress the material before flipping it open. There are gravity charts, SRM guides, information on grain and hops, and tips on troubleshooting.
“Thank you. This is awesome.”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek in thanks. Big mistake. This close to him, I can smell the scent of vanilla wafting from him. Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I take another whiff and notice mint. Mmm… mint and vanilla. Two of my favorite smells in the entire world.
Little Susan wakes up and decides it’s time to do the rumba while humming La cucaracha. I’m not sure how she learned the rumba. I certainly don’t know how to do the rumba.
Grayson clears his throat before grasping my hand. “Come on, let’s go. Your stomach sounds like it’s trying to eat through your skin to escape.”
