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I rub my hands together. “Oh goodie. Let me guess. We’re going on a safari.”
“It’s February in Wisconsin. What kind of safari could we be going on?”
“True. Plus, you didn’t tell me to pack my passport.”
I drum my fingers. Winter. Winter. Winter. “Are we going bobsledding?” I clap. I’ve always wanted to try bobsledding.
“You know those bobsleds go like 90 miles per hour.”
“I know! I feel the need, the need for speed!” I lift my hand to high-five Grayson, but he shakes his head at me.
“You’re harshing my buzz,” I tell him when he remains silent.
“All you have to do is tell me why you ghosted me this week and I’ll tell you where we’re going.”
“You’re mean. Really mean. Like dirty snake mean.” And snakes are horrible. The absolute worst!
He hums like me calling him mean is no big deal. Ugh! Fine! “I wasn’t ghosting you. I needed time to think.”
He takes my hand and places it on his thigh. “Now, was that very hard?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I try to pull my hand away, but he places his over mine to capture it. And damn it, I like how much he wants to touch me. I am in deep doo-doo here.
“We’re going to the brewers’ conference.”
My mouth drops open as I momentarily forget how to speak. Naturally, it doesn’t last long. “The brewers’ conference. The conference with hops workshops, basic microbiology, quality workshops, and much much more!” I may be screaming by the time I finish.
Grayson hunches over. Yep. I was totally screaming.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” I clap. “I’ve always wanted to go, but it’s not cheap and—” I narrow my eyes and look over at him. “Grayson, tell me you didn’t spend all your money on this.”
“I didn’t spend all my money,” he quips.
I slap his arm. “You know what I mean. This conference costs like over a thousand dollars. You shouldn’t be spending that kind of money on me.”
Grayson growls. “I will spend however much money I want on the woman I’m dating.” He holds up his hand when I start to argue. “No. I don’t want to hear it. You are my woman, Suzie, and I want to spoil you. It’s the least I can do.”
His woman? I am no one’s woman but my own. “I am not your woman.”
“You’re not?” he challenges. “Then, I guess I’m not your man.”
“Your…” I trail off. Damn it. I hate it when he makes sense!
“Fine. Tell me all about the conference.”
He smirks, and I narrow my eyes on him. If he starts to gloat, I’m jumping out of the truck. I don’t care if we’re currently driving 90 mph down the interstate. I’ll do it!
“The registration details are in the glove compartment. I didn’t know what add-on workshops you would want to go to, so I signed up for all of them.”
I bite my tongue before I yell at him – again! – for spending too much dang money on me. Does he not understand the whole easing into a relationship thing? I open the glove compartment and find the folder with all the details. My eyes grow wider and wider as I scan the papers.
“You seriously signed us up for everything. Beer styles workshop, draft beer workshop, sensory training.”
“Not everything. I didn’t figure we needed to know about human resources or pairing beer with food.”
Good call. “Hey wait. You said we. Are you doing all of the workshops with me?”
I watch as his cheeks darken to a dusty shade of pink. He looks adorable! “Um, I thought if I’m going to help you with the marketing, it would be helpful to know more about the brewing itself.”
