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When I surfaced, Justin was right in front of me on the rocks. I reared back. “Jesus.”
“Shit, you scared me. I saw blood.”
I touched my cheek and came back with a streak of blood. “Shale.”
Justin blew out a breath. “Nothing broken?”
“Just my pretty face.”
“Eh, we’re safe there.” He held out his hand. “Was already ugly.”
I grabbed onto his forearm. “Ass.”
He laughed and hauled me out of the water. I wasn’t quite sure when my scrawny bean pole of a little brother got so goddamn big. His arm bulged as he singlehandedly dragged me out of the drink.
I dropped to the grass and flopped onto my back. I was getting too old for this bullshit.
“How bad is she?”
Justin crouched in front of the once bright chrome of the John Deere. “Water didn’t do her any favors. I’ll flush her all out and see how bad it is when we get her back to the barn.”
“How the hell did he find the keys to the tractor?”
“We used it to bring over more kegs for the reception. Rachel and Clay’s people sure know how to drink.”
He tossed my hat at me and I put it over my face. Maybe I’d just lay there and take a fucking nap.
“You send him the bill for all the shit you have to buy.”
“What’s he going to pay me with? His grocery money? The idiot is renting a piece of shit apartment in Turnbull.”
“Goddammit,” I muttered as I sat up.
“Aunt Laverne got a hold of him though. And Ma.”
“Well, at least that’s something. Where was Uncle Tommy?” George’s father was usually better at corralling his kids. George was still in his twenties and evidently, still stupid.
“The aunts and uncles had already turned in. Couldn’t hang with the loud music.” Justin dropped next to me.
“And Ma did?” Shock didn’t really cover it. I’d expected her to be back at their ranch before sunset.
“Should have seen her and Aunt Laverne cutting up the dance floor.”
I put my hat back on against the blazing noontime sun. “Liar.”
“Swear to God. Kain had everyone doing a conga line sometime around one in the morning.”
“Well, that makes sense.” I shook my head.
Kainoa N’ai was our resident chef for the taproom. He blew in on his motorcycle and often blew out in the same way. But the man knew how to freaking cook. Between our new brewmaster and Kain’s cooking, the opening of our taproom had exceeded expectations last year.
He was also a big beast of a guy with a personality to match. But I had a feeling there was much more to him — because no one was that audacious unless they were hiding something. And audacious was the word of the day around him unless you watched closely.
I’d seen the signs of his restlessness last winter and then suddenly, he’d disappeared. The taproom was seasonal thanks to the shitty winters we dealt with out here. I was half surprised he’d returned a month before we were due to reopen the taproom. I’d been grateful, of course, but part of me had wondered if we’d be hunting down a new chef this season.
Hiring the two of them had been the best damn decision I’d ever made. Even if I’d had to face the wrath of Kira, my best friend and manager of the taproom. I’d chased down Ronan Parrish for his brain and his out-of-the-box thinking and hired him without her input. Then pushed her to hire Kain on a gut feeling.
Kira Webb didn’t do anything based on her gut. She was all data points and careful deliberation. That was until she’d hooked her heart to Ronan. A lot of changes had been happening at Happy Acres the last few years. Least of all our rebranding to Brothers Three Orchard.
