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I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, what I really want is one of those pint glasses full of straight whiskey, but I think we both know that would be a bad idea.”
His eyes went wide. “What? You haven’t wanted to drink in a long time.”
“Oh, I want to drink alcohol all of the time. I’m just trying not to. Big difference.”
He nodded, and his sad expression was like the cherry on top of today’s shame sandwich. I hated the looks I got when the subject of drinking came up even more than the pity about my failed relationships.
I wanted to keep everything simple with Jax. I just wanted him to like me. Uncomplicated. Easy.
He rubbed his hands together, his sun-kissed skin glowing even in the moody lighting of the brewery. “Well, we just made this delicious syrup,” he said. I could already tell he was crafting up a non-alcoholic cocktail recipe in his head. “Rhubarb, I think. It’s so good with the sparkling limeade. Let me make you something.”
I watched him as he busied himself behind the bar, muddling up some fresh mint to go into my cocktail, his biceps and triceps on display peeking out of his tight white T-shirt.
Jax had seemed to make it his mission to supply me with every delicious virgin cocktail under the sun ever since I’d cut back on drinking a few months ago. The people here at Jade Brewery had unfortunately seen me at my worst, back when I’d been untangling myself from the toxic spiral of a relationship I had with Jim.
I’d had bad nights here at Jade Brewery. I’d had ugly nights here. I’d had nights where I’d gotten so blackout drunk that the only two things I remembered were walking in at the beginning of the night and waking up the next morning, feeling like my skull was going to explode.
But everyone who worked at the brewery never seemed to lose respect for me. Jax included.
“Here you go,” he said, nodding gently as he slid me a glass of something bubbly and orange-red. “Tell me what you think.” I took a sip and a tart, refreshing, minty burst hit my tongue.
“Fucking incredible,” I said, and I meant it. “You’re a magician.”
He gave me a humble nod. “Anything you need, I’m right here.”
“That was great, by the way,” a camera guy behind me said. I turned to see him looking at some video footage that he’d recorded on his phone.
“What?” I asked. “Oh, you were recording that? When I was talking to Jax?”
“Got it all,” he said proudly. “Grabbed it for our social media promo that’ll go out in the morning. People like the daily phone videos almost more than they like the actual shows, these days.”
“Sounds good to me,” I told him. “I don’t know why anyone would care to see that, but I hope they witness how good Jax is at making cocktails without booze in them, I guess.”
“Charlie, make sure you go on the account tomorrow morning and interact with fans,” Kim, one of the show producers, said as she glided up to my side. If Jax was like a sweet Golden Retriever in human form, Kim was like a hummingbird, flitting around between her crew at all times, coming and going, always busy. She was a power producer. “We’re releasing snippets every day until the first show drops.”
I nodded at her. “I’ll go reply to some comments on the post tomorrow.”
Kim beamed at me, her shiny, pin-straight black hair glinting in the light. “You’re already a superstar. We’re done for tonight, Charlie. Thank you.”
The crew finally stopped recording, efficiently packed up their equipment, and started to filter out of the brewery. I leaned forward, sipping on my drink. Jax passed by behind the bar as he was grabbing a new box of straws, and he gave me a quick, shy smile from behind the bar before heading down the back hallway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone else sitting down on the stool next to mine.
“I wasn’t going to say it while the cameras were on you, but… that dude wants to fuck you. Badly.”
I turned to see a man I’d never met before, who’d clearly already been drinking but seemed nice enough.
I gave him a polite smile. “Good one, man. But… no chance he wants me.”
“Oh—am I wrong? Does he only like to get fucked, not do the fucking?”
I snorted. “He’s straight. Like, straighter than straight.”
The guy rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. I’m just telling you that he looks at you like he’s hypnotized. Or on a really happy drug. Maybe both.”
“Quit harassing our regulars,” a deep, gruff voice came from the far side of the bar, over by the massive brewing tanks.
Harlan, the head brewer, emerged, looking every bit his usual lumberjack self. He ran a hand over his beard, popping out past the bar and leaning in to give the guy next to me a big hug.
