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“Stop looking at it and get in,” I say to the girl.
Ava continues to smile up at me. “Don’t lie. Youlovethat I’m looking at it. You love showing it off to me.”
I growl. “Get. In.”
The girl practically skips inside to the passenger seat. Thatfemininityof hers... so damn teasing, and she knows it. She’s right, though. I do love that she’s admiring my car. It makes me feel manly. Proud.
I like making Ava happy, and the thought of that sends a cold knife to my heart.
This is not what I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be more guarded than this.
“So, what are you going to show me, Damon?” Ava asks when I take my seat beside her in the car. “You took me down here at this time of night to just admire your car?”
“Other than this car,” I say, “I’m going to show you my other pride and joy.”
“What’s that?”
“Wait and see, you curious thing,” I reply. “We need to drive there first.”
“Ah, a surprise? I like that.”
“Youlike surprises?” I ask her.
“Only if they’re good ones,” she replies.
“Let me surprise you, then.”
And so I take her out of town, on a long and winding road that leads north; a road that takes us all the way to my brewery, just on the outskirts of our hometown.
The familiar building rises up out of the forest – a weathered wood façade adorned with hand-painted signage displaying the name of the place.
Crystal River Brewery.
This place, despite turning over an enviable annual profit, still emits an independent charm that you’ll never find with some of my big corporate alcohol competitors.
“This is your surprise?” Ava asks. “This is your real pride and joy?”
“Yes,” I reply. “It is. This place is very special to me.”
Ava pauses for a moment to gaze at me. “I like that you can be vulnerable. That you feel free to share that with me.”
I don’t reply to that. I don’t have the words.
The gates to the brewery open up for me.
“You’re going to give me a private tour?” Ava asks me as we weave through the security checkpoint and into my personal parking lot. Her eyes are lit up.
“I think it is time for you to see my real business,” I reply. “Let me take you through what I do. Let me show you who I really am.”
“Oh, you’re really going to show off? I’d love a personal tour from the CEO,” Ava says, a smirk on her pretty face.
Even though it is late at night, there is always security around. They recognize my car immediately and quickly wave me in. Everyone who works for me is terrified of getting on my wrong side. I rarely rise to anger, but when I do, it’s a real show.
I park the car and lead Ava through the brewery and toward my private office.
We pass through the array of stainless-steel brewing tanks and kettles. It’s where the magic happens in this place. Where the drinks that I have personally designed with my trusted team are mixed, fermented, and crafted.
To perfection.
