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“Sorry to interrupt.” Natalie smoothed back her hair that had started to fly away in her rush to get to the brewery floor earlier. “I need to get the maintenance, quality assurance, and accident documentation for the past three years.”
“That sounds exciting. I take it you’re on the case of the cursed fermentation tank?”
Ignoring her sister’s sarcasm, Natalie nodded. “Exactly.”
“Great. That means I can deal with the bars whose orders are being delayed.” Miranda exhaled a frustrated sigh. “The folks at the Boot Scoot Boogie are pissed, and I need to go smooth some ruffled feathers.”
The local country bar was their best client. They couldn’t afford to lose the business. Not unless they wanted to part ways with a significant portion of staff.
“Let me grab those files from you before you head out.” Natalie stood and took a step toward the door.
“I don’t keep that stuff.”
Please don’t let them be in a file cabinet in the brewery’s attic, AKA Spider World. “Who does?”
“Your favorite brewmaster.”
Her feet froze to the oatmeal–colored area rug covering the pale gray cement floor. Enough goose bumps popped up on her arms to make them look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.
Foreboding? Anticipation?
Not a question she felt like answering—even to herself.
The school of hard knocks had given Sean two important lessons before he’d graduated with honors. Number one: Something always goes wrong sooner than you expect. Number two: Bad news breeds faster than rabbits.
First a tabloid reporter on the phone and now the fermentation tank. Trouble had beaten a path to Salvation, and he had a sinking suspicion it wasn’t about to leave anytime soon.
He scratched the scruff of his beard and contemplated the stacks of paperwork scattered across his desk before riffling through the closest tower. The maintenance reports were here somewhere. He let the crew have a lot of leeway on other parts of the brewery operations, but he didn’t fuck around with people’s safety. He’d learned a long time ago just how much being vulnerable and hurt messed with your head. He sure as hell wasn’t going to put anyone else in that position.
He made it halfway through the pile before he wanted to kick his own ass for not using the damn filing cabinet that still had the price tag stuck to the top drawer. “Controlled chaos,” he mumbled.
“Well, part of that’s right.” Natalie stood in his doorway.
Every strand of her light–brown hair was back in place, making him want to do nothing in the world so much as unclip it so he could watch it tumble down around her shoulders. Or was it longer? Would the ends curl around her nipples or brush her narrow waist? He’d been living like a damn monk for too long if the idea of seeing a woman’s unbound hair made his mouth dry and his dick half hard.
Annoyed with his lack of control, he dropped a sheaf of papers onto his empty chair. “I don’t have time for your billion–point plan right now.”
“It’s a twenty–five–point plan.” Her chin shot up an inch. “And I’m not here for that. I’m looking for the maintenance, quality assurance, and accident reports.”
He glanced around at his kamikaze, open–air filing system. “Welcome to the club.”
“You don’t have them?”
A hint of shame tinged his earlier self–recriminations, making his pulse pick up speed. Nothing like having to admit to your nemesis, even if it wasn’t out loud, that you sucked. “They’re here somewhere.”
Her blue eyes went wide and her fingers twisted around the pearl necklace. “You don’t have a filing system?”
Sean shrugged. “You’re looking at it.”
Her long fingers sailed over each round white pearl. Damn, he really wanted to know the story behind that necklace. He’d never seen her without it. The woman probably showered in it.
In half a breath, he had a fully realized vision of her soft, creamy, naked skin covered in suds. The mental image sucked all the air out of the room and turned his half chubby into a full–blown hard–on.
Natalie looked around at the paper explosion in his office. “How do you live like this?”
He kept one of the taller stacks of paper between them to block her view of the growing bulge behind his zipper. “Cleanliness is over rated.”
“You’re hilarious.” She didn’t even bother to look his way as she surveyed the damage. “Okay, if we divide the room up into equal portions, we should each be able to take a quadrant to search. Divide and conquer for the win.”
