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The brewery turns five on Thursday and we’re throwing a party here. At first, it was meant to be small. Family and friends of the staff and the vendors we deal with. But as word got out, the small party slowly turned into a smashing soiree, apparently, and according to Charlee.
We all know whose fault this is. Charlee’s. She’s a party-loving machine, and she’d been begging Dex to open it up to the public, for us to sell tickets to the event, for at least the last six months. Dex refused, so Charlee did what she always did—took things into her own perfectly manicured hands.
She started slowly dropping the word around to other breweries, restaurants, and bars, and before we knew it, we had a guest list of almost two hundred and fifty people. Now we have to open up the second floor and bring in a temporary bar for up there, too. We’re no longer making up our menu of appetizers but hiring a catering company to take care of it for us, because frankly, we don’t have the staff to accommodate a party of this size.
I’m irritated because the party’s in three days and now we’re scrambling to change everything at the last minute and I don’t handle change all that well. But I have to admit, it’s probably the right move. With the expansion of the brewery into a restaurant and adding big events to our repertoire, this is just the type of publicity we need, and a chance to show everyone how great their events could be if they held them at Cherry Lane.
Strolling through the scorching sunshine, I tug at the collar of my tight top, cursing myself for the thousandth time this morning for wanting to cover up for Avery. I’m convinced we skipped spring completely and headed right into summer and it’s not even June yet.
But at least I got one thing sorted. I glance over my shoulder, shielding my eyes from the bright sun as I watch the delivery man start to unload cocktail tables and barstools from his truck for the party. I just accosted him, begging him to deliver two more loads by Wednesday so people would have places to sit and put their drinks on Thursday. Thankfully, a quick call to his warehouse determined that they had more than enough for us to rent for the party.
“Miss Thompson.”
I smile when my gaze locks with the owner of the low, husky drawl. Andre, the contractor Avery brought in this morning, is attractive. More than attractive, really, all big muscles and tanned skin, soft brown eyes that match his hair.
“All done?” I stop in front of him and watch as he looks me over for the tenth time this morning. It makes me blush. I wish Avery were here to see it—again. The surge of pride I got from watching him scowl at Andre while he flirted with me in the kitchen was fantastic.
Andre stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Mhmm, that I am.” His gaze slides over my shoulder. “New furniture for the restaurant?”
I shake my head. “It’s our birthday on Thursday.”
He cocks an intrigued brow, making me chuckle.
“Cherry Lane turns five on Thursday. We’re having a big event here to celebrate. It was supposed to be small but quickly spiraled out of control,” I add with an eyeroll. “He’s dropping off some rentals for us.”
“Ah. Sounds like it’ll be fun.”
“It will be, if not incredibly exhausting.” I drum my fingers on my phone and then lift my hand, swatting him on the shoulder. “Hey, you should come by if you’re not busy. I can email you a couple passes.”
His eyes drag down my body. Again. “Can I consider it a date?”
I’m unimpressed with the way I fluster, my fingers fluttering to my neck as I teeter back on the heels of my feet. What is it with these men and being so damn straightforward?
“I, um…I’m not really…available.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m having enough trouble keeping Avery at bay and out of my pants. I don’t need to add another man to the mix. It’s too bad, really, because if it wasn’t for my cheating ex and also being totally blinded by Avery—a fact I’m still denying to everybody else and kinda myself—then Andre would be the type of man I’d jump at a date with.
He clicks his tongue and gives his head one barely-there shake. “Ah. Of course. Avery.”
I blink. Avery? Avery what? “Pardon?”
Andre simply winks. “No worries.” He checks his watch. “I’ve got another consult in Markham, so I’ve gotta get going. But it was nice to meet you, Claire. I’ll be in touch.” He looks down at me, a small smile curving his lips. “And hopefully so will you.”
With his hands in his pockets, he turns and strolls through the parking lot, climbing into a blue truck and leaving me feeling a little stunned.
Charlee sneaks up behind me. “Who was that? He was smokin’!”
“The new contractor for the kitchen,” I reply slowly. “I think, at least.” If the price is right.
She pulls on my hand, leading me back inside. “Shit gal, you’ve got men falling all over you.”
My brows pull down with my frown. “I do not. They all just wanna fuck.”
Charlee folds her lips into her mouth to keep from smiling. “Avery likes you.”
“As I said, they all just wanna fuck. Avery is no exception. He doesn’t like me.”
Still, the thought has my pulse kicking it up to a solid trot, a feeling I need to nix in the bud. I can’t have Avery. I can’t have sex with him because I’ll get too attached and he’s not the type of guy I can get attached to. I might have been utterly disappointed when he left my apartment last night, but that fleeting feeling lasted only as long as it took to remind myself why it would be a terrible idea.
“Suit yourself. But that’s not what he said this morning.” Charlee dances ahead of me and I jerk her arm back.
