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“How can I choose?” I ask, exasperated, as I look at the options for what feels like the hundredth time. I roll my bottom lip between my thumb and pointer finger. “This is so much money and it’s not mine to spend. It’s not my brewery.”
“No, but Dex trusts you and your opinion.”
“Do you have a limit? You know, how much you guys are willing to give him.”
He shrugs. “Sky’s the limit as long as we think it’s worth it.”
Leaning over Avery so I can stare at his computer screen, I examine my favorite option all while trying not to get high on the smell of him. Cedarwood, lime, and just…sexy man smell. So delicious and enticing, I could bathe in it.
“That one’s your favorite,” Avery observes quietly. “You can’t stop looking at it.”
“It’s also the most expensive,” I reply with a heavy exhale.
“Sure, but why do you like it?”
My fingers trace the wooden archway that looks toward the harbor, the stone walkway leading to it, the beautiful garden the contractor thought would be a nice addition. Scrolling over, I study the amazing outdoor bar. The space, this way, is massive and incredible.
“I think this one would be perfect for weddings and big events. It’s almost two different spaces.” Pointing to the walkway, the garden, the wooden arch, I say, “This could be for ceremonies. And this—” I gesture to the big patio, the bar, the addition of the built-in fire pit, “—could be for receptions, parties. If we really want to expand that way, I think this one makes the most sense.”
Avery’s head bobs. “I agree. I think it would be a mistake not to choose this one. It opens the space up and allows for a higher head count, which means more money in the summer, regardless of whether or not there’s a wedding. But I also think it would be a mistake not do weddings and big events. It would open up a whole new business for Cherry Lane.”
“Yeah,” I agree, stifling a yawn. “You’re kinda smart. Who knew?” I tap his chin dimple, unable to hide my smile.
“And you’re kind of smartass,” he says with a chuckle. He moves back to his desk and I watch his forearms flex under his rolled-up sleeves while he types away, barely blinking at the screen. He stops every few minutes to readjust his glasses and glance my way.
I know I should be doing something, but I’m crashing right now. The sun is dipping low and the little sleep I got last night is hitting me hard. I think that coffee might have been a terrible idea. Now I just feel hollow, hungry, and a little braindead.
I rub my eyes and curl up on my side, snuggling into a pillow.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?” I murmur sleepily, gaze drifting across the office, catching the way Avery’s watching me.
“You’re tired and…not snarky.”
I sit up slowly and shake the sleep from my head. “Sorry. I had a really long day yesterday.”
“Physically long or emotionally long?”
I wonder how he knows to ask that question. More than the day being long and physically taxing, it took an emotional toll on me, which is really what’s knocking me out today. I feel mentally fried.
“Both,” I admit quietly.
He takes his glasses off and looks at me. I mean, really looks at me, gaze drifting up and down my face, my body. Turning back to his laptop, he clicks around on it for a moment before snapping it shut and packing it in his bag. He climbs to his feet and stretches his arms over his head, scrubbing a hand across his torso.
Dear God, he’s flawless. Could those pants fit him any more perfectly? I can almost see the outline of his—
Don’t go there, Claire. Don’t fucking go there.
Retrieving his suit jacket from a closet I didn’t know existed, he slings it over his arm and strides over to me, holding out his hand. “’Kay. Let’s go.”
I blink up at him. Three times, in case I’m dreaming. It’s fairly likely I’ve passed out here on his couch. “Go? You’re ready to go home?”
“No, I’m ready to take you to dinner.”
“D-dinner? What? No.” My head wags back and forth. “I can’t—”
“You can’t or you don’t want to?” Taking my binder from my lap, he stuffs it into my messenger bag.
