Chapter Sixteen
“Traveling light these days?” Austin eyeballed Ross’ duffel bag as he shouldered it off the luggage-go-round in the airport.
“Yeah. I’m very Egyptian that way,” Ross said, unwilling to admit that all he had to pack were his few clothes, a laptop and a toothbrush on his way out of Colorado. He’d been tempted to track Holly down and have a not-so-friendly conversation with her—especially once he’d looked up that fucking blog with photos of his sky-high, naked, self on it. Bitch hadn’t even given him a good angle. Nor had she shown his full face, he supposed, to her credit.
But he was disinclined to give her credit for anything other than costing him a job at that moment. So, he’d run into the professor’s house, thrown a few things into the single piece of luggage he owned, left the bike—also the professor’s—in the garage with a full tank of gas and caught a taxi to the airport.
Light as air, that was Ross Hoffman. Never connected or tied down or otherwise attached.
Until now, it would seem.
The ride to the brewery from the airport was made in total silence. Austin kept a death grip on the wheel and Ross kept his gaze out of the window. He’d forgotten how desolate Michigan could be, even in the early spring months. It was still mostly iced over, it seemed. Old, dirty snow was piled in drifts everywhere. Brown tufts of grass poked through in forlorn patches. He sighed and pressed his forehead against the window.
“Don’t sound so excited,” Austin quipped as he pulled into the Fitzgerald Brewing parking lot.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s sort of my point.” Austin parked and sat, fingers still wrapped around the wheel, staring out the windshield as if in a trance. “This has been a nightmare. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea for you to jump in the middle of it.”
“No, it’s fine.” Ross put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s what friends do.”
Austin shot him an odd look. “Right.”
Ross’ anger flared. “Listen, I know it’s been hard. I know I bolted. I realize all of this. But I’m here now. Let me at least have a shot at making it right.”
Austin’s shoulders slumped. His forehead touched the steering wheel between his hands. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fucking mother humping fuckstick.”
“Wow,” Ross said. “You’re quite the poet these days.”
“All right, so here’s the deal,” Austin said, leaning back and turning to face Ross across the SUV’s console. “I’m gonna let Bryan go. He’s too unreliable.”
“Okay,” Ross said, letting his friend take his time.
“We have to get up and running, like, yesterday. I’ve committed to export deals on the IPA and stout to start and we’re something like twenty thousand barrels behind already.”
“Twenty thousand…”
Austin closed his eyes. “I know. It’s a mess.”
“Twenty thousand…” Ross’ brewer’s mind was already calculating man hours, ingredients, all the details. He was excited about it, truth be told. It might even allay his looming anxiety over being around Evelyn again. “What about the gun-slinger?”
“What? Oh, right, Elle. She’s here—in there.”
“Out on bail? Headed to trial? Can I work her into the schedule?”
“Likely won’t be a trial, if my lawyers get their expensive way. And she owns the schedule. You’re here as a consultant to help her out. She’s the head brewer now.”
“Fine.” Ross opened his door, then turned back to Austin. “Well, shit, man, I’ve got work to do. What are we waiting on?”
“Thank you. I know getting away from Brad’s operation is no mean feat.”
“Yeah, well, it was easier than you might think.” Ross averted his gaze. He wasn’t ready for that true confessions moment yet. “Down to business—what’re you paying me for this little vacation?”
“Your usual fee,” Austin said. “Plus a bonus if you get us to the export barrelage target. Same as Elle’s.”
“Great.” He hesitated. “We going in there, or what?”
“You should know that Elle is, um, off-limits.”
“Who? Oh, the gun-Frau? No sweat. I’m swearing off chicks. One of them cost me my—”
Austin raised an eyebrow when he hesitated.
“Never mind. Tell ya about it later. Let’s go. I need to get my hands dirty. I have a bonus to earn and a boss-lady to meet.” Unwilling to engage in any more heart-to-heart, he jumped out of the truck, shouldered the bag containing everything he owned in the world, and grinned at the smell coming off the building. He took a big sniff. “Ah, I love the smell of a mash-in in the morning.”
“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, dumb ass.” Austin walked by him and opened the metal door. The odors of the second shift of a brew day got stronger. “Come on. Let me introduce you to your new boss. She’s eager to get going, too.”
Ross nodded, ducked inside, squinted through the steam rolling from the huge brew kettle and spotted the small figure, above him on the catwalk between the brewing vessels. She was facing away, hands on her hips, yelling something that it took him a half second to register was in German. He was reminded of her petite stature from that hospital horror but now, dressed in her sweat soaked brewery T-shirt, cargo shorts and rubber boots—the usual brewer’s uniform—he saw the strength in her wiry arms and legs.
The steam cleared some, giving him a better view. The noise of the busy brewery faded from his ears as he caught sight of that bizarre mass of blond dreadlocks, currently piled up and tucked under a loose cap. He took a step forward, trying to ignore the strange, tingly sensation in his scalp as he watched and listened to her bark orders in mixed English and German while she marched back and forth on the raised metal path.
Someone shouted her name. She turned and looked down, meeting his eyes. Hers seemed to shine out from the steam—the oddest mix of blue and gray. Ross stumbled backward at the force of her exotic beauty and the realization that he had, indeed, been obsessing since meeting her the first time.
The small-featured, perfectly proportioned face that should have been overwhelmed by that bizarre hair-do was, instead, complemented by it. Her tight, compact body was likely a full foot shorter than his, if not more. She frowned, as if trying to place him, then stood straight, arms crossed. The light caught the small gem in the left side of her nose. When she tilted her head, he caught sight of the barbell in her eyebrow.
A shiver of raw, terrifying, primal lust shot down his spine, making him stumble forward a step or two. He’d bet his first consulting payment from his friend Austin that she was pierced in other places—places on her that he wanted to see, to taste, to feel so badly at that moment he realized he was breathless.
He could make out the tatts on her arms and knuckles—oddly matching his own. As well as a slash of black around her long, porcelain-skinned neck. The sight of that made his chest hot and tight. The full effect of her made him feel so completely weird—somehow dizzy in a way he didn’t like at all.
He heard Austin clearing his throat somewhere to his left and realized he and this creature had been staring at each other for a full minute in silence. He dropped his gaze first.
“Elle,” Austin called up to her. “This is Ross. Ross Hoffman. He’ll be…”
“Your humble assistant,” Ross barked, needing to move or speak or something to shake the way his body had reacted to her. “As of now.” He grinned up at her. Her frown deepened. His dick stirred at the sight of it.
Well, that’s just great. I’m obviously losing my mind. She’s the opposite of everything I like about the female form—short, wiry, angular and hard-looking and that hair…
“Hoffman,” she said, her voice as sharp as she looked. “Welcome to Fitzgerald Brewing Company. It’s about time you got here. Now, move your sorry ass and get to work. We’re behind, in case you haven’t been informed already.”
He blinked up at her like a dolt. She’d spoken clearly enough, but in citified, Berliner-accented German. His smile widened. She smiled back for a brief second, then moved away from the railing. Something about that—her sudden, almost reactionary shift out of his line of vision—caused a strange sort of protectiveness to surge through him.
Yep. I’ve gone ‘round the bend for sure. Or I’m suddenly so homesick for the Fatherland, the sound of some chick speaking German is making me horny.
“Ugh,” he muttered under his breath as he re-shouldered his duffle and looked at Austin. “All right, boss man, point me toward a computer so I can figure all this shit out.”
Austin was staring at him, fully noting the strange exchange, Ross knew.
“What? She’s weird-looking, all right? Plus, she’s trigger-happy? God. I’ll avoid her like the plague.”
“Right,” Austin said, shaking his head as he walked away. “Come on. We’re in for a long set of weeks.”