Chapter Eleven
By Saturday morning, the glasses crisis had somehow been averted. Sistine’s brother agreed to sell Aspen everything he had and she rented the rest. She then promptly ordered the remaining glasses they needed from him, got her discount, and glared at Cade for a full day. When Boyd saw her earlier at the brewery, she was in a much better mood, which was great because the Foghorn Brewery Tap House was officially open following the 36th Annual Butter and Egg Days festivities.
Patrick’s plan called for everyone to man the beer booth for a few hours in the afternoon. It was expected that over 30,000 people would attend B&E Days this year, and he wanted as many of those revelers as they could hold at the new tap house once things dwindled down around four. That meant a long day for all of them.
When Boyd was a kid, he used to think B&E was weird, but people traveled from all over the state for his hometown’s special brand of history. It was now Mason’s turn to roll his eyes and huff his way through unloading the truck and helping set up the booth. Once they were in place and grown men dressed up like sticks of butter or cartons of eggs began circulating, Boyd set Mason free from his duties so he could get something to eat.
Boyd had finished helping Patrick with the last of the signs and was putting on his apron when he spotted Mason making his way back through what appeared to be a giant grocery store dairy section come to life.
“Hey, Dad. There’s Ella,” he said, rejoining the McNaughton clan, now in full force, and biting into a piece of monkey bread he’d no doubt bought from Vienna’s bakery, which had a line down the block.
“Where?” Patrick and Cade glanced in opposite directions like lost tourists.
Boyd handed a sample to a guy he’d talked to earlier while they were setting up. He was interested in next year’s Foghorn beer lineup. After the sample, Boyd would hand him off to Patrick. Boyd could talk beer all day long, but if this guy wanted to know about promotion, he’d be disappointed.
“Over there,” Mason said through another bite.
“The woman in front of Sift with Thad?” Patrick asked.
Boyd stayed busy, but he saw his brothers trade glances and look back toward the street.
“Damn.” Cade was so subtle.
Boyd looked over. Ella was outside of the bakery with Thad handing out what looked like samples. Foghorn Brewery was handing out samples too, but it was beer. Boyd couldn’t believe Vienna managed to get Thad, the town fire chief, to stand outside her sunshine-yellow bakery, let alone with a basket. That must be love, he thought, unable to avert his eyes.
Thad, or Thaddeus Pane as they knew him in high school, was rumored to be the most eligible bachelor among most of the female population of Petaluma. Thanks to Aspen, they all knew he was with Vienna now, and that seemed like life balancing out the good and bad.
When Thad was in high school, he wore his pants too short and spent a lot of time being banged into lockers. He was a classic underdog story. More accurately, a nerd to Iron Man story. Boyd liked underdogs, so he was happy for the Thaddeus he knew back then and the great guy they all knew now. Vienna baked like no one’s business, and she gave so much of her time to the community that the mayor gave her a key to the city last year. If there was such a thing as a perfect match, Boyd supposed Thad and Vienna were it.
Reluctantly, he found himself doing the “glance up and quickly look away” game he should have outgrown after grade school. Ella wasn’t wearing scrubs or a lab coat, which made Boyd’s feigned disinterest more difficult. She was in jeans, a white T-shirt that looked soft, and a short black leather jacket that should have come across as biker, but on her, it read out-of-town beautiful.
Dr. Ella Walters. She even sounded like she was from the big city. She and Thad laughed with Mr. Graham, who owned the hardware store and was giving out egg-shaped measuring tapes. The three of them seemed amused at some story Thad and his biceps were telling. Aspen had it all wrong. Someone like Thad was probably right up Ella’s alley. Kale eating and gym comfortable.
Yeah, not Boyd’s style at all. He wasn’t against getting his heart rate going, but it needed to happen outdoors. Hooking himself up to a machine never sounded fun, but looking down at the tight apron that hugged his middle, he struggled to recall his current fitness regimen because he didn’t have one. Too much work, too much takeout, and too much being a dad. Boyd had let himself get a little soft, which hadn’t bothered him all that much until he found himself staring across B Street at a woman he was positive looked incredible naked.
“Yes,” Cade said, coming up next to him.
“What?” Boyd concentrated on filling the sample cups.
“Yes, your beer gut has grown.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“That’s what you’re looking at, isn’t it?”
“No. I’m wondering how I manage to be the only good-looking one out of the four of us. That’s what I was wondering.”
“Uh-huh. So, the ER doc?”
“What about her? You know for a guy having so much of that calorie-burning sex, you seem awfully interested in my game.”
“So, you’re not looking over there, not looking at her?”
“No reason to look at her.” Boyd bent to get more cups, more napkins. Anything, because his brothers smelled blood again and now that they’d seen Ella, he didn’t have a convincing argument for ignoring her.
“Strange, Trick, that Boyd didn’t tell us his ER doc had legs for miles.”
“Strange indeed. Little man, did you say you and your dad were down at the ER last week?” Patrick asked.
Mason nodded, licking his fingers, clueless to the trap his uncles were luring him into. Ah, the innocence of youth.
“Was your dad talking with Ella?”
“Yeah, they got along great. She’s funny. He winked at her and it was badass.”
“Did he now?” Patrick said.
Pain. In. The. Ass.
“Cade, you have a line”—he pointed—“of potential patrons to help pay for your overpriced bar.” Boyd stood clear of the small gathering of people reading the chalk boards propped near the samples station. His little brother was still focused in Ella’s direction. Hell, Cade was likely her type too.
“I’m taking a break.” Boyd untied the leather apron and set it on top of the stacked crates Patrick had set up for “ambience.” He was beginning to hate that word.
“That’s convenient,” Cade said, handing out a couple samples of Shamo Sunset.
“Isn’t it? Mason, stick around. I’ll be back.”
“Can I go see Ella?”
Boyd peeked over his shoulder in time to see the doctor toss her head in laughter and hand another sample to an older guy with a beak mask around his neck.
Christ! She really was everywhere lately.
If Ella had been in town for two years, why hadn’t he noticed her before? Patrick and Cade both stared at him as if they somehow thought he was going to bound across the festival and pull her into his arms. For a moment of insanity, that didn’t sound like a bad idea, but thankfully his sense returned.
“Okay, but stay where your uncles can see you,” he finally answered Mason.
“Where are you going?” Patrick asked.
“I… have to make some calls and we’re out of—”
Aspen moved between Boyd and Patrick to hand Cade the cashbox. “This is in case anyone wants to buy merchandise or the new T-shirts we had made for the Tap House,” she said before dumping an extra bag of ice in the front display.
Both his brothers crossed their arms, and Cade smirked.
“What’d I miss?” she asked and followed all the eyes on Ella. “I told you she was beautiful. And funny too.”
“I’m taking a break.” He leveled a stare at both of his brothers. “And I don’t owe either one of you an explanation. Watch the booth.”
“Got it. We’re on it, big brother completely unaffected by the gorgeous blond life-saving and also funny doctor. You do you and we’ll keep an eye on things,” Cade managed to say all in one breath.
Boyd wanted to flip all of them off, but there were families around and the booth next to them had baby chicks. Only a crazy man used obscene finger gestures in front of children and chicks. He felt dangerously close to crazy.
Maybe Ella’s father was right. Maybe she was a silly woman because, despite a moment where she, Bri, and Thad clapped for the little kids dressed as various colors of chicks as they filed out of Copperfield’s Books for the Cutest Chick contest, Ella couldn’t take her eyes off the Foghorn Brewery booth. She was certain there were a lot of women drawn to that section of the festival, but she’d never thought of herself as obvious. The air was filled with barbecue, sunscreen, and spring. And of course, the cinnamon and sugar spilling out of Sift.
When Ella left San Francisco, she’d vowed to steer clear of the ridiculous. But there was something about Boyd McNaughton. She nearly laughed at herself it was so cliché. He’d come into her ER. People didn’t meet like that. Maybe Bri was right—she needed to get naked with someone and start hating Mondays with the rest of the world before she entertained the idea that Boyd McNaughton and his fantastic son might be the type of people she’d been missing her whole life. She wasn’t certain if it was his eyes, aged beyond his years, his broad, almost hulking frame, or that beard. What the hell was with the beard?
She glanced back one last time before agreeing to find a bathroom with Bri and caught his eyes. Eyes were cliché too. Damn it. He was walking away from the booth and dipped his head in acknowledgment. Not a word or a smile. Only a “yeah, I see you.” And then he was gone into the crowd. She’d avoided his booth on purpose, which was silly, but she wasn’t looking for trouble and she got the distinct impression the other day that Boyd wasn’t thrilled with his son’s new friendship. His life, their life, seemed self-contained. Ella both understood and respected his solitary purpose.
“Hey, Ella,” Mason said, moments later after Pam arrived to give Vienna a break so she, Bri, and Vienna could go check out the pie contest. Ella waved them on and stayed put.
“Mason. Great to see you. This is so fun, right?” She took in the pre-parade festivities and frenzy.
“Yeah, you don’t think it’s lame?”
“This is most definitely not lame.”
“I guess it’s cool.”
“Have you had the monkey bread? It’s bad how good it is. I wanted to buy two, but people were watching.”
“Our booth is over there. My dad took a break, but my uncles are there. Want to meet them?”
“Sure.” So much for avoidance. She followed Mason and saw the resemblance in Boyd’s brothers immediately. The taller one was a clean-cut and fancier-dressed version of Boyd. Same thick hair, but he was lean and his eyes were bigger. The other brother had a winding tattoo on his arm and his hair was cut short on the sides. He was built, lots-of-hours-at-the-gym built. And wearing a shirt that read “Foghorn Brewery—Cocks on Tap” above a sketched rooster on a bar.
Ella smiled. “Great shirt.”
“Thanks.” He extended his hand. “Cade.” Firm handshake. Ella appreciated that and his blatant comfort with standing out. Was there one of every kind in the McNaughton family?
“I’m Ella, a friend of Mason’s.”
Mason beamed and nodded at his uncle. Ella couldn’t explain it, but she was proud to be his friend. Honored that he wanted to be hers.
“This is my other uncle Trick. Well, his name is Patrick, but we call him Trick.”
Patrick extended his hand.
“You must be the candy-ass.”
“Sorry?” He chuckled.
“When your brother was in the ER, he said he’d cut his hand because of his candy-ass brother. You’re marketing, right?”
Patrick nodded.
“Candy-ass.”
“Guilty.”
“Nice to meet you both.” She was amazed at how easy it was to talk with all of them. “Are you the youngest?” she asked Cade.
“Second youngest. Our other brother lives in San Francisco.”
Ella nodded and accepted a sample of beer Patrick handed her.
“My dad is the oldest. Then Trick and then Cade. My other uncle is a movie star.”
“Seriously?”
Mason nodded. “Westin Drake. He’s Nick Shot in the—”
“Full Throttle movies.” She took a sip and nodded her appreciation to Patrick.
“You’ve seen them?” Mason asked.
“I have. A couple, but I can’t remember which ones. That has to be awesome having an uncle in the movies.”
“It is. He’s cool.”
“Hey, we’re cool too.”
“No, you’re not,” a voice from behind them said. Once again, Ella turned as Boyd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Barely a smile on his lips and his hand on his squirming son’s head. Mason broke free.
“Dad, Ella has seen Uncle West’s movies.”
“That is impressive.” Boyd didn’t meet her eyes. It was as if he was having a conversation with only his son.
“Yup, some of them,” she said, wanting to make her presence known. It must have worked because he finally met her eyes, sort of.
“Nice. Do you like the beer?” He gestured to the now-empty cup in her hand.
“I do.” The air crackled. Her shoulder barely brushed his and she willed herself to stay casual, comfortable. “Is this the famous brew you were mixing in the keggle?”
She should not have said that, referenced that, because he smiled. Holy wow, slow and easy as if he saved this particular grin for a few times a week and he needed to make it count. Warmth and male. Ella had been around some sexy polished men in her time, and this wasn’t put on or practiced. It was almost organic and so rich that her head spun a little. Their eyes held.
“Look at you remembering the lingo. Yes, this is the famous brew.”
Ella nodded, but before she was reduced to a bobblehead, she homed in on what she knew.
“Is the scar fading yet?” she said, instinctively touching his arm and lifting his hand as if they were back in the ER. Yet another mistake. Outside the security of the sterile walls of the hospital and without her rubber gloves, touching him felt like, well, touching. He twitched a bit at the contact, and she couldn’t blame him. There was a charge between them every time, but now in the sunlight surrounded by family and fun, it was more of everything Ella knew nothing about.
Or maybe he felt nothing at all, she wondered. Maybe he thinks I’m a complete weirdo for grabbing a virtual stranger in public. She was clearly overdosing on contact and now needed to work on boundaries. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I grabbed you.”
“It’s fine. The grab and the scar. Yes, it’s fading. Both are fine.” Boyd stepped behind the booth like he was afraid of her. Perfect. His brothers had returned to serving customers, but they were smiling as if they knew something she didn’t. Or they were smiling because they thought she was a crazy person who manhandled their brother. Either scenario made her uneasy.
“Ella, want to go get more monkey bread?” Mason said, breaking her free of mortification.
“Will you say it’s yours? Because I’ve already had one, and no doubt Vienna will give me a hard time.”
“Okay.” He laughed. “No one cares. I thought all adults stopped caring what other people thought. Isn’t that like the only benefit of getting old?”
“Yeah, well some of us are late bloomers,” she said.
“Dad, can I have money?”
“You have your allowance.”
“Nice meeting you,” she said to Patrick and Cade, who both invited her back anytime. They were still smiling.
“Boyd.” She tipped her head in what she hoped was an I-can-take-you-or-leave-you gesture.
“Ella.” He gave it right back, but she somehow believed him. As she and Mason walked away, he called them back. Mason turned and he handed him a ten-dollar bill.
“Buy Dr. Walters some monkey bread. Keep her secret.”
“What’s her secret?”
“All women have secrets. Hasn’t she shared that little piece of advice?”
Ella swallowed. Christ, he was easier to deal with on her turf. “A monkey bread addiction is hardly a secret,” she said.
Boyd smiled again, and this time he knew the potency. Was she that transparent? Until that moment, she’d thought herself immune to all things male. Boyd was harmless, she told herself.
Oh, you silly woman, her heart nearly cried out.
“Want to come with, Dad?”
“I think you’ve got this. Go easy on him, Doc.”
Ella managed a smile, but almost tripped over her feet as she left with Mason, who she was beginning to think was the only safe male in the McNaughton family tree.