With no appointments for the rest of the afternoon, Beckett had a late lunch and cut out of the office. Carter’s text had lightened the dark mood that hung like a pall over him for the past ten days.

The first official sampling of the first official John Pierce Brewery product. This meant more than just a drink with his brothers. It was a toast to their future. A future that was looking brighter for some than others. Carter’s wedding was in four days. And Beckett would spend the entire day watching Gianna from afar.

Except for when he walked her down the aisle.

His plan to figure out where everyone stood had gotten off to a slow start. Evan was unreadable. Paul seemed to be more inclined to talk road stories rather than family. And Franklin’s surprise announcement had left him reeling enough to not even bring up the subject of his ex-son-in-law.

He needed a new plan.

Beckett pulled up to the barn and admired the progress. The exterior lighting was up and a split rail fence now defined the parking area. They’d gone with gravel for the parking lot and the drive for now. It would keep traffic slow and give them the option of changing the flow in the future if need be.

He entered through the new commercial glass doors and was pleased with what he saw. Calvin’s crew had hauled ass on the main floor to get it ready for the wedding. The floors had been sanded and sealed, hundred year-old flaws preserved in the wide planks beneath their feet. The massive chandelier they’d let their mother choose hung from the rafters. The wrought iron of its curvy arms kept the piece from being too delicate in a space that echoed rustic masculinity. Though he imagined the girls would have it draped in some poufy material for the wedding.

His brothers waited for him at the still stool-less bar.

Carter, in his daily uniform of worn jeans and ripped Henley, stood behind the bar with three empty glasses in front of him. Jax leaned across from him, the family resemblance unmistakable in the way he held his shoulders and the quiet assessment in his gray eyes.

Beckett knew his brothers better than he knew himself. And it was clear they were up to something.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Mayor,” Carter grinned, grabbing a glass and turning to the tap.

“How’d he get to be bartender?”

“Pulled the ‘I’m the oldest’ card,” Jax shrugged.

They watched with satisfaction as beer flowed from tap to glass. Carter filled the other glasses and doled them out. Beckett tilted the glass and inhaled. “There’s the lemongrass,” he sighed.

Jax and Carter sniffed experimentally, too. “Good call there,” Carter agreed. “Kind of citrusy and grassy at the same time.”

“Ready?” Jax asked, raising his glass.

“To John Pierce Brews,” Beckett said. The clink of glasses rang through the empty barn.

“To John Pierce Brews,” his brothers echoed.

Beckett sipped, frowned, and sipped again. “Damn.”

“That’s pretty decent.” Jax nodded his approval.

“Decent? This is a damn good beer,” Carter argued, taking a deeper drink. “This is a fish-on-the-grill-hammock-on-the-beach kind of beer.”

“What are we going to call it?” Jax asked, polishing off the rest of the beer in his glass.

Beckett grinned. “I think I have an idea.”

“What? Habeus corpus?” Carter snorted.

“Now you’re going to feel like an asshole when you hear it. Summer’s Wheat.”

His brother frowned, thoughtful. “Seriously?”

“We’re serving it at your wedding, aren’t we?”

Jax grinned and nodded slowly. “I can already see the labels.”

Beckett watched a flood of emotions sweep across Carter’s face. “Are you sure? This is a big deal. It’s our first beer, not just mine.”

“Summer’s Wheat,” Beckett repeated.

“Damn.” Carter ran a hand through his hair. “It should have been my idea,” he grinned.

“Yeah, it should have,” Jax agreed. “Obviously Beckett here is more thoughtful and sensitive than you, Farm Boy.”

Carter surprised them both by yanking them in for a half-headlock half-hug over the bar. “I’m not gonna get mushy here. But I will say, I wouldn’t be who I am today without you assholes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Beckett slapped Carter on the back. “You’re just hoping I don’t tell Summer it was my idea.”

“What’ll it cost me?”

“Naming rights for one of your kids.”

“Done.”

A second round of Summer’s Wheat and some more back slapping and razzing removed any leftover clogged emotions. Beckett was just considering slipping downstairs to check out the equipment and maybe start thinking about the next batch of beer when Jax cleared his throat. And Beckett braced for the unknown.

“How much was the loan?” His younger brother didn’t do serious often, but when he did it was enough to stop and take notice.

“What loan?” Beckett asked innocently.

“The one you took out to save the farm.” Carter’s tone was serious.

“Are we back on that again? What does it matter?”

“We’re paying our thirds,” Jax announced, whipping a checkbook from his back pocket.

“I don’t want your fucking money,” Beckett bit the words off, the good mood from moments ago dissolved.

“We don’t fucking care,” Carter said good-naturedly. “And you’re an asshole for thinking we’d let you carry the financial burden alone like that.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Then prove it. Let us pay you back,” Jax said. “How would you feel if one of us had done what you did?”

Beckett blew out a breath. “That’s beside the point.”

“That is the point. Dick,” Carter countered.

“It was years ago. I don’t need your money.”

“It’s not about needing the money,” Jax argued. “It’s about doing the right thing. Prick.”

“I might have a better idea. You know how Mom and Franklin haven’t been able to find a place to live?”

His brothers nodded, and Beckett filled them in on his plan.

Jax whistled. “You are on a roll today.”