the driver up onto the landing.
She pulled the assistant brewmaster aside and lowered her voice. “Make sure he’s okay and get folks moving on unloading those hops. For what we had to pay out for those little buds, I won’t be able to breathe until they’re safe in our cooler.”
“Where you going?”
“The OK Corral.” Time for a showdown with her mutinous brewmaster. She’d tried nice. She’d tried all business. She’d tried cajoling. Now, it was time to try bitch with big brass balls.
While the rest of the crew worked their asses off, Carl was exactly where he’d spent most of his time this week —lounging in the outdoor employee picnic area, a dented soda can full of tobacco spit in one hand and a view of the Hamilton River in front of him. There was no way he didn’t hear her cross the gravel parking lot to get to him. Still, he didn’t bother to glance her way, keeping his gaze locked on the slow-moving water.
It was one thing to be a difficult person to work with, but laziness and a bad attitude made a dangerous combination. She marched in front of him, blocking his view and forcing him to look at her. “I asked you to stabilize and refinish the dock on Tuesday so we’d be able to accept delivery of the hops we just spent a huge portion of our budget on. The dock just crumbled underneath a driver from Gulch City Brews here to deliver the hops. We’re lucky as hell that he didn’t get seriously injured.”
Carl rolled his shoulders. “It’s not like he fell into the Grand Canyon. He’ll live.”
“That’s not the point.” She smacked her palm down on the table hard enough to make her skin sting. “If you aren’t with us in turning this place around, then you’re against us, and there’s no place for you here.”
He thunked the can down on the table, splashing a few drops of foul-smelling brown liquid onto her hand. Hate and a little touch of something crazy burned in his narrowed eyes. “You think you can fire me?”
“I know I can. My sisters and I own the brewery.” The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, but she wasn’t about to back down to Carl. First the grandstanding when he and a few others tried to intimidate her from walking into the brewery, his refusal to help with the renovations this week, and now the dock. He was a bully and a lazy SOB, and she’d put up with enough of his shit. “Clean out your office, Carl. You’re fired.”
Carl unfolded his rangy form from the bench until his shadow covered Miranda from bangs to tennis shoes. Wary, but undaunted, she didn’t flinch. If there was one fringe benefit of being a Sweet in Salvation, it was learning to stick up for yourself and stand your ground before you could even walk. Being a stubborn pain in the ass was an ingrained part of the Sweet DNA.
When she didn’t budge, Carl took a step back and rocked on his heels. “All those hops are going to go to waste if I’m not here for brew day.”
“Sean’ll do fine without you—maybe better.”
“Are you as crazy as the rest of your people? That boy showed up one day without any experience working in a brewery, and your uncle hired him against my advice.” His body tensed, and he curled his hands into fists.
If he’d meant to intimidate her, he’d failed. “Considering a trained chimp with a coke habit would be better than you, I’m sure Sean will blow your record out of the water.”
Sure, Sean was relatively new to the brewery business and had never been a brewmaster, but dealing with a newbie had to be better than dealing with the current brewmaster. Hell, she’d put Uncle Julian’s obnoxious cursing parrot in charge just to get rid of Carl.
“So that’s how it is, huh?” His upper lip curled into an angry-dog snarl. “You not only steal the brewery out from underneath me, you fire me, too.”
That wasn’t how it happened at all, but she was beyond done petting this man’s ego. “Looks like it.”
“There’s a ton of breweries
She pulled the assistant brewmaster aside and lowered her voice. “Make sure he’s okay and get folks moving on unloading those hops. For what we had to pay out for those little buds, I won’t be able to breathe until they’re safe in our cooler.”
“Where you going?”
“The OK Corral.” Time for a showdown with her mutinous brewmaster. She’d tried nice. She’d tried all business. She’d tried cajoling. Now, it was time to try bitch with big brass balls.
While the rest of the crew worked their asses off, Carl was exactly where he’d spent most of his time this week —lounging in the outdoor employee picnic area, a dented soda can full of tobacco spit in one hand and a view of the Hamilton River in front of him. There was no way he didn’t hear her cross the gravel parking lot to get to him. Still, he didn’t bother to glance her way, keeping his gaze locked on the slow-moving water.
It was one thing to be a difficult person to work with, but laziness and a bad attitude made a dangerous combination. She marched in front of him, blocking his view and forcing him to look at her. “I asked you to stabilize and refinish the dock on Tuesday so we’d be able to accept delivery of the hops we just spent a huge portion of our budget on. The dock just crumbled underneath a driver from Gulch City Brews here to deliver the hops. We’re lucky as hell that he didn’t get seriously injured.”
Carl rolled his shoulders. “It’s not like he fell into the Grand Canyon. He’ll live.”
“That’s not the point.” She smacked her palm down on the table hard enough to make her skin sting. “If you aren’t with us in turning this place around, then you’re against us, and there’s no place for you here.”
He thunked the can down on the table, splashing a few drops of foul-smelling brown liquid onto her hand. Hate and a little touch of something crazy burned in his narrowed eyes. “You think you can fire me?”
“I know I can. My sisters and I own the brewery.” The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, but she wasn’t about to back down to Carl. First the grandstanding when he and a few others tried to intimidate her from walking into the brewery, his refusal to help with the renovations this week, and now the dock. He was a bully and a lazy SOB, and she’d put up with enough of his shit. “Clean out your office, Carl. You’re fired.”
Carl unfolded his rangy form from the bench until his shadow covered Miranda from bangs to tennis shoes. Wary, but undaunted, she didn’t flinch. If there was one fringe benefit of being a Sweet in Salvation, it was learning to stick up for yourself and stand your ground before you could even walk. Being a stubborn pain in the ass was an ingrained part of the Sweet DNA.
When she didn’t budge, Carl took a step back and rocked on his heels. “All those hops are going to go to waste if I’m not here for brew day.”
“Sean’ll do fine without you—maybe better.”
“Are you as crazy as the rest of your people? That boy showed up one day without any experience working in a brewery, and your uncle hired him against my advice.” His body tensed, and he curled his hands into fists.
If he’d meant to intimidate her, he’d failed. “Considering a trained chimp with a coke habit would be better than you, I’m sure Sean will blow your record out of the water.”
Sure, Sean was relatively new to the brewery business and had never been a brewmaster, but dealing with a newbie had to be better than dealing with the current brewmaster. Hell, she’d put Uncle Julian’s obnoxious cursing parrot in charge just to get rid of Carl.
“So that’s how it is, huh?” His upper lip curled into an angry-dog snarl. “You not only steal the brewery out from underneath me, you fire me, too.”
That wasn’t how it happened at all, but she was beyond done petting this man’s ego. “Looks like it.”
“There’s a ton of breweries
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