Read Online Hollywood on Tap by Avery Flynn - Free Book Online Page A

the unfinished, raw house did anything other than give her the heebie–jeebies. “They’re the original firehouse walls. Same with the metal staircase that goes up to the loft.”
    “But not the floors,” she mused.
    Sean looked down at the still shiny hardwood floors. Each board represented the best money he’d ever spent on therapy—also the only money he’d ever spent on therapy. “I added them. It was just concrete before.”
    “It’s beautiful.” She turned on the full force of her brighter–than–a–Klieg–stage–light smile. “But it’s missing something.”
    “An air freshener,” he quipped.
    “Nothing kills burned popcorn smell but time. I know that from personal experience.” She laughed. “No, you’re missing a fireman’s pole. This was the old East County Firehouse, right?”
    “Yeah, Ruby Sue bought it at auction. I’m renting it from her. It never had a pole.”
    “That’s too bad, I would have loved to have given it a try.”
    Just the mental picture of Natalie sliding down the pole with her skirt flying up was enough material to fill the spank bank for a decade.
    He clenched his jaw so tightly it made his temples ache. Down, boy. She’s your boss. The one who wants to change everything about the brewery. Plus she doesn’t even like you, let alone want to sleep with you.
    His stubborn dick ignored the advice as he stood by the closed front door and watched her stroll around the open space, looking as if she fit right in.
    Stopping next to the big–screen TV he never turned on, she shrugged off her puffy winter coat, revealing a pale–blue cardigan with a row of tiny buttons sparkling in the light. Sean jammed his hands into his jeans pockets to keep from reaching out for her.
    He’d never understood the naughty librarian thing some guys had—not until he met Natalie Sweet.
    All he wanted to do was unwrap her.
    Still scoping out the space, she laid her coat over the back of his slate–gray couch, put her hands on her hips, and inhaled a deep breath. The move stretched her soft cardigan enough that her buttons deserved hazard–duty pay.
    And he thought he’d been hard before. There were forests with less wood than he sported in his jeans right now.
    “I don’t want to freak you out, but I have paperwork for you.” She nodded toward her tan leather satchel she’d set on the floor. “But let’s talk about what’s going on at the brewery first.”
    Everything hard behind his zipper started to deflate. Nothing like a little bad–news reality to get rid of a raging hard–on. Someone with insider–level knowledge of the Sweet Salvation Brewery was behind the trouble. He knew it like he knew the smell of fresh hops.
    “I need a beer for this.” He rubbed his forehead. “Want one?” He crossed the open great room to the kitchen and opened the fridge.
    “Sure, thanks.”
    He reached past the recently released Sweet Proposal Ale and grabbed two unlabeled, brown long–neck bottles. Watching Natalie unpack a notebook and three pens from her bag, he popped the caps and strolled over to the couch.
    He set the bottles on the refurbished pallet coffee table next to her stuff. “Something I’m working on.”
    “For the brewers invitational?” She picked it up and took a long, slow drink. Her eyes closed and she savored the dark brew.
    Sean’s mouth went dry and he sat down beside her. “Yep. A stout.”
    “This is good.” She held up the bottle in a toast.
    “But not great.” He’d been working on the recipe for months. The dark stout’s flavoring emphasized the slightly sour notes produced by the dry–roasted malt and burnt–caramel bitterness, but it was missing something. What that thing was, he didn’t have a fucking clue.
    Natalie took a second swig and then her pink tongue darted out to capture a dot of creamy foam from her lip. “I don’t know, I might argue with you on that point.”
    He couldn’t look away from her full lips and imagining how