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Authors: Kathy Lyons
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water.”
“Water it is.”
“I was going to buy beer for you, but I don’t know what kind you like — ”
“I’m not picky.”
“ — so I bought a variety. Thought I’d start experimenting. Edward always called it a blue collar drink, but I was surprised at how much some of it costs.”
“Edward doesn’t know shit.” He opened her refrigerator and let out a low whistle. “When you experiment, you don’t go halfway, do you?”
She looked over. She’d bought one bottle of thirty-two different brands of beer. She hadn’t even started on the cans, but this was every brand the small liquor store had. “It was a whim.”
“I’m not complaining. So which one do you want to try first?”
She didn’t understand what he meant but then he gestured to the beer array.
“I’ve become a little stuck in my beer choices too,” he continued. “Why don’t we split the bottles? Expand our palates together?”
She thought about it for a second, her gaze slipping to the five hundred dollar bills on the floor. “The World Beer Cup competition has over ninety categories of beer. And beeradvocate.com has reviews of over thirty-two thousand different labels.”
“Sounds like you’ve done some research.”
She smiled. “My whims always get a thorough Google search. Anything else would just be lazy.”
“Of course.”
She grinned. “I think five hundred dollars can buy a lot of beer.”
He looked to the bills and laughed. “I think your sister would consider a thorough understanding of alcohol is just as important as a new roof.”
“Only if we bought really expensive beer.”
“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d like to start with that German one with the guy who looks like Uncle Bob on the label.”
He looked in and picked it up. “St. Bernardus Prior 8. I’ve never seen a beer bottle with a cork before.”
She picked up her phone. “Should I check the ratings first?”
“Of course not,” he said in mock outrage. “A proper experiment should try to eliminate bias.”
“I completely agree.”
He unwound the metal and worked out the cork as he crossed to her side. Then he wrapped his hand around hers—the one that was holding her empty glass—and tilted it to the side enough to pour the beer in carefully. She watched the dark liquid roll smoothly into her glass, but her thoughts were on the heat of his hand around hers. The strength in his fingers and the way he seemed to cradle her hand even as he guided it exactly as he wanted.
Heat expanded in her belly. The slow simmer of attraction that had been present for days heated up a notch. She looked up into his face, so large and so opposite from everyone else in her world. How could she feel so comfortable with someone so different?
He noticed her look and smiled back at her and again she saw that twinkle of deviltry in his eyes. No one challenged her like that, with an expression that said I see you looking at me. Want to play?
She did. She really did.
So when he released her hand to pour the rest of the bottle into his glass, she licked her lips. She settled into that warming burn of attraction and decided to let it go as it wanted. A flash fire of wild abandon or a steadily increasing want. Either way was fine with her.
He set the bottle on the counter, then dropped down beside her on the floor. She was still in a chair, but he was so large, his head nearly made it up to hers. Then he held up his glass.
“Let the experiment begin,” he said.
“Carpe Beer,” she said. Then at his look, she shrugged. “It’s something I saw on a student’s T-shirt.”
“Carpe Beer,” he echoed.
Then together they drank.
A lot.
...
The beer was good and in plentiful quantity.They were splitting beers, but she was pouring the lion’s share into his glass. If he didn’t know better, he might think she was trying to get him drunk, but he didn’t care. He was having too good a time talking with her.
He
“Water it is.”
“I was going to buy beer for you, but I don’t know what kind you like — ”
“I’m not picky.”
“ — so I bought a variety. Thought I’d start experimenting. Edward always called it a blue collar drink, but I was surprised at how much some of it costs.”
“Edward doesn’t know shit.” He opened her refrigerator and let out a low whistle. “When you experiment, you don’t go halfway, do you?”
She looked over. She’d bought one bottle of thirty-two different brands of beer. She hadn’t even started on the cans, but this was every brand the small liquor store had. “It was a whim.”
“I’m not complaining. So which one do you want to try first?”
She didn’t understand what he meant but then he gestured to the beer array.
“I’ve become a little stuck in my beer choices too,” he continued. “Why don’t we split the bottles? Expand our palates together?”
She thought about it for a second, her gaze slipping to the five hundred dollar bills on the floor. “The World Beer Cup competition has over ninety categories of beer. And beeradvocate.com has reviews of over thirty-two thousand different labels.”
“Sounds like you’ve done some research.”
She smiled. “My whims always get a thorough Google search. Anything else would just be lazy.”
“Of course.”
She grinned. “I think five hundred dollars can buy a lot of beer.”
He looked to the bills and laughed. “I think your sister would consider a thorough understanding of alcohol is just as important as a new roof.”
“Only if we bought really expensive beer.”
“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d like to start with that German one with the guy who looks like Uncle Bob on the label.”
He looked in and picked it up. “St. Bernardus Prior 8. I’ve never seen a beer bottle with a cork before.”
She picked up her phone. “Should I check the ratings first?”
“Of course not,” he said in mock outrage. “A proper experiment should try to eliminate bias.”
“I completely agree.”
He unwound the metal and worked out the cork as he crossed to her side. Then he wrapped his hand around hers—the one that was holding her empty glass—and tilted it to the side enough to pour the beer in carefully. She watched the dark liquid roll smoothly into her glass, but her thoughts were on the heat of his hand around hers. The strength in his fingers and the way he seemed to cradle her hand even as he guided it exactly as he wanted.
Heat expanded in her belly. The slow simmer of attraction that had been present for days heated up a notch. She looked up into his face, so large and so opposite from everyone else in her world. How could she feel so comfortable with someone so different?
He noticed her look and smiled back at her and again she saw that twinkle of deviltry in his eyes. No one challenged her like that, with an expression that said I see you looking at me. Want to play?
She did. She really did.
So when he released her hand to pour the rest of the bottle into his glass, she licked her lips. She settled into that warming burn of attraction and decided to let it go as it wanted. A flash fire of wild abandon or a steadily increasing want. Either way was fine with her.
He set the bottle on the counter, then dropped down beside her on the floor. She was still in a chair, but he was so large, his head nearly made it up to hers. Then he held up his glass.
“Let the experiment begin,” he said.
“Carpe Beer,” she said. Then at his look, she shrugged. “It’s something I saw on a student’s T-shirt.”
“Carpe Beer,” he echoed.
Then together they drank.
A lot.
...
The beer was good and in plentiful quantity.They were splitting beers, but she was pouring the lion’s share into his glass. If he didn’t know better, he might think she was trying to get him drunk, but he didn’t care. He was having too good a time talking with her.
He
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