Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Vince grinned. “Then you should have it. Fucking do it. There’s no reason you shouldn’t. You know what you enjoy, and you never do anything for yourself. If you’ve only brewed two batches and you’re thinking about it this much, there’s a reason for that. I’m proud of you.”
Colby let his fingers slip beneath the bottom of Vince’s shirt and danced them over his warm skin. It was nice to be able to touch him this way, to know no one would get hurt and that he could just let go with Vince. That if any questions arose, they would talk to each other and work it out together because that’s just how they were. “I wouldn’t be doing it at all if it wasn’t for you.”
“You said that before, but how can you be sure?”
“Forty years of experience?” he teased, earning a chuckle from Vince.
“Maybe that’s true and maybe it’s not. The reason doesn’t matter, if you ask me. What matters is that you’re doing it at all. Let me shower, and then you can show me what you have planned.”
Colby smiled, a happiness in his chest, in his blood, that he only felt with Vince. If he told his family about the beer, especially his dad or brother Dennis, they would throw a hundred questions at him: Had he really looked into it? What about permits? How much money will it cost? Why did he want to brew beer? How long has he wanted to brew beer? Would it affect his work at the farm? Even his friends would likely be surprised and wonder what had gotten into him, but Vince never questioned him. Vince never offered him anything but support.
“I can put some steaks on the grill in the meantime,” Colby offered.
“Perfect.” Vince pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then headed for the hallway. Damned if Colby didn’t watch him go.
He got the food going, and Vince joined him outside. He learned something new about his friend—Vince could draw. While Colby talked about what he wanted to do, Vince sketched out his ideas. That helped them scratch out some and tweak others for better flow. They checked the sizes of what Colby had bought so they could get the layout just right.
They ate in the shop together, laughing and planning, and somehow, over the course of the evening, the idea of a brewery in his shop had stopped sounding strange.
It sounded inevitable.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vince
Vince loved working at Covington Acres. The more time he spent here, the more he realized how passionate he was about that. That more than anything else, he loved seeing food grow, loved knowing that it went from seeds to substances that filled people’s bellies. It was like a rebirth Vince was just realizing fascinated him.
He and Colby had been hard at work all morning. There was also something special about working so close with his friend. It often surprised him that the two of them didn’t get on each other’s nerves. Between living together, now sleeping with each other and working together too, Vince thought it would be too much. In the past, even with Gregory, the man he’d loved, Vince had enjoyed his space, his free time. It was part of the reason why his relationship with Holden had worked as long as it had—the space. But it wasn’t something he ever sought when it came to Colby. Maybe because they were just friends with benefits and that made all the difference.
They’d been together most of the morning, but now Colby was working with Dennis on something while Vince took his lunch. He found their spot under his favorite tree and pulled out his sandwich.
He couldn’t imagine having a place like this. Not that he would ever want this much land, but some might be nice. He understood why this farm meant so much to the Covingtons, while also understanding why Colby thought he might need something else that was just his.
His phone buzzed. He smiled, figuring it was Colby giving him shit about taking lunch without him or to tell him he was on his way, but that wasn’t the name on the screen.
Greg.
Why the fuck was that asshole calling him?
His initial thought was to ignore it, that Greg could fuck right off, but then Vince knew his ex. He would take that as some kind of win. That he’d hurt Vince, or that Vince couldn’t handle talking to him. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and now with the visors removed—again—he saw Greg for who he was.
“Why are you calling me?” Vince said instead of hello. “Aren’t you the one who was done with me? The one who had your new little boyfriend pack my bags? He not giving you enough attention, so you’re going to try and come back to me?”
“I suppose I deserve that,” Gregory said. It threw Vince for a moment.