Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I can't help but smile back. “You’ll like the Puppy Politics Pilsner.”
Her eyes light up, a little spark of excitement in them. “Cute name.”
“Thanks,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling a bit bashful. “I actually came up with the recipe and the name.”
She raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Then I’m sure I’ll love it.”
For some reason, her simple words send a wave of pride through me. It’s ridiculous. I’ve been praised before, hell, I run this place, but something about her approval makes it different. Makes it mean something. Maybe it’s because she’s my wife now, even if this isn’t a real marriage. It’s still her. And that thought, for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on, fills me with a sense of accomplishment.
I watch as Violet lifts her glass to her lips, taking that first sip, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gives a small nod of approval. It shouldn’t matter this much, but somehow, it does.
Now I just need to tell my brothers. They need to hear it from me first before the town catches wind. I can already imagine their faces, the questions, the teasing. My gut tightens at the thought, but I know I can't avoid it. This is my life now—a wife, even if it’s all for show—and it's time I face the music.
I head into the kitchen, the familiar clang of pots and the hum of simmering food filling the air. It’s a slow afternoon, not much action happening, which is rare for a place like ours. I spot Griffin behind the line, tossing something in a pan, and give him a nod.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Where is everyone?”
He shrugs, glancing up from his station. “Saw Shep earlier. Maybe they’re all down in Hercules testing out the new beer Brock made.”
Ah, Hercules. Our pride and joy. It’s not just any walk-in cooler—it’s one of the biggest in the state, something we’ve bragged about more times than I can count. If you're serious about brewing, you need serious storage, and Hercules fits the bill. I rap my knuckles along the cool stainless steel counter, feeling the cold vibrate through my hand. “Can you step away for a minute?” I motion with my chin toward the kitchen door, wanting Griffin to follow me.
Griffin wipes his hands on a bar towel, then nods. “Hey, Kurt, you good to cover the line for a bit?” he calls out, already moving toward me.
“Sure thing, boss,” Kurt says without looking up, busy slicing into a loaf of bread.
With Griffin on my heels, we weave our way out of the kitchen and head downstairs to the brewery level. The smell of hops and fermenting yeast grows stronger as we descend. It’s my favorite scent in the world.
“Think they’re actually down there?” Griffin asks as we hit the main floor.
“If they’re testing Brock’s new batch, then yeah,” I say, glancing toward the entrance to Hercules. My brothers are creatures of habit. If there’s a new beer, they’re going to be the first to try it.
We walk through the industrial space, past the rows of gleaming vats and towering kegs, the hum of the machinery a low constant in the background. There’s something about this place, the heart of our family business, that always feels like home. But right now, there’s a weight on my shoulders that even the comfort of the brewery can’t ease. I have to tell them.
As we approach the door to Hercules, the cold air seeps out, a sign that the cooler is packed and ready for a new batch. I take a deep breath and motion for Griffin to hang back for a second. “Let me find them first,” I say, trying to steady myself. The last thing I need is my brothers getting blindsided with this news in front of everyone.
Griffin raises an eyebrow, but nods, leaning against one of the stainless steel fermenters. “Good luck,” he says with a smirk, clearly amused by my nerves. I roll my eyes, taking one last deep breath before pushing the heavy door open.
The cold hits me instantly, but it’s not just the temperature that makes me shiver. It’s the realization that I’m about to walk in here and drop a bomb on my brothers’ lives.
“Can I talk to you guys?” I ask, my voice just a little too tight as I look at my four younger brothers. They’re all here, even Tripp, which surprises me. He’s been so busy with his book tour that seeing him in the brewery feels like a rare event.
Shepherd, Pax, Brock, and Tripp stop what they’re doing. They all exchange glances before stepping out of Hercules, the cold air still clinging to their clothes. Griffin stays back, but I can tell he’s curious too, lingering nearby with his arms crossed. These men are more than my family—they’re my team. And I’m about to drop a bombshell that’s going to blindside them all.