Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Ah, Frog,” Pop chuckled. “Your heart’s always been in the right place.”
I wasn’t sure how he could make a compliment sound like a criticism. “You think I’m wrong?”
“You ever tell anyone the story of why I call you Frog?” he asked, apropos of nothing.
“Huh? God, no. Definitely not.” My face heated.
“You know folks think it’s because you put a frog in a sleeping bag on a campout?”
“Yes.” I knew because I’d invented that story myself.
Pop chuckled again. “Nothing to be ashamed of in caring for other living creatures.”
I pursed my lips. “I was an eight-year-old idiot with no understanding of amphibian biology.”
“You were a sweet boy who wanted to make sure the frogs out at the lake stayed happy and warm for the winter, even if you had to dig each one up all by yourself and find it a home. You just didn’t realize they could take care of that for themselves.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I rolled my eyes and answered my own question. “More life advice disguised as casual conversation.”
“Just an old man’s reflections,” Pop said, his eyes twinkling like a person half his age. “But if you’re looking for advice, I’ll tell you this: Firecrackers can light up your whole world, but if you underestimate ’em, they’re dangerous as all heck. You gotta treat ’em with care.”
This, at least, was self-explanatory.
“I know that,” I promised solemnly. “I maybe haven’t always been careful, but I will be.”
Pop snorted. “You’ll learn to be anyway. Ah, you and that grandson of mine.” He sighed with fond exasperation and shook his head. “Some people gotta do everything the hard way.”
I scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means maybe you can head out to Quick Lake later on. Huck and Willow are leaving town in a couple weeks, so we’re having another cookout at the Retreat. Gotta make the most of the time they’re here.”
“Oh. I shouldn’t intrude. Flynn would be annoyed if I went while he was at the Tavern working—”
“Flynn’ll be there,” he said with amusement clear on his face.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll bring dessert.”
Chapter Ten
Flynn
Waking up with no sexy Frog next to me was totally fine. It wasn’t like I was expecting him to stay over, obviously. It had only been a one-time thing. If he’d still been there when I’d woken up, I would have kicked his ass out anyway.
So when I found myself snapping at Dan for the tenth time since opening the Tavern, I decided it was because he was incompetent.
“The Daydream Brew bottles get the orange caps, not the blue,” I hissed. “Jesus, Dan. Fucking pay attention to what you’re doing.”
I didn’t look back up from the temperature gauges again until I realized he hadn’t acknowledged my correction. When I glanced up, I saw anger simmering on his face. His jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, politely leaving off additional judgy commentary.
“The problem is my boss. He’s a total asshat. What the hell has gotten into you today? I know the Daydream gets orange caps. Know how I know? I designed them.” He turned the ID card on the bottling tank toward me. Moose Call. The brew that used the blue caps. Fuck.
“Carry on,” I muttered, going back to noting the temperature of the batch of must I was working on.
“No. You need to tell me what’s up because if you’re stressing about Brew Fest, we’re in good shape. We’re even ahead of schedule.”
“We need to have those bottled and stored and still do setup before the dinner rush,” I said, nodding to the racks of bottles he had lined up.
“No shit. You’re acting like we haven’t done afternoon bottling three times a week since the day you hired me. Besides, Kendall’s coming in to help with the dinner shift. What’s going on?”
I bit my tongue to keep from telling him there was absolutely nothing going on. Nothing involving anyone who gave a shit about anything, least of all me.
God. I fucking hated JT Wellbridge. Every damn time I let the man in…
“I’m fine. It’s fine. Let’s just get this done.”
He stared at me for a few more beats before sighing and returning to his task. I went back to work and tried to calm down. It didn’t work. Within minutes, I’d ruined the batch of must and had to start over. I cursed and kicked the wall to keep from kicking or punching my beloved equipment.
“Ow, fuck. My foot. Shit.” I hobbled over to a nearby bench and dropped my face into my hands. Dan joined me and placed a tentative hand on my back.
“Want to talk about it? I know a lot is riding on this Ren Faire contract, but I think our chances are really good. You’ve done an incredible job preparing, and whatever supply we don’t end up using can be sold off at the fall festival here in town. Is that what you’re worried about? Leftover inventory? Because I really think we’ll get the contract.”