Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“That’s actually a really great idea,” Shepherd agrees, nodding his head, his usual calm demeanor slipping into excitement.
Griffin downs the last of his small cup and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, this might be my new favorite. It would be great for making beer batter.”
Callum points to Griffin, nodding in agreement. “Now that’s a hell of an idea.”
“You have any more?” I ask, already eyeing the pitcher, eager for another taste of what might just be Brock’s masterpiece.
Brock comes over and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Come on now, baby brother. You think I’d let everyone taste this masterpiece without having more? Maybe you should hang back tonight and give me a hand for once. See what it’s like to be brewing.”
“Yeah, our rush is over and I’ve got plenty of servers on,” Griffin says.
Anya claps looking around. “It’s been a minute since we introduced a new beer. It’s like having a baby.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a really good analogy,” Shep says with a grin.
“You know what I mean. It’s exciting and new,” Anya corrects.
“When we came up with the idea for Atta Boy, this is exactly what I imagined. We’ve come a long way since we first opened, but one thing will forever remain unchanged—family. That’s what this brewery is all about. It’s our family doing what we love and doing it together,” Callum states, looking around.
“Family is everything. I can’t wait until August is old enough to be working here alongside me,” Shepherd says, grinning as he imagines his son being a part of this.
Everyone starts talking and I stand there watching it all. The passion and love they have for this brewery is unmatched. It makes me feel guilty for not feeling the same. I should feel the same. This is supposed to be my legacy.
Why do I not feel it?
“You see, Tripp, this is what Atta Boy is about. Our family working together and being damn proud of it,” Callum says, standing next to me.
“I know,” I reply.
“Good, so take Brock up on his offer. It’s time for you to see where you fit in here,” he says, slapping my back.
Where do I fit in? I love my family. I adore being in their company, but do I fit in?
Maybe it’s time I try.
Chapter 15
Millie
“I don’t know,” I say to Violet.
“You should take the leap. He’s cute,” she says, her red hair blowing in the breeze.
Since Violet’s been coming to book club, she and I have grown close. We’re currently standing in a giant field on her farm, ready to ride horses.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been up on a horse, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.
I told Violet that Oliver Moore asked me out, and she thinks I should take him up on his offer.
Normally I’d never think twice about going on a date with Oliver. Even before I met Tripp. Oliver just isn’t my type.
But now that I have started reading Tripp’s chapters, I can’t even think about dating Oliver. I don’t want to, however, lying in bed after Tripp gave me one of my most intense orgasms to date, he told me I should.
Why would he tell me that?
Obviously he has zero feelings for me, and he’s just giving me orgasms out of some sort of obligation. Which makes me feel worse about the whole situation. I don’t want his pity orgasms.
I can’t tell any of this to Violet. Or can I?
Why not?
“I have this friend,” I start, and Violet pauses as she saddles up one of her horses.
“Continue,” she eggs on.
“He’s the guy that came to the book club, remember?”
“Didn’t he leave?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I think he left because he was jealous about Oliver asking me out.”
Violet has a big smile on her face. “And you like this other guy?”
“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” I say, feeling the weight of the words as I launch into the whole story of Tripp and me. As I speak, memories surface—our first meeting, the stolen glances, the laughter that came so easily between us. “You can see why I’m not sure what to do,” I add, my voice trailing off as I finish the story. The uncertainty hangs in the air, thick and heavy.
Violet leans back, her eyes narrowing slightly as she mulls over my words. There’s a thoughtful silence as she studies me, her gaze penetrating as if she’s trying to see past my words to the heart of the matter. “And he’s writing this romance novel?” she finally asks, her tone carefully neutral, though her eyes betray a flicker of intrigue.
I nod, the gesture small and hesitant, the knot in my stomach tightening. Worry gnaws at me, the fear that I’ve said too much, that I’ve somehow betrayed Tripp’s trust by confiding in Violet. “Don’t tell anyone,” I murmur, the plea slipping out before I can stop it. My voice is barely above a whisper, but the desperation in it is unmistakable.