Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He hadn’t just aged like a fine wine—he’d aged like a damn diamond.
After welcoming us in, I watched as he made his way behind the bar, a man on a mission, stopping to pick things up and wipe counters and smile at customers every step of the way.
“Good to see you, stranger,” Nathan said over the bar, and Rush brightened again.
“I’m so glad you made it,” Rush said, slipping out from behind the bar and coming over to wrap Nathan in a tight hug. “God damn, it’s good to see you again, even if it has to be in this little town. How are you? How’s miss Maddy? I can’t fucking believe she’s fifteen.”
This little town. Otherwise known as the place I’d called home forever. A moment later, Rush’s eyes glanced over at me again. And then he looked me up and down like he was sizing me up.
Crystal blue eyes, probably judging me for my clothes or my disheveled hair or something, and yet I still couldn’t help but get a thrill from feeling him watching me.
Seeing him up close was somehow even worse. The faint freckles beneath his eyes, the faded birthmark on his temple, and the dimples that formed when he smiled made him seem human as well as movie-star hot.
Because I liked all of those little details. And I didn’t want to like them.
Having another whopping, hopeless crush on him would only fucking suck for me and my dumb heart, and I knew it.
“Little Wood,” Rush said, in his velvety deep voice.
I made a displeased sound. “If you’re going to call me that, can we just go back to you paying no attention to me instead?”
I was surprised when it made him laugh. “Fair enough. Even though I always loved that nickname,” Rush said. “Construction work looks like it’s doing you a lot of good, Shawn.”
I was wearing a standard blue flannel shirt over one of our simple Fixer Brothers Construction Co. T-shirts, plain black with our yellow-gold logo printed in the middle. I didn’t think I looked all that special tonight.
He was still watching me with some mixture of disbelief and amusement on his face. Christ, he could melt me into the ground with that smile.
“I’m certainly not going to call you Big Wood,” he said. “So I guess I’ll have to get used to Shawn. Nathan told me you two were coming in tonight. All drinks are on me, of course.”
“We found water damage in our new fix-and-flip house, so we’re going to be drinking with a capital D tonight,” Nathan said.
“Well, fuck,” Rush said, reaching for one of the top-shelf whiskey bottles on the crowded liquor shelves behind the bar, “I’ll take a shot with you to commiserate.”
It was so strange to see how different the energy was in here with Rush behind the bar. I had always loved being in Jade Brewery. It was like a big, beautiful log cabin but in bar form—warm and cozy with tons of wood and glowing lights.
But it had also always been a little sleepy. Predictable. Not quite boring, but almost.
With Rush here, all of that snooziness went right out the window.
The bar itself even looked better already. The dark wood of the bar top had clearly been recently cleaned and polished. The thick, wooden beams that lined the inside of the pitched roof even looked cleaner, somehow. In the little lounge corner by the ATM, it was clear that the plush chairs and sofas had gotten a nice steam, and the big, shiny brewing tanks that filled the back half of the large space were practically sparkling.
Rush was putting in work, already, in his first week after inheriting the place. The man certainly didn’t waste time.
After he poured us all some shots of whiskey, we clinked our shot glasses together. I watched Rush take the shot, savoring it.
“How much is a bottle of that stuff?” Nathan asked. “That was delicious.”
I still didn’t know how anybody could call a shot of whiskey delicious—I drank all the time, but not because I loved the taste. But it definitely tasted different from the Jack Daniels I was used to.
“Five hundred, I think?” Rush said, picking up the bottle and studying it. “Maybe six. I can’t remember.”
I cleared my throat. “That’s a five-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey?”
“Only the best for you two,” Rush said. “You like it?”
“Not sure if I like it enough to pay half a month’s mortgage for it, but it was good,” I said.
“It’s called Chicken Cock,” Rush said.
“Bullshit.”
“No joke,” he said, grabbing the bottle and putting it in front of me. “Chicken Cock is some of my favorite whiskey.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said.
“That is what we needed,” Nathan said. He slapped a palm down on the bar, standing up. “Going to go take a whiz, then we’ve got to catch up. That means all three of us, Shawn, so don’t go off and play pool on your own like last time we were here.”