Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

Obviously, this was common knowledge, since Beckett agreed with a nod. “She’s changed a lot in the last seven years.”

“She had to,” Hayes interjected. “A kid will do that to anyone.”

Sullivan felt the blood leave his face. Admittedly, he’d hoped he’d come back to River Rock and discover that Clara had found someone better than him. He’d never had the balls to ask anyone if she had married. Only now, the thought twisted him up. “A kid?”

Hayes nodded. “His name is Mason. Good kid. She’s a really great mom.”

Sullivan bit back hot jealousy, well aware he had no right to be anything but happy for her. “Is she still together with the dad?”

The country music playing through the speakers seemed to fade away as Beckett shook his head. “She’s also not married.”

A million things crossed his mind, but only one thing stood out as most important. “Who’s the dad?” Sullivan asked.

Hayes waited for a couple to pass by their table and take a seat, then he answered, “Since it’s none of my business, I’ve never asked Clara or Maisie directly, but word around town is that she had a one-night stand and didn’t know how to reach the father.”

“That’s a shame,” Sullivan muttered. She deserved far better than that. “She’s raised her son on her own, then?”

Hayes nodded, giving an affectionate smile. “Like I said, she’s a very good mother.”

Sullivan reached for his beer and took a long sip. He wondered what kind of mother she was. Sweet, stern, loving, fair? Deep down, he imagined she was probably a little of all that, just like Sullivan’s mother had been. That kid was probably Clara’s whole world. “How old is Mason?”

“Six,” Beckett said and then shook his head, adamant, at whatever crossed Sullivan’s face. “The kid isn’t yours, buddy. We all know Clara. She’s far too honest to ever lie about something so serious.”

“True,” Sullivan hedged. Though, something stirred in his chest, something edgy and wary. Because Sullivan did know Clara, and he knew for sure she’d most certainly lie to protect someone she loved.

4

Clara woke up fighting a headache from last night’s margaritas and the million thoughts that kept her tossing and turning all night. How could she keep Mason in his safe little bubble? She’d was locked away in her home office that had once been the dining room. Her antique wooden desk had a comfortable chair behind it, and an old refurbished buffet on the far wall held all her files. She’d gone to college for business, and owning a successful brewery had always been the end goal. Only, she’d never expected the process to be so tedious and repetitive. “I appreciate you sending the offer over, Ronnie,” Clara said into her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. She’d had this same phone call three other times today.

“But you’re not happy with our terms?” Ronnie asked, his voice far past patient.

“Whether I’m happy or not isn’t the problem,” Clara countered. “This morning, a couple other offers came in from two other distributors.” They’d arrived with very little warning. Apparently, Three Chicks Brewery was hotter than any of them had imagined. Maisie was the reason, Clara didn’t doubt that. Her sister had taken their little brewery to the next level by holding a festival on the premises that blew them out of the park. Now it was Clara’s turn to push the brewery even further. “I’ll need to review these offers with my sisters before we make a final decision,” she told Ronnie. “I’ll be in touch once we do.”

A long pause. “That’s fine, Clara. Talk soon.”

She ended the call, returning her phone to the receiver, and faced the contracts on her desk. The process of signing with a distributor was far more complicated than she’d originally thought. Every offer was different, from the pricing of the product, to their advertising and promotion budgets and plans, to shipping costs, to incentive programs, to how the distributor planned to sell the brand. But her biggest problem today?

Sullivan. And all the things her heart felt with his return home.

She turned in her swivel chair and looked out the window to the big oak tree outside, its branches dancing in the slight breeze. Part of her, hated him with a blinding rage f

or offering her the world and then taking it away in the blink of an eye. The other part of her, missed his love. There had never been anyone after Sullivan; no one who could compare. Remembering that wonderful side of him, her mind slowly left the room, taking her back to what felt like another life entirely.

“Don’t look at me like that, Clara,” said Sullivan, hovering over her while she lay on a blanket.

“What way, Sullivan?” She smiled.

He shook his head, grinning back. “Goddamn it, girl, you know what you’re doing. When you look at me like that, you know I’ll give you anything and everything you want, don’t you?”

She laughed and cupped his face. “Goddamn it, boy, you know I only want you, don’t you?”

“Damn straight.” He smirked, full of manly pride, then his mouth dropped to hers.

The kiss was sweet and soft and teasing and all but melted her bones. She’d kissed a few boys, but none like Sullivan Keene. None who meant it like him. Almost like he needed to touch her, hold her, to make his world right.

After he gave a low groan, he backed away and shifted onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “Better stop that, or your Pops is going to bury me six feet under.”

Clara mirrored his posture. “We both know who would win in a fight, and it wouldn’t be my Pops.”