Enemies on Tap (Sweet Salvation Brewery 1)

Carl unfolded his rangy form from the bench until his shadow covered Miranda from bangs to tennis shoes. Wary, but undaunted, she didn’t flinch. If there was one fringe benefit of being a Sweet in Salvation, it was learning to stick up for yourself and stand your ground before you could even walk. Being a stubborn pain in the ass was an ingrained part of the Sweet DNA.

When she didn’t budge, Carl took a step back and rocked on his heels. “All those hops are going to go to waste if I’m not here for brew day.”

“Sean’ll do fine without you—maybe better.”

“Are you as crazy as the rest of your people? That boy showed up one day without any experience working in a brewery, and your uncle hired him against my advice.” His body tensed, and he curled his hands into fists.

If he’d meant to intimidate her, he’d failed. “Considering a trained chimp with a coke habit would be better than you, I’m sure Sean will blow your record out of the water.”

Sure, Sean was relatively new to the brewery business and had never been a brewmaster, but dealing with a newbie had to be better than dealing with the current brewmaster. Hell, she’d put Uncle Julian’s obnoxious cursing parrot in charge just to get rid of Carl.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” His upper lip curled into an angry-dog snarl. “You not only steal the brewery out from underneath me, you fire me, too.”

That wasn’t how it happened at all, but she was beyond done petting this man’s ego. “Looks like it.”

“There’s a ton of breweries that’ll be lucky to have me.”

Not once they met him. “Glad to hear that. While you pack up your stuff, I’ll cut you a severance check.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” A glint of something ugly and mean shone in his eyes. “I always get what’s coming to me.”

At the end of an unbelievably long day, it took everything Logan had not to peel out of the bank’s parking lot. But once he hit the city limits, all bets were off. He needed to blast down some country roads with the windows down and the fall wind chilling him until he stopped thinking about the woman who’d gotten the better of him, because the thoughts he was having had nothing to do with revenge or winning. The woman with her sassy mouth, sharp mind, and curvy body had taken up residence in his head, and he needed to freeze her out.

Hours later, he parked his truck in the Sweet Salvation Brewery’s nearly deserted parking lot and headed over to the Hamilton River. The irony didn’t escape him. He hadn’t meant to end up here, but the place drew him like a magnet.

Leaves crunched behind him, and he turned. Miranda crossed the grassy space between them, the brewery’s outdoor security lights outlining her mouthwatering hips as she walked. Something released inside him, loosening his limbs. The truth of it was he had spent years wanting the woman before him. She was just so…unexpected.

She stopped beside him, near enough he could feel her without touching. “You’re not here to burn the place down, are you?” Her words were a challenge, the kind he relished.

“According to the rumors around town, that’s supposedly your devious scheme.” He meant it to tease, even though it was true.

A heavy silence fell and embarrassment slapped him on the cheeks. Fuck. You are such an asshole to make a dumb joke. Then she tossed back her hair and la

ughed. Loud. Happy. Relaxed. The transformation from her normally tough-as-nails exterior sucked the wind right out of him. It was like he’d seen the real her, the one he’d first seen years ago in chemistry class, and he liked it. Really liked it.

“It’s still a beautiful view.” He nodded toward the river. The last time he’d been up here at night, it had been farther upstream. He’d been with Miranda then, too. An image of her spread out before him on the thick blanket covering his truck bed flashed in his mind. God, they’d been so young and hopeful. He’d actually believed who they were wouldn’t matter. He’d learned differently, a hard lesson in what happened when he veered from what was expected of a Martin in Salvation.

“So you came up here for the view?”

Logan turned to face her. “Exactly.” Long legs, bountiful curves, and freckles, she was a wonder.

“You are so full of shit.” She laughed again, the sound warm against his skin like a summer rain. “A little Martin flirting won’t get me to give up on the brewery.”

As if their family histories weren’t enough, they still had that between them. God, he was so fucking tired of it. “I suppose that was too much to hope for.”

She nodded, sending her wavy hair shimmying around her shoulders. “Truce for tonight?”

“Why?”

Her shoulders dipped, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “Because I just fired our brewmaster, and I don’t have the energy to fight anyone else tonight.”

Now is when he should seize the chance to hit her while she was down. Sympathy and emotions didn’t have a place in business. How often had his father told him that?

“Truce.” The word slipped out before his brain had a chance to block it.

Miranda sat down backward at the picnic table so she stared out at the river. Logan followed her lead, keeping enough space between them to be decent, but not enough that he couldn’t smell her jasmine perfume or feel the spark of electricity buzzing between them. But it was wasted attraction. He was a Martin. Solid. Dependable. Duty-bound. She was a Sweet. Wild. Unpredictable. Always stirring up trouble. Salvation wasn’t the kind of place where they could get together.

“If one of us doesn’t say something soon, this could get awkward.”