He isn’t far off from the truth, but it’s not an announcement for him to make in front of our staff. “Can I see you privately?’
Porter tosses the towel in his hand on the table. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I walk until I’m certain we’re out of earshot. “What the hell was that all about?”
“You’ve been with Lawrence all day.”
“I fulfilled all my job duties. Every aspect. I landed four new accounts today. I'm set to get more tomorrow. I made rounds on every guest brewery. I judged the home brew competition and did a damn good job of picking the best according to you. Name one way I failed Lovibond.”
He doesn’t have an answer for that. “What has crawled up your ass?”
“Stout won't like what you're doing with his sister.” And it doesn’t look like Porter does either.
“I’m not doing anything with Lawrence except watching over her and making her feel welcome. That's it.”
“Be sure to keep it that way because none of us can afford a fallout over her. Not me. Not you. Not Stout. Or any of those people who work their asses off for us at the brewery.”
“Stout and I have already had the Lawrence conversation.” I don’t owe Porter an explanation but there it is anyway. Maybe it’ll get him off my back.
“Good. You know where he stands, so get your ass over here and help us clean up so we can go home, sleep fast, and do this again tomorrow.”
* * *
It was two in the morning when I finally rolled into bed. Sleep didn’t find me easily. But visions of Wren in that camisole with no bra did.
I wanted to touch her tits so badly. Rub my thumbs over her hard nipples pushing against the fabric of her top. I went for her sweet round ass with the intention of moving on to those perky tits next.
Didn’t happen.
I grew a hard-on and then a fucking conscience. Bad combination.
I bet I barely got three hours of sleep last night, but I’m still up and ready for her call at any time.
I’m on my second cup of coffee when she texts.
I’m ready.
* * *
Be there in ten.
* * *
Ok.
Wren opens the door and I’m blown away by how beautiful she is. Not because she’s dressed in something elaborate and wearing a ton of makeup. Total opposite. She’s barefaced with a single braid down the middle of her back. Natural beauty.
I hold up the bag of coffee and box of tea I picked up on the way over. “Both organic. Think you have time for a cup before you have to go?” Or two cups? Maybe three? I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
“I think I can stick around long enough to have one.” I follow her into the kitchen and she holds up both. “Which would you prefer?”
I don’t care. Whichever will last longer. “Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”
She opens the box of chai tea and takes out two bags. “What time did you make it in last night?”
“Two.”
“Good grief. What time did you get up?”
“Six.” I sit at the dining table and watch Wren flutter around the kitchen. She’s like a graceful butterfly.
“Ouch. Four hours of sleep?”
I wish. “More like two. Maybe three.”
“Why so little?”
“I was wound pretty tight last night.” As was my hand as I fantasized about what was beneath that little cami you were wearing.
“You must have been after making sure the festival went off without a hitch.” No. That wasn’t the reason at all. You were.
“Day one of operation beer fest was a success. Hopefully today goes as well.”
“I’m sure it will. I know Ollie must be bummed he’s missing it.”
“He has to be.” But, no worries. I’m letting his ass take over the next festival.
“Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?” Wren goes to the refrigerator but promptly shuts it. “Forgot. No milk. Sugar only then?”
“I’ll take mine however you do.”
She puts a spoonful of white granules in one cup and stirs. “You don’t drink tea, do you?”
“Not this kind.”
Wren looks at me and huffs. I think she does that often. “I would have been happy to make you coffee.”
Another dose of caffeine could do me in. “It’s only seven thirty and I’ve had two cups. I didn’t need a third.”
“Okay, but if you don’t like it, I’m making you a pot of coffee.”
“Deal.”
We migrate to the living room with her leading the way. She takes a seat on one end of the couch so I choose the opposite. I don’t want to be in the chair across from her. It’s too far away.
She dips her teabag up and down by the string so I mimic her. “I feel so dainty.”
“Well, I must admit it’s a little entertaining to watch a manly, bearded man dip that teabag like that.” Hmm . . . she’s thought about me enough to come to the conclusion I’m manly. Interesting.
She continues dunking so I do too. “You don’t consider chai tea a man drink?”
She watches me for a moment. “I’ve never given it much thought, but after seeing you do that I’ve come to the conclusion it isn’t.”
Wren uses her spoon to press the bag so I follow her cue. And tilt the damn cup over so far a huge portion of my tea spills in my lap. I set my cup of hot-ass liquid on the coffee table and spring up from the couch to tug the fabric away from my skin. “Oh, motherfucker, that is hot.”
Wren leaps up from the couch and sprints into the kitchen, quickly returning with a towel in hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. I made the damn mess.” I take the towel from her and wipe the crotch of my jeans. “I think we can agree I don’t have enough grace to be a tea drinker.”
“I concur.”
The hot tea on my crotch turns cold quickly. “Do you mind if I grab a pair of Stout’s pants so I can put my jeans in the dryer for a few minutes? I don’t think it’ll take long for them to dry.”
“Sure. I’ll grab some for you.”
Wren returns a moment later holding elastic-waisted pants. “These okay?”
“That works. Thanks.”
I go into the bathroom to strip out of my jeans and find my boxer briefs took a nice hit as well. Shit. Those have to go into the dryer too.
I come out of the bathroom free-balling beneath thin white linen pants. Real thin.
Wren holds out her hand. “I’ll put those in the dryer for you.”
“I can do it.”
She holds out her hands. “I don’t mind.”
I guess I don’t have a choice. She’s going to handle my skivvies. “Thanks.”
She comes back to the living room wearing a grin. “You doused yourself pretty good.”
“Allow me to tell you a little something about me. I don’t do anything halfway. I go all the way.”
Wren giggles as she plants herself on the opposite end of the couch from me a second time. “I believe I’ve heard that line used before.”
“Yeah. I may have stolen it from a pretty girl I drank beer with once.”
Wren takes a sip of her tea. Much more graceful than me. “Sounds like a fun girl.”
“I enjoy her company very much. And she’s banging.”
She giggles some more and nearly spills her tea. “Banging, huh?”
“Oh yeah. And she’s a great kisser.”
“How many times have you kissed this girl?” Wren’s brow is wrinkled. I think she’s second-guessing if I’m talking about her.
“Only once. But it was amazing.” Truly.
“Why only once?”
“Because I was an idiot. I said things I didn’t mean, and now I’m afraid I may have messed up with her.”