Bad Boys Do (Donovan Brothers Brewery 2)

“Yeah?” He smiled, and when she nodded, it spread to a happy grin. “You like it?”

“I do. And not only is it a great concept, but you wouldn’t need a giant commercial kitchen to pull it off.”

“Exactly!” He started sorting frantically through the papers, so Olivia tucked her hands out of the way to avoid being swept up. “Here.” He pulled out a page that he seemed to have ripped from a restaurant supply catalog. There were four different pizza ovens listed.

“Do you have a commercial cooler?”

“We have a big refrigerator, but I think we’d need something larger. And probably a small freezer as well, though I’d want the ingredients served fresh.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair and smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do, but this is really encouraging. From what you’d said before, I thought maybe you had a general idea that you’d like to serve food, but you were still in the daydream phase. This is a real vision. This is going to be easy.”

“It is?”

“Well, easy for me, but still lots of work for you.”

He laughed, but she thought she saw a moment of stark relief cross his face. This seemed unsteady ground for him, and it was strange to see such a confident man struck by such uncertainty. She didn’t quite understand it. He was a co-owner of the brewery. He ran the front room with amazing skill. But something about this idea threw him into a tailspin.

“So where do you want to start?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Where do you think we should start?”

“You’ve already got a concept, not to mention a location. So, next up…competitive comparisons, equipment costs, design ideas and renovation costs, menu development, a public affairs campaign, the timeline, personnel plans, a budget…” She stopped when she realized how pale he was. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I think I have some of that stuff in there. Or at least parts of it?”

She hadn’t thought Jamie Donovan could get more adorable, but here he was being vulnerable, and Olivia couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feelings glowing through her. “All right,” she said softly. “Why don’t we go through some of this and see where we are?”

“Okay,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief, even as he seemed to brace himself for trauma.

“Hey.” She curved her fingers under his and squeezed. “It’s just a hot tub,” she said, repeating his own words. “Nothing to be scared of.”

His eyes crinkled. “Just a hot tub, huh? I’d be more comforted if I hadn’t been lying my ass off when I said that.”

If this were a real relationship, Olivia would circle the desk and give him a hug. She’d snuggle into his lap and tell him not to be worried, he’d be just as good at running a restaurant as he was at everything else. But they were only playing mentors. Granted, with a more delicious twist than usual. So Olivia only squeezed his hand one more time and let him go.

So far, the man had more than held up his end of the bargain. Now it was time for her to help make his dreams come true.

CHAPTER TEN

JAMIE SLIPPED THE MEASURING TAPE from his pocket with one last look around the kitchen area of the brewery. There wasn’t much equipment here: prep tables, a dishwasher, a fridge and a small oven and range used for the occasional catered events they hosted. There was definitely space for a pizza oven, but just how much space was the question.

He measured the empty wall of the kitchen for a start, then measured out the prep space. He thought there was more than enough usable prep area, but he’d have to ask Olivia about that. They’d need a much bigger fridge, but that stood on a wall by itself, so there was plenty of room to expand. The electrical needs he didn’t know much about. He’d need to bring somebody in. But when? Electricians didn’t work on Sundays, and his brother and sister were around the rest of the week. Maybe he could bring somebody at 8:00 a.m. before anyone else showed up.

“Hey!”

Jamie spun, fumbling the measuring tape before he registered that the voice wasn’t Eric’s.

“Where the hell is that spring barley I ordered last month?”

Jamie felt slightly dizzy with relief that it was only Wallace, the brewmaster. And that was a hell of a lot of relief, considering that Wallace’s huge, bearded face was crumpled into a scowl of fury.

“Well?” he boomed.

“Calm down. I told you when you ordered it that it wouldn’t be here for at least three months. It hadn’t even been harvested yet.”