This isn't just a business decision. This is so, so much more.
"Is this because we're sleeping together?" I ask, needing to be sure. "Because if this is some misguided attempt to?—"
"It's because I love you."
The words hit me like a cement truck to the chest. Three words I never expected to hear, especially not from Kasen James. My heart's going so crazy I'm pretty sure he can see it trying to escape through my shirt.
Love? Seriously?
Love wasn't supposed to be part of this messy equation. Sex, yes. Convenience, absolutely. A temporary solution to my housing crisis and our accidental pregnancy. But love? That's the kind of complication I've spent my entire adult life avoiding.
"You don't—" I stop, swallow, try again. "You can't?—"
"I can, and I do." His voice is steady. Certain. "I'm in love with you, Wren. Have been for a while now."
"We've only been doing this for a little while," I protest weakly.
"And fighting like cats and dogs for years before that." His lips quirk up in that half-smile that does stupid things to my insides. "I think I've been falling for you since the first time you told me my IPA tasted like 'pretentious pine-scented bathroom cleaner'."
Despite everything, I laugh. We both ignore how watery it is. "It did."
"It absolutely did not." His hands frame my face. "But you were the only one brave enough to say it to my face."
I don't know what to say. My brain is short-circuiting, unable to process that Kasen James—the man I spent years convincing myself I hated—just said he loves me.
And that some part of me desperately wants to say it back.
"You don't have to say anything," he says, reading my expression so easily. "I just wanted you to know where I stand. This business decision comes from a place of trust and... yeah. The other thing."
"Love," I supply, the word feeling strange and wonderful on my tongue.
"That's the one." His thumbs brush my cheekbones as he wipes away a tear or two. "Think about the distribution offer. We can talk details later. But whatever you decide, I'm all in on us. On our family."
Family.Another word that should terrify me but somehow doesn't. Not when he says it.
"I need to think," I manage, even as my body instinctively leans toward his.
"I know." He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Take your time, Pink. I'm not going anywhere."
The thing is, I believe him.
Cascade's conference room has never felt so crowded. Representatives from twelve local breweries fill the chairs around the massive table, their expressions ranging from worried to outright hostile. The energy in the room crackles with tension, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I take my place at the head of the table.
Beside me, Kasen stands with his arms crossed, a solid presence that somehow manages to keep me calm despite the chaos swirling around us. The murmurs die down as I clear my throat.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," I begin, my voice steadier than I feel. "I know rumors have been flying, so let's cut to the chase. Pacific Northwest Brewing Corp, specifically Nolan Miller, is systematically targeting independent breweries in Portland with the aim of forcing sales on his terms."
I stop to meet every single set of eyes watching me. "We've lost three distribution contracts in the past week," I continue, "and last night, someone attempted to break into Timber Brewing. We have reason to believe Miller is behind it."
This sets off a fresh wave of murmurs. Kasen steps forward.
"The security footage shows Marcus Wells, former head brewer at Eastside, now employed by Pacific Northwest." His voice is calm, but carries an undercurrent of controlled anger. Now’sreallynot the time, but that tone’s doing things for me,and goosebumps break out across my skin. "This is straight up sabotage."
Tom Hayes from The Hop Yard sits forward. "We've had equipment failures three times this month. Things that shouldn't break suddenly malfunctioning. I thought it was just bad luck."
"It's not," Kasen says grimly. "It's purposeful."
More voices join in, sharing similar stories of mysterious equipment failures, delivery problems, suppliers suddenly backing out of contracts. A picture starts to emerge of a coordinated attack on Portland's craft brewing scene and I get angrier with each new revelation.
