When she opened her eyes, she found his gaze locked onto her lips, his breath coming shallow. Clearing his throat, he pointed to the bar. “Most of our sales actually come from sixpacks and kegs. Although our growlers are gaining popularity.”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured, unsure if she’d responded out loud or not.
“Offices are up the stairs,” he said over the hum of the crowd, following close behind as they wove between tables.
In front of her, a guy tipped back in his chair and crashed to the floor.
Grady wrapped his hand around her middle and pulled her out of the collision zone—and tight against him. The shrouded groan in his voice as she pressed snugly against him sent a seismic wave over her skin. A desperate whimper vibrating in her throat, she froze, terrified to move and lose the connection.
From the floor, the uncoordinated guy cackled as his feet waved in the air before nodding an apology and rolling to a stand, grabbing his coat off the ground while his friends teased him.
Grady’s hand splayed over her abdomen. With her ass pressed up against his groin, she melted into a long, satisfied snuggle and leaned into him. But, like a wave of ice water crashing over her, she remembered she hadn’t had that talk with Ryder yet. Damn morals. “Thanks,” she said, then made for the stairs as soon as the coast was clear.
Grady reached around and unlatched the employees-only chain, then followed her up the stairs. Immediately, she was drawn to the massive tanks and complex system and wandered to the balcony to scope out the setup. Grady disappeared into an office, and she turned to check out the rest of the upstairs.
While he rummaged in what must be Zane’s desk, Claire wandered into the other office. There was a huge painting behind his desk, oversized, giving her the sensation of coasting like a hawk on an updraft over a white-topped mountain. A collage of assorted photos hung artfully on the opposite wall. Her favorite, the largest and anchor of the collection, was of Grady laughing, completely carefree, with a group of friends in front of the brewhouse. Opening day.
Grady appeared, stuffing a wallet into his coat pocket.
Still grinning at the photograph, Claire waved him over. Pointing, she asked, “Where is this cheerful guy?”
He shifted his weight on his feet and tugged at his surfer-blond hair. “Stepped away from the office for the moment.”
She nudged him in the tummy. “Actually, I see a glimpse of him tonight. You’re happy here.”
“It’s a good business; Zane has great vision. But this other guy? You caught him at a strange time. He’s got a lot going on right now. And living with Patricia doesn’t help.”
“Nor does having Ryder visit. As he hardly talks about you, and I don’t think you two have said more than five words to each other since we got in, I’m guessing there’s a story there.”
“One or two.” His voice was clipped, clearly no keener to talk about it than Ryder was.
“I was surprised he took you up on the dinner invitation tonight.”
“I didn’t know you guys had dinner plans already, and I didn’t want you to have to choke down more Brussels sprouts and red wine.”
Blushing, she grinned. “I appreciate that.”
“Besides, I figured I’d better try.”
In the corner of the collage, she landed on a photo of him, maybe in high school, with Ryder and a girl a few years younger. “Is this Haley?”
“You haven’t met her yet?”
“Our place is pretty sparse, as neither of us has had much time to decorate. Thus, Ryder doesn’t keep family pictures around, but I haven’t put any up either. As this is the first time I have met his mother, stepfather, and brother, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t recognize his half-sister.” All three grinned adorably in the photo, thick as thieves with a shared conspiratorial mischief, as if they were about to unveil a sneaky prank. “What happened between you two?”
Grady cringed, his jaw ticking rapidly.
“Sorry,” she said, quickly retracting her question. “Not my business.”
He gripped his hand in his hair and said, “No, if it’s anyone’s business, it’s yours. He, uh, there was this woman I was seeing... Actually, on second thought, maybe you should ask him.”
“Okay.” She shoved her hands in her pockets before she palmed that jaw to calm the clench. How hard he worked to keep a lid on the temper gutted her, and she sensed how rarely he was able to let loose. Not in the stiff Mallory household anyway. She wandered out of the office and leaned against the iron rail that overlooked the brewing tanks. Hair brushing over her shoulder as she looked back, she found him leaned against the doorway, watching, the temper fade to sad. “How did a lawyer end up co-owner of a craft brewery?”
The corner of his lips quirked up as he strolled to her side and leaned against the rail. Those ocean eyes lit up, his smile coming easy. “Too easy. Zane got out of the Navy last year. A bit of a mess, with no idea what he wanted to do. Anyway, he experimented with brewing as a hobby. Amazing stuff, professional quality. He’d invested a lot of time and energy into it, but hadn’t had any intention of doing anything with the skill. One night at Ahab’s, I hinted that he had an incredible talent and that this area needed a decent microbrew. A week later, he called me up and asked if I could offer some legal advice. As we were going through the details, I, uh, sort of offered to invest a huge chunk of my savings and go in as a full partner.”
“I’m guessing he was on board?”
“To say the least. He’s the artist, no interest in the business end of things. I don’t mind that stuff, especially when it interests me, so here we are.” Full grin, he turned toward her, his eyes drifting down, catching her gnawing on her lower lip as she tried to not grin back like a sap-happy groupie.
