The only response I get is a beeping signal warning me to the thirty seconds I have to disarm the alarm before the siren is tripped. “Shit, Ollie. I hope you haven’t changed the code since I was here.”
I open the cover of the keypad. One. One. One. One. November eleventh. My birthday.
Whew. Success. That was going to be a hard one to explain when the po-po showed up.
I flip on the light and can’t believe my eyes. Shit, I know Ollie wasn’t aware that I was coming, but this place is trashed. It looks like it did back in his college days when he and Porter were throwing parties every night.
He’s made a lot of money the last few years. I don’t know why he hasn’t moved out of this shithole. He should be living in a nice neighborhood in a house fit for a successful businessman.
My God, why is it so hot and stuffy in here? It’s suffocating. Is the air conditioning on the fritz?
The temperature on the controller says seventy-six degrees. Seventy-six fucking degrees. Who sets their thermostat that high during July in Alabama?
I guess Ollie’s at the venue setting up for the kickoff of the festival tomorrow. His absence blows my plan for breaking the news to him tonight about Christie. I had hoped to get that out of the way as soon as possible.
I have no idea what time to expect Ollie, so I change into my comfies and plant myself on the sofa. I curl up with my current read. Four chapters later, Ollie still hasn’t shown. This impromptu visit isn’t going the way I planned at all.
I can’t chance being mistaken for an intruder, so I scribble a note to place on the front door.
Hey, loser. Surprise! I’m sleeping in your guest room so don’t go full-on kung fu fighting on me when you notice someone in your apartment.
Love, Lawry
I wake to an empty house and no response to my text, which of course, worries me. Surely, Ollie didn’t stay out all night. He needs sleep. The festival starts midday, and I’m sure that it won’t end until well into the night. Guess our surprise reunion will have to happen at the festivities. Not what I planned.
My stomach growls, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. I go to Ollie’s kitchen expecting problems. I cross my fingers but my hopes are low for all-natural peanut butter and an organic apple.
I begin in the pantry and yikes. Pickings are slim. And no peanut butter at all.
I move my search to the fridge. I hope that all my preaching about pesticides and chemicals used on food has sunk into Ollie’s thick skull but no such luck. What the hell is going on here?
A few bottles and jars of condiments in the door. Some canned biscuits. A few slices of cheese in plastic wrappers. Processed food. Yuck. Is this how my brother survives? I see my lectures have done zero good, so we’re going to have a serious in-service to reinforce the importance of nourishment.
You’d think someone who spent the majority of his childhood with too little to eat would keep his kitchen full of healthy food. I know I do.
“Aww, man. Potted meat on crackers again, Lawry?”
“I’m tired of it too but it’s all we have, Ollie. I promise I’ll try to bring home an apple or orange from school tomorrow.”
“Can I have a banana? I haven’t had one in so long. And chocolate milk? Please?”
“I promise I’ll try.”
Fruit was a pretty easy steal. The cafeteria workers didn’t notice when an extra piece went missing. The chocolate milk, however, was a challenge. I’m pretty sure they knew I was stealing it, but who’s going to tell an undernourished little girl in filthy clothes she can’t have a carton of milk?
Not my best childhood memory.
I close the refrigerator door. “God, this kitchen is depressing me. I need to get out of here.”
I’m showered and decked out in my maxi skirt and Iron City tee an hour later. My top started out as a boxy men’s shirt so I had no choice but to put my special design on it with scissors. It’s a work of art now.
“Shit, I’m starving.” Cafe. Vegan. Birmingham. “Let’s see what kind of food Google can find for me.”
Not a long list but I see a definite contender. “You, Cafe 205, are within walking distance. I choose you.” I could definitely use a little exercise after my long drive yesterday.
A serving of pumpkin steel-cut oats with two herbal teas later and I’m festival ready. I can’t wait to see Ollie’s reaction when he sees me.
Iron City’s booth is front and center. Fitting since they are putting on this event. Their tables and displays are decked out in awesomeness. Their hipster graphics are killer. Everything about their branding pulls in a beer drinker. I can’t help but admire the proof of my brother’s success.
From a chemical engineer to a beer brewer.
I was so angry with him for pursuing this. I thought it was nonsense. The biggest mistake of his life. And I was wrong. He’d followed his heart and dreams and it paid off. Shouldn’t we all be so lucky?
I search the faces behind Iron City’s table, and I don’t see Ollie anywhere. Odd. You’d think they’d want all three head honchos visible, especially on day one.
I locate Porter who is engaged in a deep conversation. Perfect. I don’t want him to see me and let the cat out of the bag.
I approach one of the women behind the table.
“How may I help you?”
“I’m looking for Oliver Thorn.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who he is.”
She doesn’t know her employer? The owner of the brewery she’s representing?
“He’s one of the Iron City owners.”
“I’m a temp hired to help serve beer at the festival, and I haven’t met Mr. Thorn yet.”
She turns and points at Porter. “You’ll probably want to talk to that guy in the red T-shirt. He’s an owner.” She turns and gestures in the opposite direction. “The man wearing the black T-shirt, the one with his back to us, is also an owner. One of them should be able to help you.”
“Thanks.”
Black T-shirt guy must be Lucas Broussard.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Exceptional ass. The view from here ain’t bad, but I won’t find Oliver standing here gaping at his business partner’s ass all day.
I make my way over to my brother’s business partner and stand aside as he finishes his conversation with the men around him. I’m careful to position myself so my back is turned to Porter. If he sees me, my surprise is blown.
Lucas Broussard is wearing sunglasses. I can’t clearly see his eyes, but I catch him looking in my direction as he talks with the men circling him. I definitely have his attention.
He shakes hands with each man. “Iron City looks forward to moving into your draught emporium.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m interrupting business talk. Oliver will kill me.
He’s quick to turn his attention to me once the men are gone. “Hello. How may I help you?”
I grasp the stone of the pendent around my neck and stroke it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”
“It’s no problem, ma’am.”
Oh my God. I love his accent. What is that? Cajun?
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Ollie wouldn’t be happy if I screwed up something with a client.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” He offers his hand. “Lucas Broussard.”
I take it in mine. “Lawrence Thorn.”
Although he’s wearing sunglasses, I can see his eyes widen and his brows lift, causing several lines to form on his forehead. “Oliver’s sister?”
I nod. “Yeah. I decided to pop in to surprise him.”
“Well… Oliver,” Lucas begins but stops.
Well Oliver what? “Is something wrong?”
“I’m sure he’d be very surprised to see you if he were here.”
What? “He’s not at the festival?”
“Oliver’s not in town.”
He’s gone? That doesn’t make sense. “But he’s been preparing for t
he festival all week. He partly owns this business.” Why would he miss the event after all the work he’s done to prepare for it?
“Do you have time to sit with me a minute so we can talk?”
I don’t know what this means, but my gut is screaming that I’m not going to like it.
“Sure.” I have all the time in the world if my brother isn’t here.
“Grab a table over there and I’ll get us a couple of cold beers.”
“Okay.” I’m grateful to find a table in the shade. We haven’t even hit afternoon yet, and it’s already nearing the mid-eighties.
When Lucas doesn’t return, I search the crowd for him. He’s talking to Porter and it looks like an intense conversation. They take turns looking in my direction, and I get the distinct feeling that their conversation is about me.
This is bullshit. I don’t need my brother’s business partner to explain my brother’s whereabouts. I’ll just call him myself and find out what’s going on.
My call goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, you jabbering butt plug. I’m in Birmingham to surprise you and you’re not here. What’s going on?”
Well, I may be dependent upon Lucas and Porter for answers after all.
There’s an abandoned festival flyer on the table so I use it as a fan while I wait for Lucas. I’m already drenched. So glad I wore my hair up. There’s no way I’d survive this heat if it was down on my neck.
Lucas eventually joins me at the table and takes a seat across from me. “Sorry about that. I needed to tell Porter the big news about landing a placement in Tapped Beer Emporium.”
Wow. They’re a huge chain across the South. “That’s fantastic. Was that who you were talking to when I walked up?”
“It was.”
“Now I really feel bad for interrupting.”
“It’s fine. And again, you didn’t interrupt anything.”
He pushes a clear plastic cup of amber toward me. “Pale Hazel.”
“It’s my favorite.”
The corner of his mouth curls. “Then I chose well.”
“You chose very well.” I take a drink of the nutty caramel-toffee ale. “Always a smooth finish. Such a good brew.”
Lucas grins. “Should be. It was inspired by you.”
Is he flirting? Or trying to distract me because something is going on with my brother? “Is everything all right with Ollie?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t understand. Why isn’t he here at one of the most important events of his career?”
“He called me yesterday and said he had to go see a friend in Memphis.”
I didn’t know he had any friends from that area. And what could be so important he’d miss this beer festival? “What friend is that?”
“Oliver never mentioned a name. Only that the friend was going through a severe bout of depression following a divorce, and he could be suicidal. Of course, Porter and I told him to go.”
“He didn’t mention a word to me.”
“It happened very quickly. I’m sure he’ll text after things are under control.”
“I can’t believe I came all this way for nothing.” Coming here without calling was stupid. I shouldn’t have let Ivy and Kelsey talk me into it.
“It won’t have been for nothing if you stay and have a good time.”
“Porter is the only person I know. And I don’t see me sticking around to hang with him.” Giving Porter any kind of encouragement would be a mistake.
“You know me.”
“You introduced yourself to me ten minutes ago. I don’t know you.”
“What do you need to know to consider us acquainted? I’ll tell you anything.”
“You assume I want to know about you.”
“Don’t you?”
Damn. That is a dangerous grin and I bet he uses it to get whatever he wants.
Lucas Broussard is my brother’s business partner and friend. There’s no real danger in that so I suppose I should get to know him.
I bite my lip to stop my smirk from turning into a full-fledged, dimple-bearing beam.
Damn. What is wrong with me? I’m not typically so charmed by a man.
“Where are you from originally?”
“Lafayette, Louisiana. The heart and soul of Cajun country.”
I was right. He is Cajun. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”
“No, I suspect not.”
“How’d you end up in Birmingham?”
“My family moved here for my father’s job when I was in high school.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“My parents are still married and live in Birmingham. My brother, Briac, is twenty-three. Just graduated from Alabama with a business degree.”
“Does he have an accent like yours?” It’s nearly enough to melt my panties.
“No. He was eight when we moved here so he lost it. I think mine stuck because I spent more time with my mom’s parents. They are very Cajun. They speak fluent old-school Cajun French.”
Lucas must be financially stable to have financed Iron City for Oliver and Porter. I wonder how they had connections to a man like him. “Ollie’s never told me how you came to be the financial backer for this company.”
“Porter was a graphic design intern for me at my old company. He knew I was looking to sell out and try something different so he pitched the idea to me.”
Oh. This isn’t Lucas Broussard’s first business venture.
“What kind of business did you have?”
“A printing company.”
The beer-brewing business couldn’t be more different. “What made you decide to leave printing for beer?”
“Long story. Not sure it’s one you want to hear.”
Does he think I’m too dumb to understand and discuss enterprise?
“I’m a business owner. I can keep up.”
“I don’t doubt that you can but I think I like you too much to give you the whole story. So I’ll give you the short version.”
Ollie has said so little about Lucas. I had no idea that he was so good-looking and delectable and panty-melting hot.
“I inherited an old-school printing company from my grandfather a month after I graduated from college. In the blink of an eye, I became the sole owner of the company. I knew very little about the print world but I learned quickly because there were fifteen employees depending on me to figure out my ass from a hole in the ground. So that’s what I did. My wife became my personal assistant and we starting hammering at it to grow the company into a bigger success.”
His wife? Well, damn.
“My best friend became my general manager and pitched the idea of transitioning the company from print to marketing. Logical idea since we live in a digital world. Warren bought in as my partner. Two years after that, he and my wife told me they had fallen in love.”
Holy shit. I did not see that coming. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine. I sold my part of the company to Warren, gave Bridgette a no-fault divorce, and the three of us are still good friends. I was the best man at their wedding.”
Damn.
No, double damn.
Most people in his situation would be too bitter to retain any form of civility, but this man chooses to remain friends. Good friends per his words. Even as much as I believe in positive thoughts and actions, I can’t begin to understand how he did that.
Dos Equis got it all wrong. This is the world’s most interesting man.
“I don’t understand. It was your family business. Shouldn’t they have sold out to you?” It seems the only right thing to have done in that kind of situation.
“I was ready to get out; I didn’t enjoy printing or marketing. Warren did and was great at it. He paid me generously for my part, and I was able to move on to Iron City Brewery, which is something I love. I’m happy where I am so it all worked out as it should have.”
Ollie’s never said much about Lucas. For that reason, I’ve never had
an interest in meeting him. It’s a shame I’ve not been acquainted with him until now. He seems like such a nice guy.
“That’s a lot of personal information about me. Do you think it’s fair to say that you know me now?”
“I think it’s enough for now except for one more thing. How old are you?” He’s obviously lived a lot of life already but he doesn’t look very old.
“Twenty-nine.”
“I would have guessed a little older.”
“I have an old soul.” He glances at his watch and then looks up at me. “I’m afraid that I need to return to the booth. I have a meeting in two minutes and I can’t be late.”
His crooked grin is sexy and does wobbly things to my insides. I admit that I struggle to take a deep breath after seeing it.
The verdict is in. Lucas Broussard is a flirt. A well-practiced one.
I look over at the booth behind his back. “I think they’re looking for you.”
He twists in his chair for a glance. “That’s my next appointment.”
He turns back to look at me and I wish so badly that I could see his eyes behind those dark shades. “We’ve established that you now know me, so what’s it gonna be? Are you going to stay and hang out at the festival or go home?”
I could go back to Ollie’s, gather my things, and be home before bedtime. But I don’t think that’s what I want to do. “I’ll think about it while you have your meeting.”
“Fair enough.” He pushes away from the table and stands. “One thing before I go. Since you asked me, it seems only fair to ask in return. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.” And three-quarters.
“Hmm… okay.”
What does hmmm… okay mean?
He’s only a few steps away when he turns and calls out, “I hope you decide to stay, Lawrence.”
It’s tempting. Oh, is it ever tempting.
Let’s weigh my options. Get in the car and drive six hours to Savannah? Or stay right where I am and thoroughly enjoy some Cajun man-candy?
Do I dare?
Yes, I think I do.
5
Lucas Broussard