Page 38 of Something’s Brewing

His voice came low behind her. “Anytime.”

She hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder. “Good night, Garrett.”

“Night, Madison.”

There was a slight pause, and then he added, quieter this time, “Sleep well.”

She walked the few feet to her patio and stepped inside.

Garrett leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Madison head inside.

She didn’t look back. Not that he expected her to.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, frustration and heat mixing into one knotted mess beneath his skin.

He shouldn’t have said good night like that. Not with that tone. But damn, it just came out.

She didn’t roll her eyes or give him that snarky little smirk she’d perfected when she was pushing his buttons. She just calmly said it back.

Had something shifted between them?

Somewhere between the impromptu dance on the ice, the way she opened up about Sophie’s dad, the way her eyes softened when she talked about Sophie, and when he fed her, he’d forgotten to keep the distance he’d worked so hard to put between them.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze still on the patio next door. The lake glinted under the last edge of sunlight, calm and indifferent. Unlike him.

He thought of that masquerade party—of her lips, the faint taste of champagne, and how everything about her had felt familiar, even when he didn’t know who she was. He remembered the way she leaned into him that night, bold and unguarded.

He’d known who she was when he saw her tattoo. But then his life changed, and when Mason introduced him to her, he knew she didn’t recognize him. He’d done everything to keep his distance. He pretended he hadn’t spent one of the best nights of his life with her, acting like she hadn’t left him completely off-kilter.

And now? Now he wondered if she’d still want to kiss him if she knew.

Would she be mad? Hurt? Embarrassed?

He winced. Madison didn’t seem like the type to embarrass easily, but that didn’t mean she’d forgive him for not saying something sooner.

He exhaled hard, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. The house suddenly felt too quiet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from her.

Except . . . maybe he was; he just didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Garrett stood near the bar, scanning the taproom with a measured gaze even as laughter and the clink of glasses filled the air. It was just staff, friends, and family in attendance. A soft launch to work out the kinks before the real opening. The safe night.

And still, his shirt collar felt too tight.

He shifted his weight, arms crossed, watching Ryker move behind the bar like a pro. No stress. No hesitation. The team had it under control.

He knew this drill. This wasn’t his first opening. But this was different. This was home.

Deer Creek Falls wasn’t just another location. These people knew his parents, his high school GPA, the time he cracked his head falling off a boat dock.

He felt it in the tight pull across his shoulders. The way he kept mentally checking the draft lines even though they’d pressure-tested them twice. And he’d told Madison he wasn’t nervous.

“Take that look off your face before your eyebrows get stuck that way.”

Garrett glanced over at Roman by his side, holding a pint in one hand and wearing that maddening ex-goalie grin that said he noticed everything.

“I’m not worried,” Garrett muttered, trying to convince himself.