Chapter Ten
Dallas
He parked inthe lot behind the brewery, mainly because he was curious to see if the donation he’d made to the town had gone toward having the light pole repaired as he’d requested.
“It’s lit up like the county morgue back here,” he commented, happy to see it. The new lighting had likely cut down on the drug deals so the rims on Ryan’s AMG should be safe, too.
“Isn’t it great? Now I can fix my truck at three in the morning. No more cutting into my workday,” Hannah enthused as she unlocked the back door to the brewery.
Wait. What?
No amount of lighting was going to make that a wise proposition.
But his brain got tripped up on a plausibility study of pheromones he’d read, because a whiff of her warm, unique, incredibly feminine scent lent it more weight, and before he could drag his head out of its tailspin, she had the brewery door open and was already inside.
She flipped a switch on the wall. The overhead fluorescents flickered a few times in protest, then sullenly glared, as if annoyed at being disturbed. The aroma of fermenting barley wasn’t as strong as he’d expected, no doubt because it vented through an air exchanger to the parking lot. Steel tanks stretched to the ceiling. Clear plastic hoses either hung on wall hooks or crisscrossed the concrete floor. The overall impression he got was one of sterility. He could perform day surgery in here.
“You run this all by yourself?” he asked, impressed enough with her setup to temporarily set aside his issues with her vehicle maintenance schedule and the results of that pheromone study for later. “How does it all work?”
She gave him a quick rundown, explaining how she created the wort recipe from the original malt, boiled and fermented it, then let it rest before filtering and kegging. “My mom is a good cook,” she said. “I think that’s why I like experimenting with the recipes so much.”
She checked several of the tanks’ gauges and fussed with one of the hoses. She’d begun to kill time, leading Dallas to suspect she might be developing second thoughts as to how their evening would end. If so, that was fine. This was only their first real date, after all. There’d be plenty more. He had Marsh and Rudy onboard.
Finally, they exited the brewery and entered the passage that led to the taproom and the stairwell to her apartment. He cast around for a way to recapture the fun they’d been having, to make the evening unique, taking it as a personal challenge.
“How do you feel about ordering gyros with tahini sauce instead of pizza?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.
“Can you really order something like that in Grand?”
She thought he was joking. Twin blue irises ringed with traces of honey telegraphed her skepticism. He pulled out his phone. “Of course not. I’ll have it flown in from LA on the ranch’s private jet,” he said, then laughed at the expression on her face. “Kidding. There’s a Middle Eastern restaurant next to the hotel that delivers for slightly less than the cost of a private jet.”
“I’m not sure whether you’re serious about the gyros or not, but if you are, then I’m willing to give them a try.”
He had the number programmed into his phone. He gave the restaurant the brewery’s street address and asked them to call when they arrived with the delivery. He’d meet them at the front door so they didn’t have to find the private entrance. When he disconnected the call, however, Hannah had her nose crinkled up.
“It’s too late to change your mind. The order’s already been placed,” he said, shoving his phone in his jacket pocket. “I’ll just have to eat your share.”
Her brow cleared. They reached the top of the stairs and entered her kitchen. She’d left the light on over the kitchen stove. The only other light filtered into the room from the street through the enormous living room windows.
“I was wondering what a good beer pairing for gyros and tahini sauce might be,” she said, and he relaxed.
“You should be more worried about what show we’re going to watch. I’ll warn you up front—medical dramas are a bad bet with me. I’m hypercritical.”
She waved off his warning. “I already have a movie in mind. You’re going to love it.”
“I admire your confidence. What if I’ve already seen it?”
“Doesn’t matter. If you’re really a fan, it’s one of those movies you won’t mind watching twice.”
Now she had his attention. “What makes you think I might be a fan?”
“Your taste in cars.” She kicked off her pink boots by the door and took off her jacket, leaving her slender arms and legs bare. She had pretty feet. He remembered them quite well. Every inch of her, in fact. Tonight, her delicate toes were tipped in hot pink. The short skirt of her bright dress flared around her toned thighs as she hung both of their jackets on hooks, setting his thoughts into a whirlwind of lust. “Is the attraction strictly Tom Hardy or are you a Gal Gadot fan, too?”
Tom Hardy played Bane. He was officially in love with her for knowing that fact.
He clipped his brain on its leash. “Gal Gadot is pretty enough, but Tom Hardy is someone I’d turn for,” he said, enjoying the conversation immensely.
It seemed she did, too. “Fair enough. I’d turn for Gal Gadot, so I understand.”