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  “Just me being a bratty little brother teasing my sister. It’s our thing.”

  I’m so damn confused. “What is your sister?”

  Stout laughs. “Lawry is a lot of things: free spirited, bohemian, alternative. She has practices some people find . . . odd.”

  I’m not sure odd covers it. “Are you talking witchcraft and voodoo?” I’m from Louisiana. I know a lot about that shit, and I don’t like any of it.

  “My sister doesn’t dabble in the craft or black magic. Or white. However, she is into unconventional things like auras, holistic healing, aromatherapy, and herbalism. She’s a huge believer in the power of positive thinking. Cause and effect. Karma, as you heard. Stuff like that. All innocent.”

  “She’s a hippie?”

  “I’m not sure any one label could fit Lawry. Just when you think you know her inside out, she shows you a completely different side you didn’t expect.”

  Having now heard her talk, I would definitely agree. I didn’t expect carefree. I expected bossy, opinionated. I don’t know if it’s her independence, her drive, or her wit, but I will admit the whole package is sexy and . . . I’m intrigued. A little captivated.

  Sorry, Stout. I know you said Lawrence is off limits but I’m thinking it might be time to pay our Savannah customers a visit . . . and perhaps a gorgeous hippie sister too.

  Lawrence Thorn

  I knock but don’t see a single light through the window of Ollie’s apartment. I know that’s his truck in one of the parking spaces. And his motorcycle is under the breezeway. Weird. No way he’s in bed this early.

  Good thing I have a key. Unless he changed the locks after Hurricane Eden. In that case, I’ll be blowing my surprise with a text.

  God, I hope he isn’t ignoring the door because he has female company.

  I turn my key in the deadbolt and push the door open. “Ollie?”

  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. “Oh, shit. I hope Ollie hasn’t changed the code since the breakup.”

  I open the cover of the keypad. One. One. One. One. November eleventh. My birthday. Whew. 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 didn’t know I was coming but this place is trashed. This doesn’t look like my brother’s place at all. He’s usually pretty tidy for a man.

  He’s made a lot of money the last few years. I don’t know why he hasn’t moved out of this tiny apartment and into something nicer. He should be living in a house worthy of a successful businessman.

  My God, why is it so hot and stuffy in here? It’s suffocating. Is the air conditioning on the fritz?

  I check the temperature on the controller. Seventy-six freaking degrees. Who sets their thermostat that high during July in Alabama? If Ollie finds this comfortable then he can just get ready to freeze his nuts off; I’m dialing this bastard down.

  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. He’s not coming home tonight?

  This impromptu visit isn’t going the way I planned at all.

  I can’t chance being mistaken for an intruder so I scribble out a note to stick on the front door.

  * * *

  Hey, loser. Surprise! I’m sleeping in your guest room so don’t go pulling a pistol on me. See you in the morning.

  Love, Lawry

  I wake to an empty house, and no response to my text, which of course worries me. Surely, Ollie didn’t stay up all night. He needs sleep. The festival starts midday, and I’m sure it doesn’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 and expect problems with selection.

  I cross my fingers, but my hopes are low, for all-natural peanut butter and an organic apple.

  I begin in the pantry. Yikes. Pickings are slim. And no peanut butter at all.

  I move my search to the fridge. I hope all my preaching about pesticides and chemicals used on food has sunk into Ollie’s thick skull.

  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, so we’re going to have a serious inservice to reinforce the importance of nourishment.

  You’d think someone who spent his childhood with too little to eat would keep his kitchen full of healthy food. 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 taking 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 Lovibond 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 and I’m festival ready. I can’t wait to see Ollie’s reaction when he sees me.

  Lovibond’s booth. 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 beer brewer.

  I was so angry with him for pursuing this. I thought it was nonsense. The biggest mistake of his life. I was wrong. He’d followed his heart. His dreams. Shouldn’t we all be so lucky?

  I search the faces behind Lovibond’s table. I don’t see Ollie anywhere. Odd. You’d think they’d want the head honchos visible, especially on day one.

  Porter is engaged in 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?

  Weird.

  “He’s one of the Lovibond owners.”

  “Sorry. I’m just a temp hired to help serve beer at the festival.”

  She turns and points at Porter. “You’ll probably want to talk to that guy in the red T-shirt.” Her hand moves to gesture in the opposite direction. “Or the one in the black with his back to us. One of them should be able to help you find the other owner.”

  “Thanks.”

  Black T-shirt guy is surrounded by a crowd of people. That has to be Lucas Broussard.

  Tall. Broad shouldered. Exceptional a
ss. The view from this spot ain’t bad.

  I rotate around my brother’s business partner so he can see my interest in speaking with 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 have his attention.

  He shakes hands with each man. “Lovibond looks forward to moving into your microbreweries.” Shit. I’m interrupting business talk.

  “Hello.” He’s quick to turn his attention to me once the men are gone. His head tilts to the side when he speaks. I may not be able to see his eyes but I don’t mistake the wrinkle on his forehead and between his brows.

  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.”

  His eyes widen and his brows lift, causing several lines to form on his forehead. “Stout’s sister?”

  “Yeah. I decided to pop in to surprise him.”

  “Well . . . Stout,” Lucas begins but stops.

  Well, Stout what? “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m sure he’d be very surprised 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 the 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 I’m not going to like it.

  “Sure.” Seems 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 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. Since they take turns looking in my direction, I get the distinct feeling it’s about me.

  This is shit. 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, butt plug. I’m in Birmingham to surprise you and you’re not here. What’s going on?”

  Looks like I may be dependent upon Lucas 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.”

  “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.

  “What friend is that?” And what could be so important he’d miss this beer festival?

  “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.” I don’t want to encourage Porter in any way.

  “You know me.”

  “You introduced yourself to me ten minutes ago. I don’t know you. There’s a big difference.”

  “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. I bet he uses it to get whatever he wants.

  Lucas Broussard is my brother’s business partner and friend. 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 grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Where are you from originally?”

  “Lafayette, Louisiana. The heart and soul of Creole country.” I was right. He is Cajun.

  “No surprise there.”

  “No, I ’spect 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 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 Ca . . . jun. They speak fluent old-school Cajun French.”

  Lucas had been financially stable to finance Lovibond in the early stages. I wonder how they knew 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.” Oh. This isn’t Lucas Broussard’s first venture.

  “What kind of business did you have?”

  “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.”

  “Then I’ll give you the short version. I think I like you too much to give you the whole story.” He already likes me?

  Ollie has said so little about Lucas. He’s cool. Smart. Good with numbers. Ollie’s words. If I were describing him, I would have gone with good-looking, delectable, and panty-melting hot. Wait till the girls hear about him.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I know but you’re smiling.” Can’t tell him I’m having an internal conversation about how sexy he is. He probably already knows.
/>   I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Go on. You were about to give me the short version of how you became partners with Ollie and Porter.”

  “Right. 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 found out 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.”

  His wife? Well, damn.

  “My best friend became my 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. Most people in that situation would be too bitter to retain any form of civility but this man chooses friendly terms. And not just cordial ones. Good friends. His words.

  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 Lovibond Brewery, which is something I love. I’m happy where I am so it all worked out as it should.”

  Ollie’s never told me much about Lucas except the basics. It’s a shame I’ve missed out on meeting him until now. He seems like such a nice guy.

  “Is that enough for you to feel like you know me a little better?” Can’t fault the man for his openness.

  “I think it’s enough for now. Except one more thing. How old are you?” He’s owned two businesses and doesn't even look thirty. The first one was given to him, but still.