Page 3 of Break My Heart (The Haydon Falls #2)

Sawyer

G’s Brewhouse is in a white concrete building that looks more like an old prison than a place you’d want to hang out and drink. It’s on the outskirts of town, surrounded by farmland. It’s not a good place for a brewery, but I guess if the building is given to you, you can’t be picky.

I’ve passed this building many times and always wondered who owned it.

It seemed like it should be torn down. One of the old timers in town told me it was built to store farm equipment back in the day.

The place never used to have windows, but Gina had four added to the front.

It makes the place look a little better but not much.

It still reminds me of an old prison, like the kind you’d see in a western movie.

As I walk through the parking lot, which is full of cars and trucks, many of which I recognize, I notice the building’s old rusty door has been replaced with a wood door painted in black to match the black trim on the windows.

Now that I’m getting a better look at the place, with the new windows and door, I guess it’s not that bad.

But my place is a million times better .

Kanfield Brewery is on Main Street in the heart of downtown.

It’s in a historic building that almost burned down a few years ago.

After I bought it, I hired my cousins, who own Wheeler Construction, to completely restore it.

They came up to Haydon Falls from Chicago and spent months making it into a bar that’s a mix of country and modern, with metal fixtures and reclaimed wood tables and stools.

It’s the kind of place where you can kick back and relax with friends.

It feels comfortable, not like a concrete prison.

Walking in G’s, I’m surprised how different it looks from the outside.

I kind of like it, probably because it has a similar look to my place, with rustic wood tables and stools.

I kept the wood natural, but Gina painted the tables black.

The wood floor is a light brown. Mine is dark.

The light fixtures are black cords hanging from the ceiling that meet up with circular pendant shades in a black and red patterned fabric.

It almost looks like she painted the pattern on there herself.

Gina never struck me as someone who’s artistic. Maybe she hired someone to do it.

‘Have a seat,’ a woman says, coming up beside me. She’s young, probably early twenties, with strawberry blonde hair that hangs in a long braid over one shoulder.

‘I’m not staying long. I just—’

‘It’s $2 beers,’ she says, cutting me off, or maybe she didn’t hear me. It’s really loud in here. She takes off.

Spotting a seat at the bar, I go over there and sit next to two guys I don’t recognize. In a town this size, I know just about everyone here, and if I don’t know them, I at least recognize them.

‘Hey,’ I say, getting their attention. ‘Is anyone sitting here?’

‘It’s all yours,’ the one guy says.

I take a seat, my gaze going to the bartender, to her round perky ass and how good it looks in the tiny black shorts she’s wearing. Her back’s to me as she fills a beer from the tap .

‘You live around here?’ the guy next to me asks, taking my attention off the girl. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, wearing a plaid flannel shirt, a thick beard covering his face.

‘Yeah, I grew up here. How about you?’

‘I’m just passing through. I drive a truck. I’m on my way to Indiana. The road I usually take was closed. The detour took me here. You know a good place to eat in town?’

I give him some options as my gaze goes back to the bartender. She walks to the end of the bar to deliver beers to Hank and Gerald. They used to be on city council with my dad. They’ve been at my brewery a few times but not since G’s opened.

I don’t get it. This place isn’t that great. Mine looks better. It’s more modern yet still has the charm of the original building. And it’s downtown, not out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it’s the cheap beer. Is she really selling it for $2? There’s no way she’s making a profit on that.

‘Don’t bother,’ the guy next to me says. ‘She won’t even flirt with you. Probably has a boyfriend, although usually they’ll still flirt with you to get tips.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The bartender. The one you’re staring at. She’s hot as hell but cold as ice when it comes to dealing with customers. I gave her a compliment and thought she was going to punch me.’

I turn to him. ‘What did you say to her?’

He smiles as he watches her return to the taps to fill another glass. ‘I told her all the shit I’d like to do with that tight little ass of hers.’ He licks his lips. ‘That’s a damn fine ass.’

He thought telling her that would turn her on? What a fucking idiot. I’ve used some bad pickup lines in my younger days, but never said anything that stupid.

‘I’m gonna get going,’ he says, getting up. ‘I’ll try that barbecue place you suggested. Good meeting you.’ He drops a quarter on the bar for a tip.

‘That’s all you’re leaving?’ I ask.

‘The beer was $2.’ He nods toward the bartender. ‘And that bitch was rude. I give a lady a compliment, I expect something in return, at least a fucking smile.’

He leaves and I realize how much different it must be for a woman to own a place like this than a guy.

Most of Gina’s customers are men, and if she gets guys here like the one who just left, she’ll have to deal with a lot of harassment.

She might even have to worry about her safety, especially being way out here with nothing but farm fields around.

‘What can I get you?’

I look up and see the bartender in front of me.

This is the first time I’m getting a look at her face, and damn, she’s hot.

Long wavy dark hair, big brown eyes, beautiful full lips in a shade of light pink.

My eyes drop to her chest. She’s wearing a tight white t-shirt with G’s Brewhouse printed across the front.

G’s is in a red script font and brewhouse is in black block letters.

‘My eyes are up here,’ she says, sounding annoyed.

‘I was just looking at your shirt,’ I say, which is true, but I can see why she thought I was staring at her tits. I’m a guy and she has great tits. High and round and definitely more than a handful. ‘What do you recommend?’ I ask, looking past her to the taps.

‘What do you like?’

‘Depends on the mood I’m in. I’ve been in kind of a dark mood lately so I guess I’ll take something dark.’

‘The Black Moon Stout,’ she says, going to get it.

I wasn’t going to pick that one, but I guess I could try it.

‘Is it really only $2?’ I ask.

‘Just for opening week. After that, everything goes back to regular price. ’

‘Two Dirty Blondes and a High Tale Ale,’ a girl yells from behind me.

‘Got it,’ the bartender says.

I turn back and scan the crowded bar. It’s mostly guys with a few girls here and there. The waitstaff is all women, all wearing the tiny black shorts and white t-shirts with the logo on it. I recognize one of the waitresses. Brody dated her, but it was nothing serious. I can’t remember her name.

‘Let me know if you like it,’ I hear the bartender say.

I turn back and see my beer in front of me.

The bartender took off to go to the register.

I’m trying not to stare at her but it’s hard not to.

She’s gorgeous, and not like the girls I usually go for.

I tend to date women who have more of a sophisticated look, the kind that wear high heels and designer clothes.

Nick calls that a city-girl look, saying it’s how girls he dated in New York dressed.

I’m not sure how I ended up liking that, growing up in a small town.

My brothers are the opposite. They like the laid back, country-girl look, which is basically jeans and t-shirts.

The bartender doesn’t fit either of those looks.

She’s almost a mix of the two with a touch of bad girl thrown in.

The shorts and t-shirt give her the country-girl look, but the black high-heeled boots she’s got on give her a touch of class.

The bad girl vibe comes from the black tat on the inside of her wrist.

Forcing my eyes off her, I take a drink of the beer.

It’s really good. I hate to say it, but I think it’s better than mine.

I’ve struggled to make a good stout. I’m better with the lighter brews; the amber ales, the pilsners, the lagers.

My stouts are getting better, but they’re not as good as this.

The bartender heads toward me and stops. ‘What do you think? You like it?’

‘It’s great. Good color. Complex flavor. ’

‘Are you one of those guys that talks about beer like it’s wine?’ she asks, sounding annoyed.

‘No. I just like good beer.’

I actually am one of those guys, but it’s because it’s my business. I have to analyze beer in order to make it.

‘What can I get you?’ the bartender asks a guy as he takes the seat next to mine.

‘I’ll take the Smokestack Porter.’

‘Coming right up.’ She goes to get his beer.

My eyes follow her, noticing how fast she moves in those heels. The girl’s in good shape. Her legs are lean and I can see the muscles in her arms as she moves.

‘You been here before?’ the guy next to me asks.

‘No.’ I look over at him. ‘It’s my first time. How about you?’

‘Been here every night since they opened. The beer’s awesome and you can’t beat the price.’

‘The price is going up soon. The special is only for opening week.’

‘I’ll still be coming back, just not every day.’

‘You ever try Kanfield’s? It’s a new brewery downtown.’

He stares at me and smiles. ‘Kanfield. I knew I recognized you from somewhere. You were at the orchard when I went out there to look at the trees. Hank Handley. I’m an arborist, fancy word for tree specialist. Your dad had me out when some of the trees were dying.’

I nod. ‘Yeah, I remember. That was a few years ago.’

‘How’s your dad doing? I heard he was sick last summer.’