Page 5 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

“So, Beck, the bar owner, when did you take over?” I ask, finally feeling myself take a deep breath. I feel an odd sort of comfort from Beck’s presence. His allure draws me in, like a moth to a sexy, tattooed flame, and I find myself not wanting to leave quite yet.

He swings his chair around the desk to sit next to me, angling it to look directly at me. I feel my insides warm, telling myself that it’s because of the wine. “Well, my name is actually Philip Beckett, but most people call me Beck. It’s less dorky than Philip.”

“So, does that mean I’m not allowed to call you Phil?” I ask cheekily.

He barks out a laugh. “No… I uh… don’t go by Phil, either. It’s also easier for people to reconcile the face behind the name this way. Philip doesn’t exactly sound Ecuadorian.” The sound of his laugh echoes in the small space and I want to get lost in it.

“I get it, Hazel doesn’t exactly sound Italian,” I say offhandedly.

“Italian?”

“Hazel Nucci, at your service.”

“Ah, I see. Well, Hazel Nucci, I took over four months ago. Shirley was selling, couldn’t keep up anymore, and I’ve managed bars for such a long time, I thought it was a good opportunity to get into business for myself.”

“Cool! Was it like a ‘buy a business and turn it around and save it’ situation? Or just an entrepreneurial thing?”

“Nope!” he says, almost too quickly, “Always wanted to go into business for myself. Hoping to expand it; increase revenue.”

“Are you wanting to change things up around here?” I secretly hope not. I love the setup how it is. It’s a cozy, unique space.

“Well, I’m hoping to keep attracting the same clientele while bringing in new business at the same time.

I think this place has a lot of potential.

I want to start roasting our own beans and selling them in the store.

I’m still stuck trying to figure out the logistics of it.

” He purses his lips as a crease takes up space on his forehead, looking up at me.

I can tell he’s passionate, if not a little stuck.

“Would you do like, a coffee subscription?” He quirks a brow at me and tilts his head, so I expand, “You know, people pay a monthly fee, and they get coffee and coffee things every month?” I had actually done a lot of research on those in school and how effective they were for growing customer loyalty along with your customer base. They’re a useful tool.

Beck reaches up to scratch his face. He has the subtlest hint of scruff, the kind that you want to feel brush along your neck.

Or the inside of your thighs.

“Well, I hadn’t actually considered that, I only thought about selling it in the store, but that… that could work really well.” He looks baffled. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“Well, I am in marketing, it is my specialty.” I raise my glass at him.

“Huh, maybe you could swing by some time and lend me some of your brain power? You’d be better at this than me, given that you have actual experience in this.” He pushes his hand through his hair again. That hair tie of his is hanging in there for dear life.

“Well… I do have some time off, but I don’t know, I’m not an expert,” I waffle. It sounds perfect, but I don’t know this guy, and he doesn’t know my work.

“But you just said it’s your specialty,” he challenges. “I bet you’ll be able to help me more than you think. Why don’t you come down here tomorrow, and if you can help, great, and if not, I’ll pay you with bottles of rosé?”

At that, I beam.

“You sure know the way to a girl’s heart.” A blush heats my cheeks. I wish I could blame it on anything except him, the wine, heightened emotions, but I’d be lying. His mere presence is enough to fluster me.

“I do what I can.” I can’t stop staring at him. He’s so pretty it almost hurts. I can catch a whiff of him too. He smells like dark roast coffee and the faintest hint of whiskey, and for once I don’t hate it. The richness of the coffee and the sharpness of the whiskey are an intoxicating blend.

The silence stretches between us and as I look up into his eyes, I hear his breath catch. His eyes flick to my lips for a moment and my heart stutters. Heat courses through me as he leans in slightly .

He takes a big breath, and I almost let my eyes flutter shut before he says, “Do you need help bringing the boxes over here, or do you have a car?”

Relief and embarrassment fill me.

I shouldn’t be letting him help me like this. We barely know each other, but I don’t have a car, so some help would be really nice, actually.

“That would be really nice,” I admit. “We could exchange numbers?”

“Okay, can I see your phone?”

I unlock my phone and hand it over in its sparkly case and watch as he puts his number in.

“When you’re ready, let me know your address and I can come help.”

I’m still confused as to why he’s agreeing to help a total stranger, but I’m not about to question the out he’s giving me from having to ever see the human dumpster fire again.

“Thank you,” I mumble out, staring at the floor, “I should get going, but I’ll come by tomorrow?” I try not to feel too hopeful. A new project would be just the ticket, even if I’m not sure I fully believe him. So long as I can keep my emotions—and apparent attraction—under control.

“Sounds amazing.”

I retreat from the office and start to head home, wondering what the fuck had just happened.