Page 24 of Sunkissed Colorado

“Glad to hear it.”

“So, where do youwant me?”

Anywhere and everywhere, my brain shot back. Because my brain was very badly behaved. Bad dog.

She sighed. “You’re reading something dirty into what I just said, aren’t you?”

“I swear, I’m trying to be on good behavior.”

“You could try harder.”

I tilted my head noncommittally. “I could.”

Gesturing for her to follow me, I led the way into the kitchen. The coffee was already brewing, and a few kitchen staff members were here to prep for lunch.

I introduced Zandra, then poured us each a mug. “Cream?” I asked.

“Just sugar. Unless there’s any oat or almond milk around.”

I shook my head. “We don’t usually carry those.” People didn’t request them too often, and there was Silver Linings just down the street with every possible coffee drink known to the galaxy. “But I could grab some for you next time. Danish? I brought cream cheese and raspberry.”

“No, thanks.”

“They’re good. Not poisoned either. I promise.” Holding up the cream cheese danish, I wiggled it at her, making it dance.

“I don’t want one,” she said tightly. “Stop peer pressuring me.”

“Your loss.” I shoved half the danish into my mouth, washing it down with coffee.

Zandra stirred hers, then took a tentative sip. “So you’re really on board with this plan? This two-month competition thing my grandpa dreamed up?”

I glanced at the kitchen staff, but they seemed to be busy and not listening to us. “Sure. I’m going to give it my best shot. May the best candidate win and all that. What about you?”

“Guess I have to be.”

Her lack of enthusiasm irked me. Did she not think this job was worth the effort? “A brewpub probably seems smallcompared to whatever you were doing before now. Rocking the Chicago business world.”

“You heard what my grandpa said. Things weren’t going so well for me in Chicago. Any rocking was just me hitting rock bottom.”

“Ouch. What happened?”

She glared. The silence stretched.

“Never mind,” I said. “So, where are you staying? Your parents’ place?”

“We don’t have to do this, Callum.”

“Do what?”

“The small talk.”

“I’m not even allowed to know where you’re staying? Is it a secret? Just wondered if you had far to drive.”

“The drive is fine.” Her pretty lips twisted. “I’m staying at the Pine Cone Motor Lodge.”

“Thatplace? Sketchy truckers stay there. If there’s a motel serial killers would give five stars, it would be that one.”

“Well, that’s what I can afford right now,” she snapped.