Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I’d had such high hopes when I hired Matthew. He had the kind of experience I needed to take the next step in the world of craft brewing. Sawyers Bend Brewing had been barely more than a hobby back then. I’d been able to cover expenses only because my brother Ford had strong-armed our father into cutting me a break on the rent. I’d hired my first employee a few months before I took the leap and brought in Matthew as brewmaster.
Even now, we still worked in small batches and served a local market. I created the recipes, worked with artists on the labels, and ran the bottling machine. I had a hand in every aspect of the business. I didn’t care how much expertise Matthew had. He wasn’t taking any of it from me.
He’d been great at first. A team player eager to help me expand my reach. The change had started slowly. A lingering hand on my shoulder, or one of those flirty winks. Late nights talking beer and strategy. My hormones had gotten the better of my business sense. I’d been going through an endless dry spell.
Running my own place on a shoestring budget didn’t leave me much time for socializing, and I had a strict policy about hooking up inside the industry. The brewers in the area had created a strong community, including places smaller than mine, all the way up to national corporations. In this world, being a Sawyer wasn’t an asset, not when I was also a woman in a traditionally male-dominated field. The last thing I needed was a messy romantic relationship to get in my way. But the first time Matthew kissed me, standing right here in this office, I’d given in to the flash of lust. For a while, things had been great. We’d run the brewery together. It had felt like a partnership. Things had been good in bed and great at work.
And then, little by little, Matthew started taking over. I hadn’t noticed at first. He’d encouraged me to focus on recipe development and let him handle little details and small tasks until eventually it was Matthew representing the brewery while I was in the background, working my ass off and getting none of the credit. Slowly, the suspicion had grown that Matthew didn’t want me. He wanted my brewery.
On top of that humiliating realization, it had occurred to me that while we worked well together, I didn’t really like being with him that much. To be fair, the sex was pretty good—a hell of a lot better than no sex at all—but it wasn’t life-changing. And neither was Matthew. He was an asset to the brewery, but as a person, he was boring. All he could talk about was himself. What Matthew wanted, what Matthew thought. He wasn’t interested in being a partner. What he really wanted was an audience.
Two months ago, I ended our personal relationship. He’d taken that so well that it had confirmed that his real interest lay in Sawyers Bend Brewing. Once orgasms were off the table, my vision cleared, and I realized that Matthew’s skills as a brewmaster weren’t enough to put up with the rest.
“You know we make a great team,” Matthew said, bringing me back to the conversation. “I can’t leave you on your own, Avery. This place will fall apart.”
The soothing tone in his voice had my hand itching to fly up and smack the smug expression from his face.
“I was hanging in there before you showed up, Matt. I’ll make it work without you,” I said, managing to keep the fury out of my voice.
“You won’t be able to hire another brewmaster with my experience,” he said, shaking his head. “Not with what you’re willing to pay.”
“Probably not,” I agreed with a hint of a smile. “One of the things I’ve realized over the last year is that I miss being the brewmaster.”
Matthew scoffed.
“Avery, you were barely making it before I showed up.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his expression so sincere, I knew he believed what he was saying, which only made it that much more infuriating. “You could be so much more than a small-time brewer. You have so much talent. You have an instinct for the process, for flavor and timing that’s unique and can’t be taught, but you just need guidance. With my help, you can be so much more.”
“I don’t want to be more.” My chest burned as I spoke the lie. I did want to be more. I just didn’t want the more Matthew envisioned.
I’d known this was over the day he let it slip that his long-term plan was to build up Sawyers Bend Brewing to sell to a multi-national. Hell no. Not happening. Did I want to reach more beer lovers with my craft brews? Abso-fucking-lutely. Could I create great beers? I had no doubt. But this was my place. I hadn’t built it up from nothing, so I could sell out and let a conglomerate slap my logo on their beer in exchange for a fat check.