Chapter 8

Shepherd

FOUR MONTHS LATER

As I sit here on my porch, letting the cool summer breeze lull me into my quiet thoughts, I'm bothered by her.

She just got home, and honestly I can't even look at her, because every time I do I remember the one night we shared together.

Felicity Lark.

The night that was obviously not very important to her, because while I was away she got back together with that creep of an ex of hers.

Good riddance. Who needs that anyway?

Felicity, you can have that tool.

I watch as she exits her little blue Honda, and carries a bag of groceries into her house. The asshole fiancé follows behind her, letting her carry the groceries, and not offering to do it. Prick.

She's prettier than I remember. Soft curves that look better than I remember. Her hair's a touch longer. Her brown hair nearly touching the top of her ass.

I think back on that night we shared a lot. Even though I'd never let anybody know that, especially my brothers.

Her screen door slams as she struts back out. She glances over at me, and there's this fire burning in her stare. She marches across the grass, angry strides bringing her closer and closer until she stomps up each step. "You said you'd have your garbage can picked up."

"Excuse me?" I gaze up at her, leaning back in my chair.

"Your garbage can. It's in the street."

I nod. "It is."

"Well, are you going to get it, or are you going to leave it out there all week?"

I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I wasn't as angry as I am. I don't even know what's making me so angry. The fact she's back with her ex, or that she's standing on my porch yelling at me.

How easy would it be to lift her up, carry her into my house and recreate that night we shared over Christmas? Or would it be easier to shut her up by slamming my lips to hers? Would her boyfriend, or fiancé, or whatever the fuck he is even care? Does he even know how to get her off like I do?

I'm guessing he doesn't because she appears very angry as she stares down at me. She doesn't look like the type of woman who's satisfied in the bedroom.

She was that night. I know that for a fact.

"Are you even listening to me?" she says.

"What are you doing?" I ask her, staring her directly in the eyes.

"What?" She pinches her nose up at me in disgust.

"What are you doing?" I'm obviously angry about the boyfriend, so I drive home how hard she's hurt me. "Are you really upset about the trash can, or are you looking for something your loverboy over there—" I nod in the direction of her house. "—can't deliver? Because I'm more than happy to have a repeat of what we did."

Oh, she's furious. She blinks at me for a solid fifteen seconds before her mouth falls open.

"I would never let you touch me ever again. That night was the biggest mistake of my life."

That hurts, but I brush it off like it doesn't. "Sure."

"You have some nerve." She stomps her little foot, and I try to hide my smile. "I came over to ask you to pick up your trash can because it makes our neighborhood look ugly." Now she crosses her arms over her chest.

I rise from my seat, and inch closer to her. I tower over her, giving her a smirk. "Sweetheart, I obviously leave my trash can out there to piss you off."

"I can't believe I ever let you touch me." Her look of defiance turns me on, but I'm angry she went back to that man.

How could she? I thought her and I had something real, and whenever I came home from Florida after helping my cousins we were going to pick things back up where we left off.

I just didn't expect to be down there as long as I was.

I should have gotten her number, but I was busy every single day I was there. Maybe I'm an arrogant ass to think she would have waited for me.

But I waited for her.

I fucking waited. "You loved the way I touched you, sweetheart. You were begging me for more."

And like I fucking deserve, she slaps me square across my jaw. I watch as she heads back to her house, slamming her screen door as she goes back inside.

To him.

I walk off my porch, getting my trash can to bring it to the side of my house and then I head back inside to suffer through another sleepless night.

"Catch the game the other day?" my older brother, Callum asks me.

I shake my head. "I haven't caught anything lately." And it's the truth.

Since I've been back from Florida I can't concentrate. I can't think about anything but Felicity and the way she hopped back in the saddle with the fiancé she swore she couldn't stand. My days since I've been back have been a struggle.

"You seriously didn't catch the game," my other brother, Paxton says, slapping me on the shoulder.

"I didn't catch it," I say with a growl.

"Hartford and I watched it together. Do you know how great it is to be engaged to a woman who loves baseball?"

I march right past both my brothers sitting in Callum's office of the Atta Boy Brewery, and head out to the loading dock outside to catch my breath.

Fuck.

I'm happy my younger brother, Paxton, got engaged, but honestly it pisses me off that he's found somebody and I'm left here wondering if I ever will.

I honestly thought Felicity could have been that somebody. We connected more than I ever have with anyone else, but it didn't work out.

Story of my life. Love never works out for me. I guess I'll just be the cool uncle. I'm sure my siblings will have tons of kids. My younger sister, Anya, has already fallen for my buddy, Griffin. And now Paxton's engaged.

It's only a matter of time before all of my siblings find somebody. Hell, even my youngest brother Tripp will find somebody before me. I'm sure of it.

I breathe through my silent pity party, and once I've realized I'm acting like a chump, I head back inside.

"Shep, come try this," Brock says, his head peeking out of Hercules.

Our brewery's freezer is a beast of a room, bigger than our party room upstairs, and we've named it Hercules. Well, you can see why.

I head into the cooler, my body growing instantly cold as I do. It's a nice contrast from the bright, shining sun from outside only moments ago.

Brock grabs the pigtail, a small device that lets us tap directly into the barrels that are aging to funnel the beer. He flips a switch and holds a cup under the pigtail and fills it up halfway. Then he hands me the cup and makes one for himself.

He stands, clinking his cup against mine. "I made this last week."

I take a sip, noting the coffee notes. "What is this? A porter?"

Brock nods like a proud papa. "Yep. People are going to love this."

I take another sip. "It's really good."

There's people in this world with real talent. Griffin has a wicked talent of cooking, and Brock has this insane ability to create the tastiest beer. I honestly think it's one of the reasons our brewery does so well.

Mainly I help run the day-to-day operations. Like a front-of-the-house manager. Scheduling employees. Making sure the customers, I mean guests, are happy. Making sure the ship runs like a well-oiled machine.

"How's Millie?" I ask my brother how things are going with his new girlfriend.

He shrugs. "Honestly, not too good. We just can't seem to make things work. She's so busy with the bookstore. I'm busy here, and honestly, we don't have a lot in common." He chuckles lightly.

"That sucks," I say, not wanting my brother to be unhappy. "Maybe things will turn around."

He nods. "Maybe, but good beer, huh?" He nods at the beer in my hand.

I take another sip. "Really fucking good. I'm going back upstairs to check on the restaurant, it's freezing in here."

He laughs as he unhooks the pigtail and sets it on a nearby keg. "If you want any more of this delicious Porter, you know where to find me. I'm thinking of calling it, a Pump Me Up Porter."

I laugh. "That's the dumbest name ever. Let Callum stick to naming the beers."

He shakes his head, and together we walk out of Hercules. "Yeah, how about Pack a Punch Porter?"

I shake my head. "Keep trying. Maybe one day Cal will let you name one."

"You're just afraid I'll top your Kunt Kicker IPA name."

I laugh as I make my way up the stairs. "Nobody could ever top that beer," I say, now it's my turn to feel like a proud papa for crafting our best selling beer.