2. Closing time

CLOSING TIME

Riley

Walking back into the Brewery, Lauren—or Lo, as I call her—barks out, "That was quick."

I head toward the bar where Lo is holding up the first bottle of Mix Tape. It's fifty percent of our local barley malts and forty-nine percent Cayuga white grapes. And it's also our attempt to appease wine lovers, in which I happen to be one of them. "Doesn't always need to be a marathon."

Iz tightens her ponytail for the fourth time since I walked in seconds ago. A nervous tick of hers. "As long as she got hers, who cares?"

Passing her, I give her blonde, wavy locks a light tug. "Stop messing with your hair."

"Hard not to mess with this mop around you three and your perfect hair all done up and makeup always perfect," she grumbles.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," comes from behind us, and we're startled, not prepared for Mags entering from the back. She pulls off her hat and tosses it on the bar, her dark brown curls falling from under it. "See? Natural. And I haven't washed my hair in five days, run a brush through it in six, and I'm allergic to makeup unless it's an event. So?—"

"That's not an allergy, Mags; that's a choice." I push the bottle to Lo. "Open it up."

She pushes it back. "Your idea to try this out, you open it."

Syd snags the corkscrew and then the bottle and murmurs, "I'm thirsty."

"Rough day at Sugar Rush?" I ask as she unscrews the cork.

"I had a moment of weakness on Sunday when Miss Donna called and asked if I'd consider filling in for the rest of the year when Nettie goes out on maternity leave."

"Who'd run Sugar Rush?" Iz asks the same question I was about to ask.

"Mom." She holds out her glass. "Fill it up."

"Aunt Molly's going to retire?" Lo asks as I fill Syd's glass.

"She's burnt out," Syd states. "Doesn't like the direction healthcare is going and is considering opening her own practice."

"Nurses can do that?" Maggie asks.

"She's a practitioner. If she finds an MD she jells with, she can."

With all glasses filled, I raise mine. "To our first glass, Mixed Tape."

Syd holds hers up. "To finally being able to use my teaching degree."

Lauren shakes her head. "Same as Ry's."

I hip-check my sister. "It's going to be awesome."

Iz smiles. "Grandpa John is on board."

"The co-op?" I ask.

She nods. "He's giving me ten acres and all the knowledge he can."

I look at Maggie, knowing this is the two of them. "You excited?"

"Not yet," she answers slyly.

"Oh my God." Iz clasps a hand over her mouth.

"What does ‘oh my God' mean?" Lauren asks, voice full of borrowed excitement.

Maggie rocks back on her heels, her stunning smile growing. "I may have soothed my sorrows after the latest breakup and applied for a spot on Wilderness Warriors."

"Are you fucking insane?" Lauren gasps.

I elbow her. "If anyone can do it, Maggie Sawyer can."

"I mean, I guess. But why?" Sydney shakes her head. "Maggie, that's dangerous."

"Danger is my middle name." She grins.

"No, your middle name is May," Syd says sternly.

"She will be the first woman to win; I know it." Iz holds her glass up.

"Um, where's my glass?" Maggie asks.

"You're not legal," Sydney snips.

"Neither is Iz," she points out.

I hold my hand out. "Keys."

She pulls her lanyard off and drops it in my hand.

"Wait, you can't be on the show," Syd says smugly. "You're not old enough."

"Seventeen to twenty-year-olds this year." She shrugs. "Dad and Mom okayed it."

"What is wrong with them?" Syd huffs.

"They know she loves music and doesn't want to get into the business because of her dad," Iz tells her, then looks at Maggie. "You're going to have the whole country eating out of your hand. You'll be America's sweetheart."

"What the hell does Wilderness Warriors have to do with music?" Syd, who's still not on board, asks.

"I'm gonna make it work." Maggie smiles. "It's a month. One month." She leans over and throws an arm around Sydney. "I'm still gonna be all yours three mornings a week in the summer and every Saturday to help you freeze dry, bake, and decorate all of the things."

She looks at me and Lauren. "All except for that one month. I'll be here Saturday evenings and Sundays for the football shit and events around the holidays."

I raise my glass. "To being girl bosses."

Mags lifts hers. "Fempreneurs."

Syd lifts hers. "She-E-Os."

Iz is next, "Empoweress."

Lauren is last. "What Ry sai?—"

"Screw that," I cut her off, wanting her to step out from behind me and be herself. "What does Lo say?"

Her eyes smile as she lifts her glass. "Lady leaders."

We tap glasses, and I figuratively cross my fingers as I close my eyes, bring my glass toward my face, and inhale.

The first note I catch is the warm sweetness of wildflower honey. Its richness gives me a cozy feel. Next, the fruity floral scent of sweet white grapes, soft and lovely. The malt scent is mellow, and I catch just a tiny hint of spice from the fermentation process.

The first sip is a gentle, honeyed sweetness. Smooth and rich. The sweetness of the Cayuga grapes settles its influence.

It's perfect.

I open my eyes and see them all staring at me.

I set my stemless wine glass on the bar and smile. "It's …" I stop myself from going on and on about the taste and look at my sister. "What do you think, Lo?"

"Tastes like communion, but with fresh bread."

"What?" Syd asks, hand to throat.

"You left the pearls at home today," Mags jokes.

Iz snorts before covering her mouth.

Lo takes another sip and nods. "The honey. Soft bread with a hint of caramelization." She nods to Syd since she's in the business of all things sugar and sweetness. "The grapes sweeten it even more." She smiles at me. "It's perfect."

"It's perfect," I agree and pull her into a hug.

She laughs. "There's just one problem."

I lean back. "What? What's wrong?" I reach for the glass, and she grabs my hand.

"The name, Mixed Tape."

Now I'm hand to throat.

She rolls her eyes and explains, "I loved the last three just as much. Mixed Tape should be the line. We should give each a?—"

"Genre." I clap.

She nods. "Exactly."

"Next year's blends could be artists." Mags grins as she reaches for the bottle.

I grab it away. "Your parents okayed tastings, not for you to get shitty."

"Buzz kill." She rolls her eyes.

The door opens, and I swing my gaze to it.

"Oh no, you don't." Iz shakes her head as she points toward the door. "This is a meeting for women only. Take"—she waves her hand up and down—"all your football-ness and leave the empoweresses alone."

Hudson Hart is the epitome of, as Iz says, football-ness. Even in plain clothes, he's confidence and power. His fitted, long-sleeved T-shirt stretches across his incredibly broad shoulders and well-defined chest; there's no way of hiding the athleticism underneath. His arms are bulging, veiny, toned muscle, the kind you can vividly imagine effortlessly hoisting you up and slamming your back against a wall.

His legs are like tree trunks, showing power through even the relaxed pair of jeans he's wearing. The way he normally moves—controlled, purposeful, with the kind of fluidity that says he's ready to sprint, jump to catch a pass, or dodge a tackle at any moment—gives way to the laidback way he runs his fingers through his dark, silky waves with that boyish smile on his godlike face. He's everything a girl should avoid but should definitely sample.

Lo kicks me under the bar, and I glance at her, receiving her scowl.

It's deserving.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this powerhouse collective of …" He pauses, and I can't help but smile inside, knowing he's fighting his natural impulse to say something that will be interpreted as sexual. His eyes meet mine as if he's looking for help, and all I can do is laugh. He throws his hands up. "Lily lost her Lovey and is currently at my place, screaming so loud I bet the fish have jumped out of the lake, risking their lives just to get the hell out of there. Boone thought it was dropped in the parking lot—it's not—so I just want to look around if that's okay with the Blue Valley Queens."

"What is a Lovey?" Sydney asks, sliding off her stool.

"A blanket with a stuffed horse head attached," he says, glancing around.

"It is hunting season." Izzy slides off hers. "If Lovey is here, we'll find …" She pauses and asks, "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"It's pink. I'm not sure what it identifies as, so I can't answer that without possibly offending Lovey."

"How very good of you," Maggie states.

"I try," Hudson says, walking toward the table the guys all sat at when Boone and Lily were here for an early dinner.

"I'll check the bathroom," Maggie says, heading that way.

"I'll help." Iz hurries toward her.

"When we find Lovey, take a picture of the tag and google image search it to find an exact match," Sydney says as she fully crawls under the table they were at.

When Hudson reaches the table, he squats down, causing me to groan at the sight of his ass. It doesn't matter if a man is built like a football player, like Hudson; a frat boy/Cornell law student who loves the gym, like Brett, and is long and lean; or a thirty-seven-year-old bar owner with a dad bod, like my ex—a well-defined, firm, fat ass is my kryptonite.

"Oh my God." Lauren elbows me. "Knock it off."

I hold up my ring finger. "Engaged, not dead."

She holds up her middle finger. "I banged that, remember?" She rolls her eyes. "Sister code."

"Not under here," Syd says, crawling back out.

Hudson grins as he holds his hand out to help her.

"Thank you," she says, taking it and allowing him to help her up.

He cocks his head to the side and asks, "Google image search?"

"How do you not know what that is?" She laughs.

"The same way you don't know what a Sluggo, wheel route, or back shoulder play is." He smiles.

"I know they're football," she defends.

"You got me." He smiles in that easy way of his and looks behind the chairs. "But in my defense, I don't spend a lot of time on the computer."

"Fair." She smiles back.

He stands and sighs as he walks to the center of the floor and looks around, almost lost. "Lily is gonna be so upset."

"You like kids?" Lauren asks.

His brows shoot up. "Like?" Then he shakes his head. "Fucking love kids."

"You want kids?" I ask and want to kick myself for it.

He smirks as he lifts his chin. "You offering your womb, Brooksie?"

It's obvious he feels like shit for even joking with Lauren standing here as he glances at her.

She throws her hands in the air. "You're looking at the wrong sister. I'm not having kids. She wants five."

"Five?" he asks.

"I mean, yeah. Built-in besties." I throw my arm around Lo and pull her into a hug.

He shakes his head and smiles at me. "I'm not having kids."

"Why?" Iz asks as they take their seats back at the bar.

"I couldn't be the dad I wanna be, playing the game I love. I'm not expecting a woman to want to follow me around the country or put up with my schedule." He shrugs. "So, no kids."

"Plenty of women would follow you around the country," Syd states.

He shakes his head and swallows back a whole cluster of words he seems to want to say. He blinks it away and chuckles. "I gotta get back to the lake and help Boone perform an exorcism." He grins. "Maybe I'll give Lily the golden pitchfork to take her mind off the loss of Lovey."

"Yeah, great idea. How about you give her some scissors and tell her to run as fast as she can," Syd scolds him.

Laughing, he turns to walk out the door.

"Hey, Hart," I call his attention back to us, and he looks over his shoulder. "I don't remember her having her Wovey when she came in."

His eyes narrow slightly.

"She normally gives it to me to hold when she eats so it doesn't get dirty. I'm betting it's in Boone's vehicle."

"Gonna pray you're right because I'd like some sleep before I have to get up and face SPD at my door, issuing noise complaint tickets."

"If someone complains and you get a ticket, you let SPD know they should be arresting the person complaining for trespassing," Syd huffs, and I see the exact moment when the realization hits. "On second thought, call the State boys."

Syd's ex-fiancé is a police officer in Skaneateles, and when she broke up with him, she got pulled over every time she pulled into town. The pathetic piece of shit told everyone she broke his heart. In my opinion, a heart attached to a man that sticks his dick in another when he's months from the altar deserves more than to get broken. It deserves to be stabbed repeatedly.

As soon as he exits, Syd hurries to the door and calls, "Be right back!"

Iz claps her hands together and rubs them back and forth. "Syd's going to get herself some rebound ass."

Mags giggles. "Ry's the ass chick; Syd's all about eyes and arms."

Lauren yawns, bored with the conversation. "I'm going to head to my place, get into my jammies, and watch TV."

"We're staying with you," Iz says.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" I ask as the three of them head toward the back exit.

"I close and clean tomorrow night," Lo calls back.

"You're leaving me all alone." I fake pout.

"You have Syd, which means you'll be cleaning toilets with a glove and toothbrush; enjoy," Mags says, and the three start laughing.

"Have fun, brats," I call after them.

I walk down the bar, pulling the plugs on all the sink drains below it as I make my way back to the kitchen to grab the dish tray. When I return, Syd is walking in, and she's winded.

"You okay?" I try not to laugh when she bends at the waist, attempting to catch her breath and raise her hand in the air. "You found Wuvey!"

Uncurling her body, she stands and throws her hands in the air. "I did!" She pops out a hip. "Now call the damn fool. He was parked over it. Tell him I chased his ass down the road in these." I look in the direction Syd is pointing. "These are not running shoes; they're brand-new hooker boots that happen to be comfortable and look good with everything." Her pouty bottom lip pops out. "And they're a muddy mess."

"I don't have his number." I hold up a bar rag. "But I can clean up your kitten heels."

She walks toward me. "Is it too late to call anyone to get his number?" she asks, knowing a call after nine p.m. means someone is in trouble, and a text to anyone married after dark is an interruption, as she takes her boot off.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'd drive there, but …" She lifts a shoulder.

"I'm sure she's?—"

"Did you see that man's eyes? There was true fear in them." She hands me one boot, then hops down the bar a bit and unzips the other. "I got this one, and then you and I are taking half an hour out of our night to go make a little girl happy."

"You remember that scene in Bridesmaids where the girl kept driving by the cop she was?—"

"Oh, hell no?—"

"Not the way she was trying to win him back part of the movie but pissing him off would be a hell of a lot of fun."

"I'm telling you straight up that I have bottled-up rage inside of me that would go perfectly with his face. I go to jail, I lose my liquor li?—"

"I'd never do that to you."

"Well, don't do it to you, either. You get in trouble because of him, and I'm going to say fuck my license and enjoy the much-needed vacation in the barbed-wire B trust me when I say the getting-to-know-you phase is over. We have lives that don't consume each other, and after my four years with?—"

"I know," she sighs. "But you're an adventurer. Won't you get bored?"

I shake my head and smile. "How will I get bored when I'm running a business and plan on having lots of babies?"

She grins. "God, I can't wait to snuggle your babies."

"And I can't wait to snuggle yours."

"Well, you're gonna have to." She forces a smile. "Because Sydney Sparks is single and loving it."

"Damn right, you are."