Milo

MILO

I don’t know what’s prettier—the view or my fiancée.

The reds and oranges of the leaves feel like a warm, welcome hug, even as they flutter to the ground thanks to the cool autumn breeze, the bright sunshine making the colors pop. The dense forest that lines the rolling hills acting as the backdrop to Magnolia Ridge, North Carolina, is breathtaking, to say the least.

Still, it’s nothing compared to Brenna.

“What?” she asks, her eyes going wide.

“Nothing.” I shrug, walking under the Southern Brothers Brewing tent we have set up at the Smooth Hoperator Beer Festival.

As a major sponsor of the event, we have a prime spot with a large setup, ready to serve and sample all four of our beers. It was a bit of an undertaking getting everything up here from Hickory Hills, our small town in Georgia where our operation is based, but we did it.

“What’s wrong with me?” Brenna panics, spinning around, patting herself up and down.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with you?”

“Is my ass hanging out? Is there something in my hair?”

“You look fine.”

“Did I spill something? Is there a stain? What?”

“Nothing like that,” I assure her.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I like looking at you.”

Brenna huffs, not bothering to hide her annoyance. I chuckle under my breath, loving that I get to rile her up this way. Especially because I know she secretly loves it.

Rounding the table, I wrap my arms around her and press a kiss to her forehead. She relaxes into my arms, her sweet sigh disappearing into the rustle of the leaves like it belongs there. And this is how I know that she’s not really all that upset—because if she was, she’d have let me have it. She’s fiery that way.

“That’s enough grab-ass, you two. We’re in public,” Brandt jokes, ducking under the tent.

“We need to find you a girl,” Brenna comments, not letting go of me.

“You sound like Mom.”

“Take that back!”

Flying out of my arms, Brenna flails a wayward backhand at her older brother. Brandt dodges out of the way, quicker on his feet than he looks for being as tall and broad as he is, laughing like any good brother would. Same way I would if this were me and my little sister. Which is exactly why I’m staying out of it.

If I’ve learned anything from falling in love with my best friend and business partner’s baby sister, it’s to not take sides. At least not in the little things. When it comes to the big things, it’s unspoken that I have Brenna’s back no matter what. Not that there has been anything big to argue about, because Brandt has also always been her biggest supporter—a role that he had a hard time handing over to me.

“Okay, children, we ready? They’re letting people in.”

The two of them stop goofing around and turn their focus to the group headed our way. For a second, I freeze, wondering what kind of crowd we’re going to have. Magnolia Ridge isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. In fact, quite the opposite. A small town in the mountains of Western North Carolina, it’s a place people go to in order to escape. The closest major town is Asheville more than an hour away.

That’s also the reason I agreed to not only attend, but to sponsor the Smooth Hoperator Beer Festival. Southern Brothers doesn’t do this kind of thing very often. We’re a small outfit, and it takes a lot to pull this kind of thing off. We don’t have that kind of staff. Frankly, neither Brandt nor I want to do this kind of thing either. Not any more than we have to.

But when we found out this one was going to be in another small town, well, these two small-town guys were in. All in.

Judging by the number of people headed our way, we weren’t alone in that fact.

“And you were worried we brought too much beer,” Brenna comments, nudging me with her hip.

“Happy to be wrong.”

A heartbeat later, the tent is flooded with people. Some looking to sample, some simply looking for swag, while others want to talk shop. At one point, a couple of event volunteers show up to help, giving us some much-needed relief in manning the lines so that Brandt and I can focus on talking to those who are more interested in the actual products, rather than wanting a quick sip.

“So, what if I don’t like beer?” a twenty-something blonde girl asks, a guilty look on her face.

My ears perk up at the question, my inner sass-hole ready to comment that she’s in the wrong place. Or she must really love whoever dragged her here. Because she is in for a long fucking day if she doesn’t like beer. But Brenna jumps in without blinking.

“Depends,” Brenna replies, smiling sweetly. It’s the same smile she gives old Mr. Markland while she explains his heart medication to him every month. Being the town pharmacist means she has the patience of a saint, plus the ability to break even the most complicated things down in a way that makes them seem as easy as pie. “Define don’t like beer . As in you hate it or it’s just not your fave?”

“Ehhhh,” Blondie meanders. “The taste is just…I dunno…”

Gross…she’s trying not to say gross…

I stand back, watching the interaction play out. Because I can read this girl and know exactly what it is she does want to drink. It’s not beer. She must really, really love whoever she’s here with.

Brenna, however, doesn’t miss a beat. If anything, she comes alive.

“I got you,” she tells the girl, holding up her hands. “So, if that’s your feeling, then Party Mode and Sob Story are out. They’re both ales, your everyday beer, one more happy and the other a little more mellow, hence the names, but you’re still gonna taste all that beer-ness. How do you feel about sour things?”

“Like Sour Patch Kids?”

“Kinda.”

The girl shakes her head, and I bite back a laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brandt knee-deep in a conversation with some hipster, and can tell he’s going to be there awhile. So I keep my focus on my beautiful fiancée, letting her work her magic.

“Okay then, so the Silver Lining Sour is out. Let’s try this then.”

She grabs the growler with the large blue B on it, pouring a small amount into the shot glass-sized red plastic cup for the girl. My heart squeezes, waiting for the response. Light and fun, with that hint of sweet, Blue Jeans in Low Beams tastes like falling in love. This young lady was just handed the world’s perfect brew—if I do say so myself—but I still have money on her not liking it.

Scrunching her nose, she shakes her head. “No, still tastes like beer.”

Called it…

Brenna deflates before my eyes, and it takes everything in me not to rush over and remind her it’s not personal. But then she perks up, catching even me off guard.

“One last thing!”

Spinning around, Brenna grabs an unmarked jug from the cooler behind her, pouring a yellow liquid into the cup, then topping it off with some Sob Story. Lemonade. Brenna brought lemonade.

“The Sobbin’ Shandy. Let me know what you think.”

Hesitantly taking a sip, Blondie’s expression changes. It goes from scared to excited, and she quickly downs the rest of her sample.

“Holy shit! Now that’s good.”

“Yay! I’m so happy we found something for you!”

I shake my head, laughing to myself. I should have known. The Sobbin’ Shandy. A drink that Brandt and I created in a pinch for my little sister’s best friend, Sylvie, also a non-beer drinker, for when they all came to hang out at the Southern Brothers taphouse, Pour Decisions, back in Hickory Hills. But it didn’t even occur to me to bring lemonade with us to this event and offer the Shandy.

Giving Brenna another couple of minutes to finish up with the guest, I turn my attention to someone else, passing out a couple more samples, happily talking up each one of the different brews.

“You brought lemonade,” I comment when I finally get her alone.

She nods, pulling her lips into her mouth, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know the diner we ate at last night, the one with the killer burgers and shakes? Well, I was talking with Kitty, the owner, and she was telling me she also hand squeezes her own lemonade. And I know you weren’t planning on doing shandies, buuuut…”

“But, you couldn’t help yourself?”

I grab her hips, yanking her into me. Brenna squeaks, her perfectly kissable lips forming a smile that goes from ear to ear, lighting me up like a Christmas tree. Fuck, she’s perfect. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she wiggles her hips against me, making my dick twitch and letting out a giggle that says she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“When it comes to you, never…”

I lean in, pressing my lips to hers for a quick kiss, but Brenna has another idea. Tightening her arms around me, she lingers, deepening the kiss, finding my tongue with hers. For a moment, the world stops and I forget where we are. Doesn’t matter that I’ve kissed her a hundred times, or that I get to do this for the rest of my life. Because there is something magical about this woman and what she does to me.

“Bren…” I growl, pulling back.

“Would I be the worst fiancée in the world if I were to ask you to help me with something in the truck?” she whispers.

“Ummm…” I blink, trying to make sense of her question. What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?

Brenna grabs my hand, not waiting for more of an answer. I throw a look over my shoulder, trying to make sure that we’re not deserting our post and causing a problem. Brandt is still talking to the same hipster, and all the event volunteers seem to have everything under control.

We bob and weave through the row of trucks and trailers until we reach mine. Eyes still full of mischief, Brenna reaches into my pocket, pulling out the keys and unlocking it, and then yanking me in for another kiss.

“And just what do you need out of the truck, beautiful?” I ask, my pulse kicking into high gear as she toys with the hem of my shirt.

“You.”

Her one-word answer is gas on an open flame. I throw the truck door open and grab her hips, hoisting her inside. I don’t give her a chance to comment, capturing her mouth in a hot, hard kiss. Brenna whimpers, making my dick twitch, so I kiss her harder, running my hand along her thighs, wondering just how fast I can get her out of these jeans.

“Milo,” she whispers, shifting to give me better access to inch the tight denim down her smooth skin.

I kiss my way along her jaw, stopping to nibble her ear before placing openmouthed kisses along her neck. Her skin is sweet, but not as sweet as where I’m headed, and my mouth waters, knowing that I’m close. One final tug and I get what I want, at least enough to have access to get between her legs.

“Fuck, Bren…”

Her glorious, glistening pussy is on full display, and my dick strains against my pants, my mind filling with all the naughty things I want to do. Things that will have to wait until later because we have to be quick about this. But some things can’t wait.

Lowering my head, I swipe at her pussy, her incredible taste filling my mouth. Brenna cries out, hands flying to the back of my head, spurring me on. I zero in on her clit, fluttering my tongue against it, wasting no time. I know what will get her there.

“I need you, Milo…please…” she cries.

“I’m right here, baby,” I tell her, replacing my mouth with my hand, slipping two fingers inside her, my thumb landing on her clit.

Sliding up her body, I kiss her gently, letting her know I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere.

“No, inside me, please,” she begs. “Now.”

“You sure?”

She nods, the need in her brown eyes clear. And what my girl wants, my girl gets.

I remove my hand, slowly licking her taste from my fingers, savoring her sweetness. Brenna pants, watching me, the lusty look taking over and growing by the second. The same one telling me to hurry the fuck up.

So I do.

Moving as quick as I ever have, I undo my pants, just enough to free my cock. I scoot her to the edge of the seat and line us up, thrusting into her hard.

“Faaa!”

Brenna’s scream melts into the air, the feel of her around me taking over all of my senses. Nothing else matters right now. She’s in my arms. Around my cock. All is right with the world.

I scoop her up, holding on as tight as I can as she wraps her legs around my waist, pressing her back against the truck for leverage.

“Hold on, baby,” I growl.

I thrust again, this time not waiting on her reaction. I fuck her hard, knowing exactly how she likes it, finding a rhythm that has us both grunting and groaning, our bodies in charge. They’re the ones doing the talking now—we’re simply along for the ride.

Reaching in between us, I find Brenna’s clit with my thumb, and it’s game over. Her pussy clamps down on me as her climax hits, her face burying into my shoulder. I continue to move, trying to hold on and keep her pleasure at a high.

But then it hits me, that lightning bolt straight down my spine, and there’s no holding it back. I come with a roar, her name on my lips as I fill her with everything I have.

A long moment later, I relax, unlinking us and setting Brenna back down on the ground. My pulse is still racing like I just ran the Kentucky Derby, but my heart is so full it could explode. Never in a million years would I have expected to find a woman who I could sneak off with for a quickie at a beer festival.

Never in two million would I have expected it to be my best friend’s baby sister.

Brenna giggles, placing a soft kiss along my jaw. “Better tuck yourself in there, sir, before someone sees you.”

“Says the woman whose pants are currently around one ankle,” I sass back. “Although, I should clean you up first.”

“You clean me up, and we’re gonna end up in the truck bed for round two.” She winks. “I’ll grab the napkins myself.”

I huff out a laugh, knowing she’s not wrong. Been known to happen before.

A few minutes later, all cleaned up and tucked back in, we walk hand in hand back to the tent. My mind is still lingering on all the things I want to do to her tonight when we get back to the hotel, and it’s going to be a longer evening of watching her in those jeans.

After all, that’s how the beer got its name—Brenna Rawlins dancing in the low beams of my truck in a pair of painted-on blue jeans.

“Where’d you two get off to?” Brandt asks as we get back to the tent. He looks between us, eyes darting back and forth, and then he sighs, rolling his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, seriously? Gross…”

“We really need to get you a girl,” Brenna comments, smiling like she doesn’t give a damn that we got caught. Giving us both a wink, she walks back over to the tables, talking to a group of kids who barely look old enough to drink.

That’s my girl…

Brandt rolls his eyes again, giving me a look. I shrug, knowing that I have nothing to feel guilty about. Plus, we really do need to find him a girl.

“Hi, Southern Brothers?” An older gentleman in his sixties approaches, an official Smooth Hoperator Festival badge on the lapel of his blazer.

“That’s us!” Brandt answers.

“Great, we need you to please report to the stage for the award ceremony.”

“Award ceremony?”

Brandt and I look at each other, both of us equally confused. I was unaware there were any awards at this thing.

“Yes, we sent some…secret shoppers, if you will, out and about earlier today to try the different selections and anonymously choose winners for our different categories. And y’all were selected as our winner for the Smooth Hoperator Best Creation for your ale derivative.”

“Ale derivative?” Brandt questions. “We don’t have an ale?—”

I grab his arm, cutting him off. “The Sobbin’ Shandy.”

I’ll be damned…

“Ahh, is that the proper name?” the older gentleman asks, scribbling in his notepad. “I’ll make sure we announce that. I don’t know if y’all sell that, but it ran away with the votes.”

“Right now it’s only available at our taphouse in Hickory Hills,” I say.

“Too bad. Well, if you’ll follow me.”

He turns, not watching to see if we move, ambling his way through the crowd toward the stage. Both of us remain still for a moment, too shocked to do anything.

“Brenna…” I exhale, unable to process it all.

“Should have known she’d outsmart us all,” Brandt comments.

That’s my girl…

“You head over there. I’m going to go thank the brains of the operations.”

“You are going to make it to the stage, right?” he jokes. Well, half jokes. Given the amount of times Brandt has walked in on Brenna and me, he has every right to be partially concerned. “I’m not going to lose you to another quickie, am I? You know what, bring her too. That way I’m not up there alone like some jackass.”

I flip him the bird, making my way over to her. Although, bringing her with me isn’t a bad idea. I think I’ll do just that.

“Hey, I need to steal you.” I slide my arm around Brenna’s waist, pulling her away from the table.

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I give her a once-over, this time really making sure that nothing is hanging out.

“Oh shit, is my ass hanging out?”

“No. But I had to check, since you just won us an award.”

“What?”

Surprise takes over, and I use the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“Yup. Your little blonde friend from earlier with the Shandy. She was a secret shopper. We won Best Creation.”

“Milo, that’s incredible! Congratulations!” Brenna leaps into my arms, kissing me hard. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Me? Bren, this was all you. You gave it to her.”

“But it’s your beer. That’s your work, not mine.”

Fuck me, she can’t even take credit for this. I do not deserve this woman.

Pressing my lips to hers, I linger for a long second, savoring her taste, knowing just how lucky I am.

“I love you, Brenna. I have no idea what I would do without you here.”

“Right back at you, Milo Hayes. I love you too.”

“Now let’s go get your award.”