The Tap Room

"Hey, Erin." She jumped as Jeff’s voice came rocketing through the brewery doors. "Could you come look at this…?"

Erin stood up from the bar stool still staring at the spreadsheet she’d been studying for the last hour, intending to see what Jeff needed but was then distracted by a ding from her computer. She tucked her hair up into a loose ponytail and glanced at her laptop screen.

Landon: Hey, I’m giving a talk at the Industry writer’s Conference next week. Why don’t you come out?

Erin pictured the man she’d formed such a virtual bond with—his social networking profile was far reaching and lots of photos of him abounded especially among journalist groups. Tall and intent-looking, with dark eyes and clean-shaven head, he was one of the most respected industry writers around. He had written the seminal book on starting a brewery, one that had graced her own bookshelf from the beginning. The guy was smart, good looking, and seemingly impressed with what Erin had done with her little Mid-west brewery. Why not go meet him? She had managed to mess everything up here. Maybe a break would help.

Erin sighed. How in the world she had managed to get herself here, caught between men like this—she had no idea. Her chest tightened as she pictured Owen’s face, his eyes dark with anger the last time they spoke. His remarkable ability to bring out the best in her, but then to ignore her when he couldn’t deal with his feelings was maddening. At least with Jeff she knew exactly where she stood. Her thighs clenched at the thought of him.

"Yo, you coming?" The object of her lustful fascination called her again from the other room. "And lock the front door," his low voice teased. "We’re closed."