Saving Grapes - Madeline Kirby Page 0,4
he swallowed. “Oh, that is so good. Hoppy, but really well-balanced.”
“Let’s go drink these outside.” Thom led Ben out to some deck chairs on the porch. They sat, both facing the railing overlooking the yard and neither knowing how to start up a conversation. “So,” Thom finally began, “you like microbrews?”
“Yeah, I like trying lots of different ones. But College Station wasn’t exactly microbrew Mecca, you know? Most of the guys I knew drank light beer, and the rest wouldn’t drink anything but Shiner Bock. It’s getting better, though.”
“Shiner Bock? I’m not familiar with that one.”
“It’s brewed in Texas. It started out small, but now it’s available pretty much everywhere in the U.S. Maybe not in Oregon, though. Anyway, a lot of people still think it’s a microbrew. Alabama isn’t an easy place to be a beer aficionado, either.”
“Guess I never thought about it. I wouldn’t call myself an aficionado really, but you won’t find any light beer in my fridge.”
“I’ll drink to that,” laughed Ben, holding his bottle out for Thom to clink his against.
“Cheers. So what got you interested in microbrewed beer?” I’ll keep him talking, Thom thought. This is a safe topic, right? I’ll distract myself and not think about how good those lips look puckered up around the rim of that bottle. Oh shit, why did I just think about that? I need professional help. And maybe keeping Ben talking wasn’t the best idea either. The man’s voice was a honeyed drawl with just a hint of the south, and a rich timbre that was doing disturbing things to Thom’s pulse.
“I did have this one friend, Doug, who brewed his own beer. Once I tasted it I was never able to look at beer the same. We would go down to Houston on the weekends and look for new beers to try. He taught me about brewing and I was hooked.” He stopped, gazing into the darkness beyond the porch, and Thom wondered if his brewing friend was more than just a friend.
“Do you miss him?” Thom asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“Sure, I miss most of my friends. Oh, you mean…” He turned to look at Thom, to see if there was any judgment or condemnation there. Seeing none, he continued. “Uncle Chuck told you, of course. No, not like you mean. He was a friend, a good friend, but not more than that.”
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Thom apologized.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind. I mean, if I’m going to be staying here we shouldn’t be tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, right? Does it bother you that I’m gay? Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No. Not at all.” Not the way you mean, anyway, thought Thom.
Ben smiled, looking relaxed, “Hey, life isn’t going along exactly like I planned, you know? But maybe it won’t be all bad. I’m looking forward to working here. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot.”
“And maybe you can teach me about brewing beer,” Thom offered.
“Really? You mean that?”
Thom smiled – the younger man was like a puppy, practically quivering with excitement. “Sure, why not?”
Ben leaned back in his chair and took a long pull of his beer. “Awesome.”
They sat on the porch, finishing their beers and talking, getting to know each other and discussing the next day’s work until Ben started yawning.
“Sorry, long day,” he said around another yawn.
“No, I’m sorry,” said Thom. “I should have thought about you being tired. Are you hungry?”
“No, Aunt Lorraine stuffed me full before I came over. Just need a hot shower and some sleep and I’ll be good as new.”
Thom showed Ben to one of the spare bedrooms at the front of the second floor, showed him where to find the towels in the guest bath, then went back downstairs to lock up and tidy the kitchen before heading back upstairs. As he passed the closed guest bath door on the way to the master suite at the back of the house, he could hear the shower running and tried not to imagine a wet, soapy Ben standing under the spray from the showerhead. It was going to be a long summer.
Chapter 3
“HEY! PERFECT timing,” Thom greeted Ben as he came into the kitchen the next morning. “Hope eggs and sausage is okay? Coffee’s made and there’s orange juice in the ‘fridge.”
“Sounds great,” Ben answered. “I’m starving!”
“After Lorraine stuffed you last night?”
“Crazy metabolism I guess – sometimes it seems like I’m hungry all the time.”
“Okay, looks like we’re going grocery shopping