Kamp rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That was Rhett’s only contribution. He swore he was going to name it something epic. He would make all the labels if he could have three percent of any future profit, so I thought he was actually going to take it seriously. But he put this shit on all the bottles, and now I’m stuck with four batches of penis juice beer. He’s an asshole and will get zero percent of all future profits.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, sitting up straighter. “You brew this?”
“Yep. I used to make moonshine, too, but I got a little arrested.”
She snickered and made her way into the kitchen. “A little arrested,” she murmured, looking around for beer brewing equipment. All she saw was a bowl with trail mix and an empty package next to it. There were about a dozen M&Ms in a little pile on the counter. “If you only like the candies, why do you get trail mix? Why don’t you just get a bag of candy?”
“The candy is the only thing I don’t like. I can’t really eat chocolate,” he explained, coming to lean onto the countertop, beer in hand. “My animal feels sick for a day or two when I eat it. But I stay out for work, and the trail mix a good quick snack that keeps me going for a while. It’s my favorite thing to eat. I just have to adjust it a little. It’s annoying, but I can’t find any trail mix like this without the candies.”
“I thought dogs were allergic to chocolate, not big ferocious lions.” She ate all the orange ones.
“Apparently, cats can be sensitive, too.” He frowned at her as she picked another orange one out of the trail mix and popped it in her mouth. “M&Ms all taste the same so I know those aren’t your favorite flavors. Favorite color?”
“Nah, my favorite color is teal. Where I’m from, you eat green ones to make you horny and orange ones for bigger boobs.”
He chuckled. “Your boobs are just fine.”
She jerked her attention over at him. His cheeks were turning red, and he ducked his gaze as he picked at the label on his beer. “They’re perfect,” he murmured so softly she almost missed it. “I like your freckles, too. And you don’t cover yourself when you Change. I like that you are who you are and you don’t water yourself down. That confidence is sexy.” He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “And I kinda think it’s hot that your grizzly came straight for me today. I don’t think many people would have a shot at running you over, Novak. Come on, I’ll show you where I brew the beer.”
There was this silly breezy sensation in her stomach as he passed her by, heading for the back door on the other side of the kitchen. He called her Novak, but for some reason, she wished he would let his guard down and call her Remi.
“You’re wrong,” she said as she followed him down the stairs in the back.
“About which part?”
“I watered myself down for someone, I’m not that confident, and I let him run me over.”
“Did you?”
“Yep, sure did.”
He turned and walked backward. “Then why are you here in one piece? And where is he?”
Huh.
Kamp tinked the neck of his bottle against hers. “Here’s to you cutting dead weight. Congrats. You’re free.”
She didn’t know why that made her blink hard and fight back the burning in her eyes. She didn’t know why that windy sensation in her stomach got stronger. She only knew how grateful she was when he turned around and walked away before he could witness her weakness in this moment.
Dead weight.
That’s exactly what Kagan had been, and look what she’d been doing? Mourning her freedom. Enough that she’d flown all the way here, rented a car, and drove into these unfamiliar mountains, desperately searching for anything that would take her focus off the ache in her heart.
How many times had Kagan called her to see how she was doing? None. He’d left so easy. Just moved on, while she’d given him all this power by breaking down.
Enough. There would be big changes when she went back to the city tomorrow. It was time to get her life back. To get her pride back.
Right at the edge of the trailer park, there was one of those big sheds that looked like a little barn. It was one of those cheap numbers that were always set up in the parking lots of hardware stores, but this one was a little different. Someone had poured a slab for a concrete foundation, and as she stepped inside, it looked like the walls were covered in metal sheeting. Kamp strode right to the middle of the room and pulled the string of the single hanging lightbulb, illuminating the garage-sized mancave. On the back wall, there were three big metal kegs set up on a metal tube mount positioned over a pair of propane tanks. There were two metal racks with different sized metal containers, tubes, and storage bins. Wooden crates of empty bottles, all boasting that Pen15 Juice logo were stacked neatly on the other wall. There were also plastic containers labeled: hops, malt, yeast, corn sugar, and one called secret ingredient. There was also a tall, two-seater table with stacked tasting glasses and a couple of empty beer bottles. There was a stainless-steel sink with a big faucet in the corner.
“This is the coolest brewery I’ve ever seen.”
“Ha. It’s nothing special. Just a hobby to keep from killing the other two ass-faces that call this place home.”
She giggled and took a seat at the table. “You just called two monster lion shifters ass-faces.”
She chugged her beer and then set down the empty. “If you hate it so much here, then why do you stay?”
Instead of answering, Kamp followed suit and finished his drink, then opened a mini fridge and pulled out a jar of pickles. He yanked a bottle of vodka off the top shelf of one of the metal racks and poured shots into the glasses on the table. Then poured pickle juice in two more.
“Pulling out the hard stuff tonight,” she pointed out. “Just so you know, I’m not gonna get drunk and sleep with you.”
Kamp rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, I’m not the type of man who would ever sleep with a drunk girl. Plus, your dad would kill me slowly if anything happened to you. You’re about as safe as you can get.”
“Mmm, good answer. I haven’t had a pickleback shot since I was in Damon’s Mountains.”
“What else haven’t you done since then?”
“Oh, gosh.” She searched her memory. It had been four years since she’d followed Kagan from the town they’d gone to college in and moved to the city. “Rode four-wheelers, climbed a tree, shot-gunned a beer, jumped off Bear Trap Falls, Changed with a whole Crew—”
“Listen to your voice.” He sat down across from her at the thin metal table. “You miss it.”
“No…no, I…” She frowned. She’d been telling herself she didn’t miss it so she could keep her head in the city and not be miserable…but maybe… “I miss parts of it.”
“How long since you’ve been back?”
“I visited my old Crew and family on the holidays, but it’s been years since I spent a whole week there. Mostly, when I go back, I’m so busy trying to see everyone that it flies by and I’m leaving again before I know it. What about you? Do you visit your hometown much?”
“Cheers,” he said, lifting up his vodka.
Oh, he was a tough one. He’d barely given any information about himself, and here she was, spilling her guts. She could clam up, too. “Cheers,” she said. They clinked the bottom of the glasses on the table and then it was bottoms up, followed by the pickle juice chaser.
“You look mad.”
“I’m not mad,” she said primly.
“Your eyes are all squinty and you look like you just sucked on a lemon.”
“Nice weather we’re having up here.” She arched her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair. Which was backless, so she started to fall, wind-milled her arms, and barely caught herself. He was trying to hide a smile but not very well, the oaf.
He looked up at the ceiling and back at her. “This place is a share. No one has been in here but Rhett, and then it was only to ruin my empty bottles.”
“You’re territorial?”