Tipsy of Love, page 1
Tipsy on Love
MOUNTAIN MEN OF CARIBOU CREEK BOOK 3
KALI HART
Tipsy on Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Kali Hart
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
1. Josie
2. Ben
3. Josie
4. Ben
5. Josie
6. Ben
7. Josie
8. Ben
9. Josie
10. Ben
11. Josie
12. Ben
13. Josie
14. Ben
15. Josie
16. Ben
17. Josie
Epilogue
Other Books by Kali Hart
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Josie
I reread the first paragraph of my resignation letter. One I’ve typed and retyped more times than I can count. The delete key and I have become well acquainted today as I’ve searched for the right words to tell the Ashburn brothers that I can no longer work for them. But every sentence I attempt feels too informal. Too emotionless.
Too much like Ben Ashburn.
A smile curls my lips for the briefest moment. Out of the three brothers, Ben is the grumpiest for certain. He keeps everything close to the vest. Doesn’t let emotions factor in to a single decision. He’s all business and no play.
Which is why I can’t stay.
I’ve been in love with my boss for three years.
Three pitiful years.
I’ve worked my ass off trying to impress him. Hoping that one day he might see me as more than his personal assistant. But it’s time to stop wishing for the impossible. I’m not Ben’s type. That much was made obvious when he started dating the elegant and fierce Katherine Rollins last year. I foolishly hoped when they broke up—over a month ago—that Ben would finally see what’s been in front of him all along.
But nothing has changed.
And the Cochran’s have made me an offer I’d be an idiot to refuse. Head of marketing at their Anchorage brewery. I haven’t officially accepted it, but I plan to as soon as I hand over my resignation letter. The same letter I’m having the hardest damn time writing without bursting into tears.
“It’s time, Josie,” I mumble to myself, refocusing on my computer screen. Forcing the unshed tears to stay off my cheeks. “Time to move on.”
As I delete the opening line and prepare for attempt number fifty-two to get it right, the office door opens. I pretend not to recognize Ben’s silhouette. I pretend my pulse doesn’t go from zero to a hundred in half a second. He’s been working from home a lot since the breakup, which is why I’m surprised to see him. I’d secretly hoped to avoid him my last two weeks here.
Quickly, I minimize my document. “Didn’t expect you in today, boss.” I call him boss, wishing I could call him Ben. But the damn man’s too formal for all that. If he had it his way, I’d call him Mr. Ashburn. I don’t. I need something to rebel against. All his grumpy quirks drive me a little mad, but for some stupid reason I have yet to identify, it seems to make my attraction to him all that much stronger.
“There’s been a change of plans.” Leaving the door open, he folds his arms over his chest and looks at me. Except his gaze quickly drops to the floor, the way it has for three years. The man can hardly look me in the eye. His lips are hardened into their familiar straight line, but right now, they seem extra pinched.
“Something wrong?”
“Wes just took off for his honeymoon.”
Wes, the brew master, was supposed to travel with me to North Haven this weekend for a local festival. The Caribou Creek Brewery booked a vendor spot to hand out samples months ago. It’s in a small town, but the festival promises to draw people from all over the state. Especially with the opening of their new hotel. I’ve been pulling data, running online polls, and making decisions about how much of each beer to bring. Including Wes’ new secret brew. One he hasn’t told his brothers about. Only his wife, Avery and me.
I’d planned to tell Wes that I was leaving first. I know he’ll be kind about the news. Now I wonder if I’ll even get the opportunity to tell him in person. “I can make a call. Let them know we’re not coming. But we won’t get a refund for our booth this late—”
“We’re going.”
“We?”
“You and me.”
I gulp a swallow, realizing I’m suddenly thirsty. Very thirsty. Ben never goes to these events. He can schmooze business professionals well enough. But I have a hard time picturing him smiling for eight straight hours. “Not Zac?”
“Not Zac.” In typical Ben fashion, he doesn’t elaborate. “Is this going to be a problem?”
“Nope.” I don’t notice that I’m fiddling with a pen until it goes flying out of my hand. Ben arches an eyebrow as it narrowly misses hitting him in the leg. He bends over to pick it up. I shouldn’t steal a lingering glance. Not when I’m trying so hard to put him behind me. But I can’t help it. Ben is all muscle beneath his suit pants and button-up shirt. He’s so far out of my league it isn’t even funny. But damn, is he nice to look at.
“We’ll leave Thursday night.” He starts to hand over my pen, but seems to think better of it, and sets it on the edge of my desk instead. “Be back on Sunday.”
“Okay.”
“Wes mentioned you had everything taken care of.”
“Yes. The kegs we need are headed on a delivery truck a day ahead of us. We have a contact in North Haven who’s going to pick them up and store them for us until we get there. Do you want me to email you the checklist I’ve compiled?” Part of me hopes he says no, because Wes’ special brew is on that bullet-pointed list. A beer that Ben doesn’t even know exists. But then again, Wes disappeared without giving me a heads up. Whatever comes of that surprise isn’t on me. I can’t decide if I’m mad or excited to be stuck with Ben for a full weekend.
“No, that’s okay. I trust you have a handle on things.”
“Not my first rodeo.”
Ben’s gaze flickers up to mine, and I swear I see a hint of a smile form. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him. It’s the challenge of making him smile that keeps me entertained. It’s a nearly impossible task. For three years, I’ve hoped that if I could only make him smile, maybe then he’d realize what he means to me. What I could to mean to him.
“We’ll go over the details tomorrow,” Ben says, all traces of amusement fleeting. “I’ll be working from home the rest of the day.”
It’s a challenge to keep the smile pasted on my face when all I really want to do is scream. “You have a call with Berkley Brewery at seven tomorrow morning about expanding distribution,” I remind him. “They’re on the east coast.”
“Right.”
“I added a calendar reminder.”
Ben nods. His way of saying thank you. Then spins on his heel and leaves. Just like that. No see you later. No goodbye. No thank you for being so accommodating. If only I was a reasonable woman, I’d realize I was wasting my time when it came to Ben Ashburn. I’d realize he’s never going to be the man I want him to be. He’s never going to love me.
I pull my resignation letter back up, but the words all blur together.
A crazy idea strikes me.
One I know better than to entertain.
But it bounces around in my brain like a laser pointer and I’m the kitten unable to ignore it.
If I’m stuck with Ben this weekend, just the two of us, why not go for broke? Why not flirt my ass off and end the weekend with telling him how I feel? If he laughs in my face or, more likely, walks off without betraying a single emotion, I quit as planned. My heart might take a slightly more painful sting from the rejection than it’s already feeling now. But at least I’d leave Caribou Creek never wondering what if.
I could move on without any regrets.
CHAPTER 2
Ben
“I’m going to kill him.” I pace my kitchen, having a helluva time remembering what the fuck I even came in here for. My youngest brother, Zac, watches from a barstool, sipping on a beer and wearing an annoyingly amused smile. “I’m going to kill him and toss his body so far into the wilderness no one will ever find it.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Zac says. “You’re the marketing director. This is your time to market the brewery. Get our name out there.”
“You know this isn’t my scene.”
“You mean because the people you’ll have to interact with aren’t likely to be wearing business suits, or because you’ll be alone with Josie for an entire weekend?” He lifts the bottle to his lips, but it doesn’t hide the shit-eating grin I know he’s wearing.
“This isn’t funny.”
Zac just answers with a wider grin.
For the past three years, I’ve been fighting my feelings for Josie Bennington. Hell, since the first d
But I have one very strict rule about our business. You don’t date your employees. I’ve watched that scenario go south more than once for friends of mine. Josie is the glue that holds the brewery together. It’s her acute attention to everything that keeps things running smoothly. Without her, we’d all be lost. I’d be lost.
If that weren’t enough to keep me from making a move, I’m no good for her. She deserves someone without a dark cloud hanging over their past. But hell if I’ve met a man worthy of her. I’m irrationally consumed with jealousy anytime a man gives her too much attention. I know I have no fucking right to feel this way. No right to act as if she’s mine to protect. To feel like she belongs to me when we can never be more than boss and employee.
“You still want to split all that wood or you want to go grab a bite instead? Rose served pot roast for lunch. I heard there’s leftover, but you know it won’t last long.”
“You’d eat at the diner when Grandma June’s in town?”
“She’s at bridge night.”
“You mean poker night.”
Zac shrugs. “No one really knows what those little old ladies get up to. Plus, Riley and Penny are having a girls’ night at the house. I need to eat.”
Though it’s tempting to skip out on cooking, I don’t want to risk running into Josie. Caribou Creek is a small place. It’s nearly impossible to avoid people. Which is why I’ve been working from home in my remote cabin. One halfway up the mountain with a stunning view of the range and a great deal of privacy. “Let’s take care of this wood.”
Zac empties his bottle, tosses it in the trash, and follows me out the back door. “Do you do anything fun anymore?”
“Who has time for fun?” I pick up one of two axes I set out early and hand one to my brother. Had I received the news that Wes was bailing on the North Haven weekend and forcing me to go in his place, I would’ve saved this task for myself. If only to work out the frustration welling up inside me.
An entire weekend with Josie.
It doesn’t matter that we’ll be in separate hotel rooms.
We’ll be side by side for hours at a time, trapped together in a confined space. Likely brushing up against each other out of necessity. How the fuck will I resist her after that?
“You used to be fun,” Zac points out, positioning a hunk of wood on stump and swinging. Breaking it right down the middle. The wood splits perfectly. “We used to watch football together. Go salmon fishing. You remember that trip the three of us took to Homer?”
I check my phone, scanning a new email. But before I can think about responding, Josie has it covered. Never mind that she’s off for the evening or that we don’t pay her overtime. I make a mental note to bring that up at our next owner’s meeting. “You mean the one where I caught the biggest halibut of the day?”
“Yeah. You wouldn’t shut up about it.” Zac swings his axe again. “I think it’s the last time you smiled.”
“Very funny.” I leave my phone on the deck railing, pull off my shirt, and grab the other axe. I focus on the task at hand. Or try to. But when I swing and my axe misses the chunk of wood entirely, I know I’m in trouble.
“You’re worried about this weekend, aren’t you?”
“No.” Another swing. I hit the wood this time, but it only splits halfway. Unlike Zac’s that splits perfectly again. The competitive side of me is really fucking irritated at my inability to focus. I can split wood blindfolded. I shouldn’t be having this much trouble.
“Why are you still fighting this?” Zac asks, his question casual enough to keep my temper at bay. At least if I have to be badgered about this today, it’s by my youngest brother. The last time the topic of Josie came up with Wes, it ended in a fistfight and bloodshed. He hasn’t bothered to say anything about her since.
“You know how I feel about it.”
“I don’t buy it.”
My axe misses again, but this time, it’s Zac’s fault. “What?”
“I don’t buy your bullshit excuse about Josie being your employee. She’s worked with us for three years. She’s practically family.”
“Which is why I’d never jeopardize that.” It’s as much of an admission as I’ve ever given about the feelings I can’t do anything about. Some days, I wish I’d never felt the stirring inside my frozen, dormant heart when Josie first walked through the brewery door. Some days I wish like hell that I didn’t feel so drawn to her whenever I’m in her presence. Or that I didn’t feel fucking antsy as hell when I’m away from her.
But most days, I gladly bear the burden. It’s as close as I’ll ever get to being with her.
“She loves you.”
This isn’t the first time one of my brothers has spoken those words. Not even the second or tenth. But I don’t dare entertain it. Not as a possible truth or even their best of intentions. “She’s infatuated. There’s a difference.”
“Maybe in the beginning. But not after three years. C’mon, Ben. You’re not that stupid.” Zac swings again, the sound of splitting wood silencing any retort I might throw back at him.
I return my focus to another block of wood.
And miss again.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, tossing down my axe. “Guess I’m hungry after all.”
CHAPTER 3
Josie
Sitting in the driveway of Grandma Betty’s house, I quickly type an email response to a customer who submitted their question about the different brews and purchasing options through the website. It’s an old habit that’ll be hard as hell to break once I leave. I love working for The Caribou Creek Brewery. Feeling like I’m an integral part of their success.
The staff has become like a second family.
Outside of it, there’s only me and Grandma Betty.
I let out a sigh as I grab my satchel, stuff my phone in it, and head inside.
Grandma Betty is the best woman I’ve ever known. When my parents were killed in a bush plane accident when I was only ten, she took me in. She never once made me feel as though I was a burden. She not only raised me, she was always there when I needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on.
But I still live with her. At twenty-six.
The idea was to save up money after graduating college and moving back to Caribou Creek. But secretly, I’d hoped to be living with my future husband by now. When I first stepped foot into the brewery for my interview three years ago, I was struck by Ben Ashburn. I felt a connection stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered before.
I was certain it would lead to something.
I knew it in the depths of my soul.
And because Grandma Betty meant it when she told me I could live with her as long as I wanted, here I still am.
I bet Katherine doesn’t live with her grandma. Probably never has.
“Did you do it?” Grandma Betty asks before I even get the door closed behind me.
“No.” I stare at the floor so I don’t see her disappointment. She coached me through turning in my notice during breakfast this morning. Though she’s sad to see me leave town, she’s incredibly supportive. “I chickened out. Again.”
“Ben was there today, wasn’t he?”
“If only that was the only problem,” I mumble.
“What’s that, dear?”
“Nothing.” I’ll tell her that I’m traveling with Ben to North Haven at some point before I leave tomorrow night. But right now, all I want to do is unplug. To try like hell to forget all about the alluring man who’ll never see me as a woman. Only an employee. “Did you want me to make dinner?” I offer when I notice there’s nothing in the oven.
