Page 11 of Don't Fall For Your Grumpy Neighbor

I shake my head. “I haven’t caught anything lately.” And it’s the truth.

Since I’ve been back from Florida I can’t concentrate. I can’t think about anything but Felicity and the way she hopped back in the saddle with the fiancé she swore she couldn’t stand. My days since I’ve been back have been a struggle.

“You seriously didn’t catch the game,” my other brother, Paxton says, slapping me on the shoulder.

“I didn’t catch it,” I say with a growl.

“Hartford and I watched it together. Do you know how great it is to be engaged to a woman who loves baseball?”

I march right past both my brothers sitting in Callum’s office of the Atta Boy Brewery, and head out to the loading dock outside to catch my breath.

Fuck.

I’m happy my younger brother, Paxton, got engaged, but honestly it pisses me off that he’s found somebody and I’m left here wondering if I ever will.

I honestly thought Felicity could have been that somebody. We connected more than I ever have with anyone else, but it didn’t work out.

Story of my life. Love never works out for me. I guess I’ll just be the cool uncle. I’m sure my siblings will have tons of kids. My younger sister, Anya, has already fallen for my buddy, Griffin. And now Paxton’s engaged.

It’s only a matter of time before all of my siblings find somebody. Hell, even my youngest brother Tripp will find somebody before me. I’m sure of it.

I breathe through my silent pity party, and once I’ve realized I’m acting like a chump, I head back inside.

“Shep, come try this,” Brock says, his head peeking out of Hercules.

Our brewery’s freezer is a beast of a room, bigger than our party room upstairs, and we’ve named it Hercules. Well, you can see why.

I head into the cooler, my body growing instantly cold as I do. It’s a nice contrast from the bright, shining sun from outside only moments ago.

Brock grabs the pigtail, a small device that lets us tap directly into the barrels that are aging to funnel the beer. He flips a switch and holds a cup under the pigtail and fills it up halfway. Then he hands me the cup and makes one for himself.

He stands, clinking his cup against mine. “I made this last week.”

I take a sip, noting the coffee notes. “What is this? A porter?”

Brock nods like a proud papa. “Yep. People are going to love this.”

I take another sip. “It’s really good.”

There’s people in this world with real talent. Griffin has a wicked talent of cooking, and Brock has this insane ability to create the tastiest beer. I honestly think it’s one of the reasons our brewery does so well.

Mainly I help run the day-to-day operations. Like a front-of-the-house manager. Scheduling employees. Making sure the customers, I mean guests, are happy. Making sure the ship runs like a well-oiled machine.

“How’s Millie?” I ask my brother how things are going with his new girlfriend.

He shrugs. “Honestly, not too good. We just can’t seem to make things work. She’s so busy with the bookstore. I’m busy here, and honestly, we don’t have a lot in common.” He chuckles lightly.

“That sucks,” I say, not wanting my brother to be unhappy. “Maybe things will turn around.”

He nods. “Maybe, but good beer, huh?” He nods at the beer in my hand.

I take another sip. “Really fucking good. I’m going back upstairs to check on the restaurant, it’s freezing in here.”

He laughs as he unhooks the pigtail and sets it on a nearby keg. “If you want any more of this delicious Porter, you know where to find me. I’m thinking of calling it, a Pump Me Up Porter.”

I laugh. “That’s the dumbest name ever. Let Callum stick to naming the beers.”

He shakes his head, and together we walk out of Hercules. “Yeah, how about Pack a Punch Porter?”