Page 14 of Don't Fall For Your Grumpy Neighbor

“It will all work out, Felicity. You’ll see,” she says, glancing down at my hand on my stomach.

“Not everything is like the romance novels you read, Mom,” I say, shaking my head.

She laughs, swatting my hand. “We don’t just read romance, silly girl.”

I raise a brow. “Mom?” I question her, because I know when she’s not telling the truth.

“Okay, fine. We’re reading Outlander.”

“Even worse. That’s so make-believe. This is the real world and there isn’t always a happily ever after.”

I wish it wasn’t true and before being left at the altar, I believed in the happy endings. Now, I know better and I refuse to set myself up for another heartbreak.

Chapter 10

Shepherd

Fuck. I hate when I forget things and have to drive all the way back to the brewery. Tonight, I’ve forgotten to email out the nightly reports. Sure, I could wait until morning, but I know Callum. He’s a workhorse who expects everyone else to be as well. If those reports aren’t in his inbox by the time he checks it, I’ll never hear the end of it. The drive back is long and tedious, each mile feeling like a reminder of my oversight.

By the time I finally arrive back home, it's late—really late. The kind of late where the streets are deserted, and the only sounds are the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. Felicity’s light is on, a warm glow in the otherwise dark neighborhood. I don’t bother going over there, even though there’s a small part of me that wants to see her again. Who am I kidding? There’s a huge part of me that longs to see her, to talk to her, to be near her.

I keep my head down as I slip up my front porch, glancing over at her house before heading into mine. That fucking boyfriend of hers is there, knocking on her door, and for some reason, I find myself wanting to stick around for the show. Maybe I like torturing myself, or maybe it’s because I hate the guy. There’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way, and it’s more than just jealousy.

I sit in the shadows, watching and waiting. When Felicity finally opens her door, there’s a scowl written so clearly all over her face. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s obvious she’s not happy. It makes my lips lift slightly into a smirk. She parks her hands on her curvy hips, her posture radiating anger and defiance. She speaks to him sharply, and he backs up, looking chastised. Next thing I know, she’s slamming the door in his face.

Serves him right.

He stomps over to where his little Camry is parked, his face a mask of frustration and anger. Our eyes meet, and I nod my head at him, a silent acknowledgment of his defeat. He doesn’t nod back. In fact, he appears even angrier at the sight of me, like I’m the one responsible for his troubles. I laugh it off as I head back inside my house.

I’ve got a busy day at the brewery tomorrow, and I don’t need Felicity’s love life keeping me awake. But as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but replay the scene over and over in my mind. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be the one she turns to, the one she smiles at instead of scowls. For now, though, all I can do is focus on my work and try to keep my feelings in check.

The next morning I’m up and out of my house before the sun has completely risen. It’s going to be a long day, and I’m ready for it.

Anya’s booked a party for tonight, so I need to make sure she’s got everything she needs. Callum’s like the general manager of the brewery and restaurant, and I’m his assistant. I make sure day-to-day operations are taken care of. I schedule all employees, minus the kitchen—that’s Griffin’s job, and make sure the ordering of all supplies is taken care of. I do inventory. Handle meetings with liquor reps. Hell, there’s nothing I don’t do.

“How’s everything going in the kitchen?” I ask Griffin, thankful he’s the head chef and runs a tight ship. Griffin’s been a family friend of ours for years. I think he was at our house more than his own growing up. Now he’s just confessed his love for my only sister, Anya, and although it took Callum a little while to be completely on board about their relationship, I couldn’t be happier.

I couldn’t have picked anyone better for my baby sister.

Griffin smiles at me. “Everything’s ready to go.”

We’ve been so busy since we hosted a party for the Mayor and other town officials. We’ve gotten some publicity with the local news stations, and the tourism reports. It’s helped boost sales a lot, even though the actual event had a few bumps and bruises. But in true Atwood fashion, we made sure we pulled the party together in the end, and the Mayor was so happy.

Thank God.

I continue checking on things in the brewery, making sure the iPads at the front hostess stand are charged and ready for the day.

I head into my office, double checking the reservations for the day, and then I head into the brewery.

Brock is there, checking gauges on the barrels, making sure the beer is brewing properly. He gives me a thumb up. “Hey Shep, how’s it going?”

I nod, turning the sound system on with a touch of a button from my phone. “Looking good. We still have that single malt aging?”

Brock nods. “Yeah, hey listen, I was wondering if we could maybe hire somebody to help me out down here. I feel like lately I’ve been running a one-man show down here.”

“I’ll have to check the numbers.” With the pick up of sales, we might be able to add another employee to the brewery department to help Brock out.

When we first opened the brewery, Callum and I would help brew the beers, but now we’re just too busy to even make a single batch of anything.