As the waitress was dropping off the check, she finally worked up the nerve to say, “You two look awfully cozy.”
“Of course, we look cozy.” Christopher pushed his plate toward the middle of the table and flung his arm over my shoulder. “Winter is my wife. We just got married yesterday.”
After a moment of silence, the crowd offered their congratulations, followed by whispered conversations about how the rumors must be true. Christopher didn’t seem bothered by any of the talk as he took some bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. After sliding out of the booth, he ignored everyone around us and held his hand out to me. Shaking my head and mumbling under my breath about how lucky he was there was a crowd, I let him help me out of the booth.
I was thinking about how I wanted to broach the subject a few minutes later when we turned onto Main Street. But then he surprised me by parking in front of the Holly Jolly Pub instead of heading back toward his house. “It’s a little early for a drink, isn’t it?”
“We’re not here for a drink.” He chuckled and shook his head, sending butterflies swirling in my belly over how handsome he was when he smiled. “I own the place.”
“Oh.” I stared at the front of the pub in awe while he climbed out of the truck. Owning a successful business was a big accomplishment. Each new thing I learned about my husband made him that much more attractive to me. And I could easily get used to how he insisted upon opening doors for me, too. Gripping his hand—and blushing at a memory of some of the things those thick fingers had done to me the night before—I whispered, “Thanks.”
I let out a little squeak when he lifted me over a small mound of snow near the curb before setting me back on my feet. With his hand on my lower back, he guided me to the pub. The closed sign was up, but the door opened when he pushed on it. The guy behind the bar stopped slicing lemons and glanced up when we walked in. “Hey, boss.”
“Hi, Joe.” Christopher jerked his chin at him, sliding his arm around my back when the bartender’s gaze moved to me. “This is my wife, Winter.”
“Your wife?” Joe echoed, eyes going wide. “When did that happen?”
“Yesterday when Winter got into town,” Christopher replied, dropping his arm to lace his fingers through mine.
“Huh.” Joe’s brows went up, and then he shrugged. “If you’d told any of us you were getting married, we could’ve moved shit around on the schedule so you didn’t have to come in today. I’m sure Steven wouldn’t have minded checking on the batch of Solstice Ale for you. I know it’s almost ready to untap, but I’m sure he could have handled it for you.”
Glancing up at Christopher, I echoed, “Solstice Ale?”
“Holly Jolly Brewery is mine, too,” he answered with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“It’s in the building behind us,” Joe explained, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “He has quite the setup back there with enough tanks to brew four flavors at a time and a fuck ton of barrels and kegs. He even does ciders, if that’s more your thing.”
Considering my age, I didn’t have much experience with drinking. “I’m not sure what I’d like.”
“I’m sure we can find something you’ll like,” he offered, pulling down a stack of shot glasses and lining them up in a row. “Your husband has won more than a few awards for his recipes.”
“I have plenty of stuff she can try when we get back home.” Christopher tugged on my hand to lead me toward the back. “You need to get shit in order so you’re ready when we open in less than an hour.”
Joe smiled at the gruff order and nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”
We walked through the kitchen, and Christopher introduced me as his wife to the two men prepping food. When we passed a waitress in the break room, he did it again. We found Steven working in the brewery area, and he offered to keep an eye on the tanks after congratulating us on our marriage.
The last straw was when we left the brewery to head back into the pub and passed a group of elderly gentlemen walking out the back door of the city center. They called out a greeting to Christopher and were all smiles when he wished them a good morning and added, “This is my wife, Winter.”
I finally lost my patience with the big silent guy who only seemed talkative when it came to telling everyone I was his wife. Once the men were out of earshot, I planted my hands on my hips and glared up at him. “Why do you insist on calling me your wife in front of everyone? As a man of few words, I’d think you’d want to keep your personal business to yourself. Especially since you’ll get more questions about our annulment later if you keep blabbing about our marriage now. I get that you might need to explain to your employees about us”—I waved my hand in a big circle—“but now you’re literally telling random people on the street that we’re married.”