Chapter 17
Save water, drink beer
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you,” I say to Grayson as I open the door.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to see him. Little Susan is more than happy to see him. She starts singing When a Man Loves a Woman at the top of her voice. I shut that shit down real fast. No one is loving anyone here.
Grayson coughs. “I have some stuff I want to show you.”
I motion him inside. “Come in. You want a beer? My first batch of Session IPA is finished. I was getting ready to try the first one.”
I may have taste tested while in my brew shack, but the taste can always vary when the beer is bottled and chilled. Yep, I went there. If you didn’t think I was a beer geek before, I’ve confirmed it now.
I grab two bottles from the refrigerator and motion to my dining room table. I’m not stupid. Sitting in my living room together on my sofa is a recipe for disaster. Little Susan mewls in protest. Yeah, well, learn to live with it, I tell her.
We clink bottles, but I don’t take a sip. I want to watch his reaction to the taste. Bad idea. His throat moves as he swallows and suddenly it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My dry spell has obviously been going on too long if I’m finding a man’s throat sexy. I need to make some time to hit the club this weekend and find a man to scratch my itch.
Little Susan harrumphs and declares she will not be participating in any cheating on Grayson. I seriously don’t have time for her craziness now.
“It’s good,” Grayson says as he places his bottle on the table. “It’s crisp and almost fruity.”
I smile. “It should have a fruity hop flavor. I went with grapefruit.”
I take a sip of my own, barely enough to coat my mouth. I let it hit my lips, gums, teeth, and all around my tongue. As I swallow, I keep my mouth closed and exhale through my nose. Hmm…not bad.
Grayson clears his throat, and my eyes fly open. His cheeks are flushed. Is he sick? Before I have a chance to ask, he asks a question of his own.
“What makes it a Session IPA anyway?”
“Session IPA is a flavorful beer with a lower alcohol percentage that won’t weigh you down.”
He takes another sip. “I can taste it’s less heavy. Where does the name session come from?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re awful curious. You sure you want to hear me geek out over beer?”
“It’s interesting. Besides, if I’m going to help with your marketing, I need to know more.” Help with my marketing? Was he serious about helping out? I thought he was being nice is all. “Now, tell me why it’s called a session IPA.”
If he wants me to bore him with my beer nerdiness, who am I to deny him? “The name comes from WWI-era England when workers were allowed to drink on the job. Workers were allocated two ‘sessions’ of drinking. But the beer had to be lighter than usual, thus the lower alcohol percentage.”
“Cool. I think it will be a big hit in the springtime.”
I beam. “I hope so.”
He sets his bottle down on the table and starts to play with the label. “We need to talk.”
Those words cause ice to fill my veins. What does he want to talk about? Did he find a girlfriend? Is he getting married? Is he moving away? Leaving Milwaukee? I can think of at least a dozen more disaster scenarios, but I curl my hands into fists and dig my fingernails my palms to stop my mind from whirling out of control.
“About what?” I manage to squeeze out.
“Me being your sperm donor.”
“Oh god,” I bury my face in my hands as my cheeks heat up. “Can we not talk about it? I can’t believe I asked you to be my baby daddy.”
He chuckles. “Well, you did ask me, and I’ve been thinking about it.”
My head rears up. “You’ve been thinking about it? You would seriously donate your sperm to me?” I’m not sure if I’m excited or scared or what.
He clears his throat. “No, I won’t be your sperm donor.”