“And all of the wines carry names of the women in the family,” Min added. “It means something.”
“It means something to me too,” I argued.
Min rolled her eyes. “Thayle isn’t in yet, but I’ll give them to her. Did you get any extra?” my sister asked, looking at the bag.
“I did.”
“Have you tried one of these yet, Rae?” Min asked as I placed the bag on the counter. She took one out, closed her eyes and smelled.
“No, are they that good?”
“Just the best cinnamon donuts on the planet.”
Rae moved closer, looked at them, and said, “Mmm, smells so good. I ate breakfast already though.”
Min’s eyes popped open. “And?”
It was subtle, but I caught Rae’s hand move to her hip. Fuck me. Never in a million years would I have thought a woman with her body would be self-conscious about it. Remembering how she looked at the meatball parm hoagie, as if she wanted it, but didn’t...
Hell no.
“As always, it’s been fun,” I said, reaching inside the bag of donuts to grab one. “But we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Nodding to Rae for us to leave, I ignored the look she exchanged with Min, as if I was nuts, and promptly left the Barn. Rae caught up just as I stepped into the courtyard.
“Why do you do that?” she asked as we walked toward the brewery.
“Do what?”
“Say things that you know will piss your sister off?”
I shrugged. “It’s my role in the family. It’s just...what I do.”
“Your role?”
“Everyone has their place,” I said. We walked silently through the courtyard and finally up the wooden steps. It was still hard for me to believe this brewery thing had actually worked. It had been so many years in the making.
“And yours is to be the jerk of the family?” she asked finally, a question she’d clearly been considering on the walk.
The place was empty and would stay that way for at least an hour. Precisely why I asked Rae to meet me so early. “Precisely,” I answered, making my way behind the bar. I told Rae to sit, and poured two cider beers.
“Um, what are you doing?”
I slid one toward her. “We’re having a drink.”
She laughed and slid it back. “No, we’re not. Do you know what time it is?”
“You like that beer,” I said.
“Yeah, so?”
“So what does the time matter? In the Middle Ages, they drank ale twenty-four seven.”
“Their ale was really weak. And in case you haven’t noticed, we aren’t living in the Middle Ages. At least, some of us aren’t.”
“Hey,” I said, ignoring the fact that she obviously meant me. I pushed the drink toward her again. “Besides, you’ll need something to wash this down with.”
I’d put the donut on a napkin. Picking it up, I tore off a piece.