Essence of Time by Liz Crowe Page A

young…”
    “But," Blake interrupted,  "you said yourself, I'm energetic and creative. You won’t regret this, Evan. I swear it.” He bounced again, feeling the taut muscles in his legs flex and relax.   The other man sighed and rolled his shoulders.
    “Well, tell you what, if you can keep this thing going for me, for us, we are in for a wild ride; I am sure of it. Now, let’s focus on this paperwork a second, can we?”
    Blake nodded, and tried to do just that. They both looked up when the metal brewery door slammed shut.
    “Suzanne!” Evan stood, held out his arms, and a slight, red-headed vision of beauty went into them for a brief moment before breaking away and turning to him. Blake blinked. Felt his heart do a weird speed up then slow down thing at the sight of the petite, gorgeous woman who stuck her hand out for him to take. Evan had to clear his throat before Blake realized he was required to meet her halfway on the politeness thing. He gulped, enveloped her small hand in his and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yanking her into a hug. Jesus but she was…perfect.
    “Sorry, Blake, right? I’ve been out, um, sick, for the last week or so. Missed all the interview fun but it sounds like you are a done deal.” Evan slapped Blake on the back and laughed.
    “This little firebrand, my friend, will become your worst nightmare very soon.” Blake stared at the man, then back into the dark greenish eyes of the woman dressed in a perfect cream-colored skirt, sleeveless shirt and high heels. He sensed his mouth opening and closing like a fish, or the village idiot, but no sounds would form.
    “Oh, come on now Evan,” she batted her long lashes innocently and pouted her perfect cupid-bow lips. Blake’s knees nearly buckled.  He coughed to cover up his gasp.  “Poor guy. Let him get his sea legs before you sic me on him, okay?”  She sashayed away, into the Tap Room, calling out to various staff members and accepting warm hugs of welcome-back as she passed through. Blake stared at her, then back at Evan, and realized both of his hands were clenched into tight fists. He took a breath and released them. Evan also watched the small form walk away, something resembling anger in his eyes.
    Blake waited for Evan to remember he was still in the room.  “So, ah, you didn’t mention a female brewer.” He needed to know more about her, now.
    Evan started and looked back at him. “Oh, no that’s the marketing director. She's the one who manages the sales staff and, sort of, you.”
    Blake frowned. “Oh,” was the best he could utter. Smooth, Thornton. Very smooth , he grimaced at himself. Evan rallied and they finished their paperwork. Blake started on the task of getting the chaos that was the operation of Big House Brewing in order. His brain buzzed for hours with the sheer amazement that he’d done this and with a burning need to catch sight of Suzanne once more.
    Finally, about two hours after he’d managed to work himself into a sweat moving pallets of bottles and packaging materials around so he could begin brewing the next morning, he wiped his brow, looked up and saw her. She sat on one of the tall stools at the long worktable that held a couple of laptop computers and the usual detritus of brewing: Order forms, hops samples, invoices, and bottles of beer for testing. Blake took a step back into the shadows created by the towering stacks of boxes and observed her for a minute.
    She was on the phone, laughing, then serious. He watched as she then put the phone down softly on the stainless steel surface. She sighed, looked up at the ceiling and put her face in her hands. Blake stared intently at her, and realized her shoulders were shaking. She was crying. The natural “fixer” in him rose to the surface but he wrestled it away, knowing he had no business stalking her from the shadows. After a minute or two she wiped her eyes, ran her fingers through her long red hair and stood. The