Deliciously Smooth (Naked Brews #1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Deliciously Smooth (Naked Brews, #1)

  Deliciously Smooth

  Copyright © 2017 KB Jacobs

  Dedication:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The End

  Story Description:

  About KB Jacobs

  Deliciously Smooth

  My parents were conmen and I was their tool. I learned how to cheat, connive, and charm my way out of any circumstance. But now I’m respectable...kind of. Yeah, my life is still a lie, but that’s because I have no choice. My best friend, who’s also my boss, needs me to lie to keep our billion-dollar charity going. It’s complicated.

  But all the lies are about to end. I just have to finish one final task...taking over a brewery. Easy, right?

  Not so much. Because that brewery is part of a custody battle between mother and daughter. The mother owns it. The daughter thinks it should be hers. I’m caught in the middle. Not normally a bad place to be when it comes to two feisty women.

  But I’m falling for the daughter and when my lies come to light, everything is going to unravel. And then my future with the brewery and the girl will be shot to hell.

  My boss probably won’t be too happy with me either...

  Deliciously Smooth

  (A Naked Brews Novel)

  Book #1

  by

  KB Jacobs

  Copyright © 2017 KB Jacobs

  ASIN (e-book): B01MY7TJ21

  ISBN (e-book): 978-1386533429

  ISBN (print): 1542533457

  ISBN-13 (print): 978-1542533454

  Published by KB Jacobs

  Edited by Mia Downing

  Proofread by Tia Silverthorne Bach, Indie Books Gone Wild

  Cover Design by Amanda Matthews, AM Design Studios

  Stock photo from Adobe Stock

  All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means, without the express permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction. While sometimes actual locations are used in the writing of this book, they are used in a fictional circumstance and are by no means meant to reflect events happening in those places. Names, characters, events are all a product of the author’s imagination and are by no means meant to reflect actual people living or dead, or any actual events. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

  Thank you for supporting KB Jacobs.

  You can keep in touch with her at her website...

  www.kbjacobsauthor.com

  Dedication:

  For the Sterling & Stone crew.

  Without The Apprentice, there never would have been a KB Jacobs.

  Chapter One

  Lake

  “Son of a bitch.” I tossed my phone on the desk and blew my bangs out of my eyes. Staring at the coffee machine gurgling in the corner, I willed it to spit out my caffeine.

  “Well a cheery good morning to you as well.” My best friend, Alex, hung her wrinkled cashmere coat on the rack behind the door and brushed a thin dusting of snow from her brown hair. “What’s got you so riled up before nine a.m.?”

  I gave her my best pre-coffee smile and banged the ancient machine on the side as if that would speed up the hot water destined to bring me an ounce of sanity. “Eric just called. He’s sick with the bug going around town and won’t be in today. Now I’ve got to open the pub solo on the same day we have a big delivery coming in and we’re tapping a new beer.”

  Alex moved a foot-tall stack of unopened mail across the desk and perched on the edge. “You know, Lake, you don’t have to do everything on your own. I can help you open the pub.”

  I held in a barking laugh, a true feat of heroism without coffee. “If I wanted opening to take twice as long as it should, I’d already have you behind the bar.” The coffee machine finally spilled the last of its dark goodness, and I was gracious enough to pour Alex the first cup to soften my words. “I love you, but we both know you’re a disaster in the pub.”

  Alex sprinkled a packet of fake sugar into her coffee and grunted her agreement. The last time she helped me behind the bar, we served more beer to the floor than customers, and I had to buy another case of pilsner glasses to replace the ones she dropped.

  “Do I smell coffee?” My other bestie, Melissa, walked into the office, still pulling her long blonde hair up into a messy bun.

  I held the pot over my head and swirled it once to let the aroma fill the room. “Coffee is for Americans only.”

  Melissa glanced down at her Union Jack T-shirt and shot me a withering look. Or it would have been a withering look if her baby face was capable of anything that tough. When that didn’t work, she switched to her puppy dog eyes and stuck out a whimpering bottom lip. She only had to bat her eyelashes over her baby blues once before I relented and handed her a cup of liquid gold.

  “I don’t know why I put up with you two.” I poured my own serving into my World’s Greatest Daughter mug.

  The office settled into a moment of contented silence. The truth was I never could have survived the past two months without my best friends, and they knew it. After Dad suddenly died and I inherited the brewery much earlier than anticipated, one phone call was all it took for Melissa and Alex to drop everything, uproot their lives, and move to Aspenridge, CO, to help me manage Naked Brews. I owed them everything.

  “So what does everyone have on the agenda today?” I sipped my coffee, reveling in all the caffeine goodness flowing through my veins.

  Alex set her mug down and brushed lint from her wrinkled slacks. “I have a meeting with a new distributor. If all goes well, this will open up at least a dozen new bars and restaurants we can get on tap with. After that, I’m hitting the website again. It’s now my personal mission to move our social media platform out of 1997.”

  After managing her Hollywood parents’ PR for years, Alex had been horrified when she showed up last month and realized the website hadn’t been updated since Dad had paid some college student to set it up over a decade ago.

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything for the meeting with the distributor. Melissa?”

  Melissa’s soft smile fell to a look of disgust. “I’ve put it off for as long as I can. Today, I am tackling that stack of mail.”

  The three of us
turned as one to stare at the toppling pile Alex had moved earlier. When Dad died, it was weeks before I could even set foot in the brewery. When I had finally made it in, the thought of opening up letter after letter with his name on it was enough to send me running for the porcelain throne. As the accountant slash office manager, the task fell to Melissa, but even her organization-obsessed fingers didn’t want to touch the overflowing pile.

  “On that note, I’m going to leave you to it.” I topped off my coffee and left the office for the safer confines of the bar.

  The brew pub was hardly impressive, but since Dad pretty much raised me in Naked Brews, the bar always felt like home. I ran a hand over the wood bar top, smoothed by decades of Colorado men and women enjoying the beer Dad had dedicated his life to. I gave myself a full minute to close my eyes and miss him. Twenty-four years with the best man on Earth wasn’t enough, but it was all I got.

  After a minute, I wiped away the tears that always seemed to come when I gave in to thoughts of Dad, and I pulled on my big girl panties.

  Harlan walked by the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave me a great view of the brewery. I gave the brew master a quick wave and he nodded back, his hands filled with a fifty-pound sack of grain headed for the hopper. As my dad’s best friend and the man in charge of the brewery, he was a bright spot in the midst of the chaos these past few months. When I was bedridden with grief, Harlan was here every day, making sure the brewery stayed operational, just like Dad would have wanted.

  I would have preferred to be back behind the glass with Harlan, crushing grain, stirring hops, and soaking in the smoky scent of barley. Running Naked Brews meant more time in the office and less time with the beer, but I was determined to make this brewery the best it could be. Dad was counting on me.

  I took one last sip of my coffee and rinsed my mug out in the glass washer. The back of the bar was a mess, and it wasn’t going to clean itself before the lunch crowd came rolling in. We’d been understaffed ever since Dad died and I took over. Some of the guys had quit because they didn’t want to work for a twenty-four-year-old female, especially not one they’d watched go through those awkward teenage years.

  I popped some Skynyrd into the ancient CD player, shoved back the sleeves of my Henley, and got to work. Pretty soon, the soothing tones of “Sweet Home Alabama” and the monotony of washing glasses lulled me into a comfortable rhythm of productivity.

  I paused in the middle of “Free Bird” to check my phone. Forty-five minutes until opening and Barb, our weekday cook, was MIA. I still had to check the kegs, turn on the fryers, set up the line and tap for new beer, and prep the food station. Not enough time.

  Caffeine pumping through my veins, I dashed into the kitchen and hit buttons and switches until the tiny room was awash in florescent light and the sound of machines coming to life. With the deep fryer sending off the smell of yesterday’s burnt fries, I turned my attention to the beer cooler. Of course, there wasn’t a single backup keg for any of our draft offerings. I hefted the keg for Hops on Top, our most popular IPA, and nearly knocked myself over when it lifted so easily. There were maybe a half dozen pours left. It wouldn’t last the first ten minutes of lunch.

  I checked my phone again. Thirty minutes left and still no Barb. I shot her a quick text and made a beeline for the back of the brewery.

  Harlan and the guys were thick in the middle of the day’s brews, but I tried to call out a greeting to each of them as I dashed to cold storage in the back. I pushed open the door to the cold room and pulled a keg of Hops on Top and Smooth Moves just to be on the safe side.

  I glanced around the piles of kegs and bottles for the keg dolly, but it was nowhere to be seen. Crap. Leaning out the door, I yelled out to the first guy I saw. “Hey, Colby, where’s the keg dolly?”

  Colby scratched at the red patch of hair on his chin and closed his eyes. “Last I saw, it was over by the delivery door.”

  I shouted thanks over my shoulder and raced to the door where the dolly waited for me, leaning against the red brick wall. Grabbing it, I wheeled around countless grain bins back to cold storage.

  “There you are.” Melissa ran up to me as I wrenched the door open. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Well, I’ve been everywhere. The bar was a mess, Hops on Top is almost out, and Barb is late.”

  Melissa fluttered her hands in front of her in the most Melissa-like movement possible. “I have something I need to talk to you about. It’s really important.”

  “Can you talk and walk?” I hefted the kegs on to the dolly and tilted it onto the wheels to head back to the bar.

  Melissa trotted after me, wringing her hands like she was trying to kill a chicken. “This is really important. Did I say that?” She stayed hot on my heels as I wheeled back through the brewery and toward the bar. “We should go to the office. Actually, maybe pour a beer first and then come to the office.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I eased the dolly down and pulled out my phone. Five minutes until the open sign flashed on unless I wanted a mob of local guys beating down my door.

  “This had better be Barb.” I pulled up my text messages, and sure enough, Barb had sent a quick note saying she was running late. “No shit, Sherlock.”

  I shoved the phone back into my pocket and angled the dolly back up again.

  “Really, Lake. We need to talk.”

  “Really, Melissa. This is not the time.” I pushed through into the beer cooler. “Barb is late, so now I’ve got to run the bar and the food until she gets here. I’ve got a keg about to blow, and I still haven’t hooked up the new on-tap offering. “

  “I know, I know.” Melissa stood to the side while I offloaded the back-up kegs. “It’s just, this really can’t wait.”

  “Is the bar on fire?” I sniffed, inhaling nothing but the scent of burnt french fries and hops. “Nope, didn’t think so.”

  Outside, the first rumbling diesel engine pulled into the parking lot. There wasn’t enough time to take the dolly back, which meant I’d have Harlan bitching at me in an hour. I hauled ass back through the kitchen. The fryers were hot and ready, but I had no idea if any of the food I’d need today was prepped or even here. I mentally added kitchen inventory to my to-do list.

  Melissa tailed me as I marched into the front of the pub. The lights needed to come on, and I’d just have to pray that Barb would be there soon.

  “Lake, I just need a few minutes. This really can’t wait.”

  I flipped the light switch that powered the neon tube sign in the window, alerting all of Aspenridge the best beer in Colorado was now available, served cold and fresh. “Dammit, Melissa. I love you, but can’t you see I’m trying and failing to do the job of three people right now? What is so frickin’ important that it just can’t wait one more second?”

  Melissa squared her shoulders and looked me dead in the eye. “You don’t own the brewery.”

  Chapter Two

  Walsh

  “Son of a bitch,” I complained to Damian, my boss and the closest thing I had to a best friend, through the Bluetooth as the wheels of my car lost traction in the snow...again. “Do you realize how cold it is here?”

  “Um, yeah,” Damian said drolly. “It’s January, and you’re in the Colorado Rockies. I‘d only be surprised if you told me you should’ve brought your swimsuit for the outdoor pool.” Damian laughed at his own joke, but his laugh sounded hollow.

  It had been a long time since I’d heard true happiness in his voice. Almost three years now. Would that change when we finished this task we’d set for ourselves? I sure as hell hoped so. If anyone deserved to find happiness, Damian did. He’d earned it.

  “Laugh it up,” I told him, “but I’m billing you when Desiree slides into a ditch and gets scratched.”

  “Desiree?” Damian got quiet for a moment and then barked out another hollow laugh. “Oh man, how can I be friends with a guy who names his car? That’s such a douche thing to do.” Damian sighed over
the phone, and I could imagine him shaking his head at me. “You know? If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have taken her into the mountains in the dead of winter. A sports car has got to be a nightmare on slick roads.”

  “No shit,” I cursed as my brand new Corvette Stingray Z07 slid again on the wet road. It had started spitting snow about twenty minutes ago, and the muck was already accumulating.

  “I told you to rent a four-wheel drive.”

  He had, and I’d ignored him. Desiree had just been delivered the day before I’d left. I hadn’t had the heart to leave her locked up in the garage under Damian’s house. Besides, if I had to pretend to be Damian on this trip, this car fit his billionaire image to a T. My Desiree was a prime example of badass, sleek, expensive, first-class machinery. Definitely fit for a billionaire.

  Too bad I was just pretending at being one.

  “Are you sure this is the way that we have to do this project?” My stomach twisted into knots at the lie I was about to perpetuate again. After all this time, I should be used to pretending to be Damian...except I wasn’t.

  “You know as well as I do that the new owner of the brewery is all about appearances. The minute she heard the name Damian Thorne, she refused to work with anyone else on this deal. We need a man there to assess the place and see what needs to be done once we buy it.” Damian let out a sigh. “Look, I know it’s a lot to keep asking you to do this, but this is the last time. I promise. I just...can’t.”

  You could if you’d ignore the stares and leave the house for a change...

  It was an old argument that we’d had many times over the last few years. We’d set up Ghost Squad Charities to honor the memory of the guys in our squad. The ones who didn’t make it out of the burning MRAP that left Damian with scars on over one quarter of his body. Scars that made him so self-conscious he hadn’t left his house in almost two years. That left me to be the face of GSC, and sometimes, that face needed to be Damian.

  Luckily, Damian’s mother, as the head of CBC Broadcasting Corporation, was one of the most powerful women in media broadcasting in the world. She’d started out protecting his identity early in his life. That hadn’t changed since he’d been horrifically scarred and labeled an American war hero. GSC didn’t even have a website. Just a business card with Damian’s name and an untraceable phone number.