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quipped.
    “Your brother was just telling me that he can’t join us for dinner tonight because he has ‘things to catch up on.’”
    Carter plucked an apple out of the bowl and turned his attention to Beckett. “I call bullshit.”
    “It’s a legitimate and reasonable excuse,” Beckett argued.
    Carter stroked a hand over his beard. “Nope. Bullshit.”
    “Beckett, I hate to do this, but I agree with Carter,” Summer said, leaning her elbows on the counter. “I think you should talk to us about it.”
    “Talk to you about what? I have things to do. I was out of the country for ten days.”
    “You also have an intense dislike of Franklin,” Summer pointed out.
    “What is it about him that gets to you?” Carter asked, ranging himself behind Summer to rub her shoulders.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beckett said crisply. “Being a responsible, productive member of society, I’ve got shit to do tonight.”
    “What shit do you have to do?” His younger brother Jax, entered through the side door. Like Carter, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days and like all of the Pierce men he had dark hair and steel gray eyes.
    Carter’s cavernous kitchen was starting to feel crowded to Beckett.
    “I came over to check out the progress on the brewery. Can I at least do that without an interrogation?” he snapped.
    He saw a long look pass between Carter and Summer.
    “Forget it.” He shoved through the door and stormed off the porch.
    He heard the door open and close behind him. “Wait up,” Jax called after him.
    His brother jogged to his side. “Don’t mind them. They’re just disgustingly happy and feel compelled to make everyone else join their cult.”
    Beckett shrugged it off. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I just have some things on my mind.”
    Jax clammed up as they caught a glimpse of Joey Greer’s vintage pick-up as it drove past the lane. “Yeah. Me, too,” he muttered.
    The door to the kitchen opened and closed again. Carter caught up to them, hands shoved in his pockets and Summer’s lipstick smeared on his mouth.
    Beckett decided not to mention it. It’s what brothers did.
    “Calvin’s crew is moving pretty fast,” Carter said, ignoring the minor blow up in the kitchen as he led them around the little barn. The path served as a shortcut to the big, stone barn that would soon house John Pierce Brews.
    It sat by itself, on a rise surrounded by fields and pastures. A handful of pick-up trucks and construction vans were parked on one side.
    Beckett stepped through the opening that would eventually be accordion glass doors to the stone terrace.
    The massive main floor was looking significantly brighter thanks to the new windows that the builder added at strategic points. The thick walls, which would eventually be painted white, created deep windowsills. The wide-plank floors would be sanded down and refinished once the massive L-shaped bar was complete.
    The rickety ladder to the top floor was in the process of being replaced by a rustic staircase made from reclaimed barn wood. The railing they chose was a modern cable system.
    Tucked under the loft near the end of the bar was a shaft for a small elevator. On the other end of the wall were the skeletons of two restrooms. Beckett waved to Calvin and his foreman, Joe.
    “Looking real good, guys,” he called out.
    “Wait’ll you see the brewery,” Calvin said, pulling his Jets cap off his head to swipe at the sweat. “Really like that lipstick you’re wearing there, Carter.”
    Carter dragged a hand over his mouth and swore. “You guys suck,” he said to Beckett and Jax. And Beckett instantly felt a little lighter.
    Carter led the way downstairs to the first floor. One third of the space would be used for the commercial kitchen, but the rest would be the heart and soul of the brewing operations.
    Thick beams and stone walls reminded all who entered of the building’s hundred-year-old past.
    “I