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Silas’s heart hammered against his ribs. He slid his credit card across the table like it was a high-stakes poker chip. "Buy it. Buy it all."

"That’s where you’re wrong." Silas pointed a greasy finger at the map. He had spent the last six months tracking the "Red Robin Trail"—a supposed underground network of regional taps that, when connected on a standard Mercator projection, formed the shape of a giant bird. us beer map red robin buy

Clara looked at the coaster, then at her husband. "Only if we can stop for a milkshake first." Silas’s heart hammered against his ribs

"Clara," Silas breathed, his voice trembling. "Pack the fries. We’re going to Boulder." " Silas breathed