Real Men Will Page 13

“Eric?” Tessa started. “Beth Cantrell called you about this?”

  The icy heat worked its way up to the tips of his ears.

  “Do you know her?”

  Oh, boy, did he know her. “Um,” he said, hoping that would suffice. But when he turned around to find Luke and Tessa standing side by side, they didn’t seem satisfied with that response. Tessa looked blankly confused. While Luke looked…anticipatory?

  “She’s a business contact.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Luke asked. “What kind of business?”

  “Business business. Local stuff. You know.”

  Tessa’s eyes just seemed to get wider. “No, I don’t know.”

  Best to throw in a little truth in these situations. “I met her at the Boulder Business Expo last year. Her booth was close by.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tessa gasped, and Eric could hear the pieces clicking into place as if there were a microphone inside her brain.

  Oh, no.

  “Ohmigod!” She covered her mouth, muffling the next words. “Oh, my God. She’s the one!”

  Luke raised an annoyingly delighted eyebrow. “The one, what?”

  “No,” Eric said as sternly as he could, but Tessa dropped her hand from her mouth and pointed it at him.

  “You said that woman saw the nameplate at the expo and thought you were Jamie. Holy shit, Eric. You slept with Beth Cantrell!”

  Eric shook his head, but he could feel his face showing every inch of the truth.

  “Wow,” Luke said. “She, ah…she’s really the owner of that sex shop?”

  “Manager,” he murmured past numb lips.

  “Wow,” Luke repeated. He crossed his arms and looked Eric up and down as if he were reassessing him. “So.”

  Eric swallowed hard and tried to think of something—anything—to say.

  Tessa laughed, a sound of thrilled amusement. “I can’t… My mind is boggled. I’m utterly, completely boggled right now. Apparently I wasn’t the only one hiding my dating life in this family. You’re like… That’s just… That’s legendary.”

  This was why no one was supposed to know. The scandalized delight on both their faces was all fun and games now, but soon enough they’d be whispering about it. Wondering. And they’d never, ever look at Eric the same way.

  “It was just one date. We had a glass of wine.” And I got her off right there at the table. He shook his head. “That’s all.”

  “You big fat liar!” Tessa crowed. “You said you slept with her!” She covered her eyes, laughing. “Oh, God, you’re my brother. I didn’t want to know this. She must be… Wow.”

  “This is not an appropriate conversation—”

  “Eric! Are you… You’re not one of the men she’s written about in her column, are you?”

  “Column?” he asked dumbly, momentarily forgetting his intention to spin around and stalk out. “What column?”

  “The one she writes for The Rail. No. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know which one you are. You’re not pierced anywhere, are you? Never mind! Don’t answer that, either.” Tessa waved her hands as she shook her head. “No.”

  “Pierced?” he muttered, his mind veering between horror and awful curiosity. She wrote about sex for a paper? Had she written about him?

  “Is she—?”

  Eric cut his hand through the air to stop his sister’s questions. “I’m not going to stand here and discuss her as if she were a news story. Luke, I gave you her number if you need to call. That’s the end of it.”

  “Oh, I think I might have to make a personal visit,” Luke drawled.

  Tessa elbowed him before nearly collapsing in laughter.

  Eric was either going to leave or start shouting, so he chose to leave. He hit the doors too hard and they bounced off the walls with a satisfying crash. For a moment, he considered walking right on through the back room to the door in the far wall. But that would only make the talk worse. The talk. Now he’d betrayed Beth again. She’d forgiven him for the lie, but only after making sure he hadn’t told anyone. It wasn’t totally his fault, though. She was the one who’d come to the brewery. Granted, she’d rightfully been upset at the time, but clearly she wanted to keep this just as quiet as he did. If people found out, Eric might never get one of those late-night calls again.

  “Shit.”

  Before he even reached his office, he turned and headed back to the front room. “Hey.”

  Luke’s and Tessa’s heads popped up.

  “Please don’t say anything to anyone about this.” He looked at Luke. “Not even her. She’s a very private person. Uh, despite what you may have read.”

  Luke nodded. “I won’t.”

  Eric was vividly aware of the silence he left behind. He knew it wouldn’t last. As soon as he was safely gone, they’d talk about it. They’d theorize about what a wild woman Beth Cantrell must be. They’d talk about her store and her column. Eric shut his office door and pulled up Google, determined to find out exactly what kind of a wild woman she was.

  Were there things she was into? Kinky fetishes that she liked? If so and they kept seeing each other, he was going to have to up his game. Up to this point, both of their nights together had been impromptu. Unexpected. But given time to think about it… Yeah. She’d probably expect more at some point. Thank God that little class had served him well. He’d have to hit the White Orchid website and see what was coming up next. He’d have to read her column.

  Assuming there was even a chance he’d see her again. She dated other guys, obviously. Hell, she’d been on a date with someone else last night. But Eric had been the one she’d called for sex.

  As for what else she might be up to…Google wasn’t helping. Nothing about a column came up when he entered Beth’s name. He tried going directly to The Rail’s website, and there it was, right on the front page. “Sexuality Personified” by Ms. White. Not a very good cover name, but the name of the column damn sure fit.

  While his stomach turned flips, Eric raced through the first column. It was actually fairly tame. “Ms. White” said she’d received several letters asking about a partner’s refusal to use condoms. “If he refuses with you, then he’s refused with others. This is not okay. N-O-T. We’ve all had partners who claim not to feel anything with a condom on. Just make clear that he certainly isn’t going to feel anything with it off. Not one little thing. Better yet, walk away. And don’t let a man tell you that he can’t wear a condom because of piercings—yours or his. Genital piercings are very obviously not constructed with sharp edges. Take it from me, piercings are not a problem.”

  Take it from me?

  Eric glanced down at his own unadorned lap. Piercings. Did that make it…better? For her? How?

  He hit the Archived button and braced himself for what he might find. Only three columns popped up, thank God. One was about transsexuality and dating, a topic which didn’t apply to Eric, obviously. One was a rather funny piece comparing men’s and women’s orgasms. It didn’t offer many personal cues, but Eric focused on one sentence intently. “A recent partner confessed that he was sure women’s orgasms were much more intense than men’s, that he’d never screamed and shaken the way I do….” So that was someone else who’d made Beth scream and shake. Of course, he knew she’d had other partners, but… Shit. His shoulders suddenly ached with tension.

  The last column. Eric swallowed hard. A guide to threesomes. He didn’t even read it. He couldn’t. Whatever she did when she wasn’t with him, that was her business. He clicked away, but his mind kept turning and he opened the threesome column again. Then he closed it.

  No. He didn’t want to know. She was an amazing force of sex and sensuality. That was what had attracted him. And whatever she did with other men—or women—she’d called Eric last night. She’d wanted him and no one else. All I wanted was for him to be like you.

  The memory of those words filled Eric with such fierce triumph that he felt like he’d grown taller. He might be vanilla as all hell, but maybe that was
her favorite flavor. Or at least the flavor of the month. Let her go out with however many faceless bastards she wanted to, as long as Eric was the one making her come. She could be that hobby he’d been looking for. She’d sure as hell taken his mind off work for a few hours.

  Eric glanced at his calendar and bit back a groan. The sales rep for the oven company was coming this morning to give them all a tutorial on working the new pizza oven. As if Eric would ever be anywhere near it.

  This was just the first step. Now that the oven was in, Jamie would start bringing in chefs for interviews. Next Sunday the new dining deck would be built, and Eric was still pissed that the brewery would be closed on Monday because the front door wouldn’t be accessible.

  Then they’d bring in servers, new equipment, flatware, dishes, supplies. But today was the start of it.

  The truth was that Jamie had been right. Eric dreaded all of it. He’d been faking his way through it for Jamie’s sake, but what Eric really wanted to do was stop everything. He needed time to think. He needed to catch up or make new plans or…

  Jesus, he wished he’d stayed in Beth’s bed instead of getting up.

  Eric was still staring into space when a hard fist rapped at his door. He didn’t have to look through the small window to know it was Jamie.

  “I’m coming,” Eric snapped. By the time he forced himself out of his office, Jamie and Tessa were waiting with a balding man sporting a thick mustache. Eric introduced himself, but he was distracted by his suspicion toward his siblings. Tessa stood with her arms crossed and her lips pressed tight together. Her eyes touched on Eric and then slid away.

  Jamie looked dead serious, and that was hardly a natural state for him. So why was he shooting Eric such a searching look? Had Tessa told Jamie?

  Eric scowled at both of them as the salesman began his well-rehearsed spiel. Jamie and Tessa got caught up in it, and within minutes, they were huddled around the oven with the sales guy. Eric listened, but he hung back, watching from a few feet away. Jamie and Tessa tried out the different vents and knobs. They opened doors and adjusted the exhaust.

  Jamie grinned as the salesman made a small pile of kindling in the oven and explained that the temperature would need to be kept low for the first day, then gradually heated from there. “What kind of wood are you planning to use?” the guy asked as he checked the exhaust one more time.

  “Apple,” Jamie said.

  “Nice choice.” The guy drew a lighter from his pocket and set it to the kindling. And just like that, Eric’s old life was over. Flames licked at the tiny pile of wood. Donovan Brothers was no longer just an artisan brewing company. It was a brewpub.

  They all stood around staring at the flames, though Eric knew he was the only one who saw the fire eating away at their life. Everyone else saw it as creation.

  Finally, the salesman declared the initial lighting a success, and both of Eric’s siblings walked the guy out to the front room. Eric stared at the oven for a minute, slightly interested despite himself. He hadn’t known what to expect. The only wood-fired ovens he’d ever seen were huge brick behemoths. This oven was stone on the inside, but the outside was galvanized steel just like any commercial oven. It definitely took up too much space, but it wasn’t so obnoxious that Eric could reasonably complain about it.

  Jamie walked back in, hauling a bundle of wood. “Pretty cool, huh?” he said as he laid the wood out on the floor.

  Eric grunted.

  “The applewood should be here this evening, but for now, we’ll warm the oven with oak.”

  Eric nodded. “Good. Great.” He glanced at Jamie and found that his brother was watching him instead of the oven. That same strange, tense expression was on his face. Eric decided to meet it head-on. “What did she tell you?” he asked.

  Jamie scowled. “What are you talking about?”

  “What did she say?”

  “Who?”

  “Tessa.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Eric threw his hands up. “I can tell by the way you’re looking at me that something’s up. So tell me what she said.”

  Tessa pushed through the doors. “What who said?”

  “You,” Eric snapped. “You told him.”

  “I did not! I said I wouldn’t say anything and I didn’t.”

  “Hey!” Jamie barked. “Care to clue me in here?”

  Eric could suddenly see the truth on Tessa’s face. She hadn’t said a thing. Shit. “Nothing. You were just giving me a weird look.” Boy, that didn’t sound guilty at all.

  “I was looking at you weird because I thought everything was cool between us, but you’re growling at me like a pissed-off bear. What the hell’s wrong with you?” What was wrong with him? His conscience had poisoned him and turned him into an idiot. “Nothing,” he finally said. “We’re good.”

  “Hard to tell these days,” Jamie muttered. “So what are you keeping from me now?”

  “Nothing,” Eric snapped.

  Jamie looked at Tessa, but she shook her head and shot Eric a wary look.

  Eric sighed. “I’m sorry I was in a bad mood. It has nothing to do with you. Really. So how long before you can try out the oven?”

  Just as Eric had hoped, talk of the oven distracted Jamie. “Tomorrow at the earliest. We’ll let it warm through today so we can try it out tomorrow. I’ll have to mix up a batch of dough myself. Unless someone else is willing.” He gave Tessa a significant glance.

  “Oh, fine,” she groaned. “I’ll make the dough. Have you settled on a recipe yet?”

  “I’ve got it narrowed down to a few. But Olivia recommended I wait until a chef is hired so I can get his or her input. I’d like to have somebody with their own brain, since I’ll need guidance.”

  Great. Another strong personality in the building. Eric shot a look at the tank room. “Just make sure whoever it is gets along with Wallace. We don’t need two temperamental creative types in here. Speaking of which… Where is Wallace?”

  Jamie and Tessa shrugged, so Eric went to look, happy to have a chance to escape. Wallace wasn’t in the tank room or the bottling room. It wasn’t like him to not show up. Heck, it wasn’t even like him to stay gone on his days off.

  Eric headed to his office to check for a message from Wallace. There was nothing on his phone, so he paged through his emails before finally pushing back in his chair and checking his desk. And there it was on the far corner. A letter.

  Wallace was off to California. Faron had discovered that her husband had cheated with someone she’d asked him not to date. She was done. So Wallace was off to help her pack. To declare his love. To bring her back.

  “Good Lord,” Eric muttered. “Seriously?”

  This was a firing offense. Wallace couldn’t just walk out on the tanks for however many days because he was lovesick.

  Eric looked over the letter again. He’d be gone for three days. Maybe four. Eric would have to drop all his office work and take charge of the tank room.

  His scowl faded a little. He’d have to spend hours in there, scrambling to cover Wallace’s duties. He’d be stuck in the tank room for the rest of the week.

  A slow smile spread across Eric’s face and he felt a strong urge to rub his hands together. Four days would be more than enough time to get a small test batch started. Something fun. He’d have to see what supplies Wallace had on hand. He’d also have to be careful not to use too much of Wallace’s special stock of ingredients, or the man would be on the rampage. He’d be unhappy with the intrusion regardless, but he’d just have to deal with it. After leaving them in the lurch, Wallace would deserve to be upset. Still, maybe the sexually liberated weren’t so bad, after all. As a matter of fact, maybe Eric had joined the ranks himself.

  He wanted to jump up and get to the tank room immediately, but he made himself answer emails and shift his schedule around to deal with distribution problems first. Nearly two hours passed before he could manage it, but he finally sli
pped into the tank room and closed the door.

  Heaven.

  He loved this place. Loved the idea of being in charge of product instead of people. It was so much easier. So much more natural for him. The problem was that he wasn’t needed here. Wallace had already been the brewmaster for three years when Michael Donovan died and Eric had stepped in to try to fill his shoes. The brewing was the one thing he hadn’t needed to worry about. Wallace had it covered. So Eric had taken care of everything else.

  And now…Wallace still had it covered. His beer won them awards every year. He was highly respected on the national scene. And he was utterly in control of every step of the process.

  Eric smiled grimly. “Except when he’s not here.”

  He found a list of things Wallace wanted done while he was gone. “Tanks are only to be touched by Eric or Jamie!” he’d written in huge letters. He would’ve included Tessa, too, but Tessa had been afraid of the fermentation tanks since their father had told a story of almost getting a hand blown off when a valve malfunctioned. She’d put in her two weeks with Wallace, learned the ropes and then she’d bolted, happy to escape with her life and both hands intact.

  Eric read the list and got to work. He’d have to take care of the scheduled duties before he could indulge in experimentation, but he approached the mash tun with a smile. Between Beth calling him up and Wallace going out of town, this was going to be a very good week, as long as he kept his back to the kitchen and ignored everything else.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE MAN HAD DELIVERED yet another revelation. Beth shook her head as she disassembled the store mannequin, laying all the poor girl’s parts out on the floor.

  Whatever Beth pretended to be here at the White Orchid, Eric Donovan was her own personal sex class, teaching her things she’d been unable to figure out herself. He was like…a learning aid. Because she already knew everything. She understood it. But she couldn’t process it.

  Take, for example, the G-spot. She knew all about it. She’d even assumed she might have one. But she’d figured it was like any erogenous zone. What worked for some women might not work for her.