Good Girls Don't Page 16

Eric just stood there with his arms crossed. Silence fell over the kitchen, though it was marred by the loud sound of Wallace’s furious breathing. Once that slowed, Eric raised his chin. “Are you done?” he asked calmly.

  Wallace just grunted, but Tessa could tell the storm had passed.

  “Jamie’s right,” Eric said. “And you know he’s right. So try again. It’s a winter brew—you’ve got plenty of time to play with it.”

  Wallace grunted again, but he didn’t disagree.

  Jamie, seemingly unaffected by the argument, gave Wallace’s arm a friendly slap. “Try that other chocolate you were talking about, man. The one from Mexico. That was the one you wanted, anyway.”

  Wallace shrugged, so Jamie slapped him again. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’re a fucking wizard, man.”

  “Okay,” Wallace finally agreed. “All right. I’ll try again.”

  Tessa wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Good Lord,” she said as she left them to their weird bonding. She might understand men, but that didn’t mean she had to like them all the time. Sometimes they were just giant, obnoxious children wrestling around until someone cried uncle.

  Actually, that was kind of how she felt it was going with Roland Kendall, too. But she’d cry uncle a million times over if it would get him to budge. She closed her office door and waited for the call. The last time Tessa had called, the receptionist had sighed and said that Mr. Kendall would call back around five. It was 4:59 p.m.

  When the phone rang, she snatched it up.

  “Tessa! Good to hear your voice. It’s Graham Kendall.”

  Graham Kendall? She pulled the phone from her ear and glared at it. He started talking again.

  “…surprised you didn’t show more interest in the offer—”

  “I’m sorry,” she snapped. “I really can’t make that kind of financial decision so quickly.”

  “What if I could give you a few more days?”

  “Sure. Whatever. I just can’t talk right now, okay?”

  “I’ll call you on Monday!”

  “I thought you were going to send those numbers on the catering over to me.”

  “I’ll get them to you as soon as I can. Let’s get this golf tournament ironed out first. That’s our top priority.”

  Tessa hung up with a huff. The phone rang two seconds later. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Donovan,” a much rougher voice said.

  Her heart stopped with an excruciating lurch. Roland Kendall. This was it. She could feel the destruction of her family barreling at her like a freight train. “Mr. Kendall,” she whispered. Horrified at the weakness of her own voice, she tried again. “Welcome home. I hope your trip went well.”

  “It was fine.”

  “I hope you—”

  “Look, Ms. Donovan, I’ll put you out of your misery. I was leaning toward a Denver brewery last month, and I’ve decided to go with them.”

  “No,” she whispered. Her hand fell to her desk, the knuckles clunking hard against the wood, but Tessa didn’t feel it. All she could feel was the hand the phone was in, and the way the edges cut into her fingers where she squeezed it. “I understood that Monica was going to argue in our favor….”

  “My daughter hasn’t exactly shown good judgment where the Donovan family is concerned. I disregarded her opinion on the matter.”

  “Have you finalized the deal yet?” she asked in panic. “Did you sign a contract?”

  “No, but—”

  “What if we…” Tessa considered the numbers. They were right there at the front of her brain on constant display. Then she thought of her monthly salary. Then the value of her car. Finally, she added in her savings account. “What if we supplied High West with enough beer to cover your customer demand for the next six months?” She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. “At no cost to you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “We’d require the two-year contract, of course. The last eighteen months at the rate already negotiated by you and Eric.”

  Silence greeted her words. Tessa clenched her eyes shut and breathed. In and out. In and out. She could swing this. If it meant that her brothers would be happy, she’d pay for the beer herself. She didn’t need her car. She only lived a block from her work and Boulder had a great bus system. But her brothers…they were irreplaceable.

  “If you can come through on that deal, Ms. Donovan, I think we can put this little incident behind us.”

  “Really?” Tessa pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing with relief. She should’ve known from the start that money would trump ideals with this man. She should’ve offered him an outrageous deal from the very start. Despite that she was about to start leaking money like a sieve, Tessa felt a surge of power burn through her muscles and settle in her bones.

  She wasn’t a fool. She was the one who’d run the numbers in the first place. This deal wouldn’t cost her more than four thousand dollars a month. That would be well worth the priceless return.

  “I’ll speak to Eric,” she said, “and I’ll have the contract to you next week.”

  When she hung up, Tessa clasped her shaking hands together. She’d done it. She’d fixed the unfixable problem. Granted, she’d thrown a big chunk of money at it to get the job done, but the cost would be well worth it, long-term. After all, her brothers had already sacrificed more than her, Eric most of all.

  But the shaking wouldn’t stop. Maybe she should grab another sample of Wallace’s chocolate stout. Failed or not, that brew had a high alcohol content. But her stomach turned at the thought.

  Tessa closed her eyes. She listened to the familiar late-afternoon sounds of the brewery. Their dishwasher, Henry, was filling a pail with hot water, preparing to mop the floors. Eric’s voice filtered faintly through the office wall as he talked on the phone. His voice floated on top of the muted hint of music from the front room. And even at this early hour, laughter from customers occasionally crept through the walls.

  She identified each and every sound, and it soothed her. This place was as much their family home as the house they’d grown up in. And she would lie, cheat or steal to hold on to that.

  Well, maybe not steal. Luke might frown on that.

  She managed a smile, though adrenaline still pooled in her stomach like acid.

  This was good. She had nearly a week to work out the details of how to keep this deal from her brothers. She’d have to hide it. They’d never, ever support it. But she could handle it. She had to.

  As if in reward for her positive thoughts, her phone beeped out a text alert.

  I’m heading home. Why don’t you stop by later?

  Luke. This was a slightly more pleasant shot of adrenaline. Her muscles went warm instead of sizzling. Her stomach did a slow, lazy turn. Tessa finally felt steady enough to rise to her feet. She found Jamie behind the bar.

  “What the hell was that ‘Danny Boy’ crap last night?” he asked when Tessa sauntered over with a smile.

  “Oh, that? How’d it go?”

  “You know I hate that damned song.”

  “But did you sing it?”

  His scowl told her that, yes indeed, he’d sung for their patrons. “That wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was having to listen to everyone else hum it for the rest of the night.”

  “Sorry,” she said, making sure he knew she wasn’t the least bit sorry at all.

  “You’re a brat.”

  “Maybe, but I’m a brat who just saved your butt.”

  He raised an interested eyebrow, but he had to break off the conversation to fill pint glasses for the people who’d just arrived.

  Tessa noticed the empty space that had been cleared in the far corner of the room and got out her phone to tweet a reminder about the band who’d be playing tonight.

  Normally, she’d hang around to help out or just enjoy the music, but tonight she’d be otherwise occupied. Occupied good and hard, if she had any say in it.

  “What the hell are you blogging now?” Jam
ie snapped.

  “It’s called tweeting. And it’s nothing to do with you.”

  “Liar. So tell me how you supposedly saved my ass.” Tessa beamed up at him, which seemed to make Jamie nervous. “Tessa. What did you do?”

  “I salvaged the deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “What deal do you think?”

  His eyes widened by slow degrees. His jaw dropped.

  “Exactly,” she drawled.

  “There’s no way. Kendall wouldn’t even… No.”

  Tessa shrugged with ill-concealed pride. “A two-year exclusive fulfillment deal just like we wanted. You can call me a miracle worker if you want. I won’t object.”

  Instead of calling her anything at all, Jamie put his arms around her and lifted her off the ground.

  She squealed and squirmed, trying to get her arms free so she could hug him back. But when he twirled her around, she just gave in and laughed.

  “How the hell did you do it?” he asked when he finally set her down.

  “I talked to Monica. I talked to Kendall. Gave him a little time to calm down.”

  “And what about Eric?”

  “Oh, I don’t think Roland Kendall’s going to say anything, do you?”

  Jamie pulled a white towel off his shoulder and twisted it around one hand. Not a good sign. “It’s still not right, Tessa. Everybody else knows about this.”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I did not do all this just so you could give your confession and get it off your chest. How is it going to help Eric to know about you and Monica? How will that help anyone? He’ll be pissed at you and Monica, number one. And he’ll be pissed at me and Kendall, too. Leave it alone.”

  He wound the towel tighter.

  “I’m serious!”

  His eyes rose to meet hers, and Tessa was shocked at the hardness in them. “So am I.”

  “No, Jamie. Not this time. Please. If you want to own up to your mistakes and make some sort of confession, do it the next time you screw up. Not this time.”

  “The next time, huh?”

  He was ruining the good news, and Tessa grew impatient. “Or don’t mess up again. Whatever you want. But this is not the time for getting it off your chest.”

  “We’re not kids anymore, Tessa. And Eric isn’t our dad.”

  She waved him off. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now. It’s over. Be happy.”

  He held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity, stubbornness written all over his jaw, but finally he relented with a nod. “Fine. You’re a miracle worker. We’ll leave it at that.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him another hug and added a kiss for good measure. “Now stay out of trouble.”

  “I should be saying that to you,” he said quietly.

  Tessa braced herself for another lecture, but even though she saw worry flash through his eyes, he just tossed the towel over his shoulder and went back to work. That was one nice thing about brothers. They rarely wanted to talk about feelings. That suited her just fine.

  “Looks like a great night,” he said, glancing out at the tables that were already filling up. And the conversation was officially over. Tessa was free to escape and she started back to her office.

  A careful hand on her arm stopped her. “Is Wallace here?” a soft voice asked.

  Tessa looked down to see a woman so petite that half her height seemed to be made up of her perfectly round afro. “Hi. Yes, he’s in the back. I’ll get him for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m Faron, by the way. If he asks.”

  Tessa knocked on the door of the brewing room before she opened it, just in case Wallace was making love to one of tanks. “Wallace, there’s someone named Faron here to see you!”

  The brewmaster popped up from crouching next to one of the mash tuns. “Faron’s here?”

  “She’s in the front.” Tessa could’ve sworn he licked his lips when he glanced toward the barroom. “Do you want me to bring her back?”

  “No, I…”

  She watched in shock as the foul-tempered behemoth tried to smooth a hand through his bushy hair, then gave up and patted it down. “No, just tell her I’ll be out in five minutes. Comp her a beer?”

  “Um, yes. Of course. Absolutely.” Well, this was new. Wallace’s dates were normally the nervous ones. He always stayed steady as a thousand-year-old tree. Until now.

  More than a little curious, Tessa took Faron’s order herself, surprised when the woman ordered a porter. Faron looked like she had the appetite—and bone structure—of a bird. She wasn’t chatty, though. She took her beer with a simple thank-you and retreated to a table in the corner to sit quietly.

  “Wallace’s date,” Tessa whispered to Jamie.

  “That man is a god,” he said with complete sincerity. “He’s the one who should be tweeting. In his own name, I might add.”

  “Hey, I gave you the chance to do it. You weren’t interested. Suck it up.”

  “Get out of my bar,” he growled, and Tessa left with a laugh.

  She made one last phone call, confirming with the human resources vendor that everything still looked good with the Social Security numbers. No alerts had been triggered. They’d dodged a bullet. Well, actually… Tessa had made a move toward stricter information protection. That hadn’t been dodging a bullet at all. It had been ass-kicking forethought.

  She shut down her computer and headed for Luke’s house on a cloud of triumph. Tessa Donovan, protector of families and savior of breweries. Oh, and defiler of men, if she had anything to say about it. Yes, indeed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “SO WHAT’S MISSING from the files?” Simone asked, but Luke was distracted from answering. Instead, he frowned at the way she shifted in her chair, her hand going to her side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but he watched her ease slightly to the right. “What’s up with the files?”

  “A couple of the later cases have references to interviews with a witness, but I can’t find the records. I called Ben. He’s going to look into it.”

  She made a thoughtful noise. “So I thought Frankie was being truthful.”

  “Me, too. He was already on for another two years of probation. No reason he wouldn’t want to bring the other guy down with him.”

  “No reason except fear, and I didn’t get any of that.”

  “I’ll swing by and check out the fencing behind the brewery tomorrow. See if that part checks out. Do you know what the layout is back there?”

  She shook her head but fired up her laptop to access satellite images. The results weren’t promising. A neighborhood street dead-ended right behind the brewery. It was unlikely anyone had installed surveillance cameras at all, and certainly none that pointed at the street. They’d have to knock on doors, and the lieutenant likely wouldn’t want to alarm the community over a property crime.

  Luke put his feet up on the table. “So let’s assume there wasn’t an insider helping out. How else could he have gotten the code?”

  “A source at the alarm company?”

  “Huh. I kinda like that idea. But it still puts him in an identifiable position, if you assume he’s using the same guy every time. Did we already check on the alarm company?”

  “Yep,” Simone said. “Three different companies for the last four robberies.”

  “Shit. But you know what? Maybe these days he doesn’t need any inside help. Maybe he could just set down a tiny camera in the back room to record the code. That would take, what? Two seconds?”

  Simone nodded, but she shifted again and eased her hand behind the small of her back. Luke frowned until she shot him an irritated look. “What?”

  “You’re not having Braxton Hicks, are you?”

  “What?”

  “It’s early yet. You should call your doctor.”

  “Um, Luke? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me involved, but I can’t just prete
nd you’re not pregnant. And if you’re starting to have contractions, then—”

  “I’m not having contractions. My back hurts. That’s all.”

  “Sometimes back labor can masquerade as—”

  “Are you kidding?” she interrupted with a screech. “Since when do you know anything about back labor or Braxton Hicks?”

  “I’ve…read stuff.” Luke didn’t like the way she was staring at him, and now he was the one shifting in his chair.

  “You’ve read stuff. About pregnancy.”

  “Let’s get back to the case.” He bent over the computer and pretended to study the satellite map, but Simone pushed to her feet with surprising speed and headed toward his bedroom.

  “Hey!” Luke jumped up and chased after her, but she was more agile than she’d been in weeks, and Simone slipped into his bedroom before he was even halfway down the hall. “Hey!” he shouted again. At first, he was mostly worried he’d missed one of the condom packets from this morning. Or that Tessa had left some lacy thing behind on his bed.

  But when he finally burst into the room, he found that Simone had ignored the rumpled bed and was standing at the small desk under the window. She picked up a book and turned it over, then reached for another.

  “You’re reading baby books?” Her soft voice swelled through the room and pressed against his brain.

  “They were on a table at the front of the bookstore,” he said, but that was only a half-truth. Yes, the first book he’d bought had been an impulse buy. But the second and third and fourth had been a mission. Luckily, half of his purchases were still at the office.

  She flipped one open and paged through it, then set both books down with a sigh. “You can’t do this, Luke,” she whispered.

  “Do what?”

  Simone just shook her head and edged past him to head for the door. But this time he was on her heels. “Do what, Simone?”

  She snapped her computer closed and stuffed it in her bag, but he followed her all the way to the front door. Her hand touched the doorknob, but then she stopped and slumped. “You can’t save me from this, okay? You can’t fix this.”

  “Aw, hell, Simone. I don’t even know what I’d be saving you from. Maybe the dad’s in the picture. Maybe he’s not. Maybe you went to a damn sperm bank. I don’t care anymore, all right? I just want to help.”