Silver Brewer: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “And she wasn’t upset about her?”

  “I told her all the facts about Clara. I omitted the part about children.”

  Billy whistles. “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to share her.” It’s the sappiest, most honest thing I’ve ever told anyone.

  “What does that mean?” Billy chuckles.

  “I knew the girls might love her, get attached, and I just didn’t want to share.” I pause, swiping a hand down my beard. “She wants things, and I didn’t know if I could go down that path again.” Marriage and children. Love and happily ever after. Then again, it’s all I’ve thought of since she left. I can see myself married to her. I see my daughters accepting her. I see us together. “But I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Seems like the answer is obvious,” Billy retorts, reaching for the whiskey behind the bar and refilling my glass.

  “What’s that?”

  “Give her what she wants. Then you’ll get what you want. It’s win-win.”

  “Who’s winning what?” my sister asks as she comes to stand next to me. It’s rare to see her at the bar on a weekday evening. Her girls’ volleyball team is headed to the state finals.

  “Giant wants Letty. Letty wants Giant. It’s win-win.”

  “She doesn’t want me.”

  “What did you do?” Mati asks. How is it always the man’s fault, yet I know I’m to blame in this round with Letty.

  “I omitted.”

  “Is that like lying but calling it another name?” Mati’s eyes meet mine, and her brow arches.

  “I didn’t lie.” I meekly smile. “I withheld the truth.” It wasn’t like I denied my daughters existed. I just didn’t mention them. The justification sounds bad, even in my head.

  “And the difference is…?”

  I shake my head as my youngest sibling speaks like our mother. Mati pulls up a stool next to me.

  “Although I guess I shouldn’t talk,” she states, lowering her voice. Billy pulls out another shot glass and fills it with more whiskey.

  “What do you mean?” Billy asks.

  “I’ve got to tell Denton something, but let’s keep to Giant. This is important. You love the woman, right?”

  “How do you know that?” I question, and Mati rolls her eyes.

  “Giant, when you take a woman up to Pap’s or bring her to your home, and you’ve never done those things before, it’s got to be more than a shag.”

  “Shag?” Billy smirks, disgust on his face. “Is this England? He’s bonking her.”

  Mati rolls her eyes again. “He’s not bonking her. He’s in love with her.”

  What the hell is bonking?

  “You just want everyone to be in love because you are. Mati and Denton sitting in a tree,” Billy sings.

  My brows pinch. “What are you, five?” I huff.

  “Forty-six and loving every minute of it.” He winks as if I should understand. I don’t. I haven’t had the cavalier one-night stands my brother’s had for the past sixteen years. I’ve been much more selective, and it feels as if I haven’t enjoyed myself until I’m almost fifty.

  “Anyway,” Mati draws out. Her hand comes to my wrist. “I know it’s difficult. You want to move on, but you don’t know if you should. You want to feel something again, but what you feel is guilt for wanting that something. I know,” she stresses, and my sister does know. Her husband. My wife. Both taken too young. “But you have to let go, Giant.” Her voice softens. “It’s been ten years. She’s never coming back, and you already know that. You aren’t betraying her. You aren’t harming her memory. The memories will always be there, but it’s time to make new ones. With your life. The one you’re still living.”

  She’s right. And I know she’s right.

  “It’s just…I think I love her, and it all seems so fast.”

  “Well, nothing can be slower than twenty-seven years.” Mati chuckles as that’s how long it took her to reconnect with Denton. I don’t want that much time to pass. I want twenty-seven years with Letty.

  “Look, slow, fast—”

  “In, out,” Billy interjects, thrusting his hips at the bar. Mati slaps the wooden top.

  “Can you try to remember I’m your sister for five seconds? Anyway…” she starts again. “I don’t think there needs to be a time limit on love or grief. Grief ends when you’re done. And love begins when you’re ready.”

  You’re so ready for me, Letty. The words drift into my head, reminding me of her on my desk. She is always ready for me, but it’s been more than sex. So much more.

  “I think I need to get back to Chicago and do some groveling,” I say, picking up my phone from where it lies on the bar.

  “You’ve been to Chicago?” Billy asks.

  “Try to keep up,” Mati teases.

  “I need to go,” I say, slipping from the stool. My phone buzzes in my hand, notifying me of an email. Hastily, I open it while I stand at the bar because the notification is from her, in response to my last email.

  You’re so far away.

  + + +

  “Cricket.” I breath her name into the phone when she answers on the second ring.

  “Giant.” She sounds equally as breathless.

  “Are you okay?” Her email worries me, and I tap my fingers on my steering wheel as I sit in my truck in a parking spot on Main Street.

  “I’m…I’m in Tennessee. I know it isn’t exactly next door, but it’s closer than Chicago, and I wondered if you’d be interested in—”

  “Yes.”

  She giggles, and I smile, a spark of hope flickering before me. “Well, that was easy, but you didn’t let me finish.”

  “I’m easy.” I laugh.

  “You’re very difficult, Mr. Harrington,” she teases. “Easy is not a word I’d use to describe you.”

  “What word would you use?” Say charming. Say anything. Just let me hear your voice. It’s so good to hear her voice.

  “Does hard work?”

  “Hard?” I choke out. “I can be hard for you.” I don’t know where the flirting comes from. I should be apologizing, groveling…Dammit, I should have sent her flowers. I swipe a hand over the thick hairs on my jaw, but she continues to chuckle.

  “Well, maybe we could talk before we get to the hard part.”

  I laugh uneasily. “Talking is the hard part.”

  “I know.” She sighs. “But I’ve missed your voice.”

  “Me too. I mean, I’ve missed yours.” And your smile, your laughter, your arms around me. “So you’re in Tennessee.”

  “Yeah, I have a meeting tomorrow to look at a property. My uncle’s giving me a second chance to make up for losing out on yours.” She isn’t upset, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I thought maybe Saturday, or whenever you’re free, if you’re free…I mean—”

  “Just tell me where you are,” I snap, harsher than I intend but desperate to get an answer. I press the ignition starter, then reach for the navigation system in my truck.

  “I’m in Appleton, just outside Knoxville. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “Yes, I have. There’s a vineyard near there, right?” I know exactly where she is, and I type in the name of the lodge when she tells me where she’s staying. Then I reverse onto Main Street.

  “A vineyard, yes.” The line goes silent for a moment, but I don’t want to let her go.

  “So…uhm…how have you been?” I’m not good at small talk. When I called home while I was overseas, Clara did most of the talking, filling me in on the girls, my family, and any other gossip until my time was up.

  “Lonely,” she admits, and my heart breaks. I know the feeling.

  “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry for what happened with the girls. Well, not the girls because they adore you just as I do, but I mean, I’m sorry for not telling you.”

  “When did you become the chatterbox?” She giggles, and then silence falls another moment. “I know you’re sorry. I am too. I might have overreacted a bit, but it
was a shock, Giant. I mean you mentioned Clara and motherhood, but you hadn’t even hinted at children, and then there they were, staring at me. Literally the elephant in the room.”

  “I wouldn’t say an elephant,” I good-naturedly mock. “More like a stunned bear.”

  “I was stunned but so were they. Are they okay? Their reactions suggest finding a woman in their father’s house doesn’t happen often.” Is she fishing for something? I’m not going to hold anything else inside.

  “I already told you, there’s never been another woman in my house. Ever. Not my bed, my hot tub, or that damn leather chair I can’t sit in without thinking of you.”

  She softly huffs into the phone. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  Haven’t I explained this? I didn’t want to share her. “Letty, have you ever wanted something for yourself? Something you didn’t know you wanted until it was before you, and then, even though you want to shout to the world, look what I found, you’re also afraid others will want it too?” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been longing for something different, some kind of spontaneity that I couldn’t name, couldn’t imagine, and then, there you were. You. You’re what I’ve been longing for.” It’s all true. My life has been predictable. Routine. I’ve been waiting for something more, and I finally have it in her.

  “I understand what you mean.” Her voice drops lower. “It’s how I feel about you, too. It scares me.”

  I’m terrified by what I feel because it seems like too much, too fast. Yet, just as Mati said, how can I put a time limit on such things? I’ve been waiting a long while for this feeling, so I don’t want to easily give it up. Letty remains quiet for another minute. Seems I’ve taken up her trait of needing to fill the quiet space, so I start talking about my girls.

  “They liked you. Ellie called me the next day and asked when I’d see you again, then when would they see you again, and would they get the chance to spend more time with you.” It was exactly how I knew they’d react. Curious. Eager. Hopeful. My daughters wanted the best for me, even if we weren’t terribly close. We had a routine, so I didn’t lose them completely: once a month Sunday breakfast at my house, their choice of days in the month to visit my parents’ house, and then every other Wednesday for dinner in Atlanta. Phone calls were once a week because…I didn’t have much to say.

  “They were sweet once the initial shell-shock dulled a little. Your granddaughters are lovely.” There’s a sadness in her tone when all I want to do is keep things light, but I know we’ll have to dig a little deeper.

  “I’m sorry again about the Mimi comment. I don’t know where that came from. Mick has parents in South Carolina, and they see them from time to time.”

  “I didn’t mind,” she replies, and another flash of hope ignites in me. “I just think I’d like to become a mother before being considered a grandmother.” She laughs awkwardly. “It seems like the natural progression of things.”

  “How is that going?”

  She explains the progress of her adoption request and how the foster system is hopeful of finding someone for her. She really wants a newborn but will accept any child under five. She wants it to be a boy. “My reasons relate to Owen. I want to make up for where I once lacked.” It’s a tall order, and no child will be a replacement for the brother she lost. It also wasn’t her fault he died. “I think one thing that upset me about your girls is you having them. I’m jealous, Giant. You already raised children, and you’re on to grandchildren. I haven’t even started yet.”

  “It isn’t a competition,” I say. “Or a race.”

  “I know that,” she says, resolve in her voice. “I just…sometimes, I feel like I’m losing time, and I’m frustrated by the process of things.” The defeatist tone doesn’t suit her, and I want to wrap her in my arms and tell her she can do anything, have anything. Sometimes, what we want takes time. Like me finding her.

  “You’ve already had it all.” She’s quieter as she adds, “The last thing you’d want to do is to start over.”

  “Don’t tell me what I wouldn’t want.” The words are curt, and I shift on the driver’s seat, tightening my hands on the wheel as I mutter a quick apology. I don’t want to fight with her because starting over feels more and more like something I do want. Like a second chance.

  “Fine. I shouldn’t make assumptions, but I don’t know what you want, Giant, and it’s a lot to discuss. We haven’t known each other very long, and we’ve already had so many misunderstandings between us.”

  You, I want you. No misunderstanding there.

  “Nothing’s between us,” I emphasize. My voice deepens, demanding, “No more holding back.”

  Silence lingers for only a second.

  “Would you want to do it all again?” she cautiously questions, but before I can answer, she nervously chatters. “Maybe that’s something we can talk about on Saturday when you’re here. I’d feel better if we talked face to face.”

  I agree, only we won’t have to wait until Saturday before we’re face to face.

  “So how is the beer-making business?” she interjects. I’m not letting this conversation slide, but I need to say some things when I can see her reaction, as she said, so I blow out a breath as I envision my office—and my desk—another place I can’t look at without thinking of her. I tell her about the upcoming holidays, which are a busy time for us, and how wholesale has really increased over the two years with Jaxson as head of sales and distribution. I’m proud of my nephew and offering him the job was the least I could do after all his mother did for my girls. Plus, keeping the business in the family is important to me.

  She yawns, and I pause. “Am I keeping you up?”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from, but I’ve been awake since four this morning. Frank makes us take the cheapest flights, and the early-bird six a.m. was the least expensive.”

  “No worries. You get some rest. I’ll be there soon.”

  She chuckles, and then the sound halts. “Wait? What? You mean Saturday, right? You’ll see me on Saturday?” Is that hope in her tone?

  “Actually, I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “An hour?” she shrieks. We’ve already been talking for one, and it’s only another hour to the lodge. “You don’t have to come here tonight. I have meetings and—”

  “I’m already on my way, and I’m not turning around. If you want to wait to see me, I’ll just book a room when I get there.”

  “You don’t need to get a separate room.” Her voice lowers.

  “Are you sure? I can always—”

  “We already shared a tent as strangers. I think we can handle a hotel room with two beds.” I’m a little crushed at the notion of separate beds, but I chuckle nonetheless at the mention of the tent.

  “It was a little wild that first night, wasn’t it?” Who almost finger-fucks a woman he only met two days prior? One who got under my skin from the moment I saw her.

  “It was.” She exhales, and I hear her shy smile through the phone. “I think of it often.”

  Me, too. “Oh yeah, what do you think about?”

  “Your hand guiding mine.” Her voice drops a little lower. “And you leading me to touch myself.”

  My dick leaps to life, and I shift to adjust. “Cricket,” I groan.

  “Then I imagine you touching me instead of my fingers. You were so close.” Her breath hitches. Here’s my spontaneous, unpredictable, always ready for me girl.

  “Are you…are you touching yourself now?” The heel of my hand rubs down the zipper of my pants. I can’t take care of myself while I drive, and I don’t want to. It’s been eleven days of torture without her. I want my hands on her and hers on me.

  “Not yet.” She sighs. “But I want to.”

  “Don’t,” I snap, which thankfully draws another giggle from her.

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “You just told me an hour,” she teases.

 
“I’m breaking every speed limit.” I’m already going dangerously fast on these backroads, and I’m hoping I don’t miss the switchbacks I need to take as not everything is properly marked in these parts.

  She chuckles. “Okay, I’ll hold out, but I’m wet, Giant. So wet.”

  Fuck. “Cricket, two beds or not, we aren’t sleeping separately. We can talk all you’d like, all night long if you want, but you will not touch yourself without me present.”

  Her laughter fills my chest, and my heart pumps with excitement. “There aren’t two beds here, honey. Only one, with me in it, waiting for you.”

  “Damn, girl, I’m going as fast as I can.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping you’ll say once you’re here.”

  I groan through the phone. “Soon.”

  And then we both laugh. It’s so good to laugh with her.

  27

  Lodgings and loving

  [Giant]

  I’m nervous, and I swipe my hands on my pants for the tenth time as I walk to her room. I sent her a text when I arrived, and as I cross the lobby, I rethink what I’ve done. I should have gone home and showered. I don’t even have a change of clothes or a toothbrush.

  I comb my fingers through my hair as a door down the hall opens, and she steps out. Still dressed in a tight skirt that hugs her hips and a blouse cut deep to reveal a hint of cleavage, she takes my breath away. She’s barefoot, though, and her hair is piled on her head. I want to run the rest of the distance, but I inhale and rub my hands on my pants again.

  “Hey,” she says as I near her. She smiles slow and sheepish.

  “Hey.” She’s holding open the door, but I reach over her for the heavy plank, and she steps into her room. I follow, and the click of the shutting door sparks something in each of us. I don’t know who moves first, but within seconds, we’re on each other. Lips on lips and hands in hair. Her hips buck forward, and I scoop her up.

  “My skirt,” she mutters, not able to wrap her legs around my hips.

  “Needs to go,” I demand with my lips still against hers. She fumbles with the zipper at the back while I tug her blouse up and over her head. I stare down at her in a nude bra and black panties. Like the greedy man I am, both hands reach for a breast and squeeze. Her head falls back as her fingers pull my shirt from my pants. I release her only long enough to tug my shirt over my head and stand bare chest to her covered breasts. She unhooks her bra, and I tackle my pants, kicking off my shoes and stepping out of my jeans.