by Sandra Owens
She’d laughed. “Thought you’d see it my way.” She’d never figured out why he didn’t want to take her money when it didn’t bother him that other people dropped bills or coins into the cup.
“You’re a stubborn one, Miss Peyton” had been his only comment on the matter.
As she headed for her loft, she thought about that long-ago remark. If ever there was a time to be stubborn, it was now. To keep the life she loved, to stay in the city of her heart, and to keep the loft she adored, all she had to do was find a job. If that meant continuing down her list, even to the last one—a place she really didn’t want to work at—so be it, because she was going to stubbornly refuse to move.
You could start your own brewery.
Huh? Where the devil had that thought come from? Crazy as it was, as she rode the elevator to her floor, her heart beat faster at the idea. Could she? It had never occurred to her to do such a thing since she’d thought she would always brew beer for Elk Antler, and that when her father decided it was time for him to retire, the brewery would be hers. But what if?
Excited about the possibility, she’d start researching the cost of doing it as soon as she finished her lunch. Could she even get a bank loan? What would rent run for a downtown building? And equipment, that wouldn’t be cheap. Then there was the inventory—the grains, yeast, bottles, and other stuff. It was probably a pipe dream, but dreams didn’t cost anything. What would she name her brewery?
Beer names these days were crazy cool and the bottle labels outrageous. It wasn’t going to be easy to come up with an awesome brewery name that wasn’t already in use. She discarded names as she unlocked her door. When she stepped inside her loft, she came to a dead stop. Dalton stood at one of her windows, looking out.
“Still feeding your friend?” He turned and raised his eyebrows. That was one of his idiosyncrasies that she hated, those eyebrows going up when he thought she’d done or said something stupid.
Joseph’s corner was visible from her windows, and if she’d known Dalton was watching them, she would have sat her butt down on the sidewalk and spent another hour with her friend. Dalton had never come out and said so, but his body language always indicated that he disapproved of her giving Joseph money or bringing him food.
Well, screw him. She’d be friends with whoever she wanted, feed whoever she wanted, and give money to whoever she wanted. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to save you from yourself.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Not you, that’s for sure.” Because she had trouble being mean, she about bit her tongue off to keep from telling him that he’d never made her tingle like a certain sexy SEAL.
“Don’t be a witch, Peyton.”
Witch? The name of her maybe brewery flashed right in front of her eyes. Wicked Witch Brewery was perfect. She laughed. “Well, turns out you’re good for something anyway.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I’m fixin’ to eat my dinner, so goodbye.” She headed for the kitchen.
“Fixing to?” He shook his head. “Do you know how ignorant you sound when you say that?”
“Don’t care.” She set her to-go bag on the counter, then strode back to him and held out her hand. “I want the keys to my loft back.”
“Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation? Why did you disappear from our wedding? And who was that man you were at the waterfall with? Are you having an affair?”
She wished she was having an affair with Noah. “You’re right. You do deserve an explanation. You don’t love me, so I’m not going to marry you.”
“Of course I love you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Where’s this ridiculous notion coming from?”
“From you. I heard you, Dalton. You told Ron that you were marrying me because my father promised you shares in the brewery.” She held out her hand again. “I want my keys, and then I want you to leave.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “No to both. We’re going to settle this today, and then we are going to get married. I’m thinking a quick trip to Vegas will work just fine.”
“Listen carefully. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Marry. You. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Give me my damn keys.”
He grabbed her arm. “Wrong.” He dug his fingers into her skin. “Now you listen carefully. We are getting married, so stop acting like a spoiled brat.”
“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull her arm away, but he gripped her harder. What was wrong with him? “You’re scaring me, Dalton.” This wasn’t the carefully controlled man she’d known. This man with the cold, hard eyes was a stranger, and she had a revelation. He’d always controlled his temper around her, and suddenly she knew, just knew that would have changed had she married him.
“And you’re trying my patience.”
She was never more thankful that she’d overheard his confession to his best man than she was at this moment. “You’re delusional.” She yanked her arm away, and then ran and locked herself in her bathroom. If she stayed in there long enough, surely, he would leave.
Then she’d call the locksmith again and demand that he come change her locks immediately. When she’d called yesterday, he’d scheduled her for Friday afternoon, the soonest he had open. If he couldn’t make an emergency call, she’d find someone else.
“Peyton.” Dalton knocked on the bathroom door. “Open the damn door.”
“If you don’t go away, I’ll call the police.”
He laughed. “Go ahead. What will you tell them? That you’re having a spat with your fiancé? You think they’ll care?”
Luckily, she hadn’t set down her purse when she’d put her lunch on the counter. It was still hanging from her shoulder, and her phone was in it. Was he right? He hadn’t hit her, had just grabbed her arm. He’d probably convince the police that it was nothing more than a minor argument.
Noah had said she could call him if she was desperate. Well, she was.
Chapter Nine
“Nichole drunk dialed you?” Noah said.
Jack grinned. “That she did. Not that she meant to. She thought she was calling someone else. It’s going to make a great story to tell our kids.”
“If she doesn’t kick your ass to the curb for ratting her out.”
“Never happen. I keep my girl too happy for her to ever leave me.”
“Bragging there, Whiskey.”
Jack chuckled. “Just saying.”
They were sitting on Jack’s back deck. Noah wondered what his friend would say about how he’d met Peyton, and he was tempted to tell Jack, but something held him back. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep her a secret. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and if he talked about her, Jack would sense there was more to it than just a funny story.
“She still thinks she’s on the job, doesn’t she?” he said, lifting his chin toward Jack’s dog. Dakota was perched on the top step leading down to the yard, her alert gaze sweeping the area around them.
“Always. She’s not real happy there aren’t any bad guys to bite these days.”
They both chuckled. Dakota had saved Jack’s life by pushing him back seconds before an IED exploded. The bomb had still seriously wounded both of them, but here they were, still breathing. Noah would forever be grateful for that.
“He already thinks you’re his,” Jack said.
“Who thinks what?”
Jack dipped his chin at Lucky. “Your dog.”
“Not my dog.” He jerked his hand away when he realized he’d been combing his fingers through Lucky’s fur. “Where’s Nichole?” he asked before Jack could talk about the healing power of dogs.
He wasn’t going to drink the Kool-Aid. A dog wasn’t going to help him sleep at night, wasn’t going to take away his nightmares. He was the reason a
good dog was dead, and he was done with dogs.
“In her studio. As soon as she finishes glazing the bowl she’s working on, she’ll join us.” He glanced at Noah’s empty cup. “Want some more coffee?”
“I’m good.” Jack was drinking a beer, and Noah would love to have one, but he’d decided to try and limit his drinking to one glass of liquor or one beer a day. If that was all he was going to have, he’d prefer to have it at night. Sometimes it helped him sleep. Sometimes not.
His phone buzzed, alerting him to a text message. He picked it up from the table next to him.
Dalton’s here and won’t leave.
“I have to go,” he said, standing.
“Where?”
He glanced at Jack. “To rescue a damsel in distress.”
“Explain.”
“Later.” He’d told Peyton not to call him unless she was desperate. Until he could get to her and assess the situation, he couldn’t know if she really was in danger, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Jack stood. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not necessary.” He was perfectly capable of dealing with Dumb Groom.
“Still going. Just let me tell Nichole.”
“Fine. But you have three minutes. Can Lucky stay here?”
“No. Wherever you go, he goes.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Jack laughed as he jogged down the steps, Dakota chasing after him as he headed to Nichole’s studio. Noah clipped Lucky’s leash to his collar. “Let’s go see your friend.” He wondered what Peyton was going to think when he showed up with both Jack and Lucky.
In his car, he started to call Peyton but paused. Maybe there was a reason she texted instead of calling, like she didn’t want her ex to know she had help coming. He clicked on messages and typed.
On the way. U ok
Locked myself in the bathroom. My elevator code is 4349 Text me when you get to my door.
“In the back seat,” he told Lucky when he saw Jack approaching. On second thought, he wasn’t sure what the situation was. What if he decided he needed to stick around to make sure her ex stayed gone?
“Listen,” he said when Jack opened the passenger door. “I don’t know what the deal is, so why don’t you follow me in case I decide to stay for a while?”
Jack studied him for a moment. “Okay, but you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“When we get there.”
“Where are we going if I lose you?”
“Don’t know the address, but it’s downtown. The building has a mall on the first floor with lofts above.”
Jack nodded. “I think I know it. I’ll be right behind you.”
When he shut the door, Lucky stuck his nose between the front seats and whined. “Fine. You can have your seat back.”
At the waterfall, Noah had studied Peyton’s ex as he stood behind her father, silently watching. If the man loved her, he should have been upset to see her with a bare-chested stranger and her in that stranger’s shirt. Hell, if that had been him, he would have had a whole lot to say. There probably would have been fists involved.
What kind of man didn’t blink an eye at seeing his fiancée almost naked in the presence of another man? The answer to that was one who didn’t give a damn about her other than the gains marrying her would bring him. Noah blamed her father as much as the ex. If what Peyton said was true, and he had no reason to doubt her, her father had betrayed her. He was pretty sure that had hurt her more than losing a fiancée.
When he reached downtown, he watched for the landmarks he’d memorized when he’d left her, and after only one wrong turn, he found the garage where he’d parked when he’d brought her home.
“What’s the situation here?” Jack asked after they’d both parked and were headed for the exit.
“Her name’s Peyton. Don’t know her last name. I met her yesterday at that waterfall you took me to. She’s...ah, she’s a runaway bride.” He glanced at his friend to see his reaction.
Jack came to a dead stop. “Tell me you’re yanking my chain.”
“Nope,” he said, not stopping. He could still see her ex’s cold, calculating eyes as he watched her. The douchebag was no match against him, but he was capable of hurting Peyton. If he had, Noah was going to make him sorry.
Jack jogged, catching up with him. “And we’re going to save your runaway bride because?”
“Because her ex-fiancé is there, and she’s locked herself in the bathroom.”
“She’s afraid of him?”
“Appears so.”
“No one hurts a woman on our watch,” Jack said.
“Copy that.”
* * *
“Peyton, you have exactly one minute to come out before I kick the damn door in.”
Was he serious? Were her shares of Elk Antler really worth forcing her to marry him?
The door crashed open. She screamed.
“Damn it, Peyton, you’re being ridiculous.” He grabbed her arm when she tried to become one with the wall. “So your father promised me shares in the brewery. Why is that a problem? We’ll just be keeping it in the family.”
“Let go of me. I’m not going to marry you.”
“Yes, you are.” He dragged her to the living room. “You can pack a bag, or I’ll do it for you. Either way, by tomorrow night, we’ll be married.”
“No! I’ll scream bloody murder to anyone who’ll listen.”
He shook his head as if she was nothing more than a naughty child. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” She tried to pull her arm away again, but that only made him dig his fingers deeper into her skin.
“Your father’s dying. His wish is to see you taken care of.”
“You’re a lying toad. He’s not dying. He’s not!” How could he say something so horrible? If that was true, her father would have told her. Wouldn’t he? She was so furious at Dalton’s lies that she stopped thinking and let the rage take over. She pulled her arm up, lowered her mouth to the fingers that were going to leave bruises and clamped her teeth down on them.
“Bitch.” He jerked his hand away from her teeth, but she saw the droplets of blood bubbling on his skin.
Good. Her phone vibrated on the floor where she’d dropped it when he’d grabbed her. Noah? Please let him be on the other side of her door.
“Noah,” she screamed.
Her front door splintered, and two of the most furious-faced and intimidating men she’d ever seen rushed in. One was Noah, but before she could reach for him, Dalton pulled her against his chest.
“You!” Dalton said, his gaze on Noah.
Lucky rushed past Noah and his friend, his tail wagging as he tried to get to her. Noah picked him up, handing him to the other man. “Hold him while I deal with this asshole.”
“What is this, a garden party?” Dalton snarled.
“Let her go.” Noah took a step closer. “Do it now before I make you, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
Dalton tightened his hold on her. “So, you are fucking him.”
“You’re disgusting.” Why had she ever agreed to marry him? Noah’s eyes were growing icier by the second, and his hands were fisted at his sides. She was pretty sure he’d like to plant those fists in Dalton’s face. “You’re outnumbered here, Dalton. You really should let go of me.”
He put his mouth next to her ear. “This isn’t over,” he said, then pushed her so hard that she fell to her knees.
Faster than she’d ever seen anyone move before, Noah had him backed up to the wall, his hand wrapped around Dalton’s neck. “You touch her again, come anywhere near her again, you’ll wake up in the hospital. You hearing me, you worthless piece of shit?”
When Dalton remained silent, Noah’s friend said, “I’d answe
r him before he decides to make good on his threat.”
“I hear you,” Dalton ground out.
Noah dropped his hand from Dalton’s throat. “Good. Now get out.”
Wow! Not that she approved of violence, but was it wrong to think Noah in warrior mode was about the sexiest thing ever? Dalton glared at her as he walked past with Noah following him out, and she was afraid she hadn’t heard the last of him.
Lucky tried to wiggle out of the other man’s arms. “Hey, sweet boy.” She’d never expected to see Noah or his dog again, and she couldn’t stop her happy grin.
“Hey,” the man with Noah said, his eyes dancing with amusement.
She laughed, surprised she even could. “I was talking to Lucky.”
“And here I thought you were sweet-talking me. I’m Jack, by the way.”
She waved her fingers. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”
He held out his hand and helped her up. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Except for her left knee. She’d hit it pretty hard on her wood floor. It was throbbing, but if she told these guys, they’d probably haul her off to the hospital for X-rays.
Noah came back in and walked right up to her. Hot doggity, was she ever glad to see him again, and not just because he’d sent Dalton packing. “Hi,” she said kind of breathlessly.
“Are you really all right? I heard you grunt when your knee hit the floor.”
“I don’t grunt.”
“You so did.”
“Did not.” She loved that he was trying not to grin, but she saw his lips twitch. “You might be able to scare the bejesus out of DGs, but you’ll not win the did, did not game with me, so give it up, boyo.”
“Did you just call me a boy?”
She knew that’d get his goat, and she smirked when his eyes slitted. “If I did?” Now she was daring him to do something. What, she wasn’t sure, but her vote would be for him to shut her up again with a kiss.
“Fire,” he said, the eyes that were pure ice when focused on Dalton now hot enough to melt butter.
“Fire?”
“Yeah. You’re playing with it, and you’re going to get burned.” His gaze lowered to her arm, and he frowned as he touched the bruise already turning purple. “He hurt you.”
