by Liz Crowe
“I’m not ready,” she’d said into his chest, her hands twisted into the back of his T-shirt. “I’m afraid.”
He’d tilted her chin up and kissed her cheeks, tasting salt and hating himself for being such a shit head. “You have no reason to be afraid of anything.”
“That’s how much you know,” she’d said, sniffling and moving away from him, clutching her elbows in her palms. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
With a sigh, he’d picked up his plate. A truce would have to do tonight, he’d figured. Later, in bed, he’d held her close, feeling safe and happy for a few minutes anyway.
“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered. “I’m a pain in the ass.”
“Truer words never spoken. But you’re my pain in the ass, right?”
“Of course,” she’d said, snuggling closer to him.
“You’re less PiTA and more emotionally unavailable, I’d say.”
She’d stiffened. He’d run a hand down her arm and smiled, hoping keep her calm. “Just don’t shut me out, Evelyn. Even when you think have to. That’s one thing I can’t take any more of, all right?”
She’d nodded, and within a few minutes, her breathing had evened out, leaving him awake and staring into the darkness.
And now, four days later—four days spent in a flurry of activity on the trip out west—he watched her walk away from him. Then he grabbed a sample glass, filling it to the brim with the nearest pitcher of beer on his table. After slamming the rich chocolate stout, he poured another, then another, until his shoulders and jaw unclenched and he relaxed just enough to avoid putting his fist through a wall. He stood back and let volunteers and staff run their mouths as the last of the festival attendees filed past.
“Austin?”
He frowned, trying to place the voice amongst the noise and the beer sloshing around in his system. When Ross Hoffman’s tall form glided into view, Austin had the oddest feeling—relief and dread, all rolled up into a shiver that ran down his spine. With a wide smile, Ross strode around the back of the elaborate display Evelyn’s marketing team had designed and pulled his friend into a fierce hug. Austin’s throat tightened, but he willed himself calm. This wasn’t the place or the time to have a breakdown. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. Last I heard you’d gone back to Munich.”
The tall, handsome German shrugged, running a palm over his lightly bearded face. “Got a new job. With Jefferson.” He named one of the most famous craft breweries in the nation, if not the world.
Austin whistled. “Nice. Good thing you never took me up on my offer to come to Michigan. I had no idea you were that expensive.” Repressing the urge to be pissed off that Ross had taken that job without even talking to him, he slapped his friend on the back. Finally, someone he could talk to.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here. I’m exhausted and need a real drink.”
“Perfect. Where’s your woman?” Ross looked over Austin’s shoulder. He’d never met Evelyn and Austin had not sent him pictures, just kept to the bare facts of her existence, their engagement, her position at the brewery. The reasons why he’d done that he kept buried and hidden even from himself. The memory of that morning in the B & B when they’d pretended Ross was there, in bed with them, had never faded far from his consciousness. He’d gotten distracted, between the brewery of the year application and his father’s illness. Because that was behind him now. The whole threesome thing was in his past and should stay that way. He couldn’t even think about sharing Evelyn…or could he?
“With some friends, someplace.” Austin waved a hand, not willing to get into it. Not until he had a seat, a double scotch and a quiet moment. He smiled, nodded to a few fellow brewery owners and escaped the building, the cool Denver air caressing his face.
Ross Hoffman had been seeking his old friend Austin Fitzgerald since he’d hit the festival floor that day. The recent offer to work for Jefferson as brew master had been somewhat of a surprise and he wasn’t sure he even wanted the damn job.
The founder and owner of said brewery, Brad Jefferson, had a rep as a class-A prick. He’d come after Ross with laser-focused determination to get the famous Munich-based brewing instructor attached to his operation. It was strange, really. But Ross had relented, having nothing more to keep him tied to his home country ever since his latest personal disaster had rained fire down on his head.
He’d wanted to talk over the opportunity with Austin, get his perspective on the bizarre scenario of working for one of the most difficult prima donnas in the craft brewing world. But Ross knew his friend had a crazy-busy life. With a family who did nothing but loudly disapprove of his choices, no matter what they were, the poor guy probably only got a few hours of sleep each night.
He’d considered Austin’s offer to come to Michigan and work for him a few months prior, but he’d been caught up in his own personal drama, unwilling to subject his old friend to it. Even if he’d written more than one email asking Austin if the offer still stood, and erased them each, one by one. His feelings about Austin were a complex mix of loyalty, warm friendship, mild competition and a healthy dose of jealousy. He’d had so much handed to him, and now, he ran his own successful brewery and was engaged to the woman of his dreams—at least according to the updates he’d absorbed through brief emails and the occasional text message.
Besides, Ross knew his own failings when it came to asking for help or opening himself up for advice. So, he’d avoided it, and let the opportunities to reach out to his friend pass. But now here they were, walking side by side down the busy Denver streets toward a favorite restaurant of his.
He glanced over at Austin as they waited for a light to change so they could cross. Ross had been chasing pussy all over Europe with an enthusiasm born of boredom after Austin had left Germany. He’d spent the last eight months falling so hard for a woman who’d been the polar opposite of everything he’d once claimed he wanted in a life partner that he’d not seen the end coming. When he’d gotten dumped on his ever-loving ass, he knew it had probably served him right. But it still stung. And now, he realized how much he’d missed his friend, on many levels. “What’s up? Brewery okay?”
Austin smiled at him, sending a thrill of fresh jealousy to Ross’ brain. “Yeah, great actually. Evelyn’s given the whole thing the marketing kick in the butt it needed. She’s worked miracles.”
They stayed silent until seated at a booth in the back of the busy restaurant and each held a double scotch on the rocks. Ross stared hard at his friend. There was something seriously wrong, but he figured Austin would spill it. The man wore his heart on his sleeve ninety-nine percent of the time—and Ross would admit to missing that touch of emotion he never allowed himself to experience, at least in public.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after their touched their glasses together.
“Oh, I don’t know,” his friend said, running a hand down his face. “I mean, I do know. It’s dad. He’s sick—it’s his heart. He’s on a ton of meds and lost a bunch of weight. They’re really giving me the full court press to come back and take over for him.” He knocked back his drink fast, and waved at the server for another round.
“I’m sorry. That’s shitty.”
“Yeah.”
“But you’re good with…ah…Evelyn, is it?”
“Yeah.”
Austin looked down at the table, then back up at Ross, his gaze intense. Ross leaned back, wondering if he wanted to hear what was coming next. “I can’t…she won’t…we…oh, fuck.” He downed the second scotch and slammed the glass down on the pockmarked wooden table so hard people nearby glanced at them. Ross touched the hand Austin had clenched around the glass.
“Relax. I’ve never seen you this unglued unless it was over a batch of ruined wort.”
Austin barked out a harsh laugh. Ross sat back, frowning.
“We’ve been living together over a month and work together every day. My parents make no bones about hating her, and since I broke up with Vale
rie, my mother has taken every opportunity to nag me about taking over for my dad instead of my ‘little beer project with that girl.’” He ran a hand down his face.
Ross leaned forward. “So? You’ve never let your mother bug you before. Why care now?”
“Evelyn is… She’s… Well, she’s shut down on me or something. I don’t know. We’ve been under a lot of stress, mainly for this stupid event. It’s making me nuts. I mean, I know this thing with my folks is taking its toll. Plus, she won’t commit to a wedding date, even though she finally agreed to get engaged.”
Ross frowned. “Why screw up a great relationship over a legal document?”
Austin slumped back in his seat. Ross was startled to see that intense look in his eyes again, bordering on desperation.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m settling for this living-together thing. But until we actually get married, I have to keep enduring my parents’ bullshit—my mom’s blatant criticism and Dad’s passive-aggressive version of it.”
Ross signaled the waitress as he spoke, not taking his eyes from Austin’s. “So, let me see if I get this. You want to marry her so your parents will leave you alone. Wow. Romantic much?”
Austin glared at him.
Ross held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not the most romantic guy on the planet either. You were the first one to call me emotionally constipated, if I’m not mistaken. That hurt.” He put the hand to his heart, relieved when his friend’s frown turned to a bemused smile. “But maybe she senses you’re pushing matrimony for the wrong reasons.” He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she’s got her back up over it now.”
“Yeah.” Austin ran his fingers through his hair. “One of the many things I love about her—and you will too, once you meet her—is her single-minded, headstrong stubbornness. Tinged with a smartass, hot-as-shit attitude. But when it’s turned against you—”
Ross looked over Austin’s shoulder and immediately laid eyes on the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.
Tall, elegant and curvy, not hard and angular like so many women these days. Clad in dark jeans and a light sweater, Ray-Bans pushed up over her golden-blonde hair, deep blue gaze moving around the room, obviously seeking someone, she oozed sexy. Ross had a hard time not staring openly at her. She spoke with a few people, her face breaking into a grin and revealing twin dimples that he ached to taste. He shook his head and refocused on his friend.
“Oh hell, Hoffman, I hate it when you’re right.” Austin leaned over the table and Ross had the odd, almost déjà vu sensation of being caught in a significant moment. One of those split seconds between the before and the after that he would never forget, when he’d recall it, and shake his head at himself for being so blind, or naïve, or both.
He swallowed hard. They sat in silence for another few seconds as Ross allowed himself another surreptitious perusal of the goddess now seated at the bar, one foot propped on the rail, her long, wavy blonde hair tumbling halfway down her back. He took a breath and resisted the urge to lick his lips. His cock, which had experienced a lovely workout just last night with one of the groupies Brad Jefferson kept around, leapt to painful attention. He let his gaze wander down the woman’s frame, imagining how her sumptuous curves would feel under his practiced hands.
“Yo, dude. Did you hear me?”
The woman turned as if sensing his laser focus. Her blue eyes widened at his stare.
“Um, huh? Sorry. I was…” He tore his gaze from her, shrugged and grinned into his nearly empty glass. “Let’s eat something before we get too drunk to sit here.”
“All right. Evelyn should be here by now. Although, I’ll warn you, we aren’t exactly talking beyond the basics.” Austin’s eyes darkened. “She’s shut down on me. Pretty classic Hoffman-style, actually. You two would be quite the pair.” He stood and motioned to someone. To Ross’ utter surprise and slight horror, the amazing woman he’d been ogling appeared at his friend’s elbow.
“Evelyn.” Austin stood and put his arm around her waist. “This is my good friend, Ross.”
Chapter Fourteen
Thirty minutes earlier
Evelyn frowned at her friend, frustration coursing through her, deafening her with its buzz.
Rene Matthews, spouse and business partner owner of one of the most successful breweries in Kentucky grinned and sipped her martini. “Listen, hon, your man is nothing if not totally open with you, right?”
She nodded and toyed with the olive in her drink, wishing she hadn’t agreed to come out for drinks with these two. While they were the sorts of friends every woman should have—fun, funny and honest—she wasn’t sure she could handle a dose of them right now.
She sighed and propped her chin in her hand. Austin was that—honest, open, loving and supportive. He calmed her in ways she never thought she could be. Could coax a laugh out of her in the most stressful of situations. And nearly had her trained to orgasm with a glance from his deep green eyes, a certain lift of one dark eyebrow.
“It’s his dad. He’s sick. Dying. It’s just a matter of time now.”
“Oh no,” Kim said, waving down the cute waiter for another round.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rene said, eyeballing her closely. “Where does that leave the family business?”
“That’s just it. They expect him to drop the brewery like some kind silly hobby and come back to run the ‘real business’.” She hooked her fingers around the words, feeling petty and stupid. And pissed off at the missing twin brother. Brock should be here taking over for their father, not forcing Austin to make this horrible choice.
“Why aren’t y’all married yet?” Rene asked. “I mean, you know, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but was grateful for the opportunity to talk about it with a couple of objective outsiders.
What was her major malfunction? Why, even after she’d agreed to wear his damn ring, was she still holding back, refusing to commit to anything beyond an engagement to the richest, hottest, most eligible bachelor in the Midwest?
“I don’t know, honestly.” She sighed and stared at her fresh drink. “There’s…a lot to consider, you know?”
“No, not really,” Kim said. “Austin Fitzgerald is hot, rich, driven and madly in love with you, my stubborn friend. Get over yourself.”
“You’re right, I know you’re right.”
“Damn, skippy,” she said, holding up her glass. The other two women clinked theirs and sipped. The alcohol tasted medicinal to Evelyn and she could barely swallow past her closed-up throat.
A nagging small voice of doubt kept her up at night. Watching him sleep, running a hand across his hair, down his back, choking back tears, she’d remind herself that this was very likely still some sort of perverse rich-boy nose-thumb at his parents. And until he acknowledged that, she would not add Fitzgerald to her name. His parents hated her ever-loving guts. The very few times she’d been forced to be around them had proven that.
The new, ongoing stress about Max clouded everything lately, leaving her more than a little panicky most days at the thought of what they’d do if and when he did pass away, leaving that huge company without a family member to lead it. She knew damn good and well his parents were pressuring him to take over. She also knew that he would likely have to do it. What she didn’t know is what that meant for the brewery, and for her.
For the past couple of weeks, she’d toyed with reaching out to Ross Hoffman herself. To ask him to come and help Austin sort through the brewery issues so he could focus on finding a new president for his father’s sprawling food supply business. She’d even gone so far as to pull up his Skype contact on Austin’s laptop, only to spend a solid fifteen minutes staring at the small photo and reliving that super-hot moment when Austin had let her pretend they were all three together, in bed, connected in the most intimate way possible.
So, now she had guilt. Guilt over the increasing power of her fantasies regarding Austin’s friend and one-time par
tner in female conquest, the tall, hot German brewer. Guilt over her need to have him, for some reason. To add him to their mix at the brewery—and maybe somewhere else. And that couldn’t be right, could it? That was the stuff of fringe romance novels. Threesomes didn’t work in real life, did they? How could two men—one of whom she knew for a fact was a walking alpha dog and another whose reputation for being one level above that preceded him—possibly agree to share…her?
But yet…she couldn’t seem to let go of it. Between the tiny tingle of desire to experience it, and her own ongoing uncertainty about Austin’s parents, she knew she was shutting down. She hated it and wished she knew how she might break down the wall she’d been building.
Aggravation and stress had made her so single-minded for the last few weeks, she’d alienated him and she knew it. They’d stopped talking about anything unrelated to the brewery. If she would open her stupid mouth and just tell the man how she felt, it would likely go a long way. But something held her back. She had no name for it other than fear.
Fear—no, more like abject, gut-wrenching terror—of losing him.
“Honey,” Rene interrupted her inner musings about Ross, and the sort of three-way sex she’d never experienced but wanted to now, for some reason. “That man is head over heels for you. Don’t ruin it by being so bloody stubborn.”
“No shit.” Kim tossed back the dregs of her last drink. “Screw his parents. He doesn’t care what they think. A guy like that will only take no for an answer so many times before he gives up.”
“I know, I know.” Evelyn took a breath and blew it out. “You’re right. I do love him and I’ve been such a raging bitch lately. I don’t deserve him.”
“Yeah, well, none of our men really deserve us.” Rene had signaled for the check.
“You guys are on the verge of something huge with your brewery, hon.” Kim had patted her shoulder. “Don’t ruin it by borrowing trouble that isn’t there. You aren’t marrying his parents. You’re marrying him. Or would be, if you’d get over yourself long enough to see reason.”
