by Liz Crowe
“I’ll be by later if you think it’s okay. He’s okay, right?” He kept talking as he walked over to the woman now completely covered in spent malt and grabbed her around the waist with one arm before she split herself in two and set her on the concrete. She glared at him and tried to brush some of the grains off her. But he knew from direct experience that was a lost cause.
“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine. But I can’t promise you that Alyssa will let you anywhere near him.”
“Fine. I’ll be there though, I’ll deal with it myself.” He tucked the phone in his jeans pocket and stared at Hannah. Reaching out, he brushed the trickle of grains off a strand of her fire red hair that had escaped from the hat now sitting cock-eyed on her head. She smacked his hand away and turned around to finish. He spent a half second admiring her jeans-clad ass, remembering his original goal for today. His body tingled but his brain was on serious shut down when the phone buzzed again. He looked at the screen and groaned. Jamie had stayed over with Gavin’s nanny and his twin cousins. And the call was coming from Gavin’s house phone.
Gavin’s sons were slowly getting detoxed from their spoiled ways now that their father had them more often. Since their mother was gallivanting around with her NFL-trainer boyfriend, never home for more than a few days at a time, Gavin was pushing for full custody. Alyssa had eased into her future role as step mother nicely, and after some initial drama the boys had settled into their new reality.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up sport?”
“Daddy.” The little boy’s voice was quivery. “Where are you?”
“I know, I know,” he glanced at the phone and saw it was nearly eleven. Jamie was a stickler for timing and when any plan went awry, he lost it. “Put Tracey on the phone please.”
“No!” he heard the boy running.
“James Donovan, put Tracey on the phone right now!”
“Here! Want pancakes!” The boy’s voice faded.
“Hi, Mr. Donovan.” Tracey’s voice was chipper. “Sorry about that. He grabbed and dialed before I knew what he was doing.”
“I’m sorry. I’m late.”
“Yeah, well, I would be okay with it but the other boys need me to take them to soccer since your brother is ….”
“I know, I’ll be there,” he ran a hand through his hair, noted how fucking messy everything still was in his brewery and tried not to sigh too loudly. He looked up and saw Hannah staring at him, then turned away, face flushed with anxiety. He needed to see Nick. He had to pick up his son, and the brewery was a fucking pigsty.
He hung up and calmed his breathing, trying to compile a mental plan of action. He jumped again when she put a hand on his arm. “Hey, can I help?”
“No.” He grabbed the hose and started spraying everything down. “Just move out of the way.”
“Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” She muttered.
He stopped in his tracks. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry for dragging you out this morning, being late, losing my cool, all of it.”
“It’s okay. Sounds and looks like you had a shit day.” She rolled the last of the full bins of malt out the back door to be picked up by a local farmer who used it for his cattle.
“And for the record,” he kept talking, blaming exhaustion for the words that came next. “I had plans to brew with you but wanted more. I wanted to seduce you if you must know. You’re hot. I was lonely. I had ulterior motives and I’m sorry for that too.” He switched off the water and ignored her gaping stare. “So, now you know.”
“Uh, okay.” She took her hat off and he had to force his eyes away from the long red hair that flowed down her back. Her shirt was wet, too, which didn’t help. “I thought you were…that I wasn’t your type, you know, of gender?”
“I’m bi. And now I have to go pick up my son. Can you just…” He waved around, feeling helpless and stupid, not even positive he’d just spilled so much of his own truths to this woman.
“Tell you what,” She crossed her arms. “I am a certified caregiver, I mean, I worked at daycares all through college. I was an ace babysitter. And it sounds like you need to go visit…um….”
He narrowed his eyes at her, contemplating it. “Jamie is a handful. He’s a couple of handfuls with some leftover if you must know. I’m not sure that would be fair to you.”
“Someday, I’ll tell you about the summer I spent with twin three-year-old boys whose favorite thing to do was to smear their shit on the kitchen floor, just so I could clean it up.”
The laugh felt good and suddenly the air was clear between them. He put a hand on her arm, felt her flinch, and then relax. “Okay, you win. I’ll pay you the going rate. But I’m not really sure how long I’ll be.” He texted her Gavin’s address and his. “Thanks, Hannah. That’s really great, especially considering what I told you.”
She leaned back on the worktable and the look in her eyes made him shiver a little. “No worries. For all you know I had the same plans for you.” She winked, and before he could blink had whipped off her damp shirt. The black sports bra highlighted the creaminess of her skin.
Ian gulped and looked away. “Uh, yeah, so that’s cheating.” He tried to paste a neutral look on his face.
She grabbed a spare brewery shirt from the swag closet and tugged it over her lush, too-tempting torso. Ian shook his head. Nick, remember? The guy you fucked last night? Lying in a hospital bed right now? The memory of the other man’s flesh under his hands, and utter agony on his face later made Ian’s eyes burn. He needed to get a grip. “Thanks, Hannah.”
“No problem Ian.” She tossed over her shoulder as she left. And something about the way she said his name made him want her all over again.
Jesus H. Christ, Donovan, you are a mess or perhaps merely a sex-crazed idiot.
He hosed down the rest of the brew house and grabbed his keys. He had to see Nick. Get some things straight with Nick’s sister. Then he needed to sleep for two days. The fact that he was turning his only son over to a woman who for the last two months meant nothing more to him than a potential sexual conquest didn’t give him much pause. Something about her oozed confidence and he needed backup. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a terrible mistake for everyone concerned.
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah followed her smart phone’s GPS and found Gavin’s house in the middle of a neighborhood of gargantuan brick homes. She whistled to herself when she pulled into the semi-circular front drive of the biggest one on the street, glanced at the number to confirm it and got out. She tucked her sunglasses up on her head, brushed her still sticky jeans off and walked up the huge oak front door. After ringing the doorbell a couple of times, she crouched down to peer in a sidelight, bracing herself for a whirling dervish, bratty miniature Ian.
A huge pair of watery green eyes met her stare. The little boy had his nose pressed to the glass and his face was fixed in a very unhappy frown. She put her finger against her side of the glass. He shrieked and jumped back, giggling. Hannah saw a pair of dark haired identical twin boys who looked an awful lot like the man who’d hired her appear behind the still laughing kid. They grabbed him and yanked him away from the door yelling what sounded like “stranger danger” and “Tracey!”
She stood up, just as the door opened. “Oh, hi, you must be Hannah,” the girl said, smiling. The little boys peered out from behind Tracey’s legs but the mini-Ian marched around the trio and tapped her leg.
“Yes, I am.” She said to the nanny. “And you,” she knelt down. “Must be….Sponge Bob.”
“No, silly. I’m Jamie.”
“Huh, well I’m supposed to be picking up some kid named Bob so I think I’m at the wrong house.”
The boys laughed. Jamie cocked his head and looked so much like his father at that second Hannah blinked. He reached out and touched her hair. “What color is this?”
“Burnt Amber. I’ll show you, once I find this Bob kid,” she stood up and pretended to look around.
While he ambled into the family room, she looked at all the pictures taped to the refrigerator’s grubby stainless surface. Running a finger across the ones that featured Ian, noting how good the man looked in pretty much every single one of them, she smiled when she felt a hand on her leg.
“So, are you ready to read now? Or do we need to use the burnt amber on your hair?” She picked the boy up and tossed him over her shoulder. He felt small for a five year old, but that just made him easy to carry around. He giggled his way down the hall, pointing to his bedroom—a breathtaking mess of army men, matchbox cars, plastic dinosaurs, clothes and books. “Wow. Too bad we don’t have magic wands to clean this place up.” She tossed him on his unmade bed and tickled him a minute before standing and succumbing to her inner neat freak. “Okay let’s play a game. I’m going to race you to see which one of us can pick up the most toys…ready…set…go!”
The kid was full of energy, and the room was tidy in no time. He talked nonstop, and once she’d helped him spread up his Lego-land sheets he fell over on the floor. She sat, anticipating a tantrum, but he just stopped, looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes and fell sound asleep. She gave him a few minutes, then tucked him under a blanket on the bed and left the room.
She sent a quick text to Ian letting him know Jamie was settled. Convincing herself that it was a really bad idea the entire time she was doing it, she eased into the big, dark room across the hall from Jamie’s. She tiptoed around the giant bed, touched the soft sheets, noted that the father was as bad a slob as the son, and ran her hand over the smooth, black surface of the dresser. An amalgam of junk littered the top—dollar bills, coins, various receipts, Chapstick, an expensive looking watch, a couple of dirty Tshirts and books about brewing. She smiled at a picture tucked into the mirror. Two small boys stood with their arms around each other’s shoulders, one dark, one light, obviously Ian and Gavin Donovan. She plucked it out, held it close to her eyes. Then when her phone buzzed with a text she jumped and put the photo back, backing out of the forbidden room berating herself the whole time.
“Hey,” she answered, hoping Ian didn’t know she’d been snooping and realizing how stupid that was. She dropped into a dining room chair. “All is well.”
“Okay. Cool. Thanks, a lot.” He was quiet. Hannah heard people talking in the background.
“Is everything okay… you know…with…?” She trailed off, unsure what to say. This day had taken such a bizarre turn. His words about seducing her still rolled around in her brain as if she’d imagined them.
“His name is Nick and he is resting now. Stomach pumped, the usual shit, I guess. When you try to OD on Vicodin and bourbon.”
“Wow.” She let the unasked question hover, suddenly so nervous she had to get up and pace. Ian’s presence permeated his house. She could smell him, sense him in every corner. She opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the brick patio.
“Yeah, sucks. Sorry you got dragged into this mess today. Seriously. Not my intention.”
“Huh, well, maybe better considering your actual intention for today if that was indeed the truth.”
He chuckled, making her shiver. “Touché, my dear.”
She sighed, pacing around his back yard. “Well, take your time. I’m good, Jamie’s fine, but I may impose some cleanliness on this nasty pit you call a house.”
“No, no, please, don’t make me feel even more guilty by cleaning up. Jesus.”
“Too late, my dear,” she emphasized the words, mocking him just enough.
“Fine. Whatever. You are turning out to be too good to be true, but fine.”
“Just take care of …. “
“Nick.”
“Yeah, Nick. I’ll be here. Oh, bring some beer home,” she hung up before realizing that calling it “home” might be a tad forward.
Ian stared at his phone, unsure quite how to take Hannah’s last request until he realized that the thought of going ‘home’ to her didn’t sound that bad, and not for his typical reasons. He leaned forward on the ugly blue hospital waiting room chair, resting elbows on knees. The stress and lack of sleep headache he’d been nursing was a real temple crusher right now. His vision was even getting a little blurry. He gripped his phone and willed last night back. Wishing he’d done more than just jump the poor kid’s bones as pleasant as that had been, he leaned back and tried to relax the knot of muscle in his neck. Guilt flooded every corner of his psyche. He should never have pushed Nick into bed again. He obviously wasn’t ready for it.
Now, something about his perception of Hannah had shifted or perhaps it was him, but whatever it was he looked forward to seeing her. If for no other reason than he could drink some beer and finally relax after the barn burner bullshit he’d been through these last twenty-four hours.
Alyssa dropped into a chair next to him.
“Listen, Alyssa,” he turned to the lovely blonde woman who was going to marry his brother, “I am really sorry. I mean, I don’t know what got into me, but….”
She stared straight ahead. Ian recalled Gavin’s words about his fiancé—that the woman was eight-thousand layers of stubborn, wrapped in intransigence, all tied up with an ornery string. She’d have to be, having built the most successful wine and beer distribution operation in the state out of her father’s one time disaster of a company. He sighed and looked out onto a sea of faces in the VA hospital waiting room.
“Okay. I know this may be hard for you to believe, but I did not do anything to him. We, he…well, this is the second time we, you know,” he blew out a breath, but she held onto her silence. “I have no excuse or reason why I bolted. It was wrong, lame, and everything in between. And I’m sorry. That’s all I have. Take it or leave it. But I’m here now and really want to help him, if I can. I…care about your brother, Alyssa…a lot.”
He saw Gavin come around the corner carrying cardboard cups of so-called coffee. His stomach churned at the thought of it. When Alyssa started talking her voice was monotone, as if she were reciting her times tables. But they were all wrung out and exhausted so Ian listened and tried to find some unthawing towards him in the words. “Nick was the star of the football and the track team in high school but had no really close friends. He went on dates, but no girl was around more than once or twice. When he graduated, we had half the class at our house for his party, but we never really knew him, I guess. By the time he was halfway through his junior year of college he decided to come out to our parents. And they told him to get out of their house.”
Ian leaned back wanting to know more but not really. And hating himself for thinking that. He took a cup of the swill from his brother, and they sat, listening to Alyssa give her flat-voiced monologue. “We were not that close growing up. But when he told my parents, I discovered that he needed me. There was no big fight or anything. Our father just stood up, opened the door, and told his only son to leave and never come back.” She sighed and put her face in her hands. Gavin reached out to touch her but she jerked away. “No, don’t.” Gavin shot Ian a what-did-I-tell-you look. “He was at loose ends since our parents stopped funding his college tuition and somehow ended up at a Marine recruiting center. They figured out quick he was a math and computer savant and sent him to officer training after basic. When my parents were killed in a car accident two years after my father disowned him, he didn’t come home for the funeral. It was…shitty. After that, we started talking more regularly. Then he ended up in Iraq, met Dan and….”
She turned to fix Ian with an angry look. “Nick falls in love fast and hard. And I will not let you fuck around with his head; do you get me, Donovan? I don’t care whose brother you are.” She stood, shrug
ging Gavin off when he tried to join her. She held on to her arms, shivered in the too-cold room. “He is all I have. My blood. My family. And you can’t just…walk out like that and then claim that you care about him.”
“Hang on a second,” Gavin started to protest, but Ian put a hand on his brother’s knee. Gavin glared at him.
“Let her finish.” Ian said, quietly.
“I won’t let you hurt us.” She spit out and then turned and walked to Nick’s room shutting the door behind her.
“Nice. Now I’m in trouble, too? Fuck.” Gavin sipped and checked his phone. “Tracy says Jamie went home with Hannah? Is that my firebrand marketing director?”
Ian nodded, words frozen on his lips.
“I don’t know what in the hell you are getting yourself into with her or with my future brother-in-law, but so help me Ian James I will fucking strangle you with your own shoestring if you screw this up for me. I love that woman with everything I have and I’ve worked too hard to lose her because you can’t decide which god damn team you bat for.”
Ian stood and started for the elevator. He was shutting down, could barely see, or hear and Alyssa’s words had cut a hole in his gut he couldn’t justify. Nick. He wanted to see him so badly, but Alyssa had said no. So, he’d sat for hours in the ice cold waiting room, tried to be supportive, and now was going to leave without even laying eyes on him. A hand on his arm made him turn around. His brother’s gaze was icy with fury. “Stop walking away.”
Ian jerked his arm out of Gavin’s grip. “Stop lecturing me. She won’t even let me near his room. What the fuck am I supposed to do here? My son is at home with a woman who was kind enough to volunteer to help me out. I want a shower, a beer, and a nap. I don’t need to hear any more from either of you. I’m a shithead. I get it. Let go of my arm, Gavin. Now.”
Gavin blinked and stepped away. Ian turned to push the ground floor button on the elevator and got a glimpse of Alyssa guarding her brother’s hospital room like a mama bear over a nest of cubs. He sighed. All he wanted was sleep so he could think straight and maybe fix this or at least make it less shitty.
