Honey Red

by Liz Crowe

  He drove home in a daze barely remembering the journey. Jamie was tucked into Hannah’s side poring over a stack of books on the couch when he opened the front door. “Daddy!” The boy jumped into his arms. Ian held him, smelled his fresh bathed little boy and let tears slip from his eyes. Hannah rose gracefully from the couch, patted Jamie’s back, and put her lips to Ian’s cheek.

  “I’ll go. You guys rest.”

  “No!” Jamie yelped and tried to reach for her. “Hannah, stay.”

  Ian put a hand on her arm. “Yes, please, Hannah. Stay.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nick put out his hand and was soothed by his dog’s presence. He scratched Brutus between the ears and listened to the emails being read to him from the computer. Leaning back, he contemplated the latest dilemma presented by this new client.

  “Jake!” he barked out, grabbing the water bottle never far from his reach. “I need the Trillium report.”

  “Got it,” his new business partner said, just over his left shoulder.

  Sounds still assaulted him but he’d learned to filter them, thanks to a different drug regimen and a better therapist. The ten days he had spent essentially a prisoner in the crappy VA hospital had taught him a lot – mainly that the self-pity bullshit needed to stop. So, he tried. And, now, a month later, he sat in the house that his sister was slowly vacating as she moved her life into a new phase – one married to the brother of the man he still obsessed about. And he had taken his best clients and opened his own internet security consulting firm that consisted of him and Jake Lowery, a fellow Counter Intel vet.

  “Here, Nick, listen to this,” Jake leaned over his arm, hit something on his keyboard and a fresh report poured into his ears. He tried to absorb it, but he was having one of those days. The days he dreaded when the memories of Dan, of the time they’d shared and then the horrific carnage that had taken the man from him rippled through him like an undulating serpent. His head was pounding, reminiscent of his early days post-surgery. The dog whined, pushed his huge head onto Nick’s leg. “You okay?” Jake put a hand on his shoulder.

  Nick shrugged, drank more water, and repeated the mantra. One hour ahead, one day ahead, one week ahead, it’s all you have to do. Enjoy what you have. And he had a fair bit. His sister Alyssa was getting married in a few weeks and he loved teasing her about the shotgun he was bringing. He truly looked forward to being an uncle.

  But Ian Donovan haunted his every moment, awake and asleep. He had told the therapist about him – about their two intense physical encounters and his own suicide attempt after the second one when he’d woken from his sleep/dream state and seen Ian’s terrified, bloodied face beneath him. He could even remember how the man looked as if he actually had functioning eyes, and that hurt the most. The memory of faces had to be one of the worst things on a long list of things that sucked about being blind.

  God, he wanted to see Alyssa again, even Gavin, so he could stare into the man’s face and make sure he was going to do right by his sister. He’d give anything to open his eyes and… just fucking see. He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt tense all over. He needed release; required a physical connection. Frankly, jacking off blind was even more lame than if he were sighted. Jake was still over his shoulder. Nick could hear the man’s heartbeat speed up when he turned around in his chair and grabbed his hand.

  “Need something, Nick?” The man whispered as Nick stood. Jake had progressed from business partner, to workout support, to fuck buddy within weeks.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, slanting his lips over Jake’s, his brain whirling with memories of men lost, men found and his own missing senses. He bit down on the anger never far from the surface as he unzipped his jeans and presented his ass to Jake’s willing cock.

  After a quick and dirty fuck left his brain still humming with need, he took a shower, and Jake made some dinner before he left. Nick sat absorbing all the night sounds that swirled in his ears. He was marking time and hadn’t been tempted to do anything stupid for nearly a month, but it was a close-run thing every day. Every minute that he did not hear from Ian made it worse. He worked, of course, nearly around the clock, but the empty space that begged filling stayed that way no matter how many times he let Jake fuck him.

  He was a hollow shell, and he knew it, but he couldn’t get past it thanks to regular pity parties, or his determination to muscle through without facing his own demons.

  Alyssa’s ring tone made him jump. He stuck the Bluetooth device in his ear and absently rubbed the dog’s giant head. “What?”

  “Well, I’m fine Nicholas, thanks for asking. How are you doing today?”

  “Shitty. What do you want?” He rubbed his neck. Screwing around with Jake had not worked its usual magic on his nerves, and it was pissing him off even more. Visions of Ian were seared into his memory banks, and the man’s voice echoed in his head. Tall, broad-shouldered, with deep green eyes set in a distinctly handsome face, Ian Donovan was an amazing specimen if Nick remembered correctly. Ghostly memories of the man’s lips and voice made Nick’s skin pebble with repressed lust, frustration, and embarrassment.

  “I need your opinion on something.” Alyssa kept her voice light, but Nick had gotten even better at hearing stress between her words.

  “Not more wedding crap, please.”

  “Sorry. It’s all consuming right now. And it keeps me from ripping fresh assholes at work. This pregnancy thing sucks. And I have to plan a wedding in December which was just stupid. Why didn’t you talk me out of that?”

  “Yeah, so what’s the question?” Nick’s heart sped up at the thought of a niece or nephew—one he would likely scare with his creepy sunglasses and protective dog. He shifted in his chair, uneasy for some reason.

  “It’s a food thing. I’m wondering if we should try and feed all hundred and fifty guests a meal or just snacks and beer.”

  Nick sighed, settled back in his seat, and helped his sister sort out the latest nuptial dilemma. Her being pregnant was a bit of added strangeness, but Nick was happy for her. While he’d never figured his sister as being particularly baby-crazy, he chalked it up to just another female mystery he didn’t want to try and solve.

  After he hung up, Brutus made a snuffling noise and put his head on Nick’s leg again. “Yeah, I know man,” Nick scratched the dog’s ears. “This whole thing is wild.” Half thankful for the animal and half frustrated at the fact that he needed him in the first place he touched the computer mouse, and more emails were read to him by the sexy feminine, slightly computerized voice. He dictated some answers and leaned back, sipping from the water bottle. The dog pressed against his leg, a comfort when he admitted it, which wasn’t often. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” Brutus bumped his hand indicating he had heard him. “Seriously. I still love…I mean, I miss, oh fuck. I need to get out of here.” He stood, and his canine eyes slipped beneath his hand to guide him out of the house and down the sidewalk. After some fresh, cool air he felt a little better, but the thought of Alyssa and Gavin’s wedding still made his gut churn because it meant one thing—Ian would be back in his world for good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ian groaned and stood, put his hands to his lower back and tried to stretch out some of the tension he’d developed in the last few days. They were working on a few new brewing concepts, and he was tearing his ever-loving hair out trying to work through the complexities while getting his brew staff on board. On the bright side he was not constantly knocking his head against the bright red brick wall of Ms. Hannah Williams. They had relaxed into a much less confrontational means of communication, and he’d promised her a beer school session tonight. He had a bunch of classic craft styles gathered and was going to have her over to do some sipping and talking about how they compared and contrasted with what Ypsi Brewing made.

  He rubbed his hand down his face and saw her then. The deep red of her long hair was hard to miss. Well, that and the luscious sway of her hips currently encas
ed in a silhouette hugging slim grey skirt and light blue silk blouse. He swallowed hard. They were friends. All was well. He had no reason to think there would be anything else between them, but his libido was rising to an occasion he had no business contemplating so he turned away from her and refocused on the familiar frustrations of running a production brewery.

  When he looked up from his latest round of projections for the year, making the determination that his brother was going to have to loosen the purse strings and buy him another hundred-barrel fermenter, the place was nearly deserted. He glanced at his phone. “Shit, fuck, hell…shit!” He was thirty-minutes late to get Jamie from daycare. The boy had recently discovered that the world actually did not revolve around him, and it made the evenings challenging as he took out his five-year-old pent-up frustration on his father. Many nights they would simply collapse and sleep on the couch, pj’s and teeth brushing be damned. Ian cursed every morning they woke up this way, realizing he was the worst sort of parent letting that happen.

  He tossed his backpack in the back seat of his jeep shivering in the early November evening. Just as he was about to call the daycare to apologize for being tardy again, he looked down to see a text from Hannah sent over an hour ago. “I got him. See you at your place?”

  He smiled and relaxed. Hannah was a friend to him and to his son and nothing more. His scalp was tingling by the time he pulled into his driveway, and the sight of her in jeans and a brewery sweat shirt sitting on his couch with his son on her lap made a strange warmth steal through him.

  He grabbed the kid as he barreled into Ian’s arms. His life had been so unfocused for so many years, and while he was grateful that something as drastic as becoming a father had set him on a better path, at times it overwhelmed him in the extreme.

  “Hey, dude, sorry I was late.” He swung Jamie’s slight form up onto his shoulders. Gavin had wanted him to get a paternity test, but even as he agreed, he knew he didn’t care. Being Jamie’s father had given him purpose, a focus he’d never had. They didn’t do everything by the book especially in the early years when he’d been happy to obtain a few hours of sleep a night even if it meant the tiny boy slept in his bed. Jamie had not exhibited any signs of being born to a drug-addicted mother other than being below the size curve. He was smart, verbal, walked early and if anything was developmentally advanced. And between Gavin and his boys, and his own mother who was flat-out obsessed with the kid, he did not lack for family attention.

  “Daddy, I want Hannah to pick me up every day.”

  “Not an option, but I’m glad she was there today.” He smiled up at her, ignoring the voice in his brain that screamed at him how right this moment was. He didn’t want her like this—he didn’t need domesticity, but, dear Lord, she looked positively edible sitting there, her bare feet tucked up under her, sipping a milkshake. Her grin was infectious. “Thanks,” he said. “Can you grab some of the cases out of the car?”

  She rolled her eyes and rose, getting to her feet slowly, unfolding herself inch by glorious inch. Ian’s mouth dried out at the sight of her, but he distracted himself hustling Jamie into the kitchen. Do not fuck up a potentially great friendship. The last thing either of you need is to complicate things at work by getting in each other’s pants.

  He threw some steaks on the grill, tossed a salad, and Hannah made what she claimed was magically addictive, potentially orgasmic macaroni and cheese. The smell of it bubbling away in the oven was mouthwatering. When Ian came in from the patio with the food he stopped and watched her, sitting with Jamie at the tall kitchen table, coloring and having in depth conversation about a potential winner in a Transformer versus Batman smack down. He saw her grin at the boy and tuck a lock of her long auburn hair behind her ear. She looked up straight at him, catching him gawping at her. He arranged his face into serious lines. “Son, don’t ever pit anything or anyone against the caped crusader. It’s an unfair fight. Let’s eat.”

  They opened beers for themselves as a precursor he claimed to the classroom session coming up later. Jamie inhaled the food, with the only potentially awkward moment coming when he asked “Daddy, what is or-gas-mic?”

  Hannah giggled, but Ian looked right at her when he spoke. “It’s an amazing word Jamie, full of mystery and potential danger. But all you need to know right now is that you have two more bites to go and then it’s bath time.”

  The kid grinned through a face covered in ketchup and cheese and Ian’s heart nearly burst open at the sight of him. He had never been given to overly emotional moments. Since he’d taken the small, mewling bundle from the doctor’s arms in South Carolina, he had to watch it or he’d be turning into an Oprah-watching, tear-spewing, emo man.

  Hannah stood and took their empty plates. “Hit the showers boys, I don’t have all night.”

  Ian looked up, surprised.

  “What,” she shrugged, “I have a date later. After beer school, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, uh, sure.” Ian plucked his son from the booster seat and carried the giggling kid to the bathroom, ignoring the small pulse of jealousy that threatened to make him say or even do something utterly stupid. He dropped Jamie into some bubbly water, washed his hair, sang his favorite bath time songs, then scooped him out.

  “Daddy! I want to play more!” The boy complained, loudly. But Ian was on a mission.

  “Listen son, I need to spend some time with Hannah, okay? We’re doing some beer stuff. I’m gonna read to you then put on Toy Story in your room. Does that work?”

  “I want Hannah to read to me. I want Hannah to live here all the time. Hannah!” The kid yelped, making Ian wince.

  Hannah spoke behind him. “Remember Jamie, no need to yell. You get more attention from people if you use a calm voice.” Her voice did anything but make Ian calm. He fumbled around, pulled Jamie’s pj’s on him and mumbled something about walking the dog as he pushed past her, handing over the boy who wanted her so badly.

  “Daddy! Did we get a dog?” Jamie’s voice echoed in his ears as he made his way to the kitchen, berating himself for inviting her over. He obviously had no self-control whatsoever. Nick still haunted his every dream. Visions of the man’s incredible form and handsome face covered with Ray-bans, him yelling incoherently and beating on Ian’s face, his pale body on the gurney while the EMT’s tried to revive him—it was all a long, lusty nightmare Ian truly wished he could get past. Given that the two men were about to become brothers-in-law it seemed inevitable their paths would cross. But Ian had gotten the message loud and clear: Nick wanted no part of him ever again, and if he did Alyssa seemed poised to pounce and keep him away. The whole steaming pile of shit was maddening, and he only had the guy staring at him from the mirror to blame.

  But Hannah, with her smartass sense of humor, quick mind, gorgeous hair and pert figure, she was here, now, with him. He sensed that he had reverted to flirt mode, acknowledged his desire to seduce and keep her here tonight, away from whatever lame date she had. He placed his hands on the counter, counting backwards from twenty. It helped. Then he spent some time lining up the beer bottles, organizing them into taste categories and noting he’d picked some pretty heavy-duty Belgians and several Imperials and double alcohol brews. It didn’t matter. They would just be tasting he justified as he poured some pretzels in a bowl and found a bunch of disposable clear plastic cups.

  By the time she wandered back into the large kitchen, tucking her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, he felt like he had a grip. He popped open a couple of classic India Pale Ales. “Okay. Sit. Taste and learn.”

  “You got it, Sensei,” she said, pulling out a notebook and pen.

  He held up the cup, stared at it, then launched into his “hop forward” speech while she sipped and took notes. After an hour they’d worked their way through the IPAs and were on to malt forward beers, like amber ales and their own Ypsi Brewing California Common. The more he drank the more he wanted her. He had to grip his knees under the table to keep from reaching a
cross the small distance between them and running his fingers down her neck, his thumb across her full lips as she tasted and kept writing in that stupid notebook.

  “So,” he said, his voice cracking a little with tension. She looked up. A tendril of that tempting springy red hair dropped out of the holder and slipped across her face. He reached out, tucked it away. She narrowed her eyes and leaned back just enough to let him know his touch was not welcomed. “Right, sorry. So, let’s move on to these,” he pulled the three Belgian style beers he’d chosen closer trying to cover his embarrassment. “We don’t do Belgians at Ypsi nor do I plan to,” he paused, pondering his one-time dream of crafting nothing but sour, crazy, off-the-wall ales.

  She put a hand on his, yanking him back to the present. He stared at her hand, then up at her. Her huge eyes were full of concern. “You okay? How’s Nick?”

  “Oh, uh, he’s okay. I think.”

  Hannah nodded, munched a pretzel, never taking her eyes from his. He shifted, as his skin and nerves started to react involuntarily to her uncomfortable proximity. “I have to wonder how it will work.”

  “How what will work,” he poured them each a healthy sample of Le Fin Du Monde, one of the finest examples of a Belgian “triple” known to man. The cloudy yellow liquid was rich, layered, and amazing. He drank it way too fast considering it was nine percent alcohol. Nervousness had the best of him, and that was annoying in the extreme. “You mean Gavin and Alyssa? Well, if they don’t kill each other, I think they’ll make a fine couple.”

  “But how can they be together? She owns the company that distributes our brews in Michigan. Isn’t that some kind of a…I don’t know…insider trading kind of a thing? And with Nick and you…well, hell you guys are worse than a Lifetime movie. Whoops!” She nearly knocked over her glass of the beer and blushed. Ian stared at her.