Love Brewing: The Love Brothers

by Liz Crowe

  Love Brewing

  Love Brothers series

  Book 3

  By

  Liz Crowe

  Love Brewing

  Love Brothers Book 3

  Copyright © 2015 by Liz Crowe

  Cover Art and Design by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced

  in any form without permission.

  For more information: Liz Crowe

  lizcroweauthor@gmail.com

  www.lizcrowe.com

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. They may not be re-sold or given away, except as provided in promotions sponsored by the author.

  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, win this copy during a promotion or, if not purchased specifically for your use only, then please delete this copy and notify Liz (lizcroweauthor@gmail.com).

  We encourage you to purchase your own copy and support the author’s hard work in their craft.

  Author Acknowledgements

  The self-publishing journey is one of many mistakes, stumbles, prayers, and curses. Liz would like to thank the following people for tolerating her during the process of creating this series for their patience, ability to listen at 5 a.m., and direct assistance making The Love Brothers idea a reality:

  Jessica Warth

  Jen Deck Ryan

  Dave Bardallis

  Valerie Mann

  Colleen Snibson

  And the group of early Liz readers who helped whip these boys into shape with her.

  Go Cards.

  Table of Contents

  Author Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About The Author

  Read More Liz Books

  Chapter One

  Now

  Diana patted Pepper’s flank as she released him into the paddock then leaned against the barn door, relishing the soreness in her muscles. The sun burned a white hole in the light-blue late summer sky. Smells of her childhood filled her nose, smoothing her edges.

  A bit of coolness in the air, heralding the coming seasonal transition, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Masie, the pregnant cow, uttered a low moo, snapping Diana out of daydreaming about her favorite season—the hunting kind. It brought her long to-do list flashing across her brain, reminding her she still had to finish mucking out the rest of the barn. The garden was in desperate need of weeding, too. The last of her tomatoes were due in and her sister had already sent three texts that morning about the chicken salad Diana still had to make and get over to the shop.

  With a heavy sigh, she let the light wind cool her skin. Her arms burned and her thighs shook in a wholly welcome, familiar way, post long ride. She dropped onto the overturned bucket from the horse’s cool-and-wash.

  “Go on, get out there, ya big baby.”

  She smiled when the huge animal nuzzled her shoulder before he trotted away obediently, sticking his nose into the water trough, tail flicking lazily, indicating satisfaction with the morning’s proceedings. Bees buzzed, the cow made another lowing sound, late season locusts hummed, and the sun heated her skin. Drifting, her mind calm and free of Jen’s endless demands and catering menus she let the sweet sounds and distinct odors of her family’s farm soothe her.

  When the horse whinnied and snorted, Diana ignored it and stretched her legs out. One of the dogs let out a loud bark then the other two joined in. They sounded delighted, so Diana figured that her sister must have arrived in the catering van to pick up the chicken salad—the one Diana hadn’t even started yet.

  Deciding to pretend she was alone a minute longer and enjoy the peace and quiet she always found in the barn, Diana closed her eyes.

  “Hey.” A distressingly familiar male voice hit her ears. “Um…Diana?”

  She blew out a breath, unwilling to acknowledge how much she would have given at one point in her life to hear that voice say her name again.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just a place to crash. Hide a bit, I don’t know.”

  “Why now? I thought you and your folks were gettin’ on like a house afire.” She tried to keep the anger out of her words, but it was nearly impossible.

  “Diana. Please.”

  She opened her eyes and observed the man she’d loved as long as she could recall. Dominic Love stood in front of her dressed in, of all things, a pair of dress pants and crumpled, long-sleeved shirt. A red tie hung loose around his neck. He had his blond hair scraped back and tied at his nape so she could see he’d added more body art. He stood still, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, his expression scarily blank.

  She rose and smacked the dust off her ass then stood, arms crossed, willing him not to be there, not to tempt her, because God help her still loved the man, despite how badly he’d treated her.

  “I am not letting you back in my bed, Dom.”

  When the corner of his full lips lifted in a smirk, she imagined how satisfying it would feel to smack it off his face—with a blunt instrument.

  “Not asking for that…yet.”

  “Go to hell.” She brushed by him, forcing him out of her brain. He snagged her arm and held on tight.

  “I’m already there, babe, trust me. I swear I just need a friend right now and someplace to lay low. I’ll help around the place, you know that.”

  As if on cue, the horse bumped Dom’s shoulder, shoving the man forward. The grip on her arm tightened and Dom leaned in close. She yanked away from him, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and her mind on the fact that if she went with her gut right then, she’d pull him back into her life, no questions asked.

  “You can sleep out here.”

  He let go. “Thanks, babe.”

  She clenched her jaw. “Stop calling me babe, you shit-heel, motherfucking, selfish, cheating asshole.”

  “Okay,” he muttered, but his eyes were bright in a way she knew well.

  She walked away, letting the memory of their last, and she believed final, fight fill her mind, fueling her fury as she put one boot in front of the other, placing as much distance as she could between them.

  The dogs circled her legs, escorting her en masse to the door. It slammed, cutting off their nervous whines and snuffling, leaving her standing in the middle of her outdated, overworked kitchen. Usually being in this room helped her forget all the crap going on in the real world while she transformed the various vegetables from her large garden and the meats she’d either hunted or raised herself into meals fit for a five-star restaurant.

  She shook her head. There were no five-star-restaurants in her universe and there never had been. Even thinking those three words in that order caused heat to rise up her neck and into her f
ace at the memory of her ex-husband—the man who’d swooped in right after Dominic’s last rejection of her and convinced her that he would open the restaurant of her dreams, using the inheritance money she’d saved.

  Yeah, that had worked out not-so-well.

  Men.

  Stupid, lying, cheating men.

  Stupid me and my stupid need to have one nearby all the stupid time.

  Her hand landed on something substantial and her fingers curled around it. She picked up the cast iron pan slowly, contemplating it for a split second, recalling she’d left it out to use for frying bacon. With a noise between a grunt and a yell, she put every bit of long-forgotten frustration into the effort to fling the pan at the door. At the last second she worried she might hit one of the dogs.

  But there was no canine yip of pain. They’d vacated her immediate area, likely sensing the temper eruption on her horizon before she did. It did bust a satisfying hole through the screen at the top of the door and hit the back porch railing with a musical clang that echoed back to her still burning ears.

  She blew her hair out of her eyes, ready to tackle the next thing on her long to-do list—this time free of any memory of her last disaster of a relationship. That loser—now officially her ex-husband—had been floating through, setting up some chain restaurant over in Lexington. Memories of his handsome face and lying mouth rolled through her head even as she tried to halt them.

  A real five-star restaurant, Di, he’d liked to say, usually when they were naked. That and, You should try it, and, I could use thirty thousand of your dollars to make it work, plus, let’s get married!

  And they were naked a lot.

  Diana groaned and leaned over the sink for a few seconds then straightened. She had too much to do. There was no time for that kind of useless reminiscing. Damn Dominic Love to hell and back for showing up and sending her into this tailspin.

  She grabbed her mother’s soup pot, slammed it into the sink and starting filling it from the leaky tap. A breeze lifted the lace curtains at the window, stirring the hair around her face. She smelled the rain a few seconds before it let loose, pounding onto the grass between the kitchen window and the barn. Squinting through the sheeting water she spotted Dominic standing in the middle of the paddock, seemingly impervious to the deluge.

  Pepper trotted over to see what could possibly make the tall, yellow-haired male human stand in the rain like an idiot. When Dom didn’t respond to nudging, the animal gave every appearance of shrugging and glancing in her direction with a whattaya gonna do look before getting under cover in the barn.

  Within a very few minutes, Dom’s drenched dress shirt clung to him. She watched, gape-jawed and shivering as he yanked his hair from its tie and shook it free, turning his face to take the full force of the increasing downpour, arms outstretched as if preparing for crucifixion. Then he seemed to disappear in the space of a blink. She turned off the tap, which was overflowing the pot by then anyway, and ran out the door.

  Heart pounding, ears ringing with well-remembered panic over what she might find, she took the expanse of grass between house and paddock in a few long strides. In her fury at how casually he’d sauntered back into her life that morning, she hadn’t thought to study his eyes very closely. Diana had memorized long ago how Dominic’s deep-brown gaze took a particular edge, a kind of sharp, distinctive sparkle, when he hovered on the verge of a breakdown.

  The rain soaked all the way to her skin by the time she rounded the post at the paddock. At a burst of lightening, she flinched and started counting, only getting to three seconds before the ear-splitting thunderclap. She squinted, seeking a prone, muddy Dominic. But the paddock was empty.

  Cursing, she glanced back at the house. It was pretty well futile to run back now that she’d gotten drenched. She mirrored Dom’s earlier stance, letting the rain pound against her cheeks, forehead, and lips. Lightning flashed. Thunder followed. Laughter bubbled up from her throat, only getting louder as she realized what an utter whack job she must be, out there, cackling and drinking rain.

  Chapter Two

  Then

  “Shh…Seriously, shut up already. I’m trying to concentrate.”

  Dominic couldn’t stop staring at the girl. But since the only way he could get her attention was to be a pest—on top of accompanying her on an ass-crack-of-dawn hunting trip—he had to content himself with gazing at her as she looked out across the winter-bare forest.

  “Hunting is the most boring thing ever.” He heard the pout in his voice but he didn’t care at this point.

  Diana shushed him again with a sharp smack to the back of his head. When he uttered a soft curse, she put a finger to her lips and pointed. Mesmerized by her lips and that finger, he followed it and saw the six-point buck, poking its nose into a pile of brush about a hundred yards to their north. Dom shivered at the expression in Diana’s bright blue eyes. He gulped and tried to focus on the task. But he’d been sitting in the damned blind with her since 4:30 that morning. His legs were cramped, his ass numb, and he’d not been able to convince her to use their mutual, preferably naked bodies to keep things warmer and more interesting.

  “I’m over this,” he whispered, still unable to tear his gaze from her profile as she lifted the gun to her shoulder and closed one eye.

  “Be quiet, Dom. I mean it. And don’t move. I think he’s spotted us.”

  Dominic looked through the binoculars. The buck had raised its massive head. The nose he’d had buried in leaves twitched. The muscles in the animal’s massive flanks quivered as he prepared to leap out of Diana’s range.

  Dom was torn. On the one hand, he wanted her to bag the damn thing. A good shot might make her happy enough to let him kiss her again. That one time a few nights ago, albeit under the influence of some of his brother’s weed, had sent him barreling headlong down a path of Diana Brantley obsession.

  He observed the buck while listening to Diana’s shallow breathing next to him, sensing her tension and excitement as if it were his own.

  On the other hand, a buck that big would be a bloody mess and she’d be occupied the rest of the day and night getting it dressed. Her father would help her of course, but Diana liked to deal with her own kills. Dom had known that for years, ever since she’d bagged her first one when they’d gone out as twelve-year-olds with her half-drunk daddy and his pals. Diana Brantley got worked up over slaughtering perfectly nice animals like some girls did over the latest boy band or a new pair of fancy shoes. Dom lowered the binocs.

  “Do it now. He’s about to bolt.” He spoke even as the shot split the cold morning air. The buck dropped like a stone. Diana yelped and smacked Dom’s shoulder. He turned to her, hopeful she’d hug him, which would put him that much closer to her. Her ear-to-ear grin was unbelievably gorgeous, and her long blonde hair coming loose from under the camouflage cap, sky-blue eyes sparkling, those lips….he cursed, noting that she’d scrambled down the ladder while he’d been fantasizing about another kiss. Ears still ringing from the gunshot, he followed her down to the forest floor.

  Now

  “You’re crazier’n a whole house of bedbugs,” Dominic called out from the depths of the barn as he watched Diana stumble in, water sluicing off her hair and skin. The slowness had returned. A familiar, burdensome lethargy had firm hold of his all his limbs, even his throat, making his normally light drawl slow and slurred as if he were still drunk. All the booze he had consumed over the last two days didn’t help. Neither did the fact he’d been off his antidepressants for so long. His brain urged him forward, telling him to go to her, take her in his arms, let her soothe him and make it better like she’d done so many times before.

  She turned away from him and wrung the water out of her hair in silence. Not that he blamed her. His head pounded. His throat closed with remorse at his view of Diana’s tall, slim, well-remembered perfection.

  The sudden lightning bolt memory of Kent Lowery’s expression when he’d spotted Dom standing in a pew, yelling li
ke some kind of jilted, romance-novel diva at that horror of a wedding brought back nauseating dizziness. Dom took the memory of his former lover, shoved it down to the barn floor, covered it with some mental dirt and relegated it to the realm of “never again.”

  He stayed seated as Diana took off her shirt and jeans right in front of him before she grabbed a towel off a nail and used it to dry her hair without a lick of modesty in her plain bra and miniscule panties.

  Something warm and furry bumped his leg. He scratched the dog behind her ears, refocusing his attention outdoors. The rain had intensified, hammering the barn roof. The light and thunder show accompanying it provided a magnificent soundtrack to his inner turmoil. He wished he had the capacity to be impressed by anything anymore.

  Kent.

  Dom shook his head, and willed everything about that man and that part of his life out of his head. He, Dominic Sean Love, was not that guy. He was. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Not and still remain a part of the Love family inner circle. It had been…what? A whim, a personal dare, boredom getting the better or him. Logging onto that illicit, explicit dating site late one sleepless night had been a buzz. But of course, what had he done? Gone and fallen for a man.

  A distressingly familiar set of options popped into his brain. All the years he had spent as a boy and a teenager bouncing between mind-numbing rage, paralyzing depression, and fits of mania had worn a groove in him. He slid into it now, caressed its edges, got comfortable inside its well-worn contours. The usual mental whispers about guns versus ropes versus pills versus slamming his car into the rock wall at the corner of Hunter Road and Highway Twelve accompanied it.