Hard Wood (Hard n' Dirty Book 3)

by Tara Crescent

  “Hell no.” That comes out louder than I intend. “You’re not blaming yourself for this. This is not your fault. Unless you possess the secret ability to go back in time and convince your father not to enter the restaurant business, there’s nothing you could have done.” Half the cheesy sci-fi movies I watch have a ‘going-back-in-time’ plot, but sadly, time machines don’t exist in real life.

  “You’re right.” Dom speaks up for the first time. “This isn’t Vicki’s fault.” His grip on my hand tightens. “It’s mine.” He gives Dakota a small smile. “You don’t have to shield me, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Roger Wexler is the councilor that spoke up against you. He’s been nursing a grudge against me for a really long time.” He sighs heavily. “This isn’t about your brewpub, Cat. This is about Wexler getting back at me.”

  I don’t bother asking how this guy knows I’m dating Dom; I’m slowing getting used to the fact that everyone in Madison always seems to know everyone else’s business.

  “I’m so, so, sorry.” Dom sounds broken, raw. I’ve never heard this note in his voice. “This is my fault. Had you not got involved with me, this would have never happened.”

  He’s blaming himself. Vicki’s blaming herself. The two people I care about the most in the world are beating themselves up, and my heart is breaking into a billion little pieces.

  My dream is dead.

  “Can you keep going without a restaurant license?” Dakota leans forward. “What if we do a collaboration of some kind?”

  Vicki shakes her head. “It won’t work. We ran the numbers every which way. The margin on craft beer is razor thin. The real profit is in the food. We both took out a bunch of loans to buy all this equipment. If we only served beer, we’d be cash-flow positive, but we won’t make enough money to pay back the loans.”

  “And the council doesn’t meet again until the fall.”

  “Then we’re done,” I say bluntly. “Madison is a tourist town in Canada. Eighty percent of our profits come in three months. We can’t carry the loans through winter.” I sound bitter because I am. Bitter and broken, and I’m not even allowing myself to think about the deepest cut. Leaving Madison, leaving Dom. “There’s no point even opening. At this point, we’re better off allowing the beer to drain away and selling off the brewpub, piece by piece.”

  Dom knows me well. He knows how close I am to breaking down completely. “Come on, kitty cat,” he says quietly. “Let’s go home. You need a hot bath, a hoppy double-IPA, and a good night of sleep. We’ll tackle this mess in the morning.”

  He’s such a great guy.

  I’ll have to go back to Toronto, my tail between my legs. I’ll have to swallow my pride and ask Will for a reference and listen to his taunts about how he knew I couldn’t cut it on my own.

  A month ago, I’d have said that that was the worst thing that could happen. Now, I know differently. I’m going to have to say goodbye to Dom.

  “Cat.” Dom’s voice is gentle. He enters the bathroom, holding a clean towel in his hands. “Honey, you’ve been in the tub for more than an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  He sits on the edge of the tub. “I will fix this for you, sweetheart,” he says. “I promise. I will make this right.”

  He never commits. Never says the words. Never makes promises he can’t keep. There’s a lump in my throat. But this… there’s no fixing this. Our permit has been rejected, and the council doesn’t meet again until the fall. It’s over.

  I force a smile on my face and climb out of the tub. I’m all wrinkled and pruny, and my eyes are red. My hair is plastered to my head, and strands cling to my face like mutant pink eels. Nobody does sexy quite the way I do.

  “Cat…” he says again. “Honey…” He wraps me in the towel and hugs me tight. “Talk to me, little spitfire.”

  It’s all over. The countdown has begun. How long can I linger in Madison? A couple of weeks, tops. There’s no money in my bank account. My credit cards are maxed out. I need to get back to the city and start looking for a job immediately. Flip burgers while I interview for brewing jobs.

  The countdown has begun.

  I’m on the verge of falling apart and sobbing into his arms, but if I start crying, I might never stop. “Come on, Dom,” I say, making my voice light and airy. “Stop looking like someone died. It was casual between us, right? We knew it had to end sometime.”

  He stares at me. His eyes see too much. Every bit of emotion I’m trying to keep hidden. Every bit of control I’m clinging to.

  “My sweet little kit cat,” he whispers into my ear. “You know that’s not true. Do you want to hear me say it? Because I will. It hasn’t been casual…”

  I pull away and put a finger on his lips. If he continues… if he says the words I’ve been hoping to hear… I will shatter. “Please,” I beg. “Please don’t say anything. Please let me pretend.”

  He’s silent for a long time. Finally, he nods slightly. “Okay, kit cat. We’ll play it your way tonight.”

  This is goodbye. Tonight is the beginning of the end, and I want to make it count. “Make love to me, Dom. Please?”

  I make him turn off the lights. I don’t want him to see me cry. I climb on the bed and sit astride his hip, grinding into his cock. My world is ending, and these memories are going to have to keep me warm for a long time.

  “Kitty cat,” he breathes, his erection growing pronounced.

  “No words…” I grip the base of his cock in my hand and fist him. “Promise me.”

  In response, he wraps his hand around my neck and tugs me closer. He kisses me back, long and slow, deep and passionate. Maybe I’m being fanciful, and maybe I’m fooling myself, but it feels like he’s putting all the words I won’t let him say into his kiss. His tongue slides into mine like a promise, and the first of my tears start rolling down my cheeks.

  In the dark, he can’t see me. But he can feel the tears, and he kisses them away, each and every drop. “No words,” I say again, before he can tell me things are going to be okay.

  In response, he pushes my breasts together, and his mouth lowers on my nipples, sucking, nibbling and biting each one in turn. I whimper, every thought fleeing my overworked brain, leaving nothing but sensation behind. “Dom…”

  “Hands behind your back, spitfire.”

  His palms slide under my ass. I lace my fingers behind my back and grind into him again. I’m soaked, and I’m ready. Today’s not the day for foreplay. I need Dom inside me. Now.

  He thrusts two fingers, and I half-lift off him to give him room. “So wet,” he growls. “You want my cock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Open up.”

  I shiver as a hot burst of arousal engulfs me. He holds his fingers at the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips and suck my juices off him. It’s dirty and depraved, and it’s exactly what I need. “See how good you taste,” he murmurs, his voice, low and sensual. “I can’t get enough of you, Cat. I’m fucking addicted to you.”

  No words. He feels me tense and backs off. “Very well, little spitfire.” He reaches for the drawer beside his bed, pulls out a condom packet, and hands it to me. “Put it on,” he orders. “Ride me.”

  His cock is a steel rod encased in a velvet sheath. It jerks in my hands as I roll on the condom, clumsy in the dark, and then I raise my hips and plunge onto him. Deep and fast, drowning out all thought. All memory of what has just happened.

  I ride him, skin slapping against skin. His fingers grip my hips, and he slams me down, harder and faster. I feel him tug a nipple into his mouth. I feel him between my legs, rubbing my clitoris.

  Hips up. Hips down. Grinding. Moaning. Muscles clenching around his length. This is exactly what I need. Dom is exactly who I need.

  Shudders of pleasure run through me. I’m close. So close. My nerves are keyed up, and my body is on edge, and I dance at the cliff-edge of release.

  His hands set the pace now. He’s not gent
le. He’s not kind. Softness would make me cry. Gentleness would unravel me. Dom doesn’t give me either. He fucks me, hard and painful and brutal, because he knows me as well as I know myself. Maybe better. I clench my teeth, my fingers fisting the sheets as a very familiar spiral of heat starts to wind through me.

  Shivers run through me. A tidal wave of pleasure hurtles toward me, and then I come, every nerve ending sparking alive, in a shuddering shattering burst.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts. My pussy is swollen and sensitive from my orgasm, and every thrust of his cock feels like it’s going to split me apart. I don’t care. I dig my nails into his biceps and keep moving. Then his face contorts with need, and he erupts with a loud grunt.

  It takes me a long time to fall asleep. Dominic Wilde is the best thing that ever happened to me, and now I’m going to have to give him up. Losing the brewpub hurts, but losing Dom breaks me.

  Tomorrow morning, I’ll have to get up and face the wreckage of my life. But tonight, I hold him tight, never wanting to let go.

  27

  Dom

  Cat once told me that if her brewpub failed, she’d have to move back to Toronto. If that’s what it takes, I will follow her, because I’m not going to lose her.

  But I’m sure as hell not going to give up without a fight. In the morning, I drop Cat off at the brewpub. “Might as well go check on the beer,” she says, her voice dead. “It’s on my to-do list for the day, after all.”

  Cat wasn’t ready to listen to me yesterday. Maybe she’ll be more receptive this morning. “I’m going to fix this,” I tell her. “I’m not going to let Wexler get away with it.”

  She nods, unconvinced. She doesn’t ask me what I’m going to do, and she doesn’t tell me it can’t be done. She’s flat. Broken. Everything bit of passion drained away. “Okay.”

  I don’t tell her I’m going to move to Toronto with her, if that’s what it takes. I don’t tell her I’m head-over-heels in love with her. Words are meaningless. I need to act.

  Actions, then words.

  The first call I make is to Sherri Stephenson. “That was bullshit yesterday, Sherri.”

  “The restaurant permit?” She sighs. “I know. Those poor girls. I couldn’t even look at them when I gave them the rejection.”

  “I need to undo it. What do I need to do?”

  “The next meeting of the council,” she starts to say, I cut her off.

  “Nope. I can’t wait until fall.”

  “Hmm.” I hear the clicking of a mouse in the background. “Council can meet on any issue at any time if four out of the five members agree. Roger’s obviously not going to cooperate, but if you can get the others on board…”

  Perfect. A way forward. “Thanks, Sherri. I owe you one.”

  Madison has five councilors. I write down their names on a sheet of paper.

  Roger Wexler.

  Timothy Pollard.

  Jeffrey Shun.

  Mina Ahuja.

  Sally McKee.

  Cat would be amused by my list. She’d tell me that her obsessiveness was rubbing off on me.

  Right now, she’s kegging beer that she might never get a chance to sell. My resolve hardens as I stare at the five names. How do I convince them to change their minds? I know them, of course—everyone knows everyone in Madison—but I don’t know them well enough to ask for a favor.

  So who can?

  I reach for my phone again and call Zach. “Hey, buddy,” he greets me. “What’s going on?”

  “I need a favor. Madison’s town council met yesterday and denied Cat’s brewpub a food permit.” I run my hand over my face. Zach’s not going to like this next part. Hell, neither do I. “According to the town gossip, you gave Jeffrey Shun a personal loan to get his business off the ground. I want you to ask him to reconsider the denial.”

  There’s a moment of absolute silence on the other end. “You want me to blackmail someone I consider a friend.” He sounds frosty. “All so you can keep banging some chick? I like Cat, but I’m not going to do that. What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

  I take a deep breath. “She’s not some chick. She’s the woman I’m in love with.”

  “You’re in love with her?” he asks sharply. “Dominic Wilde is in love?”

  I never say the words. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Every time I’ve wanted to tell Cat I love her, the words have frozen on my tongue.

  But it’s time to claim her. Time to admit to my family and friends that she’s the one. That I’m crazy about her. That I’m madly, head-over-heels in love with Cat Milnick.

  “If her brewpub fails and she has to move to Toronto, I’m going with her. This is the real deal, Zach. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” His voice is noticeably warmer now. “Of course, I’ll help. Jeffrey owes me a favor. I’ll call it in.”

  I exhale in relief and put a checkmark next to Jeffrey Shun’s name. One down, three to go. “Thanks, Zach. I owe you one.”

  He laughs. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he says. “Penny is insatiable. She wants more furniture. I’ll send you some drawings.”

  The next call is easier. “Mom, Cat’s restaurant permit got denied.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Roger Wexler is being a dick.” I brace myself for her rebuke—my mom is not a fan of my swearing—and sure enough, she mutters something about a potty mouth and soap. “Can you call Tim Pollard and convince him to change his mind?” I ask her once she’s done with her scolding. Tim’s had a thing for my mother for years. I’m not above exploiting that. “Sherri says that if four members of the council agree, they can have an emergency meeting about this today.”

  “Of course.” There’s a smile in her voice. “Does this mean you’re serious about her?”

  My mother, the grand inquisitor. “Yes, mom. I’m in love with Cat.”

  She laughs “I know, dear. I’ve known from the day you yelled at me about the state of my cabins. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  “Thanks,” I say wryly, checking Tim Pollard off on my list. “Okay, I still need to figure out how to get Mina Ahuja and Sally McKee on board.”

  “Mina plays poker with Manuel.”

  “Really?” I try and picture the petite Indian woman, who runs a yoga retreat slash bed-and-breakfast in a poker game, and my imagination fails.

  “Don’t typecast people, Dom. She’s very good. Sally’s a tougher sell, but she’s big on fair play, and she really has a soft spot for women-run businesses. Don’t call her; ask Dakota to talk to her.”

  “Got it.” My voice softens. “Thanks, mom.”

  Manuel laughs long and hard when he hears my request. “I knew something was up when you dropped by a few weeks ago,” he crows. “Dominic Wilde falling for a woman. Who’d have thought?”

  “You were the one who told me that there was a woman out there for me.”

  “I did,” he agrees. “But I didn’t think you’d have the good sense to listen to my advice. I’ll talk to Mina, no problem. I don’t like Roger Wexler throwing his weight around.”

  My last call is to Dakota, who readily agrees to talk to Sally. “I was going to call her anyway,” she says. “The more I’ve been thinking about this, the angrier I’m getting. I blame myself, really. I should have spoken up at the council meeting and called Wexler a lying douchebag.”

  “You have a business to run, and you can’t afford a war with the council. Leave the insults to me. Call Sally now?”

  “I’m on it, Dom.” Her voice turns amused. “Tell me again why you’re doing this?”

  I groan. My mother and my sister. Two peas in a pod. “I love Cat,” I reply. Each time I say it, the words come out a little easier. I’m telling the wrong people though. It’s Cat I need to say that to.

  “Excellent.” She laughs diabolically. “I had a bet going with mom. She thought it would take you until Christmas to figure that out, but I knew you’d cave
sooner. She owes me ten bucks.”

  Three hours later, it’s done. Sherri Stephenson cycles up to my workshop, a wide smile on her face. “You should have seen the expression on Roger Wexler’s face when the emergency meeting was called,” she chortles, handing me an envelope. “I thought you’d want to deliver this yourself. It’ll be such a nice surprise for Catherine.”

  “You’re an incurable romantic, Sherri.”

  “Yes, I am.” She pats me on my arm. “Go tell your girl she’s in business again.” She takes a step back and surveys me with a dubious look. “Maybe a shower and some clean clothes first, though.”

  As tempted as I am to disregard her advice, as much as I want to tear over and share the news with Cat, Sherri’s right. I take the quickest shower known to man. I replace my sawdust-covered clothing with a t-shirt and jeans out of the dryer. I even run a comb through my hair.

  Then I make my way to the brewpub. I’m ready. I love her, and I’m finally ready to tell her. I’m ready to make promises. I’m ready to unflinchingly walk into commitment.

  Vicki’s in the front room, moodily dusting the tables. She looks up when I arrive. “I don’t know why I bother,” she murmurs.

  I grin at her and hold up the envelope. “Is Cat in the back?”

  Her eyes go wide. “You’re joking. Is that…? How did you…?” She trails off as she realizes I’m not listening to her, and she follows me to the back room, where Cat’s mechanically filling kegs.

  “Hello, spitfire.” She looks up, and I hold up the envelope. “Your permit.”

  For a second, my words don’t sink in, and then her face lights up. “Seriously?” She throws her arms around me, almost knocking me off my feet. “How did this happen?”

  Behind me, Vicki clears her throat. “I’m starving,” she says loudly. “I should probably take a break and head to Fannie’s. I feel in the mood for a long lunch. An hour, maybe even two.”