Read More Than Rum (The Maple Leaf Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Christine DePetrillo
More Than Rum (The Maple Leaf Series Book 3)
MORE THAN RUM
Book Three
The Maple Leaf Series
by
Christine DePetrillo
Copyright 2014 Christine DePetrillo
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by Dar Albert of
Wicked Smart Designs
Edited
by Janet Hitchcock
www.theproofisinthereading.wordpress.com
This
book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owners
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This
is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events,
business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
Author Contact:
Website:
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com
Dedication
To my favorite bartender
and to my good friend, Captain Morgan,
who knows how to pour a happy ending…
“What do I need a website for,
darlin’?”
Hope Stannard clenched her
teeth at the
darlin’
, but Jake Peters, owner of Black Wolf Tavern,
called every woman darlin’. She had to keep her eye on the goal here.
“To advertise, to book events,
to let the community know when those events are taking place, to put up
pictures of this place, to get—” She stopped when Jake held up his leathery
hand.
“Word of mouth has always
worked for me,” he said. “You’ve been in here enough times. Have you ever been
able to hear crickets?”
Hope shook her head. The man
did have a point. For a bar that wasn’t much more than a green barn with a
parking lot in the middle of Danton, Vermont, it seemed locals always packed
themselves in.
Locals. Okay.
“You only attract people who
have lived around here for eons,” she said, hoping she’d found an angle.
“Imagine if you could get more tourists, eager to part with their money. You
could also reach more entertainment options if you had a website.”
Shadow Hills usually played at
Black Wolf Tavern, and Hope would pay extra to see another set of musicians in
the bar. She’d had a relationship with Sam Pearsson, the ex-drummer, who was
also an EMT. He’d gone off to med school and ditched her. In a text message.
Prick.
Her sister, Sage, had told her
a long distance relationship wouldn’t work out. Hope hated that Sage had been
right, and she hated seeing the remaining members of the band play. They reminded
her that Sam sucked… and the drummer they had gotten to replace him also
sucked.
“I suppose reeling in naïve
touristy folks might be advantageous.” Jake said the last word as if it were
three separate words.
Ad. Van. Tageous.
He ran a hand over the full salt-and-pepper
beard that had nearly overtaken the lower portion of his face. “I could charge ’em
extra for their booze and they’d pay ’cause there ain’t any place else to get a
decent spirit ’round here.” He let loose a raspy, coughing laugh that had Hope
wondering if she might have to call 911. “Attractin’ new people could mean
retirin’ early.”
Attracting new people to the
bar also meant attracting new available men to the area. Hope was definitely in
favor of that. Since her failed relationship with Sam, she’d only had one other
interaction with a potential—Adam Rouse.
And he kept disappearing on
her.
“Okay, Hope darlin’,” Jake
finally said. “Let’s make a website.”
“Great, Jake. You won’t regret
it. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. No daughter of
Joy Stannard would screw me over.” Jake grinned, creases sixty-some years in
the making framing his golden-brown eyes. “How is Joy?”
“Why don’t you stop by the
house and find out?”
Pink instantly colored what was
visible of Jake’s cheeks, and he picked up a rag to mop at non-existent spots
on the bar. “Oh, I couldn’t… I mean… I…”
Hope reached across the bar to
stop the man’s frenzied wiping. “Jake.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll never get anywhere if
you don’t take a first step.”
If only it were that easy.
“I know, darlin’, but your
daddy was my good buddy. It wouldn’t be right.” He shook his head as he turned
to straighten some bottles behind him.
“My dad has been dead for a
long time, Jake.”
About thirty years long.
“My mother has been alone for
a long time.”
Jake turned around. “Didn’t
think of it that way.”
“Maybe you should.” Hope stood.
“Why don’t you come by the house the day after tomorrow, and we’ll fill out a
questionnaire for what you want on the website. Mom will be around, and we’ll
see what happens.”
Jake nodded as his hand went back
to wiping the bar. If he kept that up, he’d wipe the finish right off.
Hope waved over her head as she
walked toward the front doors of the tavern. Her mind was full of new ideas for
the bar’s website. She’d have plenty of time to pump out that project, because
she’d finished her previous project—a website for her cousin Rick and his
wife’s bed and breakfast inn, Hindsdale Inn, which was tucked into the woods.
Located one property over from her cousin’s property where he churned out pure
maple syrup when the season arrived, Hindsdale Inn was the perfect combination
of nature meets glitz. Hope had coined the term “rustic glamour” to describe
it. Within moments of officially publishing the site with its description of
the enormous log home, photos of the exquisite interior, and a virtual tour of
the grounds and mountain views, six people had inquired about booking
reservations.
Thinking of that now, Hope gave
herself a mental pat on the back. She could crank out a website that hooked
people like nobody’s business. All self-taught, she’d figured out things on her
own between sugaring seasons. Customers had been happy with her end products.
Now she’d be able to link Black Wolf Tavern to Hinsdale Inn and hopefully
increase business for both places.
If she could just find her damn
keys in her purse, she could get home and start on a basic design for Jake’s
website. Outside in the parking lot, she needed more light to see into that
dumpster she carried around on her shoulder. Five o’clock in late January meant
the sun had gone to sleep already, and Vermont knew how to take the word
dark
and mean it. With no other cars in the lot, because the tavern was closed on
Mondays, piles of plowed snow were the only company Hope had.
She angled her purse toward the
single lantern light above the bar’s front entrance and shook the sack.
“I hear you in there,” she said
to the jingling sound.
After another shake, light
glinted off something silver in the black depths of the purse.
“Gotcha.”
As she plunged her hand in to
grab the keys, something big pinned her to the building behind her. She tried
to scream, but a gloved hand came over her mouth, muffling her cry for help.
The darkness kept her from being able to see her attacker’s face, but he was
much taller than she was, broad shouldered, and sweaty smelling. And strong.
He yanked at her purse, but it
was still hooked on her arm, and pain shot up to her shoulder. She would have
been more than happy to give him the damn purse—he’d be grossly disappointed by
its contents—but he was too close for her to wiggle the strap off her arm. When
he growled and jerked at the purse again, tears came to her eyes. If this kept
up, she’d end up with a broken arm.
I hope that’s all I end up
with.
Not a good thought. Not at all.
She considered ways to defend herself, but they mostly involved kicks to the
groin, and the way he had plastered himself against her left her no options.
Where the heck is Jake?
He’d at least be able to distract her attacker so she could deliver a groin
pounding.
The glove still covering her
mouth was getting moist from her breath, and its rough knit chafed her cheeks.
Her stomach chose that moment to let out a famished roar which made her
attacker snicker. Snickering was never good on the villain’s part. Never.
“Hungry, beautiful?” He
released his hold on the purse and used that free hand to stroke her hair. Her
flesh prickled, and she pressed her body farther into the wall behind her. That
didn’t offer her much additional space, but every centimeter counted at this
point. “I got something you can feed on.” He leaned in closer, rubbing his
cheek over hers.
A full body shiver shook Hope against
him, which, if the noises coming from his throat were any indication, he liked
very much. She forced herself to stay still and remain calm, both goals
slipping away as more time ticked by.
“Suddenly your purse is not
enough,” the guy said. “I want the whole deal.”
She still couldn’t see his face,
but she was more than sure she didn’t—did not—want to give him “the whole
deal.”
When he leaned forward,
pressing his entire body against hers in one rigid line, Hope wished to be
anywhere, absolutely anywhere, else in the world, but she wasn’t. She was here.
She was where she’d lived for the past thirty years. She was where she’d spent
every single day since she was born. She was in the town she called home.
And she’d be damned if this
asshole was going to ruin home for her.
As the man shifted to snake his
arm around her waist, Hope gained enough space to jerk her knee up and make
contact. At the same time he let out a howl, he was ripped off her and thrown
to the ground. She took a second to look at her knee, wondering where enough
power to knock him off his feet had come from.
“Listen, fucker, you do not
treat a lady like that.”
Hope snapped her head up at the
familiar male voice. Another dark outline hovered over her attacker, still
prone on the dirt parking lot.
“I just needed money, man.”
“I don’t give a shit what you
need. You’re not getting it from her.”
A cell phone flashlight threw a
circle of light on her attacker’s face. It wasn’t anyone she recognized from
what she could barely see, but his bloodshot, glossy eyes were evidence of what
he probably needed money for.
Her savior reached down,
grabbed a handful of her attacker’s jacket, and wrenched him to his feet in one
fluid motion. “Let me get you a ride.” There was a pause then, “Hey, Kevin. I
have a junkie over at Black Wolf. He attacked Hope Stannard. Can you come get
him?” Another pause. “I think so. I’ll find out.” Pause. “Yeah. Thanks.” The
cell phone glow disappeared into a back pocket.
“Look, man. Just let me go. I
didn’t hurt her. I won’t do that again.”
“No, you absolutely won’t.
We’re going to wait here for my buddy, Officer Kevin Sencotte, to swing by and
take over.”
“Fuck you!”
Hope’s attacker jostled free of
the grip on him. He swung his arm out, his fist cracking into jaw. Her savior
backed away from the lowlife for a minute, which was all said lowlife needed to
bolt into the darkness.
A spitting sound was followed
by, “I don’t think so.”
Heavy footfalls took off after
her attacker, leaving her still leaning against the tavern. She hadn’t moved since
the weight of the assailant had been lifted. She was paralyzed with two
contradictory emotions—fear and fascination. She feared for her safety, but
that was quickly replaced by fear for her savior’s safety.
And the fascination?
Well, what wasn’t fascinating
about a man you didn’t quite understand coming to your rescue?
She squinted in the darkness,
but couldn’t see that man now. She dragged in a couple of deep breaths and
yelled, “Adam!”
****
His name echoed in the darkness,
and every piece of him wanted to turn back toward Hope, but he was not going to
let this jackass get away. Not going to happen. Adam shifted into highest gear,
his baseball cap flipping right off his head, and in a few long strides, he was
beside the druggie and sending an elbow into his gut. The jerk keeled over, and
as Adam went to wrap his arms around the guy to bring him to the ground, an arm
flailed out again. Fortunately, Adam was quicker this time. One fist to the
mouth had been enough. He tasted blood from that earlier contact and didn’t
plan on shedding any more bodily fluids tonight.
Not my own anyway.
He couldn’t make promises not
to spill this shithead’s blood all over the parking lot. Ducking just in time,
Adam swept the douchebag’s legs out from underneath him and took great pleasure
in smashing his face into the dirt.
“You lose,” he said, as red and
blue lights flashed over them both.
A police car stopped just shy
of them, the headlights sizzling Adam’s retinas as he kept his weight on the
fuck-up beneath him. Two car doors opened and closed, followed by jogging feet.
“I got it, Adam,” Kevin said.
Handcuffs swung into view and
Adam backed off, taking a moment to sit on the ground.
“You okay?” Kevin’s partner,
Officer Diana Landis, asked.
“Fine.” He accepted Diana’s
outstretched hand and got to his feet. “But I need to go check on Hope.” He
started back toward the tavern.
“We’ll get this guy secured and
then be over to get Hope’s statement,” Diana said.
“Understood.”
When Adam reached the building,
Hope wasn’t outside, but her black Jeep Compass was. He pulled open the door of
the tavern and found her sitting at the bar with Jake.
“Did you catch the sucker?”
Jake asked as he stood and walked toward Adam.
“Yeah. The police have him
now.” Adam pulled out the stool next to Hope and sat facing her, but she didn’t
look his way. She appeared to be staring at an invisible spot on the bar top.
“Hope,” he said gently, “are you okay?”
She nodded slowly and reached
to the stool on her other side. She set his baseball cap on the bar and nudged
it toward him.
“She ain’t said much since she
slipped in here,” Jake said. “I thought she was long gone and home already. I
didn’t hear a thing out there.” He ground his teeth hard enough Adam heard it.
Hope rested her hand on Jake’s
forearm. “It’s okay, Jake. You had no way of knowing what was happening.”
“I’m puttin’ a light out
there,” Jake said.
“I’ll do it,” Adam said.
“Tomorrow.” He slid behind the bar and slammed two shot glasses down. He filled
them with Captain Morgan Tattoo Rum and slid one toward Hope.
At first, she merely looked at
the glass, and Adam didn’t think she was going to drink it. A long shuddery
sigh fluttered out of her as her delicate fingers closed around the glass. In
one swift movement, she downed the contents and wiggled the glass at him.
“More.”
He obliged, pouring more for
himself as well. They both tossed the rum back and set the glasses down at the
same time.