Paradise Hops (12 page)

He’d hesitated, which obviously had sent some kind of mixed message to her. She’d pulled her hand away, glared at him. “I’m sorry, but if that’s what you want, then you’d better find someone else.”

He’d clutched the steering wheel in an effort not to pull over and shake her until her teeth rattled in her stubborn head. “No, Lori. It’s not what I want. I just wanted to make sure we were okay, you know, on that topic.”

She’d put her reading glasses back on and resumed ignoring him the rest of the way home.

Now, sitting in his office, his throat tight and head pounding, he reached for his phone. He knew they’d crossed some kind of dividing line, a Rubicon of sorts, and it would take more than a simple text message to set it straight. At this point, he had no fucking idea what that something could be, or he would have done it already. So, in lieu of actually talking to her, he’d taken a fairly drastic step, done some jewelry shopping, and found what he hoped she’d agree was the ultimate “something.” If not, well, he might have to jump off a bridge. Anything to get a full night’s sleep at this point.

He put his head in hands and tried to calm his clanging nerves. He hadn’t seen her for a solid week, hadn’t heard her voice, hadn’t gone out of his way to visit the brewery during the last days of her rotation there. He could only imagine the drama he might walk in on and had no desire for that. He’d had every intention of asking her to marry him but not until she’d finished in there and had Eli out of her system. He wasn’t stupid and could see how compelling the guy must be—the bad boy brewer, an edgy genius, teaching her all he knew, providing a foil to what he, Garrett could do. Maybe he should let go of the fixing, organization, and control some, become a little more spontaneous.

No, dammit, this is what he was, lock stock and barrel, and Lori Brockton would have to take him or leave him. But, he loved her, wanted to be with her forever, of this he was certain. She needed him. He needed her. Her father’s company needed them, together.

He groaned, stretched, and reached for another energy drink. After calling the restaurant to make sure the table he wanted for Friday still had his name on it, he made a quick call to Lori’s father, reminding him about the dinner invite. “Got something special planned, Hunter?” The old man sounded pleased. Garrett tried not to sound too frustrated.

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“Good man. Looking forward to it. She’s a lucky girl to have you.”

Then the last call, finally, to her.

Lori stared at the small velvet box perched on her plate. Her heart pounded as she closed her eyes, but the image seared her corneas.

No. Please. Not this. Not now.

 The silence around the small table took on a life of its own. Her father cleared his throat. Her stepmother sipped wine. The restaurant noises seemed to die down in honor of the moment although Lori knew that was patently ridiculous. Garrett remained quiet, but Lori sensed his tension, like a living, breathing creature coiled and ready to strike. She bit her lip and opened her eyes, meeting his.

Tears threatened as she pulled the letter from her purse. She’d held onto it for nearly a week already. Her father sucked in a breath.

“What’s this?” Garrett took the paper from her, skimmed it, catching the gist in seconds. She glared at him as he handed it back to her, then her shoulders slumped as the air went out of her righteous indignation balloon. Garrett was the person who’d loved her, brought her out of her frightened shell, and shown her how a real man treated a woman. At the same time her father, a second-generation owner of Brockton Brewing, had come to trust him so much he had nearly turned the entire five million dollar operation over to him, and to her. Them. Together.

Unable to meet his deep green gaze another minute, she palmed his gift in one hand and the acceptance letter in the other. She wouldn’t meet her father’s eyes either. If she did, she’d give in, take the no-doubt expensive diamond, nod her head and never be able to brew again, and that is one thing she simply could not do. She squared her shoulders and tried to coax attitude from her throat, knowing her justification about “never being able to brew again” was also lame. Garrett would let her do whatever she wanted. Why hadn’t she told him? She had never hated herself more than at that moment.

Stupid, self-defensive words flew from her lips. “You want to sell Brockton, anyway. I know it. He knows it,” she pointed at her father, who suddenly appeared small, old and weak. “It’s not yours to sell Garrett. I won’t let you.” He rose, put his napkin down, and came around the table to her. She stayed seated, unwilling to meet him halfway.

He crouched down, his hand warm on her shoulder. “I’m not selling anything Lori, but I am talking to some people who want to invest. We discussed this, remember? You claimed you understood just a few days ago.” His tight voice signaled clear displeasure. Garrett Hunter didn’t do scenes.

Yeah? Then why did he hand you an engagement ring in front of your father, huh Lori?

 Her subconscious yammered at her. She stood, biting the inside of her cheek against the urge to throw herself into his arms. To say yes and let him sort out her life for her.

His voice stayed low, near her ear. “Please. Don’t do this.” She realized how hard this must be, this messy, public disagreement. Her heart split, shattered, and slid to her feet. This amazing, gentle, successful, control-freak of a man had saved her from herself, and she was about to reject him outright. “I love you, Lori. Please marry me.” She shut her eyes, hoping it would all go away.

She shook her head and opened her eyes to dispel the invading images of their brewmaster’s broad shoulders as he heaved malt bags, stirred hundreds of gallons of mash, barked orders, even when he hollered at her for screwing up something in the cellar or on the floor. “I don’t give two shits if you’re a Brockton. If you’re in this space, you do what I fucking say, you got that, girl?” She was madly in lust with the man but hated him most days even though he barely acknowledged her presence anymore other than to yell — a lot.

Garrett’s broad shoulders stiffened as if sensing her mental distraction. The strong jaw she’d admired, desired and then, apparently captured was clenched. He clipped his words off at the ends, precise and clean; exactly the way he’d lived his entire, orderly life.

“Let’s go outside for a minute. Ron, Susan, excuse us please?” Her father had a glass of scotch in a death grip, his face an alarming shade of red.

Garrett led her out onto the sidewalk. A busy Ann Arbor Friday crowd flowed around them. He tugged her down to a small empty table perched at the edge of Main Street, looked down at his shoes as if gathering his thoughts, then straight at her. “So, you applied to this. Took the test, all of it. And didn’t say a word to me?” She recognized how tight a reign he had on his temper at the precise moment that she realized how wrong she had been. She should have told him. She owed him that, but all she did was shake her head, the words dying a slow unspoken death. He ran a hand down his face. She reached out to touch his arm but he pulled away.

“When were you going to tell me, Lori? On the way out the fucking door? To Germany? For a two-year, full-time beer brewing program?” His voice slipped lower with every question. Tears formed, dripped from her eyes. “You didn’t even give me a chance to support it.” He stood, crossed his arms, walked away a few feet then back again, taking his seat, and adjusting his tie. “Thanks for the set up. Win-win for you. Garrett gets to be a dick, and Lori gets her way once again. Dammit, you know I would have…forget it.” He looked down at the sidewalk between his feet.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” She gulped at the truth in his words.

“Yeah. I get that.” He stood once more.

“Wait, Garrett, please.”

He turned, jaw set, eyes flat. “Why? You’ve made up your mind, and I don’t even get the opportunity to discuss it with you. How could you even know what I’d say? I know you’re an independent woman. You’ve drilled that into me, and I’ve given you space, not imposed my annoying organized ways on your creative chaos. Jesus. What exactly am I to you anyway? I mean, I’m no sap, but I kind of thought we had…something.” He sat again, glaring at her, his strong jaw clenched in fury. “I tell you everything. You know every God-damned thing about me. You can’t even tell me about your big life plan? I’m too inflexible for you and your sudden need to be a Master brewer?”

Lori stared at him.

Holy Shit. He was right.
She reached out for him.

He held up a hand, the look in his eyes one she’d never forget. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Go. Have a great life. I’ll be here, minding the business. Boring, stable, un-spontaneous.”

 “No! I mean….” She covered her eyes. What had she been thinking? He clutched her elbow, his voice tight with barely repressed emotion.

“But, you will answer one question—is
he
going with you?” She pulled her arm out of his grip and gaped at him. “Tell me now, Lori. Don’t leave me hanging, not anymore. I won’t be fucking played.” He held out his hand. She handed him the jeweler’s box that she hadn’t even opened. He stuffed it into his pocket.

“No,” she whispered, about thirty seconds too late, speaking to the closed restaurant door Garrett had slammed behind him. Her knees shook, but she squared her shoulders, held back tears, determined to finish this once and for all; to justify the fact that she may very well have thrown away the best thing to ever happen to her with both hands, while reaching out for something unobtainable.

She stared at the closed door, then turned and walked away, barely seeing anything. How she made it home she had no idea, but all of a sudden crying herself to sleep seemed like the only viable option.

Chapter Eleven

“What can I do for you?” Garrett’s eyes were dark, noncommittal. It made her stomach clench but she stood her ground, shut his office door behind her. She had come here to talk and by God he was going to listen to her. However, words failed her as he stared, his gaze flat.

“Garrett, I need you to know something.”

He kept shuffling paper, tapping his keyboard. Doing everything he could to make her feel ignored. It worked. She stifled the surge of anger and kept talking. “He is not coming with me. I’m going by myself. Already have my ticket and a flat I’m sharing with a girl who’s been at the institute a year. I’m…excited to do this, and I wish I, well, I should have shared it with you. I don’t know why I didn’t.” The lameness of this non-excuse hovered between them. He narrowed his eyes.

“Me neither. Is that all?” He went back to staring at the paper in front of him.

She bit her lip. Surely he wouldn’t be this hard, this obstinate.
No, Lori, that’s your job remember?
She stifled a groan at the stupid mess she’d created. She went around behind his desk. She wanted to touch him, to make him understand how sorry she was. The sudden very real possibility that she had truly ruined this, the best thing to ever happen to her, made her skin crawl with dread. She put a shaking hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at her touch. “Garrett,” her voice broke. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

He moved ever so slightly letting her know she could remove her hand. She did, biting back threatening tears. “Please,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and making him stand, forcing him to look at her. His face was a mask of anger, warring with relief and mixed with resignation. He looked away but she put a hand on his stubbled face and stared hard into his eyes. “I am sorry. I should never have done any of that without talking to you. I…there isn’t a good reason for it.”

“Yes, I think there is.” He stepped away, leaving her cold and once again dreading the reality of what she’d done. “The reason is pretty clear. You don’t trust me enough to share something this important—so important you are willing to move to another country to accomplish it. You said once that you loved me, and I believed it. Held onto it like a fucking puppy with his first chew toy. But I know now it meant nothing. So, go.” He took another step away.