Paradise Hops (20 page)

“No. I mean, I don’t know.” She forced herself to step out of the comforting circle of his embrace. “Where are my clothes? How did I get here? I fell. Down in the brewery.”

He chuckled, and pulled her back against him. “Yes, you did. Silly girl. You had no business down there. What were you thinking?”

Lori’s head pounded. She stared at him. What in the hell had happened? She let him hold her, let him kiss her, let him lead her back to the small, metal framed bed.

“I was following the tour. I got lost. You guys were so far ahead. Mmm.” She shut her eyes as he loomed over her, using his tongue to gently part her lips. He slid a familiar, practiced hand down her breast and waist. She started to respond. When did that sheet fall? A loopy, almost drunk sensation oozed through her brain. The guy sure did know how to kiss. She’d forgotten that. He laid her back, ran hands across her flesh, never breaking their lip contact. She arched up as he brushed against her sex. “Oh God.” She whispered into his bearded jaw.
Since when did Garrett have a beard?

He glanced up at her, smiling. “That’s my girl. My Lorelei. Now, let me bring the good Lord to your lips once more.” He dipped to her breasts, sucked one tender nipple into his mouth, tugging at the other, bringing a white heat between her legs that nearly hurt.

“Wait,” She moaned as he moved down, lapped at her belly button, nibbled his way towards her…. “Garrett!” She shouted as his fastened his lips around her clit and sucked hard. Her brain shut down letting her body take control. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out at the exact moment he climbed back up her body, captured her lips, and slid inside her. The orgasm that had hovered on the horizon, peeking over at the touch of his mouth to her sex roared into the room, blinding and deafening her.

He filled her whole being, kissing and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe. Wanted nothing more than this man, right now. His mouth, his cock, his hands, they hit every one of her buttons, flipped every erotic switch she owned. A second bone deep orgasm gripped her. “Ah, my darling,” he crooned in her ear, still rocking into her, faster now, with purpose. “I must…I am going to….” She wrapped arms and legs around him.

“Fill me.” She hissed. “Now.” He shuddered and she felt him, sensed his release inside her. His hips bucked against her again and again, his face a mask of ecstasy. She bit her lip as her body cooled, forced herself to remain calm as he slid out of her and collapsed onto the blue and white quilt.

“Come here, my love.” He tried to pull her onto his chest.

“Um, no.” She stood, noting that she had no trace of the nausea that had haunted her for the last hours before she fell. Putting a hand to her stomach she shuddered. “I don’t know what this is about Garrett but…I should leave.”

“Leave?” He propped himself up on his elbows. The compulsion to lean into him, kiss those full red lips nearly flattened her, but she stood, grabbing her earlier sheet dress. The man looked comically perplexed. She suppressed a wild, insane laugh. “What are you talking about, Lorelei? Didn’t I please you?” His green eyes were so full of concern she dropped in the rocking chair and tried to process.

Her eyes dashed from the flickering, retro gas lamp on the wall, to the sight of a discarded tangle of cotton and velvet on the floor that must represent what she’d had on earlier. She shook her head. Impossible. It was some kind of set up. “Where’s Alicia? Did she put you up to this?” The newly bearded and German-speaking version of Garrett grabbed a pair of rough looking brown trousers and pulled them on. “Uh, where’s the shower?” She felt sated, sore between her legs that spoke of some energetic, frequent encounters, but grimy, as if coated with soot.

“Shower?” The word sounded odd coming out of his mouth. Worry creased his handsome face. “I don’t know what you’re….”

The sound of a door slamming made her jump. Garrett just stood. “Would you like a bath?” She nodded. A bath. Yes. That was normal, right? He went to the open bedroom door. “Frau Hessler. Please, heat water. We require the bath.” He smiled at her. Lori raised her eyebrows and tried to return it and failed.

“Where am I?” She whispered. He knelt beside her.

“In Munich, my love. Haidhausen. My home. Soon to be yours if you will stop being so stubborn. You know our parents want it, and I,” he ran a finger down her face, making her shiver. “want it more than anything.” She tried once again to focus on his words. To take in all the evidence around her that pointed to the impossible.

A large, efficient looking woman bustled in with a steaming bucket of water. “Good morning!” She chirped as she made her way to the small closet-like bathroom. “Would you like breakfast before bathing?”

“I will have some, please.
Fräulein
Brockton will bathe first. I must get to the brewery.” Garrett never took his eyes from Lori’s, and she dropped into their deep green depths, gasping as she went, unable to stop. He smiled at her, chucked her under the chin, and kept getting dressed.

Oh my God. Where am I?
She put her head in her hands and tried not to faint.

After about thirty minutes the once piping hot water cooled, then got positively chilly. The housemaid, or whatever she was, kept peeking in, asking if she needed assistance. “No!” Lori stopped her teeth from chattering. “I mean. I’m fine. Where is the soap?” The surprised looking woman brought in a lump of something Lori tried like hell to work into a lather but couldn’t. Finally, she gave up and let the hard rock of whatever it was drop to the bottom of the huge tub.

“Tsk,” the woman said. “Allow me.” She took a harsh looking cloth, some water and forced a pretty vigorous foam from the thing. “Stand up.” Lori did as she was told. The woman’s hands were as rough as the cloth but she took her cleaning seriously, getting every inch of Lori’s skin bright red and shining clean, including some of her more tender areas.

“Ouch!” Lori winced as she swept the soapy cloth across and around her sex. The woman smiled up at her as if humoring a recalcitrant three-year-old. Were they supposed to be friends? She decided to make small talk. “So, how long have you worked….”

“I have served the Hallertau family since I was ten years old.” The pride in her voice precluded Lori’s shock.

“Oh. Well, then.” She stepped out of the tub and into the giant towel the woman held out. “Now what?” she muttered to herself.

“
Herr
Hallertau is expecting you at the brewery at noon.” She bustled around, picking up wet cloths as Lori watched. At the brewery, at noon, for what? How would she get there? Where was it? “The car will be here in a couple of hours. I shall have your warm milk and tea ready shortly.” She shot Lori a smile.

“Uh. Thanks.” Lori bit back the urge to beg her to stay and help her figure out this whole thing. But more importantly…. “My clothes?”

“On the bed, ironed and ready.”

Of course.

Lori walked back out into the now freezing cold bedroom. An elaborate looking dress, some kind of weird undergarment, thick stockings and ugly boots waited for her. She ran her hand down the rich green velvet bodice. “I am in a nightmare,” she mumbled, “or I’ve finally gone insane once and for all.”

After a thoroughly awkward moment of staring at the contraption that she apparently had to fasten to her body to make the latest fashionable bustle under the heavy dress, Frau Hessler did her “tsk, tsk” thing and tugged it on. She tied it so tight Lori had to fight for breath, then slid the heavy dress over her head. Lori had gotten steadily dizzier, although the distinct lack of nausea had her worried.

“You must eat now.” The woman commanded and hustled her out of the room into a small dining area adjacent to a kitchen heated by a giant iron stove. Delicious smells emanated from it. Lori finally identified her dizziness as hunger as she devoured floury pastries—
Aus’zogene
, her favorite, and two cups of rich milky tea. Frau Hessler stared at her, then turned her eyes away. Lori’s face reddened.

“Sorry. That was delicious. Thank you.”

“Certainly.” The woman poured more tea and ducked out, obviously shocked at the amount of food she’d put away in a few minutes. Lori touched the delicate embroidery of the tablecloth, looked closer, and sucked in a breath. The intricate green pattern she’d taken for regular flowers or a random pattern emerged under her hands, searing her brain. The hop flowers and deep brown vines intertwined, looping around each other, the tiny intricate stitches of each one a work of art.
Eli
. Lori shut her eyes as her ears buzzed loud and the room faded to grey, then black.

Chapter Six

A horse’s neighing and a man’s shouted orders in harsh accented German penetrated her consciousness. Struggling to sit and place herself, once again confused by the bright white walls and tidy order of the small room, she took a breath. Putting her hand down to her side she felt him. And somehow that made it better. Garrett. Still sleeping next to her.

She climbed from the bed and stared at herself in the small mirror over the heavy wooden chest of drawers. Her hair—she pulled her fingers through the curly brown strands. Since when was it this long and this dark? She usually had it lightened at least every other month. Stretching, and enjoying the forgotten sensation of having had a truly decent night’s sleep, she padded over to the small closet, found a little ceramic bowl with a lid and without a second thought, peed in it. She sat it back on the floor of the small bathroom, stood, and nearly fell over at the realization that she’d just used an early nineteenth century bathroom as if she did it every day.

After calming herself, she crept back into the bedroom and looked in one of the closets. Several dresses, each more luxurious than that last, hung there. Along with a set of clothes that were identical to the ones hanging nearby. Brown trousers, a cream colored shirt, suspenders, and man-like boots in her size. She touched them, trying to force her brain to make sense of this. The twining hop vine with deep green flowers shot across her brain. She gasped and pulled her hand back.

Strong arms held her. She turned, and let Garrett soothe her out her funk.

Later, he laid back and held her to his chest. “So my darling. Today you get your wish. I had the clothes made for you. Let’s get dressed and get to the brewery shall we?” Lori stared at him. His green eyes twinkled. “You wanted this my beautiful, stubborn woman. Allow me to make you happy with this, most unorthodox request.” He bounded up, spent a few moments in the small bathroom, then emerged. Tugging the strange clothes from the closet, he handed them to her. “Use the hat for your hair.”

Lori dressed, her body slow, lethargic after the shattering orgasm he’d coaxed from her—twice. The pants were itchy, the shirt soft, and too large for her. She put a hand to her stomach again. Wasn’t there something she needed to worry about? It hovered, just out of her reach then flitted away like a butterfly on a windowsill. She smiled as Garrett helped her tuck her newly long hair under the cap and followed him outside to the waiting car.

He hustled her in the back door of the brewery. “Stay with me,” he hissed. The place was ancient. And glorious. She sucked in deep breaths of yeast, raw wood, dark malts and bitter hops. Garrett narrowed his eyes at her, then smiled. “You are so sexy when you do that.” She pushed him away.

“I’m supposed to be a new brew boy, no? Better treat me like one.”

After several sweltering, back-breaking hours shifting malt bags, moving giant, scorching hot boulders from fire pit to underneath the mash tun Lori’s back and hands screamed for mercy. But it was exhilarating, such an extreme relief to be doing this, without questioning why or how or what she forced her mind to shut down and merely used her body. Finally, a hand settled on her shoulders as she rested between tasks.

“And how does my new brew boy like his work?” Garrett leaned into her. She stepped out of his reach.

“I’m exhausted. And I stink.” She wiped a shaking across her forehead. His eyes darkened with concern. “No. Don’t. I’m just a brew boy today, remember? But I will tell you, that concoction over there,” she pointed to a huge vat of boiling wort. The dark sugar water that resulted from malt and water combined smelled great, but it needed something. “Throw about five buckets of the hop flowers you’re collecting in the corner in it.” Garrett stepped back from her.