Paradise Hops (26 page)

Kristy sighed. “She’s an all or nothing girl Eli. Thought you knew that.”

“Yeah,” he draped the apron over the back of his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. “I’ll keep you posted.” A sharp yelp, and a crash followed by a loud mechanical sounding hum reached ears. “Gotta go. Sounds like a disaster.” He dropped the phone on the desk and ran out. Jace had his arms around Lori, holding her upright while the rest of the staff scrambled around to shut off a gush of what he suspected was glycol. Eli sprang into action.

“C’mon, help me get her to the shower.” He and Jace led her to the back hall. The caustic coolant covered her front, dripped off her hands. “What the fuck happened? Never mind, tell me later,” She tried to protest, then whimpered and slumped against him. Eli gripped her harder. “Hang on, Lori. We’re gonna get it off you.”

Jace stopped at the doorway. “What the hell man, help me!” He yanked at her shirt, tugged it over her head as the other man scurried into the shower and turned on the water full blast. “Now, go, call 911 while I get this shit off of her.” He hustled her back into the private shower area, pulled her under the spray ignoring the fact that he remained fully dressed and was now drenched. He ran his hands over her face terrified by her utter silence. “Honey? Lori? You okay? Talk to me.”

“C-c-c-cold,” her teeth chattered so he wrenched the hot water on higher. Steam filled the small room. The very room where they had first—
stop it,
he commanded himself. She raised her hands over her head and made a noise familiar to him and his poor aching cock. He looked down at her incredible body and let himself caress the tight skin across her belly, run his hand down and around it. Marveling at it as the water washed the glycol off her skin. “Touch me, Eli. Please.” She whispered so softly he thought he could have imagined it, but she cupped his face, leaned into him. “Kiss me.”

He brushed her dripping hair off her face. “No. I can’t, I shouldn’t. I….” But she cut him off, slanting her lips over his, the familiar taste of her like coming home. He groaned, cupped the back of her neck and held her close, felt her tongue, sucked on it, greedy, needy, his libido bursting open like an overripe watermelon.

 The noises they made were unmistakable but he didn’t care. He had her again, in his arms. He broke the kiss, cupped her full heavy breast on one hand, brushed a thumb over her nipple that was red and swollen. It peaked, and he lapped at it, reveling the changed taste of her, the incredible delicious newness. She braced herself, cupped her hand over his zipper. But he stopped, cradled her face between his hands. “Not here.” He whispered, licking her lips, still letting his hands roam all over the amazing beautiful mounds of her flesh.

“But, I need to,” she gripped his neck, and plunged her tongue into his mouth again, kissing with a force he forgot she had. “Now, Eli. Take me.” She unzipped him, fisted his raw cock in her hand, then turned, bracing her hands against the wall as the water sluiced over her back. He draped over her back, cupped her breasts. “Help me forget.” The words sliced through him like a sword. He stilled, hissed as she pressed her ass against his needy cock.

“Stop.” He stood, zipped himself up, using every last drop of will power not to plow into her, fuck her like a God-damned animal to relieve the pounding agony in his skull. Why not? She wanted it. Said it herself. But, no. “I’m not doing that.”

“Not doing what,” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust.

“I will not be the guy you fuck to forget the guy you loved.” He stepped out, his balls singing out with frustration. He reminded himself he didn’t have to be the nice guy here. She wanted it. He jerked the water off and handed her a towel, ignoring the anger building in her eyes. It was a look he knew well, now. “She’s in there,” he pointed when the EMT’s arrived. He pulled an extra set of clothes out his locker. “Good luck.” He took his aching head, cock and balls out of the room, out of the brewery and home; as far from her as he could get.

Chapter Four

Lori scowled at the woman in front of her. Let anger roil through her, possess her. She flinched as the baby did a slow roll, putting full pressure against every organ it could. Damn thing. “Are you all right?” The sales manager started around the back of the desk.

Lori held up a hand. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Numbers are good. I don’t know what the hell Eli is playing at down there, running out of the IPA, but that’s not your problem. You keep selling. I’ll handle him.”

“Well, okay, if you’re sure you don’t need anything.”

 Lori sat, motioning to the door. “I’m lugging around an eight pound bowling ball is all. Go on. I’m done.”

The girl stayed a minute, and Lori allowed herself a brief second of guilt for being such a cold bitch. Then clamped down on that. Being a cold bitch was all she had left now, apparently. Eli didn’t want her anymore, that was clear. Her face reddened at the memory of that scene in the shower. Bastard. He’d ignored her ever since.

“Lori?” Mrs. Anderson stuck her head around the door. “Um, Eli is asking us all to come down for something.” Lori felt her heart flutter, then the baby kicked her hard in the kidneys.

“Ow!” She stood, awkward and unwieldy. No wonder he had bolted from her. She was about as sexy as a snake digesting an egg. The older women tsk-tsked and held out a hand. “Why does he want us down there? I don’t feel like going,” She heard the whine creep into her voice and hated it. What she really didn’t want was to face him ever again.

“I think he has a surprise for you. For all of us.”

“Better not be announcing he’s leaving.”

The woman frowned, crossed her arms over her ample chest. Lori tried not to roll her eyes. “Lori Brockton, you have got to stop being such a bitch.”

Lori’s pulse raced as she stared at the woman who’d been a surrogate mother, aunt and sister to her at various times of her life. “What did you say?”

“You heard me young lady. These men around here are willing to tip toe around you, but by golly I’ve been pregnant, and I know you are going to survive this.” Her assistant held up a shaking hand. “No, don’t interrupt me. I know you miss Garrett. I know you loved him and are kicking yourself to death over losing him the way you did. But that does not give you permission to treat everyone around here like bags of shit dust.”

Lori clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, or saying something she’d regret. Mrs. Anderson went on. “You have been through so much. More than would make an average person buckle and give up. But you are a Brockton. You are not giving up. But I won’t let you ruin everything around you in the process.”

“I’m not ruining….”

The woman got right up in her personal space, put a hand on her shoulder and said words Lori would never forget. “You lost one man because you were being stubborn. Are you seriously considering losing another by being a bitch? Is it worth it to you, hurting him like that—constantly arguing, finding fault, reasons to fight? I don’t think it is. And you had better think hard about what you’re doing before it’s too late. Eli Buchanan is not about to leave Brockton Brewing, Lori. He loves you too much.”

Mrs. Anderson tucked Lori’s hand into the crook of her elbow. Lori let herself be led out the door, speechless in the face of the woman’s firm lecture. They met her dad coming down the hall and the three of them took the back steps down to the production floor. Lori’s eyes darted around, trying to find him. Needing to see him. The realization of this made her swallow past a hard lump of emotion lodged in her throat.

She had gone two nights now not dreaming of Garrett, not reliving every fight, every horrible, hurtful thing she’d ever said. The look in his eyes at the big proposal dinner, and those last fun conversations they’d had long distance were slowly fading. They all had worn a groove in her brain, and she was sick of them. She was so tired of trying to forget. She did want Eli to help her and not just with his body. And she’d screwed that up somehow, with her giant, protruding stomach. Oh, yeah, and her bitchy temper.

She clutched the railing, as a strange tightening flexed across her middle. “Hmmm….” She tried to breathe through it suddenly regretting all those skipped Lamaze sessions. Her friend Kristy, had berated her no end when she’d admitted to going to the first one but none of the others. She had no partner, anyway, so what was the damn point? And all those proud papas in the room made her want to cry, or punch them all in the nose.

Mrs. A stopped with her. “Hon? You okay?” She looked away.

“Yeah, probably one of those fake contractions. I’m good.”

“Well, stay close to me. Just in case.”

Lori nodded and the second her feet touched the concrete floor she saw him. His tall, broad shouldered form, the face, lips and hands she’d lusted after for months, had at her disposal for a few amazing days filled her senses. But she’d lost him, just like she lost everything else. She frowned but he kept smiling. When he pulled an unfamiliar six pack holder from behind his back, she gasped, and stumbled back. Everyone around them laughed and clapped; her father grabbed one of the bottles, popped open the lid and took a gulp. Lori stared at him. Eli looked at her, seeking her approval.

“What the hell is this?” She took the case from him. The familiar, standard Brockton emblem, the specific look they’d cultivated and demanded from every label and container was there. Along with the image of a dark blue suit. The words seared her brain: Paradise Hops: In loving memory of Garrett Hunter. She gasped. Her head felt light, her body heavy, too heavy.

The room narrowed to two people. Eli kept his face neutral. She opened her mouth, already regretting the words before she said them. “You have no right to do this. You should have asked. You can’t,” A sob ripped out of her then. Weeks and months of unshed, unwelcome tears gushed out, choking her. Hands gripped her arms, she wrenched away from them. “This.” She held up the six pack. “Is not your call. God damn it, Eli.” She spluttered, trying to move towards him, but her feet were stuck, frozen in place.

“Now, Lori, honey I think it’s lovely.” Her father began. She ignored him, kept her gaze pinned to Eli’s.

“You are a vile manipulator. You don’t get to do this behind my back.” She stomped away, cradling the six pack to her chest. “We need to talk,” She tossed over her shoulder, and climbed the steps the office area, not waiting for him to follow her.

After about ten minutes of deep breathing, of willing the damn kid to be still and stop beating her liver to death, then ten more of staring at the admittedly beautiful label, her anger had reached epic levels. Finally he ambled in, holding a bottle of the stuff. “You. Sit.” She pointed. He stood. She paced, trying to find words, no longer exactly sure why she was so furious. It was as if his presence in the room calmed her—which pissed her off all over again.

“Why do you hate me?” She demanded. She kept the six pack clutched in her hands. He stared at her.

“I don’t hate you, Lori.” Keeping his voice soft, as if dealing with a rabid animal or a drunk relative, he left plenty of distance between them. “Why would you think that?”

“You made me leave,” she kept a tight rein on the tears now. “That week. You didn’t want me. You just wanted to fuck. I thought…I mean…I was…,” she gulped. He stayed silent. “And, all you do is fight with me now. I’m trying to make this expansion work on
your
timetable. The one you and,” her voice broke. “You and Garrett developed. I want it to happen, but you keep arguing with me. Taking their side, anything you can to be contrarian.”

He took a breath. “Actually, if you think about it a second, you’ll realize that every time you walk in here lately you’re itching for a fight. I can’t say anything at all without getting my head ripped off.”

She let the now familiar fury grip her brain. “I’m trying to get shit done. For the brewery. Like you told me to. Like my father told me to. Forget about him, you said. Come to work, he said. Let it go. There’s work to be done. He’s gone. Get over it. So I do it.” She heard her voice rise, sensed her throat ache and realized she was yelling. “I do whatever I’m told. I’m not allowed to cry. I’m not allowed to miss him I’m not allowed to be sad. I just do this fucking job!” She flung the six pack at the wall, barely missing Eli’s head but for a quick duck to the left on his part. They both watched the brown glass shatter, the dark brew mark the wall and drip down. The lovely, thoughtfully produced project of Eli’s heart dissolved in a cardboard, glass and malty mess.

“You are such a child.” His voice roughened with emotion. “And as the token grownup in the room I will remind you that we,” he jabbed at his chest, “we miss him too. But we do that
and
work. We balance. We don’t take our unhappiness out on the people we work with. The people we love.” He glowered at her. She shrank back, then slumped into a chair. “Oh, no, you don’t get to faint, Lori. You’re way too fucking tough for that.” He pulled her up, kept his face inches from hers. She stuck her hands in her pockets to keep from reaching for him. Words kept coming from his mouth. “I’m sick of this. Sick of it. You are miserable. I realize what you’re trying to do and admire it but it’s not fucking working.” He bit the last of these words off with his teeth, spit them at her.