Real Men Will. Victoria Dahl
“Damn it,” she whispered. She turned and faced away from him, eyeing her office as if it was sanctuary. But it wasn’t a very effective hiding place. She would have to unlock the front door in twenty minutes when the store opened, and Eric didn’t look like he was going anywhere.
She glanced down at her clothes, happy she hadn’t pulled on leggings and a sweatshirt this morning, as she’d been tempted to do. Instead she was wearing dark jeans and black patent heels. At least she could look good while she glared at him.
She took one deep breath before she turned around and strode toward the door. Eric didn’t smile or gloat. He simply watched her solemnly.
The lock slid quietly free, when she’d been hoping it would crack like a whip. “What do you want?” she asked through the small space she’d opened.
“I hoped we could talk.”
“No.”
“Please,” he pressed. “I know there’s no excuse, but I’d still like to explain. To apologize. Anything.”
He looked tired. And miserable. And still obnoxiously handsome in his cargo pants and black polo shirt. His gray-blue eyes held hers, as if he wanted her to see his sincerity.
And damn it, she could see it.
“Fine,” Beth snapped. “You can come in. But only for a minute. I’m working.” She opened the door wide to let him through and, as he passed, the faint scent of his soap hit her hard. Her knees actually went weak, as if she were leaving his bed again, her body limp with satisfaction.
She touched the door handle to ground herself in the present, then clicked the lock shut again.
She found him standing just a few feet inside, looking over the store as if it were a strange land he’d never visited. True enough, she supposed. The other brother was the one who’d come to the store with a girl.
For a moment, she just waited for him to turn around again, but as she shifted, crossing her arms and then uncrossing them, she realized she felt too vulnerable. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Didn’t know if she should look casual or tense or aggressive. So Beth walked past him and moved around the glass countertop to her normal station next to the cash register. It felt better to have two feet of counter between them.
Eric seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the back-to-school display. Admittedly, it was a little different from most. The mannequin was dressed in a white button-down shirt and a short black skirt, and she held a ruler in one hand as she peered above the tops of her black glasses. But the other hand held a whip, and her platform shoes were adorned with five-inch metal heels. Beth especially liked the shiny red apple that was perched on top of the sex-ed books at her feet. It was cute and wicked at the same time, but Eric looked only stunned.
Beth cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” he said, swinging around to her. “I mean, I’m sorry about everything. And how you found out.”
She kept as little emotion in her eyes as possible, unwilling to be vulnerable for him again.
Eric took a step forward and set his hands opposite hers on the counter. For a moment he seemed distracted by the piercing jewelry beneath the glass, or maybe it was the metal cock rings, but then he shook his head. “I can’t really explain why I didn’t tell you my real name. It doesn’t make any sense. It was wrong, and I knew it at the time.”
“But you didn’t care.”
“It didn’t feel real. I don’t mean you, of course,” he said quickly. “You felt… Yeah.”
Her lips started to tilt up, so she pressed them together.
Eric cleared his throat. “But it was all a fantasy, wasn’t it? I’m not the kind of guy who meets a beautiful woman and invites her to a hotel room. It felt like I was someone else.”
“Your brother?”
He winced. “No. Just not myself.”
She wanted to hate him. She did hate him. But she also knew what he meant. She wasn’t the type of woman who slept with a man just a few hours after meeting him. Not that she’d admit that to Eric.
“You look more like an Eric,” she said.
“Do I?”
Beth shrugged. “You can go now,” she said icily, determined not to give in to the twinge of understanding she felt for him.
Silence hung heavy for a moment, and then he nodded. “All right. But I wasn’t playing a game. I don’t want you to feel I made a fool out of you.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t,” he said quickly.
“Oh, I know you didn’t. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
His eyes widened in alarm. “Of course! I didn’t mean to imply—”
“You made a fool out of yourself, Eric Donovan,” she said past a tight jaw. “I’m fine. I’m great.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know you are.” His head bowed, but when Beth took a step back, he looked up again. The lines around his eyes looked deeper. “Thanks for letting me in. I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“I am.”
“Good.” He left then, unlocking the door and offering a grim wave as he slipped out. Beth just stood there as he left and told herself she was glad she’d never see him again. He was a liar and a cheat, and he didn’t deserve her attention.
Unfortunately, she knew from experience that he might still get it.
TALKING TO HER HADN’T helped.
Oh, maybe his conscience was very slightly appeased, but now Beth was in his head, stuck there like a spirit exacting its revenge.
Returning to the brewery didn’t help, either. Tessa gave him a thumbs-up and a big smile, which made him feel like a wayward kid. And Jamie ignored him completely, which made Eric want to shove him and start a fight, just so they’d be interacting.
Eric had always been the mature one. Hell, when their parents were killed, he was only twenty-four, but he’d taken on the responsibility of his teenage siblings and the brewery, and he’d done it well. There’d been no partying, no vacations and very little dating in the thirteen years since then.
He’d worked. And he’d parented. And he’d set a good example. He’d done what he needed to do, despite the fact that he’d felt inadequate and scared to death the whole damn time.
But something had gone wrong in the past couple of years. Very wrong. His skin felt as if it had started shrinking, squeezing everything too tight inside his body. And his skull felt too small as well; he wore that tension like a helmet, making it hard to think. He felt…panicked. Which made no sense.
Despite the deal with the Kendall Group falling through, not to mention the trouble that had come after, things were going great. Profits had risen six percent for each of the past four years. A nice, steady growth. Jamie had finally grown up and was taking on new responsibilities. Tessa was happier than ever. And they were all finally getting along. Everything was good. And Eric felt…lost.
He’d lost his hold, somehow. He’d lost control. The plans to expand the brewery into a restaurant were not part of Eric’s plans, but he couldn’t say no. They were partners, after all, he and Jamie and Tessa. Equal. And yet Eric wasn’t equal. Not in his mind. And maybe not in theirs, either. Because he wasn’t a Donovan. Not really. It felt like the worst sort of injustice that their dad had left him an equal part of the Donovan business, a cruel joke that Eric was the one to lead the brewery for so long.
Because, despite all the wonderful things he’d done for Eric, despite the role he’d filled, Michael Donovan hadn’t been Eric’s real father.
Eric