Real Men Will. Victoria Dahl
TWENTY
BETH CANTRELL HADN’T thought about him in almost six months.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
Beth cleared her throat and shifted, glancing around as if everyone in the brewery could feel the lie she was telling herself.
The truth was that she’d thought about Jamie Donovan plenty of times. She’d remembered the hour or two they’d shared, she’d fantasized about what might’ve happened if she’d stayed the whole night in that hotel room.
But in the past six months, she’d never once let herself think about seeing him again. She hadn’t considered calling him or making contact in any way. That had been their agreement, after all. One night. One time. No strings attached and no expectations. She’d had to abide by that, because she would never have let herself meet him in that hotel room otherwise.
He wasn’t her type. He wasn’t part of her social circle. And she definitely wasn’t part of his. Beth Cantrell managed the White Orchid, the premiere erotic boutique in Boulder. Her friends were her employees: women she loved like sisters. They were bold and powerful and sexually progressive. And they dated people like themselves: tattooed, pierced, educated and cool. Absolutely cool, even when they’d only reached the pinnacle of cool by being so incredibly nerdy that they actually circled around to cool again.
Beth, on the other hand, wasn’t cool. She was just… Beth. But that was okay, because she was their manager and they loved her, and they did their best to pull her into their sphere. They fixed her up with guys. Friends of theirs. Men they knew and liked. Men who were cool and hip and progressive. And not one of those guys had ever pushed her buttons the way Jamie had.
She still flushed when she thought about him in his tidy polo shirt and khaki pants. His wide white smile and broad shoulders. He’d looked even better in a business suit. The perfect vision of middle-class preppy beauty. And Beth had wanted him so much it hurt.
They’d been strangers, despite this small town. But in that hotel room, with the promise that it would happen only once…the isolation of the act had made it safe. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
And right in the middle of the first good date she’d had in years.
“Hey,” her date said as he waved a hand in front of her face. “You okay?” He smiled, taking any sting from the words.
“Sorry.” Before she’d started thinking about Jamie, her date had been talking about…something. She racked her brain. Something artsy and important about Robert Mapplethorpe’s early career.
“I’m really sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until the glass of beer hit me. I’m not usually so rude.”
He smiled in a way that told her he hadn’t taken offense. “I’m glad you didn’t mind coming to the party with me. Faron and I have been friends for years. I didn’t want to miss it. And I figured you knew her, too.”
“Yes, we have mutual friends.” The party wasn’t the problem. Or the guest of honor. The problem was that Beth had had no idea the party would be at Donovan Brothers Brewery. Not until her date had pulled into the parking lot, and Beth’s heart had sunk to her toes.
It wasn’t his fault that the party he’d decided to take her to just happened to be at Donovan Brothers.
She’d spent the forty-five minutes since scanning the line of customers and servers at the bar, but Jamie wasn’t there. It was pure luck on her part. Jamie Donovan was an owner of the brewery, but he was also a notoriously friendly bartender. Or so she’d heard. When she’d spent time with him, he’d struck her as serious and intense.
She didn’t want to see him again like this. Didn’t want him to think she’d bring another man to his brewery. She kept expecting Jamie to walk by at any moment, and she couldn’t think past the torture of that.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” she blurted out. She watched as her date took a beer from the waitress, giving her a warm, open smile as he said thank-you.
“Do you want me to order you another beer while you’re gone?” he asked Beth.
“No, thank you….” Her mouth hung open for a moment. Oh, God, she’d forgotten his name. Yes, it was their first date, but he’d been so nice. “No, thank you,” she repeated, grabbing her clutch purse and sliding out of her chair so quickly that she nearly stumbled. “I’ll be right back.”
Unfortunately, she had to walk past the bar to get to the restroom, and her knees felt as if they wanted to buckle under her weight. She scanned the bar, noting that the guy behind the tap was the same slender young man she’d spotted before. Then her eyes raced over the whole room again, her heart drumming a terrified beat.
He wasn’t here, thank God. When she reached the short hallway that led to the bathrooms, she nearly broke into a run. She pushed open the door, said a quick prayer of thanks that the bathroom was empty and pressed her hand over her eyes.
“He’s not even here,” she told herself.
Once her heart had stopped its mad gallop, she set her purse on the counter and washed her hands in cold water. The icy shock made her feel better. “It’s going to be fine,” she whispered, trying to convince herself that she was ready to go back out. But when Beth met her own wide eyes in the mirror and saw just how pale her face was, she knew she’d need a few more minutes.
She put her hands on the sink and leaned closer. “It’s going to be fine,” she repeated.
Two minutes, and then she’d walk out with her head high and her heart back in the right place. And she wouldn’t think about Jamie Donovan again tonight.
GOD SAVE HIM FROM THE sexually liberated.
Eric Donovan crossed his arms and frowned at his shoes, trying to process what he’d just heard from his brewmaster. “Wallace, I don’t understand. Faron is here with her husband. Her husband. How can you be upset about that? She’s married to the man.”
“He’s a philandering scoundrel!” Wallace yelled, shaking his fist toward the front room of the brewery as his face flooded red with rage.
A scoundrel? Eric ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. They have an open marriage. As a matter of fact, you’re dating Faron, so how can her husband be cheating on her?”
Wallace Hood, a bearded giant of a man who looked like he went home to a log cabin every night, gave Eric a look of prim horror. “I’m not dating her, man. I’m in love with her. And of course her husband can cheat on her. Don’t be an idiot.”
Eric probably should’ve felt irritated at being called an idiot, but he was too confused by the conversation. He glanced around the tank room of the brewery as if someone else could help. But they were alone amongst the brewing tanks and mash tuns. Eric shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t get it.”