Real Men Will (17 page)

“I
T’S GOING TO HAVE TO BE
replaced,” the mechanic said as he poked at the rotor. “It’s throwing the whole system out of whack.”

That didn’t sound like a strictly scientific diagnosis to Eric, but he grunted and nodded. “Fine. How long?”

“Five days.”

“
Five days?
Are you kidding me?”

“It’s coming from New Jersey.”

“On what? Horseback? Can’t you rush it?”

“That is a rush.”

“Jesus,” Eric spat. “Do you know how much this is going to screw up my distribution schedule?”

The mechanic shrugged.

“Why didn’t you see it the first time you were poking around in here? Or the second?”

The guy shrugged again, and Eric immediately decided to call someone else next time. Someone with a goddamned work ethic. “Order the part,” he growled before slamming out of the bottling room.

“What’s up?” Tessa asked when Eric stalked into the kitchen.

“The line’s down for five days. We’ll have to ramp up keg production.” His mind was already rearranging schedules. “Once the bottling is back up, we won’t have time for kegs, so we’ll stockpile them now. As it is, two grocery store orders will be late. Goddamn it, when is Wallace coming back?”

“Leave him alone. He’s rescuing his true love.”

“True love and Wallace Hood. God save us all.”

The mechanic emerged and sneaked out the back door without another word.

“I hate that guy,” Eric muttered. He glanced down at Tessa’s hands, which were wrist-deep in flour. “What are you doing?”

“Making pizza dough.” She tilted her head toward the oven. “The oven’s hot enough.”

“Where’s Jamie?”

“He’s running an errand. So…” She pushed down on the dough and flipped it over onto the floured surface. “Where were you this morning?”

“In bed,” he snapped.

“Ah. But whose bed?”

“Mine.”

“That’s weird, because I called your home phone first.”

“I was sleeping,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

He wanted to walk away, but he was afraid Tessa would take that as a sign of guilt, so instead he reached for the tray of glasses that had just emerged from the washer.

“You know,” Tessa drawled as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Now that I know you have a personal life—”

“I don’t,” he cut in.

“—I’m seeing you in a whole new light. I kind of wonder if I’ve been missing things all these years.”

“There’s nothing to miss.” He sighed.

“Oh, really?”

Eric shoved a dirty tray in and started to brush past his sister, but she reached out and grabbed his arm.

“So what’s this?” she asked. “A whole lot of nothing?”

Eric glanced at his arm, already shaking his head in denial, but then he saw the marks. Four perfect red crescents where Beth’s nails had bitten in. Not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to leave vivid evidence.

“Unruly customer,” he said quickly.

“My God, you’re really bad at lying.”

He jerked his arm away. “Some of us haven’t spent years sneaking around.”

“Just months?” she asked with a smile of triumph.

“No. You’re way off base with this one.”

“Nice try. Those are nail marks on your arm, Eric Donovan, and you were
not
at home this morning. You’re still sleeping with her!”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would she want anything to do with—?”

The doors to the front room swung open with a dramatic whoosh of air.

“Well, well, well,” Jamie drawled, strolling in like the Cheshire cat.

Eric rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. Another smart-ass sibling causing trouble. “Whatever you’re about to say, drop it,” Eric warned. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Drop it?” Jamie crowed. “How could I drop the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen?”

Eric glanced at Tessa, who shrugged. “Is it something to do with the new oven?”

“It’s at five hundred fifty and going strong!” Tessa chirped.

Jamie’s smile widened. “Oh, no. It’s not that. Not at all.”

“All right.” Eric sighed. “The bottling line is down for five days. My brewmaster is missing in action. And you’ve got to find a chef. We’ve got shit to do, so if you could just give us the big news already, that would be great.”

Jamie just grinned for a few more heartbeats. Then he said, “So I went into the White Orchid today.”

Eric groaned, though his ears were filled with the strange, muffled squeal that came from Tessa’s direction.

“Dude,” Jamie said, laughing. “Dude,
seriously?
”

“I know, right?” Tessa gasped.

“Wait.” Jamie looked at Tessa. “You knew about this?”

“I just found out!”

“And you didn’t tell me our brother was a goddamned rock star?”

Tessa shook her head, but she clapped her hands at the same time. “He swore me to secrecy! I wanted to tell you!”

“That’s enough,” Eric snarled.

“Oh, no,” Jamie answered. “No, it’s not nearly enough. You went out with the manager of the White Orchid and
you didn’t tell me?
”

Tessa bounced up and down. “He’s still seeing her!” she blurted out.

“Goddamn it, Tessa!” Eric roared.

She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she squeaked from behind her fingers.

Jamie shook his head. “No shit? Man, it’s always the quiet ones who surprise you.”

Eric’s face felt so hot he expected it to melt off at any moment. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the lie sat like clay in his throat. He wasn’t ashamed of her. It wasn’t that at all. He just…wanted her for himself.

“I went to apologize,” he said quietly. “Just like you told me to, Tessa. Then she called me about Monica Kendall. That’s it. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal,” Jamie countered.

“Come on.” Eric put up his hands in surrender. He saw Tessa’s gaze shift immediately to his scratched wrist, so Eric dropped his hands. “Even if…even if I… She’s just a regular girl.”

Jamie shook his head. “I seriously doubt that.”

Tessa giggled and Eric was pretty sure his face turned from red to purple. “I’m obviously not still seeing her,” he snapped. “Do you think she’d see me again after I lied to her?”

Tessa’s face fell. “I guess not.”

Jamie slapped his shoulder. “One time or twenty, I take back everything I ever said about you. Everything. Even the part about you being an asshole for using my name. If I’d known you were using it for—”

Eric pushed past him and headed for his office. He closed the door so he couldn’t hear them talking, but the low murmurs still filtered through the wood. He should’ve run to the tank room instead, but it was too late now. He sure as hell wasn’t heading back into the kitchen.

He didn’t know why it panicked him that they knew about Beth. It didn’t feel like modesty or embarrassment. It felt like
greed.
This was his and his alone. Something that had nothing to do with Jamie or Tessa or anyone else, for once. Something that belonged to him, no matter what his name was or who people wanted him to be.

Feeling only slightly calmer, Eric popped open his cell phone and tapped Beth’s name. “You could’ve warned me,” he said when she answered.

“About what?”

“My brother.”

“Oh,” she said. Then, “Oh, no! I completely forgot.”

“You
forgot?
”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got a dozen things going on at the store. And… Oh, Eric. I know you didn’t want anyone else to know.”

He couldn’t be mad at her. After all, she was being pretty damned accepting of the secrecy. And the Donovan family wasn’t her problem. Eric sighed and leaned against the door. “It’s okay. It was your turn to forget this time.”

“I’m so sorry. What did he say?”

“What you’d expect him to say, I guess.”

“What’s that? I’ve always kind of wondered.”

“Wondered what?” Eric asked.

“What people say about me.”

Eric shook his head. “I wouldn’t let him say anything about you. That’s not the way we were raised. But he did call me a rock star.”

“Yeah?” He could hear the smile in her voice. “That sounds about right.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious,” she said, her words softer now. “You certainly fucked like a rock star last night.”

Eric’s face flushed hot again, but this time there was nothing unpleasant about it. In fact, the heat felt damn good as it sank down through his body. “That was all you,” he murmured.

“Oh, no. Not even close.”

He tried to think of something witty to say. Or something sexy. Or just a few words that might make sense when strung together. But his brain had gone into Neanderthal mode at the husky appreciation in her voice.

“You make me forget things,” she said. “Everything I worry about, I can’t worry about it with you.”

“What do you worry about? Is there trouble in erotic paradise?”

“Yeah,” she said on a laugh. “Yeah, there definitely is.”

Eric felt his smile fade. “What’s wrong?” He wished he was still in her bed, talking to her about this. Wished they could just be quiet and serious together. But she didn’t trust him, and as the silence grew, he knew she wasn’t going to answer.

“I wish we could start over,” he said softly. “You can trust me. Everyone counts on me, you know.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t trust anybody,” she said.

It could have sounded like bravado or defensiveness. But Eric heard the quiet truth in the words. “Why?”

He heard movement on her end, the ebb and flow of sound as if she was walking, then he heard a door open and quiet birdsong floated through the phone. Beth sighed. “Because you can’t ever really trust anyone, can you?”

Eric closed his eyes and paged through his memories, trying to find a way to convince her. But maybe she was right. He loved his sister, but she’d told him plenty of lies, trying to protect him. And Jamie—they’d been brothers for twenty-nine years, yet sometimes Eric felt that he hardly knew Jamie at all. But there were some people who never faltered. “Your dad,” he said. “He’s someone you can trust.”

She was quiet for a dozen heartbeats. Birds trilled their daylight songs. Eric was just starting to smile, thinking he may have convinced her, when she let her breath out on a quiet sigh. “No,” she whispered. “Not even him.”

His heart stuttered at the sadness in her voice. Eric didn’t understand. He thought of the polite man he’d met. The man who’d held Beth’s hand and gone to so much trouble to bring his wife just the dessert she’d wanted. “What do you mean?” But he knew she wouldn’t answer. She was telling him that she couldn’t.

“Who do you trust?” she asked instead.

“I trusted my mom,” he answered with complete honesty. “And I trusted Michael Donovan.”

“Michael Donovan? Your dad?”

“Yes. My dad.” Not his father, but his dad. The only real dad he’d ever had.

“Was he a good guy?”

“The best.”

“You said it was a car accident?”

Eric opened his eyes and stared at the far wall of his office. “Yes. They were both killed instantly.”

“And afterward, you stepped in?”

“I tried.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“It was…” Eric tried to find the right words. He always knew what to say about it, knew how to deflect attention away, because for years everyone in Boulder had known the story. Everyone had known who Eric was trying to fill in for and how impossible it was, for so many reasons. “It was…” It was what had needed to be done. What his brother and sister had needed. What had been expected, even as people pretended it was heroic. It was… “Terrifying,” he finally said.

“I’m sure,” Beth responded as if he’d said something perfectly normal.

But she didn’t understand what he meant. Sure, he’d been scared he would screw things up. But more than that… “I wished there was somebody else. Anybody else.” Jesus. He’d said it. He’d finally said it. The truth. The words hovered out there, just past his mouth. He could feel them waiting to crash around him. “I didn’t want to take any of it on. My sister heard me say that once, when she was young. So maybe you’re right.”

“About what?” she whispered.

“I was supposed to save her, but I became just another person she couldn’t trust.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “You did your best.”

“We’re all doing our best.”

“Oh, Eric,” she said with a small, sad laugh. “That’s absolutely not true. And I might not trust you, but I can tell you’re a nice guy when you say things like that.”

Nothing had crashed. She hadn’t run away screaming. She still thought he was a nice guy.

Beth Cantrell was a fool, but he liked her. A lot.

Eric could hear the sounds of the brewery past his door. His sister was laughing. Jamie gave a shout of triumph. They were probably loading a pizza into the oven right now, both of them excited about the future of the restaurant. And all he could feel was resentment, because he didn’t belong here. He was a placeholder, and placeholder was only a temporary position.

“I’m not really Eric Donovan,” he said.

The sound of an engine roared over Beth’s side of the line. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing. Are you working all day?” He was supposed to be off, and Jamie and Tessa were going to spend all day baking pizzas and trying to pull him into the fun. “Can I see you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“When?” Eric held his breath, and for a long time, she said nothing. How many times were they going to do this? A dozen? A hundred?

Finally, Beth cleared her throat. “Meet me at my place in an hour.”

Eric hung up, still holding his breath. As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he emptied his lungs on a long, careful sigh. Beth Cantrell was his hobby. She was like yoga and meditation and a workout all rolled into one.

The truth was, day off or not, he should be working until midnight. He had to clean up this distribution mess, plus he was covering Wallace’s duties as well as his own. Eric had more than enough to fill up the whole damn week, Sunday included. But instead of calling to apologize to the two grocery store accounts that weren’t going to get their shipments, Eric sat down at his desk and pulled up Beth’s column.