Sweat Equity: Stewart Realty, Book Two

by Crowe, Liz

  Chapter Twelve

  Sara worked her way through the throng at the Michigan/Michigan State football game tailgate party. Arbor Title always threw the biggest, most elaborate of these tented parties on the golf course opposite the Big House—Michigan Stadium—which seated over a hundred thousand people. The day promised picture perfect football weather. Sunny, about sixty-five degrees, just right for jeans and a sweatshirt. Sara got a beer from one of the bars and stood sipping and observing the crowd.

  Craig had clients that morning and said he hoped to show up about an hour before kickoff. While part of her was relieved she didn’t have to wrestle with her feelings about him versus Jack, she’d never felt more alone in a giant crowd of people, many of whom she considered friends. A heaviness settled over her. A gut deep unhappiness she knew could be remedied by one man, if she’d just allow it.

  But she couldn’t.

  Greg Stewart pulled her into a conversation with a few lenders, but her mind wandered. When he handed her a ticket to the game, she tucked it into her back pocket, thinking she’d likely skip it but thanked him anyway and moved away from the group.

  Blake and Rob stood on the other side of the tent, talking with some city council members. Blake looked like he’d lost weight and she didn’t much care for the dark circles under his eyes.

  At one point, he caught her gaze and lifted his glass in her direction. She smiled and blew a kiss. She’d been avoiding him for at least a week, she knew it. She started toward him, determined to clear the air between them, the unhealthy pallor of his skin making her berate herself for being so self-centered.

  The sound of Jack’s unmistakable laughter pierced her foggy brain, freezing her in her tracks. She turned, feeling like she was moving in slow motion, and the vision of him in full Michigan State regalia with the lovely Heather attached to him like a parasite greeted her. Her stomach lurched into her throat.

  Mine.

  No. Not anymore. And that was your choice. Live with it.

  She closed her eyes for a second.

  “Sara!” The sound of her friend Val’s voice broke through the haze of worry about her brother and fury at the sight of Jack with that woman. “Where’s Craig?”

  “Oh, um, he’s coming later. Had clients.” Her gaze kept creeping back to him—he stood tall, handsome, dressed in green, but so was half of the crowd. Ann Arbor was lousy with State alums. She boasted a degree from the hometown university and wore her block M proudly. Val put an arm around her.

  “You look like shit, sister. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. Sorry. Worried about Blake. Overworked, you know.”

  She moved away, unwilling to discuss how much her late night conversations with Jack kept her going. The one they’d shared the night before snuck its way into her consciousness.

  “I took Heather to a sex club last night.”

  She’d peppered her laptop screen with spit out tea before managing to ask, “A…what?”

  “The whole BDSM thing I was into once upon a time. She kept insisting I show her more. So I did.” She heard him sigh and felt a small tremor of relief. “I, um, never really told you much about that, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t.” She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to chill out and let her breathe. This was the crux of her issue with the man. His seeming unwillingness to let her in on any aspects of his life other than the ones that were right in front of them. Specifically, sex and his ongoing efforts to ensure her pleasure, his building project, and at one time, their impending wedding plans.

  “I wasn’t trying to keep you apart from anything important. Because it’s not important to me, not anymore.”

  “That’s not what it feels like.” She heard the edge creep into her voice but screw it. If this was how they got to some level of honesty, nightly by phone instead of face-to-face, so be it. “Well?” she asked after he’d stayed quiet a tad too long.

  “Oh. Okay then.” She was shaking but she got up to pace. “And BDSM? Seriously? I mean, what’s that about anyway?”

  And why didn’t you let me play at a sex club?

  “It was…something I did once with an old, ah, girlfriend. She was into it and so was Evan Adams, you know…”

  “Yes, I know him. He gave Blake his first head brewer’s job at Big House.”

  “Right. So I got into it in law school, thanks to the two of them. It was a buzz. Something different and…”

  “You spanked women to get off,” she stated as she stared out her window.

  “No, no it’s not that. And anyone who thinks that’s all it is, is a liar and an abuser.” He paused. “Actually, the kernel of the whole thing is the T word.”

  She frowned. “Temper? Titillation? Tits?”

  “No, my lovely little smart ass. Trust.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, so…I was trusted by a lot of women at one time. One in particular. But she screwed me over, hard. And after that, I stopped enjoying it. Evan and Julie are way into it still but I can see how it works, given their backgrounds.”

  She sat on the couch and curled herself under a blanket, thrilled to be getting this much out of him. Wondering where it might be taking them. Willing to let that happen. “So, you never thought I might want to go, you know, to a sex club?”

  “No. I didn’t. Because you don’t.” His response was clipped, firm, and final. Something about it turned her on. The grinned and shifted under the blanket and decided to shift the subject back to the apparently disastrous night with Heather.

  “I take it things didn’t go well with your date, then?”

  “No. It was…eye-opening in a lot of ways. I’m…” He stopped.

  Sara jumped into the silence. “Then why in the hell won’t you cut her loose? If you’re that miserable? I mean, unless she has such redeeming qualities that you can’t.” She let her voice fade. He could read between her lines. If he wanted to that is.

  He laughed, a slightly ugly sound that had made her wince. “Yeah, I’m calling it off. But I already promised her we’d go to this stupid game together.”

  “You’re stalling. For a guy who gets off on negotiation, and has dumped enough women to fill Michigan Stadium, you sure are being a pussy about Heather.”

  “Nice. And thanks for the moral support.”

  “Sorry. Blunt. That’s me.”

  “Yeah. I know. Anyway, I had to put her in a taxi and send her home from the club. It was a mess. Ever since, she’s been trying to apologize in various, um, ways. It’s annoying as shit.”

  She’d grinned into the phone. God, she wanted him. So much. Needed him like she needed to drink water to survive. And all of a sudden, the sound of his low, growly, familiar voice was making her as horny again.

  As if reading her damn mind, he asked, “Are you touching yourself, Sara?”

  She jerked her hand up from the southerly direction they indeed were headed. “I’m not having phone sex with you, Jack.”

  “I just asked a simple question.”

  She sighed, conflicted, frustrated and more turned on than she’d been since their last encounter.

  “Are you? Tell me, baby. I’ll gladly walk you through it.”

  The compulsion to do that, to let him bring her to orgasm with his voice nearly made her cry. She yanked her hand away, sat up, and wiped her eyes. “No. I’m not. I’m gonna go now. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow. At the tailgate.”

  “Yeah. Guess so. I sure would love to hear that sound you make again. The little squeaky one, right before you—”

  “Good night, Jack.”

  Sara mentally snapped back to the present, smiled at whoever stood in front of her, and made her way as far from Jack and his tall, exotic date as she could. Part of her thought he might be bullshitting about Heather, telling her one thing while living another. At one point, scalp tingling with recognition as she chatted with a few title company folks, she looked around and caught his deep blue gaze fixed
right on her. His half smile, wry, a little sad, made her clench her fists.

  Mine.

  No, not anymore. You let go of him for perfectly legitimate reasons.

  Craig made his way into the tent, which already teemed with hundreds of mostly drunk tailgaters, in various forms of blue and yellow or green and white. The ice luge was in full use, and he chuckled at the people accepting freezing cold shots of liquor at the bottom of the thing, amazed that grown adults would put their mouths on ice where so many others had put theirs. Gross. He grabbed a beer and a plate, starving but anxious to see Sara.

  He spotted her, just before getting sidetracked by a few lenders he’d been working with, shot the shit a while, ate a burger and downed a beer and a half, before looking around again. Arbor Title knew how to throw a party. The booze and food abounded, a DJ cranked it out, and five huge televisions tuned to pre-game festivities.

  “Craig.” The sound of his name made him turn. He grinned at the sight of the slight, redheaded woman he’d met at her beer bar.

  “Suzanne.” She gave him a one-armed hug. “Great to see you again.” He looked up to see two giant banners over the bar, one with “Big House Brewing,” the other “The Local.”

  “Dueling breweries, eh?” he said. She glanced back.

  “Oh, yeah, kinda. You’re empty.” She pointed to his bottle. “Let me grab you one.” He followed her, losing sight of Sara in the process as the crowd gained momentum and volume. Once reinforced, he sipped, elbow propped on the portable bar.

  “What got you into the beer business, anyway? You a brewer?”

  She laughed and leaned into him. Her proximity made his skin warm, but he knew she only did it so he could hear her over the ever-increasing din. “My late husband left me a huge wad of cash. I needed something to take my mind off the fact I had a late husband and I know how to sell stuff. Jack introduced me to Evan. The rest is history.” She took a sip, keeping her bright blue eyes on his.

  “Sorry. About the late husband, I mean. I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well…anyway…” Her eyes darkened briefly. “I brought my money to the Big House Brewing Company and haven’t looked back.”

  Craig smiled and put a hand on her shoulder, then removed it when he caught sight of Sara at the other bar, caught in an intense discussion with her brother. “Excuse me a minute.” His chest tightened at the sight of her, as it always did.

  Memory images of Sara’s body next to his, the night after the concert crowded his newly addled brain. He knew then she’d been a million miles away even as they made love. He’d held onto her all night long. Waking when he’d felt her tears drip onto his arm, when she thought he was asleep.

  What a mess. He should think about an exit plan.

  He wiped his face and let physical and emotional exhaustion steal over him. In between all the laughing drunken tailgaters, he got a clear view of Jack. The man had a tall, hot-looking brunette he knew as the infamous “Heather” attached to one arm, but was staring across the sea of people straight at Sara.

  Craig clenched his fists and moved closer, ignoring the warning hand Suzanne put on his arm.

  “Jesus, Blake, I’m allowed to be in the same room with the guy. We fucking work together!” he heard her yelling.

  Suzanne tightened her grip, stopping Craig in his tracks. “Wait,” she told him. “She needs to say this.” Suzanne stood close enough that he could smell the subtle floral of her perfume. “Blake has got to let go of the big brother overprotectiveness or he’s gonna make everyone crazy. Poor guy.”

  She sighed and leaned into him, making him startle but giving him the chance to do exactly what he wanted, to put what he hoped seemed like a familiar, comfortable arm around her small frame. That was the moment Sara looked over at them, bit her lip, and whirled away. Blake followed her gaze, frowned at him, and slammed back the rest of his beer. Rob was nowhere in sight.

  “I played a part in creating that mess.” Suzanne’s voice stayed low. “I loved him, once. A lot. But he… it wouldn’t work. I felt like a predator most of the time. And it came at the most totally fucked up moment in my life. He saved me, on many levels. But I had to cut him loose.”

  “He loved you, too?” Craig surprised himself with this. He hardly knew this woman. What about it was his business anyway? But it felt natural to ask, as if she wanted him to.

  “Yes. It had to end. So… I ended it.” She stepped out from under his arm. “You should go find her. She’s in an incredibly tough place right now. Jack has a way of bringing out the worst in people.”

  To his utter amazement, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed soft lips to his before turning and walking toward Blake.

  What in the hell just happened?

  He took a breath and dove into the crowd, which had turned into mostly a mass of people dancing to cranked-up tunes, to find Sara. His head swirled with a bizarre combination of sudden need for Suzanne’s calm presence and insight and the intense desire to fix this thing for Sara and walk away from her.

  Jack held his breath and let Heather grip his arm as they ducked into the tent full of colleagues, lenders, title company flunkies, his brewery friends, and the one woman he wanted to see more than he wanted to eat his next meal. He found her within a few seconds, standing at the opposite end of the blue and yellow tent. He swallowed hard, turned his attention back to his date, the woman he had to have a serious conversation with later, after the game. The scene she’d made in the club had only solidified his resolve. The intimate chat he’d had with Sara the night before had turned it into a hard goal for today.

  He was done with Heather.

  He wanted Sara back and was bound and determined to figure out a way to convince her of it.

  “Don’t drink too much,” he muttered under his breath to her. She glared at him and sipped the bloody Mary someone had handed her, tightening her grip on his arm. He sighed, grabbed a bottle of water, looked up, and locked eyes with Sara. Raising his drink, he smiled, using every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from shucking Heather off his arm, running over to Sara, picking her up and carrying her out of this loud, annoying place.

  She turned away, though, chatting with someone he didn’t recognize, so he refocused, reminding himself he still had great seats to what promised to be an exciting football game. Heather looked up at him but kept her proprietary hand on his upper arm.

  Within an hour, anxiety buzzed so loud in his brain he could hardly stand still. He’d shaken Heather off at some point and stood alone among the sea of people, unable to locate Sara anymore.

  Get a grip, goddamnit. You know what to do. Dump the crazy bitch, go to the game, then take Sara out for dinner, back to your house, into your bed.

  Yeah. Easy as that.

  He rolled his head around, releasing some tension in his neck, and sipped the beer he’d been nursing, wanting to keep his wits about him if at all possible. Hiding behind a buzz of alcohol had become too easy. He had to get control of himself. Then, he could control what happened next, could focus on his goal. He’d slipped, badly, after Sara left him. He’d coasted back into bad habits, including the tall, dark one who was getting drunk off her ass over by the vodka and Red Bull bar.

  A commotion by one of the beer bars caught his attention. Before he knew what happened, he’d made his way there and stood in a strange tableau with the woman he loved yelling at her brother to leave her alone and to let her live her life, while her current boy-toy remained opposite the scene, staring daggers into his chest. Suzanne appeared at Craig’s elbow, whispered in his ear, and seemed to calm him down.

  Now that is a strange turn of events.

  He watched the blonde man take a step toward Sara and felt something rise in his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

  Mine.

  Taking his own step into the fray, he caught Blake’s eye, but stopped when Sara moved away from her brother and held out both arms.

  “Dear God, all of you, just leave me alone
. I don’t need this right now. You.”—She pointed at Blake. “You mind your own fucking business for a change. And you.” She glared at Craig, “You stop trying to convince me you know what’s best for me. And you.” Jack crossed his arms when her eyes met his. “You—just, oh fuck it.”

  She dropped her arms and walked out, leaving an empty void between the three men, who stood staring at each other.

  Suzanne put her hand on Craig’s arm, whispered something in his ear, then, to Jack’s utter amazement, gave the guy a quick kiss. With a dazed look, the other man nodded and started after Sara. Jack felt the possessiveness smothering him again but had no interest in a pissing match. He quashed it best he could and watched while Suzanne put an arm around Blake’s shoulder. Glancing around, he realized Rob had left the tent completely and made a mental note to find out what the hell was going on with him and Sara’s brother.

  God save us from this small town/big city drama.

  Jack turned and headed back into the crowd, ignoring everyone around him, seeking the bright yellow cap she was wearing, determined to find her and try to calm her down, while all the while a small voice inside reminded him that she didn’t want to be helped. She’d said so herself. But he firmly believed that he knew better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sara pushed blindly through the crowd, letting herself get buffeted, hugged, and ass slapped on her mission to escape. Holding back tears, she wrenched free of the hands clutching her.

  Air. She needed air.

  The opening at the far end promised sunlight and freedom. She made a beeline for it, sucking in huge gulps of oxygen. If one more person touched her, gave her advice about her life, or even looked at her, she’d scream.