by Liz Crowe
She stepped up into the brewery, holding up the superficial chain barrier between it and the Tap Room. He ducked under and listened as she launched into what was obviously a well-practiced spiel. He sipped, looked around , and pointed to a glass jar of small candies. “Hey, are those M&Ms?” He walked over to a tall, makeshift worktable.
She followed him putting her hand over his when he started to take the lid off the giant container. “No, Reese’s Pieces, thanks.” He looked at her, loving the feel of her palm on his hand. “They’re mine. I’m an addict.” She shrugged and stepped away.
“So give me the real story here Suzanne. I mean, you guys are successful, rolling in dough, expanding twice inside ten years. All is great?” He lifted the lid and scooped a handful of the peanut butter candies despite her not inviting him to help himself.
She sighed and held out her hand. He put one chocolate covered morsel in it. She glared at him, ate it, and leaned back on a long, low stainless steel table. She seemed to relax, for the first time since he’d arrived, and drop her façade of business woman in control. He leaned with her, gave her a few more candies. “It sucks sometimes, but I wouldn’t do anything else. I love it.”
“It sucks. And you love it.” He mused, crunching down on the chocolate peanut butter confection. “Damn I haven’t had these in years. I forgot how good they are.”
“I know,” she said, holding her hand. “So, Craig, why are you here, really? You obviously don’t give a shit about my standard brewery tour.”
He seized up a half a second, then pushed away from the table and grabbed more candy from the jar. “How do you work here anyway? With these damn things around all the time…Jesus.” He popped a few more in his mouth.
She joined him, perched on a backless stool nearly right under his arm. He started to move away from her, but then didn’t. She took a few more peanut butter morsels, then put the lid back on the jar. “I have to keep it stocked, that’s the only rule. Because I eat the most of them, I guess. You gonna answer my question, or what?”
He draped his arm around her shoulder and they munched on candy like little kids. “I came to see you,” he said suddenly, needing her to know.
She leaned her head against his chest. “I’m glad you did.”
He startled out of the memory when someone jostled him from behind at the traffic light. He joined the cattle call and crossed the street, ducking between the fences at the corner of the golf course. He saw the giant yellow tent not too far away. Exhaustion stole over his brain, but he kept going. He was supposed to meet Sara. They were going to the game and then to dinner and then…he sighed, wondering what the fuck he was doing with her anyway.
By the time he entered the loud tent, the party was well underway. He found some food that he desperately needed, snagged a beer and leaned on the bar at the Big House station right next to The Local, Blake and Rob’s brew pub. He looked around as he ate and drank while he sought her out—the redhead. When she showed and they chatted, it felt like the most natural thing in the universe to be here, with her, laughing and talking. When she mentioned an ex-husband and money to invest in the brewery, he didn’t push for the whole story. He’d never in his life felt such a compelling need to go slow. Until now.
Then a commotion nearby caught his eye. Sara, arguing with her brother. Suzanne put a hand on his arm as he started to move towards her.
“I created that mess in some ways. I loved him. A lot. But he…it wouldn’t work.”
He stared at her a minute, then over at the argument between Sara and her brother. “And how did he feel about you?”
“He loved me too. And he was crucial to my functioning at a really shitty time.” She moved away from him, sipped her beer, and he sensed a barrier dropping over her— and between them. “But it had to end. So, I ended it. Go find her. She’s in a tough place right now. Jack has a way of doing that to people, unfortunately. He’s not a bad guy, really. I don’t know how he gets himself tangled up like this but....” She walked away without another word.
Craig straightened up, finished his beer, and followed Sara out. Unsure what he was doing, why he was doing it, or what the hell he could do to help her. He took one last look around, seeking Suzanne without realizing it. He saw her engaged in conversation elsewhere. He ducked outside, heard angry words, and faced the serious reality of the Jack/Sara connection as he stared at the women caught in the bullshit drama moment.
His eyes darted between Sara and Heather, the woman Gordon had been fucking around with since Sara had broken off their engagement. He heard her drunken and tearful accusations about Sara and Jack talking “every night” and how she, Heather, was with him in his bed, not Sara. He walked away. He’d heard enough. Then turned at one point and doubled back, his temper boiling, needing to confront Sara once and for all. Even as he kissed her, the words she’d said burned a hole in his brain: “You don’t love me Craig. You love the idea of me not with Jack.” She stalked away in the opposite direction from the loud party leaving him standing, empty handed, heavy hearted and pissed as hell.
He ducked back into the tent, found beer, then another, and another. Someone handed him a water bottle. He looked up and blearily focused on Suzanne. She smiled, sat with him a while and let him rant about Sara. Then after he’d downed three waters she got up, keeping her hand on his arm.
“You have to purge her Craig. She’s Jack’s. She always will be. I’ve known him a long time, and I can tell this is what is meant to be for them both. Do whatever you must, but get her out of your system.”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he stood holding her close before she could slip away. He refused to screw up his friendship with this amazing woman by thinking he needed anything more from her. No way. Not this time. He needed a friend more than he needed a lover right now.
“Thanks,” he whispered in her ear, and then turned away, hands in his pockets. He walked the six blocks to Sara’s condo complex and sat on the porch until she showed up. She opened the door and he followed her in, his ears buzzing and his vision blurry from too much booze and tension.
Their words were angry, hurtful on purpose, and when he yanked her close and kissed her, the fury remained. He should have left, but his body gave him different commands. His cock hurt it was so hard, and her smell, the lusty pheromones that were so part and parcel of Sara made him dizzy. He heard her breathy commands, felt his hands ripping at her clothes.
“Don’t be so fucking nice,” she said.
Fine. He’d show her fucking nice. S
he dropped to her knees and sucked him down her throat making him gasp and grip her hair, the temptation to just blow was so intense he almost gave into it.
“Stand up god damn it.” He pulled her to her feet, turned her around and pounded into her. She was wet and ready, and that made him groan and break every rule he’d been taught—including one about always wearing a rubber.
“Harder,” she commanded, her voice hoarse. He came, without a single concern for her, but knew they climaxed together as they usually did. In sync on everything except the ability to go beyond that moment. The rest was a blur of angry words thrown and rough sex more than once. By the time he woke, nearly falling onto the floor he was so far from her side of the bed, his head pounded and his mouth so dry he could spit sand.
He stumbled into the kitchen and spotted his phone on the floor where it had fallen out of his jeans that still lay in a crumpled heap with her clothes. Embarrassment burned high and bright, making him wince.
God. He was not this guy. He had no business rough fucking her. She had enough going on and honestly, he didn’t even want her. She sure as hell didn’t want him, and he knew it.
He squinted his eyes at an email on the small screen and saw that a client he’d been courting had agreed to sign a listing agreement with him. So at least there was that, despite the steaming pile of shit that his personal life had become.
He found a pan, some bacon and put on coffee, then calle
d his brother to gloat a little over getting the listing out from under none other than Jack Gordon himself. When he felt a tap on his shoulder and saw the dark angry eyes of the woman he’d treated so badly the night before, he knew it was the end of whatever beginning they’d shared.
Chapter Twelve
Later that morning he sat in his truck, gripping the steering wheel staring at Gordon’s huge, perfect house.
Gordon. He fucked everything up. But did he, really? Or did Craig happen to drop into the middle of a shit storm and get buffeted like everyone else?
He sighed, looked down, then put the SUV in drive and pointed it towards to Suzanne. His need to see her, talk to her, to be calm in her presence was overwhelming. She did that for him, and he tried not to read anything into it. Besides, he had to go to his brother’s wedding in Louisville, and his family was expecting him to arrive the next day. They sat, sipped coffee, she listened, and he left, feeling slightly better about his extremely shitty behavior towards Sara.
The trip down to the wedding weekend was long, and painful, fraught with bouts of hangover sleepiness and boredom. About three hours in, Suzanne called, the sound of the hands-free ring tone nearly deafening him.
“Hey,” he said. “Thanks for calling. Saves me from falling asleep at the wheel.”
He felt like such a complete loser for treating Sara so badly—when she was vulnerable and he went Cro-Magnon man on her. A total loser move. But Suzanne had bucked him up, made him laugh. The sound of her light tone on the other end of the line lifted his heart like nothing else.
“You okay?”
“Barely. Talk dirty to me. That’ll keep me going.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I’ll have to ponder the nature of our relationship.”
“Yeah, well, ponder it into some 'what are you wearing,' sort of chatter will ya?”
“Ok, how about this? Tell me about your brother. The one getting married.”
He smiled at her deflection and humored her. “Rick is my closest brother. He was eight when I was born. He and Lillian are both lawyers, but she works in the public defenders office in Louisville and he’s some corporate hack.”
“Why is everyone down there? Didn’t you guys grow up in Grosse Pointe or someplace?”
“My family’s from Louisville. My dad was head of the big truck plant there. I grew up in Grosse Pointe for the most part. We moved to Michigan when I was a junior in high school—all my brothers were already out of the house. It sucked.”
“I can imagine.”
“I finished high school, swam, had no friends. Then I went to U of M for a year and a half in a three-year math/science fast-track program. I was going to med school, maybe, or just getting a Masters' and PhD in Chemistry. That was my area, I guess. Then, my dad died and I lost interest or something.” It sounded lame even to his own ears, and he was embarrassed for telling her.
“Understandable. You were close to him?”
“Very.” He swallowed past the lump building in his throat. The time he spent in mourning was still a dark hole in his memory.
“Sorry.” She stayed silent a minute. “You’re pretty special, I think. I can see how much you care for Sara. I loved her brother once, too. It’s a pretty convoluted crazy story. I’ll spare you.”
He frowned. He’d heard the rumors about her and Blake, remembered her comments from the tailgate party, but the guy seemed fairly entrenched with his partner, Rob. Since Craig heard the warning in her voice, he let it drop. “So, about the dirty talk. Seriously I am hitting the wall here, sweetie. Throw me a bone why don’t ya?”
She laughed, and the sound was like a balm to his aching psyche.
Could it be her?
He shook his head and focused on her words, kept the car pointed south. If he had to chart his growth as a man, he would start it with him as center of the universe in a large, boisterous household. He’d truly been king of that mountain. His growing up years were predictable, filled with the usual drama of a house full of teenaged boys but insulated by a father who made plenty of money to support them and a mother who was a fierce organizer, managing their many sports schedules and lives with alacrity.
Move to himself, as a quickly-maturing young man in high school, blatantly seduced his senior year by a former teacher and enjoying the hell out of that year. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. Next would be the chaos of college, the newbie sensations barely overcome before the bottom dropped out of his world with his dad’s death.
This followed by a long road of wrong turns, bad choices and mistakes, with Lindsay as the end of the screw ups. Or so he thought. But then there was Sara, a seeming continuation of them, and now, Suzanne, something different and much more special. He listened to her talk to him about everything and nothing, and he talked back, all of the way, until he pulled into the drive of his mother’s house in Louisville.
He watched his brother get married, lifted his glass in toasts, and sat brooding through the reception. Various nieces and nephews ran around tearing the place up as he got steadily drunker and sank deeper into a slimy well of self-pity.
He smiled over at an attractive girl at one point, recognizing her from high school. Later, after a few dances and more drinks, he was pressing her into a corner, kissing her and imagining, not Sara, but the small, perky redhead with the sad eyes in his arms.
After he’d made her gasp through a quick orgasm at the ends of his fingers and she’d rubbed him off behind some trees, they sat on the grass, passing a beer bottle back and forth. He hated himself at that moment, more than he ever had.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it, “I shouldn’t have done that. I…I have a…never mind. I think I might be a sex addict.”
The girl laughed and stood, pulling him to his wobbly feet. “It’s okay Craig, don’t worry, I won’t stalk you or anything.” She kissed him softly. “Besides, you seemed so sad and you were never a sad guy. I thought I’d make you smile.”
“Yeah, you did.” He gave her that smile, after squeezing her hand gently, then pulled the phone from his pockets. He sent one text to Sara, ending with:
“Guard your heart. It’s important to me.”
She was headed to a fancy party to celebrate the opening of Gordon’s new downtown building. Something in Craig knew the guy would be lying in wait for her, was willing to do anything to get her back, and honestly, Craig couldn't blame him one bit.
His next text was to Suzanne. “I want to see you when I get back. Take you out.”
“Like on a date?” she shot back, making him smile.
“No, like on a polar expedition. Yeah, a date, you goof.”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
He shut off his phone, jumped up on the dance floor and enjoyed himself for the first time in months. He sat with Lillian, Rick, Grace, and Brian at midnight, passing a champagne bottle around the group. His middle brothers, Travis and Allen were already gone with their wives and newborns. He pointed at Lil, the half empty bubbly bottle still in his hand.
“Tell me if this guy turns into an asshole, okay?”
“Fuck you, punk,” Rick said, grabbing the bottle and taking a slug.
“Come home Craig,” Grace said, putting her arm around him. “Please.”
He sighed, picturing the small, smart-mouthed redhead he’d talked to nearly all the way down from Michigan. His phone had been hot to the touch by the time he’d pulled into his sister’s driveway. But he would have talked more, just to keep her voice in his ear.
“Not yet. I think I’m gonna go back to school. I have another few months to use my 'get into Michigan free' pass.”
“It’s a girl, isn’t it?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. None of your damn business.”
“Is it that one, Craig,” Lillian asked. “The one that you talked to me about?”
“No,” he said, pondering the reality of truly letting Sara go. “It’s not. It’s someone else. Someone … better.”
Chapter Thirteen
&n
bsp; “Where’s Sara?” he asked when he got back to the office two weeks later.
“She’s went home early. She’s been sick.” The receptionist shot him a funny look.
“Oh?” A tiny alarm bell rang in his brain, but he ignored it in favor of trying to piece his real estate life back together and plan his next step with Suzanne. He wanted so badly to take their friendship further, but her innate at-arms-length stance would take some time to breach.
He didn’t see Sara for another two weeks and by then his anxiety about her was at a fever pitch. He’d heard she had gone down to Florida to visit her parents all of a sudden, which was odd, but he tried to shrug it off. He still hadn’t been able to pin Suzanne down on a date, and it was starting to piss him off. Her continued excuses and deflections were beyond frustrating.
“Hey,” a deep voice interrupted him. He looked up to see Jack Gordon dressed to the nines, as usual, staring right at him. He stood, his nerves on the alert. The guy looked haggard around the edges, but he oozed a pissed-off alpha male vibe that set Craig’s teeth on edge.
“Yes?” he asked.
“We need to talk, I think.”
“Really? I don’t.”
Jack leaned on his cubicle doorway. “Well, then I’ll talk and you listen.”
Craig stayed silent.
“I love Sara,” Jack stated, shocking him a little. “And you need to back the fuck off.”
Anger quickly replaced shock, but he forced himself to continue the silence.
“That’s pretty much it, Robinson. You got anything to say?”
Craig pushed himself up off the desk where he’d been leaning and stepped straight into Gordon’s personal space. The man didn’t back down an inch. “Yeah, I do. You need to become less of a supreme asshole if you think she’s ever going to be with you in any significant way.”