by K. B. Jacobs
In the bathroom, I ignored the lingering smell of Walsh while I brushed my teeth and changed into my favorite World’s Smartest Blonde pajamas. I marched to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Walsh Thorne needed to get the hell out of Dodge before I drank up all our non-existent profits. Sighing, I sank onto the loveseat and fired up my laptop, only glancing at my closed bedroom door once...twice.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twelve
Walsh
I rubbed my hand over my face as Lake ran out of the bedroom like a scared rabbit, the door slamming shut behind her.
Glaring down at my new friend, my ever-present erection, I sighed. This was so not the time for it to make a reappearance.
My phone dinged, and I fished it out of my pants pocket.
Damian.
He had to be going crazy. I shot him a quick message that I was fine and would be home the next day. It was a chicken-shit move, but there was no way I could talk to him. He’d hear the exhaustion in my voice, and that would only send him deeper into his usual guilt spiral.
He responded with a request to call him in the morning. I sent back a thumbs up emoji and tossed the phone on the bed. Chicken shit.
As I glanced around Lake’s bedroom, her most intimate space, a knot tightened low in my belly. I should have insisted on taking the loveseat or at least slept on the floor.
Being in here, surrounded by her scent, knowing she slept here every night...it was the worst form of torture. It turned me on, while at the same time, it felt like the most heinous kind of invasion. My cock pulsed in need as her lingering presence overwhelmed my senses. I closed my eyes and could smell her like she stood right next to me.
She hated me. And yet, she’d still come to my rescue and given me her bed. So to lust after her...here...well, that was just wrong.
I yanked off the damp towel, my movements fast and jerky, even though it made my head hurt more. I needed and deserved the pain to get my mind off my damn cock.
I hadn’t paid attention to the clothes I jerked on until I caught my reflection in the mirror on the closet doors across from the bed. A Naked Brews logo T-shirt. I glanced down at the clothes I wore, large workout shorts and a man’s extra-large shirt. While they could be Lake’s—some girls liked to lounge around in men’s oversized clothing—I had a feeling they belonged to someone else.
A boyfriend? My jaw clenched at the thought. Hell, I didn’t know this girl. Did she have a boyfriend? That would explain why she had men’s clothing at her house, for the occasional sleepover. It only made sense.
I wanted to howl at the idea.
But then I saw the edge of a box through a crack in the not-fully-closed closet door. I slid the door a bit farther open. Along the side of the cardboard, it read Dad in thick black marker.
I lifted the top flap and peered down at the mix of photos, clothes, and memorabilia from a lifetime lived. So, the clothes hadn’t come from a phantom boyfriend. They’d belonged to her dad. The father she’d lost just a couple of months earlier.
I lifted a photo frame from the box. The photo had been taken back in the brewing room. In it, a younger Lake stood with an older, redheaded guy who had her same icy-blue eyes filled with happiness and warmth. He had his arm thrown over her shoulder, and they were both laughing, pure joy shining on their faces. He could only be her father.
They’d had a good relationship. I could see it in every line of their expressions and body language in this photo.
It was an idea that was so foreign to me it was a miracle I could even recognize it in a photo. Having a good, normal relationship with parents? Yeah, I definitely didn’t have any idea how that worked. I had been a tool for my parents’ cons and nothing more.
But Lake obviously had something more. It was just another reason why I needed to stay away from the girl, no matter how badly I lusted after her. She didn’t need to be tainted by the messed-up stink that came from growing up the way I had.
I ran my finger around the edge of the frame, Lake and her dad with the brewery in the background. This was the thing they’d shared together.
The guys had said while growing up she’d been in the brewery every day. No wonder she hated me. I was trying to take away a deep part of what she’d shared with her father.
I looked around the room again. I’d visited plenty of other women’s bedrooms over the years. Lake’s room didn’t have the normal, decorative tchotchkes like other girls. Instead her decorative elements were almost all beer related or had something to do with the people she loved.
A framed shadowbox hung on the wall, filled with the various Naked Brews bottle caps from their different beer lines. Instead of candlesticks, she had three Naked Brews pull taps standing on her dresser. A photo sat beside them of Lake and her father with Harlan, the brew master, all raising their beer glasses in a toast. Ticket stubs and memorabilia from various beer festivals from around the state littered her shelves.
She did have some girly things...a photo collage of her with her two friends that were at the brewery. Her friends, her dad, and Naked Brews had obviously been huge in Lake’s life.
But even as the guilt over that swamped me, it didn’t change the fact I was doing this job with a higher reason in mind. This was about business, and from what I could tell, Lake O’Brien had no idea what she was doing when it came to running Naked Brews.
She might not see this was for her own good, but she would. Eventually.
I ignored my pounding head and began to snoop in earnest. No matter how much I liked this girl—even when she was pissing me off—I still had a job to do here. Make sure our takeover of the brewery went as smooth as possible.
Damian wanted me as the face of GSC because I was damn good at being smooth. I hadn’t managed that so far with Lake, but it wasn’t too late. I could still charm her. While a lot of the time that made me feel like a high-dollar con man, it was where I excelled in life, just like my parents taught me. We all had to embrace our talents. Mine just happened to be the ability to twist a person’s emotions so they eventually agreed with our end goal, even when they’d taken an opposite stance early in the negotiations. The key was finding the mark’s interests and weaknesses.
The back of Lake’s closet was a goldmine in this regard. She’d saved everything...ticket stubs, report cards, little notes from her father, and interestingly enough, even some from her mother. Those I paid particular interest to. It was an interesting twist that this girl who’d loved her father so fiercely also hated her mother with just as much fiery passion.
I could use that to my advantage.
While I couldn’t understand the relationship between her and her father, I could totally relate to how she felt about her mother. But from what I’d seen, her mother didn’t harbor the same hatred for Lake. No, her mother was selling the brewery because she thought it would help Lake in the long run.
As I found another pile of photos of Lake with her friends, it became even more obvious that relationships meant everything to her. For a moment, I considered what it would be like to be part of her inner circle like that. My chest tightened with envy.
In the back there was a duffle filled with rock climbing gear. I recognized the harnesses and hardware from my days in the army. Another box revealed trophies and rock-climbing awards. Damn. This was a girl who lived life to the fullest.
But that meant she’d bounce back from the blow of losing the brewery. I had to believe that or else I wouldn’t be able to do my job here. What I planned to do here would hurt her in the worst way, but I would do it anyway.
For Ice. For Damian. And in the end, for Lake herself. Naked Brews had to survive and thrive, and that wouldn’t happen with Lake O’Brien at the helm. And that’s why I had to keep my distance from her. When this was all over, she was going to hate me even more than she already did.
Chapter Thirteen
Lake
The sun beat against my eyelids, pulling me out of the wo
rld’s most uncomfortable night of sleep. I sat up, arching my back to work out the kinks the loveseat had created. My stomach growled and then stabbed me with a hunger pain. I guess two beers and half a box of cheese crackers wasn’t a sufficient dinner. If I got a move on it, maybe there’d be time to stop by Em-Dash, the local bookstore and bakery, for a muffin before heading in to work.
I glanced over at the clock on the Blu-ray player and fell off the couch, bumping my knee on the coffee table. Ten o’clock. Shit on a shingle. How in the hell...
Walsh. In my rush to get out of the room and away from his mostly naked body, I completely forgot to set my alarm clock.
And I didn’t check on the guy with a concussion for almost eleven hours. Wasn’t I supposed to wake him up every once in a while to make sure he was still breathing? Did they still do that? Susan hadn’t said anything, but she was so busy, maybe she forgot.
I rushed into the bedroom and froze. Walsh was sprawled out on the bed—my bed—the sheets tangled around his toned legs, and his glorious chest bared for all to see. So much for the shirt I left out for him, though from where I stood, there was no complaining. Even in repose he had washboard abs that made my fingers itch with the need to touch and see if they were as hard as they looked. His body could be an inspirational poster for gym rats everywhere.
Taking a few steps closer to the bed, I took my time evaluating him. Hell, I was late, might as well take advantage. Broad shoulders capped off defined pecs and a chiseled six pack, testament to hours spent working out. His abs were almost as nice as mine, though it had been months since I’d hit a climbing wall. Beneath the abs, a light dusting of blonde hair trickled down into the shorts sitting low on his hips.
My breath quickened, and my cheeks heated. I gave myself a few seconds to imagine running my hands across his chest before shaking the image from my head.
I reached out to shake him awake but paused before touching his arm, still examining the full length of him. A thin, white line ran across his ankle and up his leg, almost invisible except for the slight variation in color. Maybe an injury from his tour in Afghanistan? A bona fide war hero.
I meant to shake his arm, but he shifted in his sleep, and my hand landed smack in the middle of his chest. God help me as a warm tingle radiated out from low in my belly, warming my skin, lighting up all my nerves. It’d been too long since I’d saddled up if simply touching a man’s chest could get my libido going.
I told myself to pull back or shove him awake, but my hand stayed glued to Walsh’s chest like it was supposed to be there.
“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to touch things that aren’t yours?” Walsh’s eyes stayed closed, but his mouth lifted into that stupid cocky grin that drove me mad in ways I was determined to ignore.
“Just checking to make sure you’re still alive.” I shoved at his chest a little harder than strictly necessary. “Those are my favorite sheets, and I don’t really have time for a dead body this morning. Now get up. I’m late.”
With his eyes still closed, Walsh’s grin turned into a full-on smirk. “Pretty sure I’m up already.”
Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his shorts, displaying an impressive girth of cock threatening to pop out of the waistband.
Look away. I needed to focus somewhere—anywhere—else. “That’s...god, you’re such a child.” Yeah, that was a snappy comeback.
Walsh jumped out of bed faster than should have been possible for a guy who was just in a car accident yesterday. “Oh, I assure you, Lake O’Brien. I’m all man as I’m sure you noticed.” He took a few steps closer to me as I backed up toward my dresser.
“You should get dressed.” I tried to suck in a calming breath, but Walsh leaned in, hand on the wall. My nose filled with the scent of him still mixed with my body wash. My knees shook, and I reached back to steady myself on the dresser.
“Is that what you want?” He took another step closer until his chest almost pushed against mine. Only a thin slice of daylight separated us. It was glorious and terrifying.
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper on my lips, and I cursed myself for letting him see how much his presence affected me.
“See, I don’t think that’s what you want at all.” He reached out a finger and traced it down the bare skin of my arm, sending little tremors all through my stupid body. “I think you’d be happier if I took these clothes off.”
He dipped his face toward my neck and ran his stubbled jaw up my neck. I whimpered. Son of a bitch, I whimpered and tilted my head to give him better access as if this wasn’t the most moronic idea on the planet. I gripped the edge of the dresser, determined not to touch him. If I did, I might never stop.
“Is that what you want, Lake? You and me. Naked on your favorite sheets. Playing hooky from the brewery.”
The brewery.
I pushed against his chest so hard he stumbled back a few paces. “That’s what this is about, right? You think you can seduce me with your...manly charms, and I’ll just roll over and let you take Naked Brews away from me?”
“No, I—”
“Whatever.” I grabbed his pants and the T-shirt he didn’t wear the previous night off the end of the bed and tossed them at him. “You’re not dead, so get dressed and get out.”
Walsh caught the clothes and stared at me in silence for several galloping heartbeats. “Okay.” He tugged the pants up over the dangerously low gym shorts and pulled the Naked Brews shirt on over his perfectly tousled strawberry blonde locks. “Any idea where I should go? I don’t have a car.”
“Otto’s Auto Shop. Downtown, about six blocks that way.” I pointed out my bedroom window in the general direction of downtown Aspenridge. “You can use the walk to clear your head and let it sink in that I will never—and I mean never—sleep with you.”
Walsh nodded and walked out of the bedroom, only pausing to slide on his shoes and grab his leather jacket. He’d be frozen before he made it to town, but that wasn’t my problem. Emily had said I had to be professional; she’d never said anything about gracious.
As I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, he looked back at me, his face an unreadable mask, and then he left.
I let out a heavy breath and concentrated on bringing my heart rate back down to normal. In the bathroom, I splashed my face with cold water and stared at myself in the mirror, my cheeks still flushed from the hot blood his touch had sent coursing through my body, stirring desires I hadn’t had in a while.
Walsh might be sex on a stick with his rock hard body, charming smile, and eyes as green as spring, but he was also the jackass trying to steal my brewery. I was determined to keep his hands, lips, and other body parts as far away from me as possible.
Chapter Fourteen
Walsh
I took off, gingerly skirting the dirty snowdrifts on the quiet street, walking in the direction that Lake had pointed before kicking me out. My dress shoes were not made for these slick conditions, and my head would not be happy if I fell on my ass.
Goddammit. I’d blown it. After tossing and turning all night and wrestling with my conscience, I’d resolved to stay away from Lake except when strictly necessary. All of that had been blown to hell when I woke up from what I thought was an erotic dream to find her touching my chest. Skin on skin. The heat from her hand had flooded me with lust. Without any blood in my brain, I’d stopped making any sort of sound decisions.
Where the hell was all my smooth charm?
I shook my head and groaned at the remnants of the headache that lingered. It was probably due to the concussion, but I hadn’t had any coffee yet, so caffeine withdrawal could play a part in that, too.
To get my mind off the cold and my discomfort, I pulled out my cell phone and pushed Damian’s name in my contacts.
“How are you feeling?” he asked straightaway instead of answering like a normal person.
I felt a stab of guilt over the fact I’d been on the phone with him when I wrec
ked. When I had come to, he’d been in a panic because he was sure I was dead. Damian already dealt with PTSD every time he got into a car after being trapped inside one after the IED explosion. Listening to my crash probably hadn’t helped.
“I’m fine, just a lingering headache. I’m on my way to the garage to find out about the damage to Desiree.” I’d been so out of it when they loaded me into the ambulance, I had no idea how bad off she was.
A plow honked its horn as it flew past me, covering me with wet spray. Fuck my life. I needed caffeine to deal with this.
“Why do I hear traffic in the background?”
“Because I’m walking to the body shop.” I held in a sigh, not wanting to admit how badly I had screwed all this up, but Damian needed to know. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for this job.”
“Why? What’s going on? Did you get hurt worse than you told me?” Panic rose in Damian’s voice.
“No, no, I’m fine. Really. I’m good. But the owner’s daughter...Lake.” Just her name sent a fine tremor of awareness under my skin. “There’s something about me that rubs her the wrong way. She’s upset about her mom selling the brewery.” I thought back to all the memorabilia from the brewery and how it tied her to her dad. “She hates me because of that.” My voice had dropped an octave.
Damian was quiet for a heartbeat. “You like her.”
“I feel...” I looked up at the snowy mountains rising above this picturesque little town, and something tightened in my chest. This was her place, her home, and I shouldn’t want to be a part of it all so much. “I feel badly for her. She loves the brewery.”
“Emily Ryan is selling Naked Brews no matter how much Lake loves it, and from what you said yesterday, the place is one more mistake away from going under. If she loves it so much, she should want it to succeed and that means GSC taking over.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sighed. Talking about it wouldn’t change anything. Not for Lake and not for me. I was over this conversation. “Listen, I just wanted to keep you updated with what was going on, and that I was up and moving this morning. I’ll call you after I know something about the car.”