Deliciously Bitter (Naked Brews Book 3)

by KB Jacobs

Melissa stood up. “I’ll just go—”

  “Stop right there.” I jumped out of my seat and sprinted to the door, blocking the opening with my body. “The last time you went wandering around the brewery on your own, a madman tried to strangle you. I’ll go down.”

  “And what if a madman tries to strangle you?” She put her hands on her hips and tried her best to look intimidating. But all that blonde hair with those big blue eyes ruined the effect.

  “That’s what stilettos are for.” I winked at her and showed off my four-inch heels. “Besides, it’s probably just the designer stopping by to finalize the finishing touches.”

  I dashed out the door before Melissa could argue with me. Rounding the bottom of the stairs, I stepped into the tasting bar to find Penelope Alworth standing by the bar, exerting supreme effort not to touch anything.

  “Mrs. Alworth, how nice to see you again.” I slapped on my award-winning smile and settled into Charming Alex mode. “Damian isn’t in yet, but he should be here in a bit.”

  “I imagine you have a better idea of his schedule than I do since he didn’t come home last night, but that’s not why I’m here. Is there somewhere we can go to speak?” It was a question, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t leaving here without saying her piece.

  “We can...” I turned to head toward the old office space, but that wouldn’t work. The construction crew completed their work yesterday, turning it into a storage room. “This way.” I pushed aside the sliding, refinished barn doors and gestured into the new dining room. It still needed a little work, but the tables and chairs were in place.

  Without waiting for me, she marched to a table in the middle of the room and sat down. I partially closed the door behind us and joined her. I worked to keep the plastic smile on my face though I was feeling anything but chipper. “What would you like to discuss?”

  “If I can be frank, I’m here to talk about you and why you should stop dating my son.” She slapped her handbag on the table and set her mouth in a firm line that told me she didn’t intend to actually have a conversation about this.

  Too bad for her I wasn’t one of the interns at the station she could bully around and make fetch her coffee.

  I turned up the wattage on my smile and turned my voice sugary sweet. “I don’t understand. Have I done something?”

  “More like someone. Or really, a lot of someones.” She grabbed a folder from her purse and opened it up on the table. Dozens of photos spilled out, all of them me and whatever Hollywood golden boy I had been dating at that moment.

  I picked up a few of the photos. Most of them came from tabloid magazines, and I could only imagine the headlines they shared. There were some poor decisions on the table, but who was she to throw them in my face as if there was anything wrong with dating around? Granted, most women dated around in order to find their Mr. Right, and that had never been my intention. But that was beside the point.

  “So, you’re offended I had the audacity to date men before I met Damian? I’m sorry to break the news to you, but Damian was hardly an innocent flower when I got my slutty hands on him.” I tossed the pictures back at her.

  “Alexandra, dear, this is not a session of slut shaming. I don’t care if you want to date the entire National Football League. But I know what my son is looking for in the woman who shares his life, and you are not it. I refuse to watch him give his heart to you and make decisions about his future only for you to get bored and walk away.” She packed the photos up and sloppily shoved them back in her purse. “Damian has been through enough.”

  Dammit. She was right. Damian had been through hell. I saw it every night with his nightmares. “Mrs. Alworth, I had absolutely no intention of getting serious with Damian.”

  “Wonderful.” She grabbed her purse to stand up, but I set a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “But you raised an amazing man, and I find I can’t seem to help myself. I’ve never been the kind of girl who was ever going to settle down. I’ve seen what marriage can do to two people who are supposed to love each other, and I decided a long time ago that wasn’t for me. Damian deserves the white picket fence and two-point-five kids...and before I met him, I didn’t think I could give that to anyone.”

  “Well, I can at least agree with you that I raised an amazing man.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” I said.

  “But...”

  I smiled. A real one this time. “There’s always a but with women like us.” I sucked in a deep breath. “But...he isn’t a child anymore. I know he’s spent these last three years like a hermit, but he’s starting to crawl out now. He’s braver now. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and I’d like to think I’ve had a little to do with that.”

  Damian’s mom’s face softened, and she gave me a small smile. “He’s my baby, no matter how old he gets. When he got hurt...well...I swore I would do a better job protecting him.”

  “He doesn’t need your protection anymore, and eventually, you have to stop smothering him and let him live his life.”

  She stood up and draped her fashionably expensive purse over her shoulder. “Someday you just might have a child of your own.”

  “And...”

  “And then you’ll know how this works.”

  She walked out of the room, leaving me sitting at the table.

  Children of my own? With Damian’s dark black hair and his intense blue eyes? I could already imagine family movie nights...all of us piled on the sofa under blankets with bowls of popcorn to share.

  I didn’t know whether to be excited at the possibility or terrified. How had I let this happen? I’d fallen for a guy, and instead of telling him first, I’d basically told his mom. I dropped into the chair with a thump as my heart rate took off at a gallop. I had to fix this...soon.

  Chapter Thirty

  Damian

  It felt odd to walk into the brewery and find it quiet. I’d gotten so used to the sounds of construction and the workers. Even though we’d kept the restaurant shut off from the rest of the brewery with the big barn doors during that phase, the loud construction noises had still carried.

  The tasting pub wasn’t open yet, and while I could see the crew through the large glass windows working in the brewing room, I just waved and moved on. I needed to find Alex.

  I started toward the staircase behind the pub that led to the new office area and heard female voices. I followed the sound to the doors leading into the new restaurant. They hadn’t been pulled completely closed, so I heard Alex talking to...my mother?

  I peeked through the crack just as my mom gathered up what looked to be photos and shoved them into her purse. “Damian has been through enough.”

  Oh, hell no. My mom was not going to warn Alex away from me. I reached to shove open the doors and tell her so.

  Alex said, “Mrs. Alworth, I had absolutely no intention of getting serious with Damian.”

  My lungs constricted, and I couldn’t catch my breath. My heartbeat whooshed in my ears, blocking out every other sound. This was my every nightmare coming true. She didn’t want me.

  Even knowing this was a possibility—hell, I’d held evidence of that fact just moments ago with that card from Daniel—I wasn’t prepared for the reality.

  The reality that I was in way deeper than I expected with Alex.

  And she...was not. For her, this was just sex. I’d gotten emotionally connected to her while she’d just been messing around. My breath came out in short gasps at the blow.

  Why did this hurt so fucking much? Most guys would kill to have a woman like her in any way possible.

  I had built this up in my mind that we had some sort of epic connection, and it had all been in my imagination.

  A pathetic hope of a broken man.

  I had to get out of here. Escape before I shattered completely. My legs were stiff, unnatural feeling as I walked out of the brewery and climbed back onto my bike, my head spinning with chaos.

  What was I going to do?

>   The idea of facing Alex, knowing that she was dating someone else...possibly fucking someone else...

  I stopped my bike and bent over, trying to hold in the pain caving in my chest.

  I just couldn’t. I couldn’t deal. I couldn’t face that reality. I couldn’t stand by and watch her go out and smile and laugh and touch someone else.

  Pulling out my phone, I opened my contacts and pushed the call button.

  “Crescent Corporate Jets. This is Sandi. How may I help you?”

  “I need to book a flight.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Alex

  I parked my car on the gravel driveway and glanced in the rearview mirror at Damian’s cabin. He’d never made it into work. There was no need to worry with his overprotective mom in place, but I couldn’t stop my head from running through all the reasons why he didn’t come in. And all of them had to do with me.

  A big part of me wanted to run inside, throw on some comfy sweatpants and order a pizza. Damian was a puzzle I needed to sort out, and a junk-food binge would help me sort through all these conflicting emotions. But the part of me wearing my big girl panties knew that was a cop-out.

  I got out and slammed the door. Carefully navigating the gravel and rock in stilettos, I made my way to his front porch. The lights were off everywhere. Maybe I would get lucky, and he wouldn’t be home.

  Coward.

  I knocked and waited. Several minutes of silence passed. Long enough I thought maybe I would get lucky. But then shuffling sounded behind the door, and it opened. Damian stood barefoot in the dark house.

  “Hi.” I tried to put on a happy face, but the somber mood from inside the cabin seeped out and smacked me between the eyes. It was enough that I almost turned tail and ran back to my place. Almost. Big girl panties.

  Damian nodded and stepped back for me to come in. No greeting, no kiss hello, no eye contact.

  “I was worried when you didn’t come in to work today.” I stepped in and paused in the front room. “Is everything okay?”

  Damian finally looked up at me, and the pain in his eyes nearly took me down. “Who is Daniel?”

  The question hit me out of nowhere, and my brain worked double time to catch up to the conversation. “Who?”

  “Daniel Cambridge.” Damian gestured to a low table where a giant, garish bouquet sat. “He sent you those.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. Damian was upset over a stupid floral arrangement. It was kind of sweet that he would be jealous, but I’d seen firsthand how the ugly side of jealousy could rip two people apart. “Daniel is a producer my father is hoping to work with. I went to dinner with him as a favor to my father.”

  “Did your father ask you to sleep with him, too, or was that one on the house?” His words were flat, but they cut into me like shards of glass.

  How could he think that of me? I straightened my shoulders and held my chin up. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t sleep with him.” I might have deep feelings for Damian, but we hadn’t made that kind of commitment yet. He had no rights to say anything about who I went out with.

  “None of my...” Damian’s outburst roared through the silent house like a freight train. “You know what? It’s not my business, but I’m sure the tabloids will find this all extremely interesting.” He got a calculating look in his eye. “Isn’t he married?”

  I took a step closer, my body shaking with a sudden rush of adrenaline. “You wouldn’t.” I’d spent my youth watching my reputation torn to shreds by tabloid reporting. To think he’d do that to me, here, with the impact it could have on Naked Brews? I didn’t know this man at all, did I?

  “Actually, I probably don’t need the tabloids.” His lips curled into a sneer, pulling at his scars in a way that made him look the part of the villain he was attempting to be. “You see, I have connections as well.”

  “What has gotten into you?” I threw my hands up to dispel some of the extra energy raging through my body. “They’re flowers. Stupid, ugly flowers from an old man I only had dinner with. What gives you the right to have a say about who I eat with?”

  “You’re right.” Damian stepped back and ran his hands over his face. “I have no rights here, because whatever this”—he gestured between us—“might have been is never going to be.”

  The air whooshed out of my lungs. What the hell was happening here? I had come over to tell Damian I loved him, that I wanted to give us a real chance, but he was standing there breaking up with me. An incoming text dinged from my pocket, but I ignored it.

  “Who is it?” Damian’s voice was frigid, like a snowstorm.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath in a wasted attempt to calm my erratic heartbeat. “Can we just talk about this?”

  The text notification sounded again and then for a third time. Damian stood back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who is it?”

  “Fine.” I ripped the phone out of my pocket and glared at the screen. Fuck.

  “Who. Is. It?”

  I could lie, but the damage was done. Might as well throw it all out on the table. “It’s Vincent. He’s coming into town this weekend and wants to have dinner.”

  “You should tell him you’re free.” Damian turned away and stared at the enormous floral arrangement. “Unless you’ve already made plans with the producer.”

  Red anger boiled in my stomach. If this is Damian’s true self, then maybe it was a good thing this was all coming out. “How dare you? I never made you any promises, and yes, maybe I like to date. What exactly is the problem with that so long as I’m not lying to myself like you are?”

  I sucked in a deep breath and relished in the look of shock on Damian’s face. “You want to sit there all high and mighty and judge me, but at least I’m living. At least I put myself out there, and I’m honest with myself. I don’t hide away, pretending there’s nothing wrong with a grown man staying in his house for three years. You think other people will judge you for the way you look, but here’s the real truth. You stay in that house because you can’t stand looking at yourself.”

  “You—”

  “Are so done here.” I pulled the spare set of keys for his cabin from my purse and threw them at his feet. “If I hear so much as a whisper of rumor about myself and Mr. Cambridge, you’ll have a defamation lawsuit sitting in your hands faster than you can say ‘turncoat.’”

  I marched to the door and threw it open. “Lake will be back in three days, and my philandering ass has everything under control. I don’t want to see you inside that brewery again. Ever.”

  Slamming the door shut behind me, I stomped down the steps, tore off my heels, and practically ran to my cabin. The second I was inside, I fell to the ground, a blubbering pile of hot mess. My chest closed in on me, and I had to work for every heaving breath.

  Damian and I were over. This was exactly the wake-up call I needed. I’d gotten lost in a fantasy, a make-believe fantasy about happily-ever-afters. What a joke.

  I choked on a sob and flung myself deeper into my messy cabin—a place where I could live for me and me alone—a place where I could be my true self. I didn’t need love. I had all that I needed right here. I reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the open box of Nilla Wafers. Sugar would help and maybe a movie marathon...just nothing from the Bring It On franchise.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Damian

  I pressed my fists onto the counter and dropped my head to my chest as the door slammed shut behind Alex. Could a person die from this much pain?

  “I know it doesn’t seem like it.” My mom’s voice came to me from the darkened stairs. “But it’s better that this happened now, before you were in too deep.”

  Before? This didn’t feel like I was at a before. This felt like I was drowning under heartache and remorse and regrets. Fuck.

  Nausea overwhelmed me. It was over. Alex was out of my life.

  “I can’t do this with you right now, Mom.” The strain to speak past the
emotions clogging my throat made my voice sound like it came from someone else. Someone far, far away. Someone who couldn’t feel this debilitating, drowning pain.

  Her touch against my back startled me, and I jerked away.

  Pain flared in her eyes, but I ignored it. “You should go.”

  “No.” She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m your mother. That means I’m here for the good and the bad, whether you want me to be or not.”

  I chuckled, but it was a bitter sound. “Isn’t that the truth?”

  She squinted and crossed her arms. “I’m going to ignore that, because I know you’re upset. But Damian, there are so many other women out there that are so much better suited for you. Come back with me to New York, and I promise you, you will forget that woman in no time.”

  I threw my hands in the air, one part frustration, three parts emphasis to make sure she understood me. “That’s what you don’t get, Mom. I don’t want to forget her. I love her.”

  My mom’s eyes widened in shock.

  Honestly, I felt a little of that shock, too. But as I let the words sink in, I realized just how true they were.

  “Yes, you heard that right...I love Alexandra Nichols.”

  I might have a panic attack over it since she’d just walked out of my life, but I could only deal with one trauma at a time.

  And right now, I had to face down the one woman who I hadn’t managed to drive away my entire life. She was smothering me to death and couldn’t even see it.

  Mom pressed her lips together into a tight line. “No. You’re simply lust-addled. She’s attractive and has gotten your jets going.”

  I winced. “Seriously, Mom? Don’t go there.” I closed my eyes in pain at even thinking about discussing the subject of sex with my mom.

  She blew out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “For god sakes, Damian, you’re twenty-five years old. I know you’ve had sex, and I’m guessing that unless you’re bi...” She stopped and tilted her head quizzically. “You’re not, are you?”

  I ignored the light in her eyes. “No, Mom. I’m sorry, but I cannot fulfill your need to have a child within the LGBTQ spectrum. I’m a plain-old, red-blooded, heterosexual male.”