Real Men Will. Victoria Dahl

stay here, can I?”

      What was Eric supposed to say to that? He gazed into the kitchen through the glass wall of the tank room. Despite the late hour, there were still workmen out there, laboring overtime to cut a ventilation hole in his wall. Eric grimaced.

      “She’s right there, man,” Wallace grumbled. “I know it’s a bad time, but…she’s right there.”

      It was a bad time. The bottling line was acting up for the third time this month, they were behind on branding for the winter brews, and the kitchen had been invaded by outsiders. Granted, the outsiders had been brought in by Eric’s brother and sister, but still… These changes to the brewery weren’t Eric’s idea, even if he’d approved them, and he wanted nothing to do with them. “I really need you here tonight. You promised to stay late and transfer that small batch of amber to the new oak barrels.”

      Wallace looked so heartbroken at Eric’s words that he wished he could take them back. “But…” Eric finally conceded. “I guess it’s just a few hours.”

      “I’ll be in early tomorrow. I swear.”

      Eric sighed. “Maybe it’s a good thing she’s moving to California.”

      “She’s a good woman,” Wallace said, his voice suspiciously raspy. “She wants to trust the man, and she won’t walk away until she feels it’s really over. But he’s going to break her heart.”

      Eric still couldn’t understand what marriage meant to someone who dated at the same time, but he’d never really understood Wallace’s lifestyle. Despite the man’s intimidating mountain-man looks, Wallace dated men, women and some people who seemed to skate between genders. But this was the first time Eric had seen Wallace in anything other than complete control. Love had hit him hard, it seemed.

      Eric stole another look around the tank room, trying not to feel a sense of greedy anticipation. “All right. I’ll take care of the barrels. You—”

      “Oh, I don’t know if I want you to—”

      “Wallace,” Eric snapped. “We’re already off schedule.”

      Wallace narrowed his eyes. The man was protective of his beer. Almost obsessively so. But it was Eric’s beer, too, and he’d lost enough control over his life this year. He wasn’t going to let Wallace think he could snatch a little more.

      “Fine,” the brewmaster finally said. “Just don’t screw it up.” Wallace tossed his work gloves on the table and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked like lasers on the double doors that led to the front room and Faron, but then he shook his head and stalked out the back door.

      “Jesus,” Eric muttered. Everyone around him seemed to be controlled by love and sex these days. His brother and sister were both in serious relationships, and now Wallace, a man who treated dating like a professional sport, was miserably in love with a married woman. Eric felt like the only person untouched by the craziness.

      Not that he didn’t have any experience with it. He’d had his brush with it a few months ago, and even that brief encounter had left him shaken. He couldn’t imagine being faced with that kind of emotional intensity every day. Maybe he could forgive the fact that his siblings seemed to have lost their minds.

      Eric rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the weariness that had settled in. He was always tense at work. But the stress usually didn’t bother him, if only because he couldn’t imagine life without it. He ran a business; of course he was stressed. What he didn’t like was the gnawing uncertainty that had taken him over in the last couple of months.

      It had been one nightmare situation after another. Lost deals, theft and fraud, and now this mess in the kitchen. His brother, Jamie, was turning the family brewery into a pizza-serving brewpub, and Eric felt as though he’d lost complete control.

      Grimacing, he watched masonry dust puff from the kitchen wall like a tiny cloud. Eric would much rather stay hidden in the peace of the tank room, but unfortunately, the casks would have to wait a couple of hours.

      When Eric stepped into the kitchen his scowl faded away despite the roar of the masonry saw. The place might be chaotic and dusty, but Jamie stood watching it all with a grin on his face. This wasn’t Eric’s dream, but it was Jamie’s, and Eric would do everything he could to make sure it happened.

      Jamie glanced over with a quick smile. Things had been easier between them for the past few months. Thank God. It still felt tenuous, but Eric was relieved as all hell that their years of fighting seemed to be behind them.

      He walked over and slapped Jamie on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

      “Great!” Jamie shouted.

      Eric turned to watch the progress with his brother for a few seconds, but he knew nothing about ovens or restaurant equipment, so he eventually slapped Jamie’s back again. “I’ll go check on the front, make sure everything is running smoothly.”

      Laughter roared from the front room as he drew close. Eric glanced toward the crowd as he pushed through the doors, keeping a close eye out for Faron and her scoundrel of a husband. Before the doors had swung closed behind him, someone crashed into Eric’s shoulder. He grabbed for the woman, trying to steady her before she stumbled. She reached out, too, and her hand slid along his side just as she looked up.

      Her face was so close to his that, for a moment, Eric thought he was imagining things. He smiled even as the nerves of his fingertips seemed to activate one by one. The wash of stark feeling progressed slowly up his fingers, his hands, his arms. By the time she pushed away with a gasp, his whole body felt as if an electrical shock was running through it.

      Beth. His hands were on Beth Cantrell. His brain flickered through panicked thoughts.

      Holy shit. His hands were on Beth Cantrell in his brewery.

      He felt her trying to step away, but somehow his hands tightened on her shoulders as he glanced at the doors behind him. Jamie was still in the kitchen. As long as he didn’t head out to the front room, everything would be fine. No harm, no foul. No reason to panic.

      Except, what the hell was she doing at the brewery? Had she come to see him?

      “Beth,” he started, just as she slipped away from his hold. The tingling in his fingertips faded slowly, but now it had progressed to his brain.

      If Jamie walked into the front room, Beth would be awfully surprised to meet him. Emphasis on awful.

      When she backed a few feet away, Eric followed, hoping they’d be unnoticeable in the hallway.

      “Hi,” she whispered.

      “Is everything okay?”

      “Yes. Absolutely.” She was just as stunning as she had been six months before. Just as gorgeous and sophisticated. Her dark hair wasn’t pinned up tonight, and it fell over her shoulders in soft waves. Her body, all long legs and generous hips, had mesmerized him the first time he’d laid eyes on her, and it was no different now. He drank in the sight of her curves until her dark gaze slipped past him.

      He looked behind himself again, but no one was there. If Jamie walked in, if someone said his name…

      God, maybe he should just tell her. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Funny thing, when you called me Jamie at the business expo…I should’ve corrected you. My name’s actually Eric. Crazy, huh? And then she’d laugh and shake her head and tell him it didn’t really matter because it had just been a one-night stand.

      Yeah. Sure. He’d be lucky if she didn’t murder him right there with one of her stiletto heels.

      Beyond the adrenaline pushing through his veins, Eric’s skin still prickled at the idea of being close to her again. Because he could still picture that night perfectly. Her body naked. Her lips parted on a moan. Her ass plump and firm, the muscles flexing as he fucked her from behind. Heat washed over him.

      “What