Love Brewing (Love Brothers #3) (2 page)

“Listen, seriously Dom, it’s time to get your ass home.”

Dominic sat, studying the depths of his coffee cup and
ignoring Kieran, who sat across from him at Diana’s worn kitchen table. He’d
been sleeping in the barn for the past few nights, piled in with dogs like a
littermate. The day after that first stinky night he’d spent two hours scrubbing
all four of the animals with horse shampoo, twice.

“I don’t gotta do anything.”

“Listen, Dom, I know this is a … hard time for you and all
but—”

He jumped up and walked to the kitchen window. His muscles
twitched with excess energy. He could smell malt and hops—stupid because he
hadn’t been anywhere near the brewery in days. Damn odors must be embedded in
his nasal passages. “Don’t try to understand what I’m going through all right,
Francis,” he said through gritted teeth, calling his brother by his middle name
as was their brotherly tradition.

“Lordy, would you just quit all the whinin’?” Diana appeared
from the porch with a bushel basket full of dark red tomatoes under one arm and
dirt smeared across her cheek. “Hey, Kieran,” she called out as she shouldered
her way into the kitchen.

“Hey, Di. Lookin’ good, as always.”

“You Love brothers are the biggest bunch of lying charmers.”

“Yep.” He grinned, making Dom want to punch him for being
so…fucking…normal. “So about that coming-home thing….”

Dom gripped his cup tighter at the patient, coddling
expression on Kieran’s face. “I don’t want your fucking pity,” he spat before
stomping over to Diana and yanking the basket out of her grip. “We have work to
do.”

She shrugged and flopped into one of the ladder back kitchen
chairs. “That’s just one of about three I can harvest today.”

“Fine.” Dom dumped a bunch of the rich, red fruits into a
colander and ran water over them. “Got lots of choppin’ to do here, Francis.
Unless you wanna join in, you’d best beat it.” He kept focused on the task,
fighting off guilt. He knew he had no business leaving all the brewery work to
his father. The man was slowing down and counted on Dom to be his right-hand
man at their family business—the head brewer. Or at least…he used to be.

But Dom had needed space. Surely they’d understand that?

Besides, he doubted he’d be welcomed back with open,
paternal arms at this juncture anyway.

He glared up at Kieran but his red-headed, goody-two-shoes
brother shook his head. “We have to work this out. Mama is beside herself.
She’s making Daddy’s sleep in the pole barn. It’s a damn mess, Dom, and only
you can fix it.”

Diana rose and hip-bumped him aside. “Go on. The thought of
your mama upset enough to banish Anton to the barn pisses me off even more at
you.”

“It’s not any of your fuckin’ business.” He focused down at
the ancient, cracked ceramic sink, unwilling to acknowledge that he would,
indeed, give anything to resume the détente status quo with his father, but
afraid he’d ruined that possibility forever this time.

“Oh? Well, you know what
is
my business?” She grabbed
one of the knives he’d sharpened that morning and brandished it too near his
nose for comfort. “Hmmm?” She put the shining metal right against his left
nostril. “Well?”

“Uh…could you not—” He tried to move backward, but ran into
Kieran.

“You’re a grown-up man now, Dominic. You’d best start acting
like one. I still don’t know what happened to bring you here, but I’m guessing
it’s time to own up to whatever the hell it is. Go on.” She waved the blade
around his face so close he ducked.

“Jesus humped-up Christ,” he muttered, as she shot him
another hairy eyeball. “I don’t know….” He passed a shaking hand across his
face. It’d been so nice here, so quiet, so free of Love-family drama. Silly of
him to think he could hide forever. But his stomach leapt into his throat and
lingered there a good long while at the thought of actually facing his parents.

“I’ll make sure everyone’s there,” Kieran said from behind
him. Diana kept her gaze on Dom, accusatory, as much as he deserved and more.
He was lucky she didn’t filet him with that blade, the way he’d treated her.
“Diana, d’you—”

“No. I’m not involved. None of my fuckin’ business,
remember? I’m just the flophouse owner. Get him out of here, Kieran, before I
change my mind about amateur castration. I could use the practice….”

Dom gulped. Kieran grabbed his arm.

“Fine.” Dom said, yanking out of his brother’s grip.
“Whatever. God, I just wanted some time to—”

“Hide out. I know. You told me more than once. So I let you.
Time’s up on that deal. Beat it.” Diana gestured to the door with the knife,
which dripped red tomato juice and seeds onto the worn hardwood floor.

“Come with me, Dom. You can shower at my place or I can take
you to yours,” Kieran said. Dominic froze, picturing the chaos he’d left behind
in his small apartment. Fury crawled across his scalp. The band around his
chest tightened.

“Relax.” Diana’s familiar hands took his, easing them open.
Her lips brushed his cheek, just a friendly peck. But somehow, he felt better.
Her cool fingers touched his cheeks. He leaned into her ever so slightly. When
he met her gaze, the compulsion to kiss her, hard, to take her upstairs and
lose himself in her, very nearly overwhelmed him.

“There.” She gave him two extra-sharp smacks on the face.
“That’s better. No reason to get uptight. Go on and make it right with your
folks. They deserve at least to know you’re all right.” She turned without
another word and began chopping tomatoes with a vengeance.

Dom spotted his Harley in the gravel driveway. His brother
had driven it here once he’d figured out Dom’s hidey-hole, trading for the car
Dom had appropriated from the church parking lot.

The sun sent a prism of light across the living room floor
through one of the leaded glass windows. He focused on it, his pulse racing at
the concept he had to confront it—the demon that had chased him, tormented him
almost his entire life, at least since he could give it a name. “You don’t
know…. It’s not what you think.”

“What I
think
is you owe Mama and Daddy an
explanation for your behavior. Period,” Mister Perfect Brother stated.

Dom glanced over at the woman he’d loved and left at least
twice out of pure terror at the force of his feelings for her. She kept her
back to him, working away in her ratty shorts and a ripped T-shirt, as
devastating as ever.

He gulped. “I’m…um, bi.”

She blew out a breath, turned to face him and smiled. Then
laughed. “Oh, honey,” she managed after a few seconds. “Honestly, it doesn’t
surprise me. Remember, I’ve known you a long time.”

Dom frowned, wondering what she could mean. Until he’d med
Kent, he’d never actually been with a man, and that had been on some kind of
self-destructive personal bet. “Well, anyway….”

She wiped her palms on her shorts. “You need to talk to your
folks. At least clue them in, let them know you’re not suicidal. You’re just….”
She stopped. Her eyes darkened. “In love, I guess.” She bit her lip. “Lucky
guy,” she whispered, not dropping her gaze from his.

Kieran cleared his throat. Dominic opened his mouth to
answer, but the words he wanted to say simply would not materialize. He and
Diana gazed at each other across the kitchen a few seconds until Dom gave a
mental shake. The Diana Brantley mix of perfection-and-frustration ship had
sailed away from him long ago. He’d christened the maiden voyage, damn him to
hell and back anyway. “I’ll take the bike,” he muttered, shouldering past
Kieran and out into the bright sunlight.

Then

Diana stretched under the covers and relished the extra few
minutes dozing before her alarm clock sounded. The winter-weak sun lit her
high-ceilinged bedroom with its light-blue walls and curtains enough to remind
her she’d lain about way longer than she should have. One of the two dogs that
had adopted her bed as its own lifted his head as she sat, taking inventory of
her various sore muscles from the previous day.

Rising early for a winter morning hunt always excited her.
The fact that she’d finally convinced Dominic to come with her had been a
bonus, but not as much as dropping that huge buck. She rolled her shoulders
with a groan, realizing that the five hours of sleep she’d managed would have
to do. The venison had to be readied for curing. She wanted to try a new recipe
for the jerky, something a lot spicier.

Head full of ideas, she barely noticed the strange sound
floating down the hall from her sister’s room. She took a fast shower, wrapped
up in a towel and brushed her teeth. As she padded to her room, already
planning the work ahead on the various parts of the deer, she heard it again.
She froze in her tracks, about a foot past Jen’s closed door.

“Oh…oh…oh….” her sister’s voice floated out to her, as if
she were in some kind of pain. “Yesssss….” she hissed right after that, putting
Diana’s concern about
pain
to rest. “That’s right. That’s it. There…no,
not there, there…ahhhhh.” A whispery sound, like fabric, covered up the next
words.

Diana’s cheeks flushed and her pulse raced when she heard
Dom’s voice next. She’d know that sound anywhere. It populated her fevered,
sixteen-year-old fantasies in ways she barely understood, especially since the
boy causing them had been her friend since they’d met in Sunday school. She’d
been four, he, five. It had been her first time away from her mama and she’d
been bone-deep terrified, even though it was in church. He’d taken one look at
Diana’s tear-streaked face and shoved her down on her butt before running away,
leaving her no choice but to take off after him and subsequently forget being
afraid in favor of the chase.

Dominic’s words floated out to her again. “Holy shit.
Holy…oh…Christ.” He let out a low moan and the sound she’d heard earlier and
ignored, thinking it was something coming from outside, started up again—and
the rhythmic thump-thump of her sister’s headboard against the wall covered up
the various groaning noises, thank the Lord.

Diana pressed against the hallway’s cool plaster, willing
one of her parents to get wind of it, to storm up the steps, throw open the
door and catch them—her sister and Dominic Love—fucking. She bit her lip,
unable to move past the door, in spite of her fury.

How had Dominic gotten in? Had he snuck back after they’d
spent the hours in the blood and guts of her kill? It had been fun, she
thought. They’d laughed, worked together, lightly flirted, the usual. Claiming
he had to get up and work for his daddy the next day at the brewery, Dom had
gotten in his pickup and driven down her drive, arm hanging out the window. Jen
had only shown her pretty face once during the evening, wrinkled up her nose at
the gore-fest and left.

They
were a couple, Diana thought, clenching her
fists.
She
and Dominic. Dominic was hers. They were….

“Oh yes!” her sister whisper-shrieked, making Diana nearly leap
out of her skin. The pounding noises ceased. She could hear the fabric
whoosh-whoosh again and a low moan of satisfaction coming from Dominic’s mouth.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he said. Her sister giggled, saying
something Diana couldn’t hear but sounded like
first time
.

Without thinking, Diana acted, stepping toward the door and
pushing it open. Her sister’s bed was tucked into an alcove, like hers next
door. Diana could only see the footboard from the doorway, but she heard them
talking loud and clear.

“I shouldn’t have…I mean, I’m not…you know….” Dom was in the
middle of saying.

Kissing sounds that seemed to last forever cut him off.
Diana waited, angry, horrified yet unable to confront them.

“You’re pretty good for a rookie,” Jen said, eventually.

“Well, I do read a few magazines,” Dom replied with another
long sigh. “Oh crap, what time is it?”

Diana knew she should move away; just let it go. Jen had
always done things better than her as the older, taller, prettier,
better-at-riding and school, and pretty-much-everything daughter. Their father
had wanted a son for the second child so he’d named Diana after the goddess of
hunting and had treated her like a boy from the get-go. She had no concept of
pretty dresses, or pedicures, or dances, or boyfriends, apparently—anything
that made up Jen’s world.

But by God, Dominic Love
was
her boyfriend. They were
meant to be together. Everyone always assumed they were despite his
near-constant flirtation with anything female crossing his path. She’d even let
him kiss her and touch her boobs two days ago, the bastard.

“Where’re my…oh hell, Jen don’t do that…oh….”

Jen giggled and there were more sloppy-wet sounds. Diana’s
initial shocked anger congealed, forming into a firm ball of rage centered in
her chest.

“Don’t go,” her sister insisted. “Let’s try this….”

“Oh, uh....”

Diana had heard enough. She slammed the door on her way out
so hard two of their framed school photos in the hallway dropped to the floor
with a crash. She froze, muttering curses and unwilling to shed a single tear
over Dominic Sean Love. She’d had hints of his flirty ways. Every girl in his
grade, one above hers, same as her sister’s, was moony over his thick, blond
hair, his broad shoulders, his skin that would bronze after ten minutes in the
sun. He even had a tattoo. He’d shown it to her, that night she let him kiss
her.

“Don’t tell anyone. It’s just for us, okay?” he’d insisted
as he raised his shirt, giving her a view of his firm torso, making her tingly
in ways she didn’t comprehend and thought she should avoid. She’d touched the
red angry skin surrounding the black ink shaped like a stretch of barbed wire.
It ran around his side as if imbedded in his rich, dark flesh. He’d winced.