Paradise Hops (17 page)

“No, I want to go. Let me just get some water or something.” The nausea nearly bowled her over, but she forced herself out into the hall and into the kitchen. “We’ve got a few minutes, right? I’ll spring for a cab.” Alicia shrugged and flopped onto the ratty couch with a book. One thing Lori appreciated most about her new friend was her ability to keep quiet and know when Lori needed to be left alone. They’d exchanged backgrounds, love life histories. The woman knew it all, right down to the last weekend Lori had spent with Eli. But more importantly, she knew when to stop talking about it.

Lori fired up her laptop, needing to reach out to Garrett at that moment more than she needed to draw her next breath, but his Skype icon was off. She glanced at her watch—Saturday morning there, early. He was likely running or swimming. She smiled and scrolled down through their message history. Her very first night in town, nervous, jetlagged, trying to adjust to the new place and her new roommate had been scary. She had texted a “safe arrival” message to him, Eli and her father. Garrett had responded in minutes. “Go to your computer and turn on Skype if you can.”

Every night since then they made a point to chat that way, catch up on the day. To his credit he never said anything resembling “when you get back and we can pick up where we left off” although part of her wished he would. But the news from home, from her family’s brewery, comforted her, anchored her days. Sales were trending up, he said, the new sales manager—a young woman Lori wasn’t entirely sure she liked around Garrett—was a real go-getter, organized, motivated, talented.

Lori: Watch yourself handsome. She’s probably talented in other ways and would happily show you.

Garrett: We have an understanding.

Lori: I’ll bet you do.

Garrett: I don’t flirt with her and her giant semi-pro hockey playing fiancé doesn’t kill me. It works.

Lori: Good understanding.

She recalled flushing red with relief at that moment.

Eli on the other hand had called once, a couple of days after she’d settled in, the day she was to start classes. The international call hadn’t registered in her brain until the second she answered it and heard his familiar, growly, German roll into her ears.

“
Glück, mein Liebling
”

She’d answered back automatically, already programmed to it after a few days. “Thanks. And how are you doing? Still working for my dad’s brewery?”

He’d chuckled, sending a low-grade heat shooting down her spine, where it settled annoyingly between her legs. “Yeah. You’re stuck with me I think. I actually like that suit as a boss. He’s not a bad guy.”

She’d leaned on the wall seeing Garrett’s dark green eyes and handsome face suddenly as bright as if he were standing right in front of her. “No, he’s not.”

“You are better off with him you know, Liebling.”

“I’ll decide that myself, thanks.” She winced at the sound of her own whiney petulance.

“Yes, no doubt you will. So, anyway, take care of yourself, okay? It’s not an easy program, especially not at first, and then it gets really tough.”

“Thanks. I mean, for everything. I never told you how much our, um, time together meant to me.”

He had stayed silent just long enough for Lori to get pissed at him, but when he spoke his words made her shiver. “I will never forget it Lori. Bye.” She had not heard from him since, and she hadn’t tried either. If all she was to him was a two day romp in the sack, so be it. And she was really having fun getting to know Garrett via long conversations devoid of their usual need to climb all over each other. They talked daily, because that was all they could do, lingering well into the night for her, both of them reluctant to end no matter how late.

She kept scrolling, sipping her fizzy water hoping it would settle her stomach. The conversation from a couple of nights ago jumped out at her, making tears spring to her eyes.

Garrett: My sisters are here this weekend with their kids. Crazed.

Lori: They staying with you?

Garrett: Yeah. I’ve gotten the third degree about the piano, but my one niece takes lessons and is enjoying it.

Lori: Good. Do they know about us?

Garrett: Yes.

Lori recalled closing her eyes then wanting him so badly she ached deep in her soul. It took a while to answer, and she wrote several things and erased them before finally hitting send.

Lori: I’m glad. I miss you.

Garrett: You have no idea. I’m a walking talking hard-on most days.

Lori: Poor Mrs. A.

Garrett: Ha. Yeah.

Lori: I need to tell you something.

Garrett: If it involves what you are wearing, you will have to commit to phone sex because I need to hear your voice if I’m gonna jack off yet again thinking about you. Seriously.

Lori: Very funny.

Garrett: I am so not laughing right now.

Lori: Well, it’s not that but I can do that, too.

She sipped more water, holding back the urge to cry and kept reading.

Lori: It’s about me and Eli.

Garrett: I already know.

Lori: What do you know?

Garrett: Enough.

Lori: You don’t hate me? Or him? You still want to talk to me? What are you? An alien life form?

Garrett: No. I’m a man who’s made his own mistakes and knows that sometimes you have to get things out of your system to move on. I don’t blame you. Him maybe, but he and I are coming to terms in our own way.

Lori: Mistakes, huh? What did you do? Cheat on your wife?

Garrett: Yes. I did.

Lori: Jesus, Mr. Perfect has a flaw. Amazing.

Garrett: Well, I caught her with her old boyfriend first; right in the act, too. Pretty traumatic that. We were still married, technically, but I let the new sales girl convince me to fuck her after hours in the office. Hot stuff, and a real mess, I assure you.

Lori: Hmm, so, not so perfect, it seems.

Garrett: We were too young to get married, too selfish to realize what we wanted. We’re friends now, actually.

Lori recalled the stab of ugly jealous that had knifed through her right then.

Lori: Garrett Hunter
—
the Emperor of Maturity.

Garrett: Not really. But I do try to learn and move on.

Lori: So, how are you entertaining your sisters? They around right now?

Garrett: They took the kids to a play downtown. I’m too beat to deal with that, but I do like being around them. They’re good kids and a lot of fun. I like kids.

Lori: Sorry.

Garrett: I didn’t mean it that way, Lori.

Lori: I know you didn’t, but I am sorry.

Garrett: I’m a great uncle. I can live with that.

Lori put a shaking hand on her flat stomach as her head resumed pounding in time to her heartbeat. At that moment she knew it had to be Garrett’s. Anything else would be too much bad karma for her to bear. She kept reading, biting her lip with the memory.

Garrett: Now, I do have this other problem right now, however…. It’s well in hand and all, but could you give a guy a bit of a boost, you know, with your actual voice?

She’d called him then, whispered instructions, telling him what she wanted, how she wanted it as she rubbed herself to orgasm to sounds of his groans. The fact that the words “I love you” had yet to pass his lips again wasn’t lost on her, but he had said something just last night that seared her nerve endings still. She scrolled down to their last conversation, just a few hours ago.

Garrett: Do you know what today is?

Lori: The worst fucking day of chemistry class in the history of brewing chemistry classes?

Garrett: Nope. The first day I laid eyes on you, a year ago.

Lori: Wow. Yeah. You’re right.

Garrett: I really rushed you. I didn’t mean to.

Lori: We had a good time. Still are, best I can tell.

Garrett: Yes. Well, take your time. Get to know me long distance then maybe I’ll have a real shot. When are you coming home anyway? Should I hang your stocking on my hearth for Xmas?

Lori: I think you have more than a shot, Garrett.

Garrett: Don’t make false promises woman. My poor ego can’t take it.

Lori: I’m not, and yes, I have a flight back on December twentieth.

Garrett: OK. Will you not accuse me of being too inflexible if I make a plan then?

Lori: Depends.

Garrett: Don’t worry. It doesn’t involve springing jewelry on you in front of your parents. It’s more along the lines of “sand, sun, ocean, Garrett, Lori, New Year’s Eve.”

Lori: Sounds promising.

Garrett: I won’t do it if you think it’s too early for me to assume you’d want those words closely associated.

Lori: I do want them associated.

Garrett: Good. Since I made the reservation this morning. I will now duck to avoid the shoe you are mentally throwing at my head.

Lori: You are impossible. And your attempt to duck is well taken.

Garrett: Impossibly in love, is all.

Lori gulped, and stared at this words. Then hers.

Lori: You are a charmer, Garrett Hunter.

She remembered a long break in the conversation then. He wanted, needed her, to say something more. So she had.

Lori: I’m not ready to say much more than this: I love you

She smiled, remembering her phone’s buzz within seconds. His voice poured into her soul like honey. “Big words from a girl so far away.”

 “Well, you did it to me. Charmed me all over again.”

 “Okay. Well, go to bed. It’s late there I know. How’s the headache?”

 “The same.”

 “Sorry. If it doesn’t get better you should probably find a doctor.”

 “I will. We have a brewery tour tomorrow. I’m excited.”

 “Cool. Call me after, okay?”

 “Okay.”

 “I miss you, so much. Talk soon.”

 “You too. Goodnight.”

“Hey!” Alicia’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. She shut the computer. She’d catch him later. Tell him the real news. What would happen then she had absolutely no idea, but suddenly this whole Germany thing seemed completely superfluous. She put a hand over her lips. “How’s Garrett?”

 “I didn’t talk to him. I was just…never mind. Let’s go.”

Chapter Two

Lori eyed the tall, redheaded man who stood at the front of their group. Alicia elbowed her and whispered, “I am officially in love. Watch me work.” Lori rolled her eyes, but had to admit, the guy was a vision. Tall, broad shouldered, dressed in dark jeans, brewery boots and a T-shirt that hugged every single outline of his torso and biceps. A crop of longish red hair flopped over his forehead. Dark brown eyes kept coming back to hers, making her blush and look down. His jaw was shadowed with an early growth of beard.

Aric introduced himself as third brewer, and was obviously beyond agitated at having to host a tour of potential new brewing experts—one with women in it no less. “Aric the Red,” Alicia giggled into Lori’s ear as they made their way into the massive production facility. The sights, sounds and smells of an active brewery made Lori want to weep with relief. The hustling, organized bustle of brewers, brew boys and other staff made her grin like an idiot. She barely heard the man talking.

She wandered over to one of the smaller brew house set-ups they used for experimentals. Taking a sniff, she immediately identified hallertau hops and dark crystal malts in the vessel. She flinched when someone gripped her arm. “Hey!” She glared at Aric. He did the same.

“Don’t leave the tour group please. These are proprietary recipes and you are not allowed to….” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and made her huffy, embarrassed way back to the group. Realizing her nausea had been at bay since she entered the building, she let the astringent sting of hops and the yeasty rich undercurrent of the space fill her nose, calm her roiling gut. Alicia poked her in the side.

“Way to get my new boyfriend’s attention, Yank.” Lori stuck her tongue out at the woman and they giggled, then shushed at the nasty glares they got from the guy trying to lead their tour.

A few hours later, after an exhausting examination of the brewery operations, questions and answers from the professor who accompanied them, Lori found herself staring at a plate of food in the company’s cafeteria. Her stomach did an alarming flip. “Um could I just have some tea please?”

Aric jerked his chin towards the kitchen. “Help yourself.” He grunted before shoveling food into his mouth and ignoring everything and everyone around him, including Alicia’s not-so-subtle attempts at flirting. She sat back down, holding a paper cup of hot water and tea bag. The room faded to a pinpoint of extreme concentration—anything to keep from throwing up all over the table.