Real Men Will (Donovan Brothers Brewery 3)

Now she just had to wait. But her mind wouldn’t stop turning even long after she hit Send.

CHAPTER SIX

A RAINY EVENING WAS BAD news for the Donovan Sunday dinner. Even though Tessa’s house—the house they’d all grown up in—was plenty big, it never seemed big enough on a Sunday. The backyard served as a nice outlet. A place to escape when he and Jamie started arguing. Or when Jamie got too much of watching Tessa and her boyfriend, Luke, make eyes at each other. Or sometimes Tessa sent all the men outside so she and Olivia could talk about them.

But today, they were all stuck inside together, and tensions were running high. “You said you’d bring dessert,” Jamie insisted, his tone implying that Eric’s word couldn’t be trusted.

“That was last week, Jamie. You were supposed to bring something.”

“No way.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tessa interrupted. “I think we’ll survive without cake for one night.”

“Screw it,” Jamie said, tugging his phone from his pocket with a scornful look for Eric. “Olivia’s still on her way. I’ll have her stop and get something.”

“Wow, you’re really saving the day,” Eric snapped. “Congratulations.”

“Guys,” Tessa groaned. “Seriously.”

Eric paced over to the counter and stole a few grapes from a bowl. “Where’s Luke?”

“He’ll be here soon. He’s been at the station since nine, unfortunately.”

“Big murder case?” Eric asked.

Tessa laughed and slapped his arm. “Stop. That’s my joke. Anyway, he did get a big murder case this summer, so I had to stop using it. If I can’t use it, no one can.”

“Simone’s back, right?” Luke’s partner had been on maternity leave, and he’d refused to have another detective take her place, even temporarily.

“Yes, thank God. She’s been back for over a month, which has eased his schedule a little. But he keeps trying to force her to leave work early every night, and I’m afraid she’s going to punch him in the face.”

Jamie snorted. “Tell her to go for it.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Despite the words, Tessa’s smile was wide. Jamie might’ve had a few problems with Luke early on, but they seemed to be building a cautious friendship now. The main problem was that they were too much alike, and Jamie didn’t think a guy like Luke was good enough for Tessa. Actually, neither Eric nor Jamie believed any man was good enough for their little sister, but they were getting used to it. Slowly.

Tessa put Eric to work making the salad, and he was happy for the excuse to turn his back on his siblings and slice tomatoe

s in the corner of the kitchen. It was painfully uncomfortable to have his family know about Beth. And they hardly knew anything at all. He didn’t know how Jamie had lived with being irresponsible for so long. It was a fucking burden, and if Eric hadn’t been so stubborn, he would’ve avoided Sunday dinner like the plague.

Eric felt a flash of sympathy for his little brother. He stole a glance at Jamie before grabbing the lettuce to wash it.

Jamie’s plans for adding a menu to the bar had caused a blowup this summer. Okay, a series of blowups. Eric was still sorting through all the things Jamie had said to him. That Eric had made him feel like a second-class owner for years. That Jamie wasn’t going to put up with being treated like a little brother anymore.

But if Eric wasn’t the big brother, if he wasn’t in charge, who the hell was he? He wasn’t even a real Donovan, for God’s sake. A fact so embarrassing that no one ever brought it up, not even in the heat of the worst argument. But it was there, sitting between them. The reason he didn’t look like any of the pictures on the wall. The reason he had an Irish last name and Eastern European features. It was the reason Eric worked twice as hard as everyone else in the family. Because he’d inherited a third of the brewery when he shouldn’t have, and it weighed on his shoulders every damn day.

Eric rolled those tight shoulders and grabbed the salad dressing from the fridge.

Olivia finally arrived, a bakery box in her hands, and dessert was taken care of, but Eric and Jamie still weren’t talking.

Eric shredded some carrots into the salad and watched as Jamie pulled Olivia into his arms and kissed her until she giggled and melted into him.

Jamie was happy, and Eric was happy for him, but he couldn’t shrug off his angry guilt. Maybe he’d screwed up when he was trying to raise two teenagers, but he’d done his best. He’d been trying to motivate Jamie, not make him feel like dirt. But Jamie had cast Eric as the bad guy. And Eric’s lie to Beth had made things worse than they’d ever been.

The salad was done, and now Eric was just standing there, staring at the big wooden bowl that had once been their mom’s. He could vividly remember her passing the bowl around the table, chiding her husband to stop making faces at the vegetables.

“I’m an Irishman,” Michael Donovan would say. “The only vegetables we eat are potatoes and cabbage.”

“You’re an American,” Eric’s mom would counter. “You eat salad.”